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hp_rarefestTitle: The Dragon Tamer
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jadepresley
Prompt: 230 byllaeyro
Pairing(s): Charlie/Various
Word Count/Art Medium: 11,300
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s)/Content: Brief implied PTSD, sexual scenes, teacher/student relationship
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Enormous thanks to K & L for being such an amazing Alpha/Beta duo. Your help on this and your commentary throughout was invaluable. Also huge thanks tollaeyro for your fantastic prompt! It kind of ran away with me and ended up as a much longer oneshot than I planned, but I hope you like it!
Summary: Charming men and making them feel needed is second nature to Charlie, but his casual confidence is shaken when a man comes along who refuses to look his way.
Christmas 1985 - The Burrow
“Look, Charlie,” Bill said seriously as he paced the small patch of carpet between their beds. “I’m fifteen now, I’ve had plenty of dates, which means I know a lot about women, and I feel like it’s my job as your big brother to fill you in on a few things.”
Charlie was leaning up against his headboard, his favourite book on dragons propped against his knees. The warming charm his mum had cast on their room earlier was starting to fade, and he yanked the sleeves of his new knitted jumper down. He gave his brother an amused look.
“Women?” he grinned. “Plural? Kiss a couple of girls under the Quidditch stands and you’re some kind of expert now, are you?”
Bill scowled at him. “Don’t be a prat, I’m trying to help you.” He flopped down onto his own bed, pushing his fringe out of his face only for it to immediately fall back across his forehead. “Girls love me, you know they do. And you’re thirteen now so it’s time for you to learn how to talk to them.”
“I know how to talk to girls,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. “My best friend is a girl; I talk to Tonks everyday when we’re at school.”
“Tonks doesn’t count,” Bill said dismissively. “She’s basically one of the boys.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to any others. They’re so…” He made a face. “They’re always hanging about after Quidditch trying to talk to us when all I want to do is shower and eat.”
“Well, you might not be interested in them now, but soon you will be, and unless you’d rather talk to Mum about this…”
“Oh, Merlin,” Charlie cut in, horrified. “Did she put you up to this? Did she tell you to talk to me about this?”
“No, Godric, of course not,” Bill said quickly. He stood up and moved to sit down at Charlie’s feet and looked at him seriously. “Look,” he said, “we both vowed to never end up married. You’re not interested now, but you will be soon. I’m just trying to teach you how to win them over and how to make sure you don’t get attached too soon so we can stick to our vow.”
Charlie sighed and set his book down. “Bill, I don’t think this is really appropriate for me,” he said.
“Appropriate.” Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You sound like Perfect Percy. You’re thirteen now, and it’s not like I’m going to tell Mum or Dad we talk about this stuff.”
Charlie fidgeted uncomfortably. “No, that’s not - that’s not what I meant.” He inhaled deeply, steadying himself to tell his brother the truth. “I don’t think I like girls,” he said carefully.
“Well, no not yet,” Bill said, “but I was your age when I first started to notice them, so soon - “
“No,” Charlie interrupted, fixing his brother with a pointed look. “Bill, I don’t think I like girls.”
Comprehension dawned on his brother’s face, and Charlie held his breath. Bill stared at him, a small crease appearing on his forehead as he frowned.
“I know it’s not —” Charlie began.
“Do you think the same rules apply?”
Charlie looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“With boys. Talking to them… that way. Like I talk to girls. I mean, I know how to win a girl over and break up with them and everything, but I don’t know if my advice would work for boys.”
Charlie scrambled to sit up properly. “You don’t care that I’m… that I don’t like girls?”
“Why would I care?” Bill asked, giving him a funny look.
Charlie opened and closed his mouth. “I... don’t know. I’ve only ever told Tonks. I didn’t know what you’d say.”
“Right,” Bill said. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know, and when you find someone you like you can try it on them. If it doesn’t work maybe I can ask Larry Lewis in sixth year. He like boys too.”
“You’d do that?” Charlie asked.
Bill laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’m your brother,” he said. “Of course I would.”
________________________________________
1991 - Hogwarts
The roar of hundreds of students above them in the Quidditch stands wasn’t enough to deter Charlie from getting what he wanted. He pushed the taller man back roughly against one of the wooden pylons, crowding against him and swallowing the groan that spilled from his lips as he claimed his mouth.
Their belts and trousers hung open and they panted as they ground against each other. The whoops and cheers above them were deafening but Charlie’s attention was completely focused on the heat pooling inside him and the sounds he was eliciting from the other man.
“Oh Merlin, fuck, Charlie!”
“Shh, Alexander. If you’re too loud, and someone walks past, we’ll get caught.” Charlie murmured, reaching between them to palm the hard bulge, and his partner arched into his hand. Charlie pulled back and smirked. “We wouldn’t want that, would we Professor?” He thrust his hand inside the other man’s trousers and began to stroke him quickly.
Alexander’s head lolled back against the pylon, and Charlie moved his mouth to the exposed neck, licking and sucking at the bronzed skin.
“We shouldn’t —” Alexander moaned as Charlie bit down. “Charlie, we can’t - not again - not here —”
“If you want me to stop just say so,” Charlie said, and he kissed him again. Alexander arched into him, and Charlie swallowed another groan.
“I —” Alexander’s fists bunched in Charlie’s Quidditch robes that were still damp with sweat from the exertion of the game he had just finished. Charlie knew how Alexander loved the way he smelled after Quidditch. “Oh, shit,” he groaned as Charlie squeezed his cock. “They’ll - they’ll all be looking for you, though.”
“They can wait,” Charlie murmured, scraping his teeth along the older man’s collarbone. “This is not the first Quidditch cup I’ve won, but it is my last chance to have your lips around my cock before I graduate.” He dragged his tongue along Alexander’s skin, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot behind his ear, breathing him in. “You always know just how to make me feel good. There’s no one like you, you know.” He rolled his hips, pressing his erection against Alexander’s. “Only you do this to me,” he said in a low voice. “Merlin, I’ll miss you when I leave.” He reached his hand up, running his thumb across Alexander’s lips. “Will you suck me?” he hummed. “One more time before we leave. Please?”
Alexander trembled beneath him and then began to tear at Charlie’s trousers, yanking them down, and Charlie grinned against his neck.
“You’re so good to me, Alexander,” he murmured, nipping lightly again at his skin.
Alexander pulled back and kissed him hard before dropping to his knees. He mouthed Charlie through his pants before hooking his fingers underneath the waistband and pulling them down, freeing his cock.
“Melin, I wish you weren’t leaving,” he said as he pressed his lips to the head of Charlie’s cock, and Charlie nudged his hips forward slightly. Alexander’s mouth opened for him, and he swallowed Charlie greedily.
“I’m graduating, you knew it had to stop when the year ended,” he said, letting his head fall back and his fingers card through Alexander’s dark hair. His eyes fluttered shut as Alexander sucked him deeper, the way he knew Charlie liked. “And you’ve resigned anyway, so let’s just- oh fuck - let’s just not talk about this, okay?” he managed to add on.
Alexander’s throat constricted around him, and Charlie groaned. He wouldn’t last long at all; between studying for N.E.W.Ts and training for the Quidditch Cup he’d had no time to seek out Alexander in the last couple of weeks, and he’d been too tired most nights to even sort himself out.
He felt the familiar heat beginning to build at the base of his spine as Alexander moved faster. Charlie’s hips thrust forward in sharp, jerky movements, and then Alexander reached up and tugged lightly at his balls. Charlie groaned loudly and was coming hard and fast, spilling into his professor’s hot, wet mouth.
Noise still thundered above them as hundreds of students continued to celebrate Gryffindor’s win. Alexander scrambled to his feet, pulling Charlie’s pants and trousers up with him. Charlie gave him a lazy smile and wrapped his hand behind his head, pulling him close to kiss him. He could taste himself on Alexander’s lips. He dipped his hand into the other man’s pants and within a few quick strokes Alexander was shuddering against Charlie as he found his own release. They kissed slowly as they both came down from their highs.
“Come to America with me,” Alexander murmured against his lips.
Charlie pulled back with a sad smile. “You know I’ve already made my plans.”
“Why Romania? You could work with American dragons.”
Charlie kissed him again. “You know it’s important to me,” he said quietly.
“I could come with you,” Alexander said, his voice strained.
“No you couldn’t,” Charlie said kindly. “Your place is over there; MACUSA recruited you for a reason. You’re a brilliant man, a brilliant dueler, and you’re going to do huge things. They need you.”
“But I need you,” Alexander said sadly. “Ever since you came to me the first time, sweet talked your way into my bed —” Charlie grinned at him and ran his hands affectionately along Alexander's arms, “— I’ve needed you.”
“Hey, look at me.” Charlie tilted Alexander’s chin up so their eyes met. “This — us — it’s been so special to me. I’ll never forget it.” He cupped Alexander’s cheek, letting his thumb run lightly across his stubble. “But I don’t want to to settle down yet.”
Alexander swallowed thickly. “You don’t need me, do you?”
Charlie sighed. He hated this part, hated hurting people. “I’m not the one who’s going to make you happy Alexander, and I think deep down, you know that too.”
He kissed him again, and this time it wasn’t sweet; it felt sad and final.
________________________________________
Present - 1999
Charlie glanced at the crumpled parchment on the bench of his small cabin for the hundredth time that morning and sighed. He didn’t mind helping Kingsley out — he really didn’t — and he wouldn’t back out now, but Merlin this was going to be a long month.
It’s for his safety, Kingsley had said in his letter. He may have been found not guilty during the trials but that doesn’t mean the Wizarding world has forgiven or forgotten. He’s been put in St Mungo’s three times in as many months. He wants to work, but he can’t do it here. Just give him four weeks of basic training and we can move him onto the sanctuary in Bulgaria.
He did consider saying no, even if he knew he didn’t really mean it. It was when he remembered that the person he was asked to help was Tonks’ cousin that he had picked up a quill and sent his reply. He didn’t even know if the pair had ever met, but they were family, and family had meant everything to her.
The familiar ache in his chest whenever he thought about his best friend was still as painful as ever, so he pushed it away, refusing to acknowledge it. He glanced at the clock - 3:45 p.m. - and shrugged to himself. It was late enough in the day to drink. He summoned a Firewhisky, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat, and then his Floo chimed.
“Charlie, are you there?” Kingsley’s deep voice said from the flames.
“Yeah, come through,” he replied, taking another generous drink and leaning casually against the wall to wait. A moment later, Kingsley stepped out onto the hearth, followed immediately by Draco Malfoy.
“Charlie, hi.” Kingsley beamed at him as he strode forward and shook his hand. “Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate your help.”
Charlie nodded. “It’s no problem.” He looked over the man still standing in front of his fireplace. He didn’t see any resemblance to Tonks, and part of him was relieved; he wasn’t sure how he would handle having a reminder literally staring him in the face for a month. Draco was scowling at him, and Charlie opened his mouth to ask what his problem was, but Kingsley interrupted.
“Look, I need to get back — I have a meeting with Harry that was supposed to start five minutes ago. You both have all the details, so just Floo or Owl me if you need anything else.”
“Tell Harry I said hi,” Charlie said. Kingsley smiled and nodded before he stepped back into the fireplace.
A heavy silence hovered in the room as the green flames died down. Draco was glancing around, a sour look still on his face, and Charlie leaned back against the wall and took another long drink of his Firewhisky.
“So,” he finally said. “You’re the Malfoy brat.”
He saw Draco’s shoulders tense. “And you’re the worst Weasley,” he snapped back.
Charlie couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “I haven’t heard that one before, is that what the papers are calling me now? What happened to the ‘disappointing Weasley’ or the ‘Weasley who abandoned his family?’”
“Oh, they still call you that too,” Draco said flatly. His eyes dropped to the bottle in Charlie’s hand.
“Do you want one?” Charlie asked.
“No,” Draco snapped. “I don’t drink in the middle of the day.”
Charlie shrugged. “Your loss. I’ll show you to your room, and then we can go over how this next four weeks is going to work.”
His cabin had only had a single bedroom before yesterday, but with a few Extension Charms he had been able to create an additional small, but cosy, room. The other option would have been to share with Draco — and as he glanced at him when he pushed off the wall to lead him to his room, he didn’t particularly hate that idea — but he knew Draco’s reputation and knew he’d want his own space.
“This is it,” he said, standing aside and gesturing into the room. Draco paused at the threshold and glanced around.
“It’ll do, I suppose,” he said stiffly.
Charlie bit back a grin. Draco was so… prickly. He wondered idly what it would take to break down that hard exterior…
“Don’t,” Draco snapped suddenly. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” Charlie asked, confused.
“I know all about you, Weasley,” he scoffed. “Everyone knows about your penchant for bedding well known people.”
“What are you —”
“Krum?” Draco cut in. “Potter? Black? All the nameless ones in between? I’m sure adding the now infamous Malfoy name to that list would be a great score for you, but I’m telling you right now it’s not going to happen. Ever.”
“I didn’t even say —”
“You don’t have to. I know that look. I know men.”
Charlie grinned. “Do you now?”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m here to learn from you about dragons. The second this four weeks is up, I’m out of here. Believe me, this wasn’t my choice, and if I had any other options I wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t even know me,” Charlie found himself saying defensively.
“I know enough about your lifestyle,” Draco sniffed.
“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to settle down with someone,” Charlie sighed, reminded of countless conversations over the past few years with his mother.
“Of course there’s not,” Draco agreed. “But if you think I would ever deign to be just another name on anyone’s list, you’re delusional.”
He strode into his room, shutting his bedroom door with a firm thud.
________________________________________
November 1994 - Hogwarts
He’d watched him intently during the dragon task. Charlie knew who he was of course; he could have been him if he’d chosen to pursue Quidditch, but his heart had always been with dragons. He had great respect for Viktor Krum as a seeker — and would be lying if he said he had never admired the way he looked on a broom — but it wasn’t until he’d watched the Bulgarian walk out towards his dragon, his eyes sharp and fearless and his Champion robes hugging the tight ripple of his muscled arms, that Charlie had made his decision.
He waited outside the entrance doors while the feast finished, leaning casually against the stone wall as he inhaled the crisp November air. He heard the low rumble of students milling out of the Great Hall, and then the doors were swung open and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students began to file past him. One of the Beauxbatons boys caught his eye as he walked by, and his lips quirked into a smile, but Charlie let his eyes slide back to the door.
Krum had lagged behind as Charlie expected — Ron had mentioned he tended to leave a short time after everyone else — and the other students had disappeared by the time he strode through the doors. He looked tired, looked similar to the way Charlie often felt after a long day of handling dragons.
He didn’t spot Charlie until he spoke up.
“You really knew what you were doing out there today.”
Krum paused, turning to look at him. He appraised him for a moment before nodding once.
“Thank you,” he said. “Though, I vish I had thought to use a broom as Potter did. That vas quite good.”
“You are good on a broom,” Charlie agreed, arching a brow at him. “You really know how to handle yourself when you ride something powerful.”
Krum looked at him for a long moment, his chin raised slightly, and then Charlie saw something flash in his eyes.
“What are you doing now?” Charlie asked, pushing off the wall and stepping closer.
“Ve are required to go back to the ship,” Krum said. “Although…” He hesitated. “They tend to be more… relaxed for me.”
Charlie smirked. “Perks of being famous, I imagine.”
Krum nodded and pursed his lips but didn't say anything. Strong and silent, didn't want hero worship. Most professional Quidditch players loved the attention that came with their positions. He liked that Krum seemed to be put off by it. He wondered if he ever got the chance to just... be.
“It must be hard,” he said, “being surrounded by people who constantly want your attention but know nothing about you.”
Krum nodded again, slowly this time. “Yes I suppose.”
“Do you ever get time for you?” Charlie asked quietly leaning in closer. “Time to just… unwind?”
Krum remained silent, his face unreadable, but then his eyes flickered to Charlie’s lips. “Vot is your name?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’m Charlie,” Charlie replied, offering his hand. “I’m one of the dragon wranglers.”
“You handle the dragons?” Krum asked, accepting Charlie’s hand and shaking it.
Charlie gripped his fingers tightly and gave him a half smile. “Among other things.”
They stood clasping hands for a beat, eyes locked, and then Charlie pulled away slowly, letting his fingers slide across Krum’s palm.
“And are you not needed to help transport them back?”
Charlie shook his head. “Not yet, I’m in charge of the horntail. Last one to leave. I have some time to kill. You want to walk with me?
Krum nodded once, and they set off across the grounds.
“You must be very powerful if it is the horntail you are in charge of,” he commented.
Charlie shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time with them. It’s all about learning what they want, what they need.”
He glanced at Krum, whose shoulders were still tensed, and Charlie felt a wave of sadness for him, wondering if this was the way he was always forced to carry himself.
Charlie wasn't aiming for it, but they ended up just inside the trees of the forest. The breeze had died off thankfully, and Krum suddenly stopped and turned to face him. Charlie opened his mouth but was cut off by Viktor grabbing him and pushing him roughly against a tree. The dry bark was digging into his back uncomfortably, but he didn’t care.
“Straight to the point,” he said a little breathlessly as Krum pushed a knee between his legs. “I like that.”
Krum’s mouth was on his neck then, nipping roughly and drawing low moans from Charlie’s lips. He moved to Charlie’s jaw and kissed along it, before he made his way to Charlie’s mouth.
“I need you,” he said in a husky voice before his lips stole Charlie’s breath. “Now.”
His trousers and pants were down before he knew it, and Krum spun him quickly. Charlie braced himself against the tree, stroking himself as Krum worked him open.
“Do it,” he moaned in a low voice. “Please, Krum, fuck me.”
Krum breached him slowly, and Charlie let out a low noise of pleasure as Krum began thrusting into him. Krum’s large hands gripped Charlie’s hips tightly, and they both panted loudly as their bodies moved to meet each other.
All too soon, Charlie was groaning and spilled over his own fingers, and just a few thrusts later, Krum followed him over the edge.
They stayed pressed together for a few short minutes as their breathing returned to normal. Krum pulled out of him and murmured a quick cleaning charm, and Charlie stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the familiar ache that came with being fucked this way. They redressed silently, and then Krum turned him around, leaning in close.
“I vould like to see you again,” Krum said, his thumb gently stroking Charlie’s bottom lip. “This… I needed thiis. Needed you.”
“I leave tonight,” Charlie said regretfully. “But this — it was really special to me.” He kissed Krum, enjoying the scratch of his stubble against his chin. “No one has made me feel like this. Thank you,” he murmured.
They pulled apart, and Krum looked at him for a long moment before nodding.
“Good luck with the tournament,” Charlie said quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning and leaving the trees.
________________________________________
Present - 1999
A week in, and it wasn’t going well. Charlie slammed the door to his bathroom shut, using all the willpower he possessed not to go back out there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to snog the bastard or punch him in the face.
He stripped off his t-shirt, inspected the damage from being singed by one of his dragons, and decided just to banish it. He was rubbish at repairing scorch marks; he’d just get a new shirt. He pulled off his jeans and stepped into the shower, turning the water on and making it as hot as he could bear. Steam rose up quickly, filling the small bathroom, and Charlie felt his muscles finally relaxing as his body adjusted to the water temperature.
Draco Malfoy was an honest to god nightmare. Not with the dragons; no, he was a natural with the dragons and was picking up on all Charlie’s instructions with an ease he’d never seen in anyone else. If he was bad with the dragons it might have made the whole situation easier.
He was just a complete prick to Charlie. He sneered, scoffed, and muttered insults under his breath.
Whenever they finished training, hot and exhausted, Draco would take his shirt off, and his skin would gleam with a fine layer of sweat, and Charlie’s mouth would go dry every time. Draco caught him looking. Every damn time he would catch Charlie looking and would happily remind him that he thought Charlie was nothing more than a whore who would never have him, and fuck, didn’t that just drive Charlie crazy?
He wondered if Draco was doing it on purpose, flaunting himself in front of Charlie like that to drive him wild. Probably. Harry and Ron had always said he was a total menace.
His prick was half hard just thinking about the way Draco looked when he pulled his shirt over his head, with tousled hair and slick skin, and Charlie reached down to stroke himself slowly until he was throbbing. He fucked his hand hard and fast as he thought about all the things he’d like to do to that smart mouth of Draco’s.
He hadn’t brought in fresh clothes, so he wrapped a towel around his waist when he’d finished and pulled open the bathroom door.
Draco was on one of the couches, reading an old copy of the Prophet. Charlie never got them until they were at least a couple of weeks old; Ginny sent them when she remembered, a habit she’d picked up during the war to keep him informed, but she was so busy now with Quidditch training that there was usually a week or two between his deliveries.
He paused as he caught the image on the front cover and a fond smile crept over his face. Draco saw his expression, he always saw, and he frowned, closing the paper to inspect the cover.
He read the headline: MACUSA’s youngest ever Head of Law Enforcement, England’s own Alexander Jenson, takes down notorious crime syndicate boss...turn to page 2 for full details. He looked up at Charlie.
“Did you fuck him too, then?” Draco asked bluntly.
Charlie glared at him. “I’m not going to keep telling you that I don’t fuck everyone I meet, Draco.”
Draco was reading the article and his eyes narrowed.
“He was a Hogwarts Professor before he went abroad,” he said. “You did fuck him, didn’t you? You fucked a Professor. Salazar, what does your mother think? How does this creep still have a job if he’s preying on students?”
Charlie felt himself flush. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. He strode over and snatched the paper from Draco’s hands. He wouldn’t let this get out. People had slowly found out about the others, but he wouldn’t ruin Alexander’s career by letting this become public too.
“You really are completely shameless, aren’t you?” Draco said, shaking his head. “I bet you came onto him, too. I bet you risked the man’s career just so you could get off and —”
“You don’t fucking know me!” Charlie realised he was shouting as Draco flinched. “You don’t know what it’s fucking like for some people, so just shut your fucking mouth!”
Silence hung between them, and Draco looked uncertain for the first time.
“What are you talking about?” he finally asked.
“Fuck you.” Charlie glared at him, and then turned and stormed into his room, slamming his second door for the day.
________________________________________
June 1996 - Grimmauld Place
He’d met Sirius Black once when he was a child. His father had taken him along when he had to meet with Dumbledore, and Sirius had been there. Charlie remembered thinking he was the epitome of cool, with his shaggy dark hair and leather jacket, and had stared at him in awe.
Years later, in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the feelings he hadn’t been able to identify back then in the pit of his stomach were still there as he talked and laughed with the man.
He was older, yes, and Azkaban had weathered him, but the easy way he threw his head back when he laughed when he had all the reasons in the world to be sad, and that coy little half smile he did, had Charlie’s cock twitching from the moment he sat down.
Sirius was shaking his head as he sipped at his elf wine.
“I can’t get over it,” he said, grinning. “You’re just all grown up now. I heard you lived in Romania.”
“I do,” Charlie said, drinking generously from his own goblet. “I’m headed back there this afternoon. Had to see Dumbledore earlier about connecting with a few people abroad. I saw Tonks as well, and she told me you were here, so thought I’d come by.”
Sirius licked at his bottom lip, lapping away a dribble of wine, and Charlie’s mouth went dry.
“I hear you're a dragon tamer now,” he said. He was wearing a leather jacket again. Charlie’s eyes had gone straight to it when he walked in the room.
“I hear you’re a wanted criminal.”
Sirius gave him that half smile and shrugged, but a shadow passed over his face. “It’s nice to be wanted for something, I suppose.”
Charlie eyed him for a moment before setting his goblet down. Feeling bold, he reached out and let his fingers touch the back of Sirius’ wrist. “I’m sure there are other things people want you for,” he said in a low voice.
The air around them seemed to change, a current that wasn’t there before hummed over them, and Charlie saw Sirius’ breath hitch.
A heavy silence hung between them, and Charlie waited until he saw Sirius’ eyes dart briefly to his lips and then back up before standing. He moved slowly, purposely, never breaking their eye contact as he stepped closer, his legs brushing the other man’s knees.
Sirius swallowed as he looked up at Charlie — the only indication he was nervous — and something flashed in his eyes. Want. “There’s no one else here,” Sirius said quietly.
Charlie nodded. “Good. Stand up.” Sirius obeyed, and Charlie reached out to run his thumb along the man’s cheek.
Sirius’ eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch, and Charlie felt a pang of sadness wondering how long it had been since he had been made to feel wanted, cared about. He trailed his thumb softly down across Sirius’ bottom lip, before leaning in and capturing his mouth with his own.
His lips were chapped and rough, but the kiss was soft and tentative. Charlie wanted him to be comfortable, wanted him to take what he needed, so he deepened the kiss slowly, letting it build between them. He twisted his fingers in Sirius’ dark hair and pressed forward, letting his half hard cock brush against Sirius’ leg.
Sirius pulled back. He was seeking permission, and Charlie gave the slightest nod. A moment later and hands were on his hips, turning them both so Charlie was backed up against the old oak table. Sirius lifted him so he was sat atop it, and then he nudged Charlie’s knees apart and stepped between them, bringing their mouths back together in a frenzied, desperate kiss.
Charlie’s legs were locked around his hips, and he groaned as Sirius pressed firmly against him. Sirius swallowed the sound, his hands tearing at the buttons of Charlie’s shirt. His mouth moved to Charlie’s neck as he pushed the shirt away, and Charlie let his head fall to the side as Sirius left hot, open mouthed kissed along his throat and the crook of his neck and his shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful,” Sirius said breathlessly as he ran his hands over the exposed chest. He dropped his head and took one of Charlie’s nipples into his mouth, tugging lightly and making Charlie moan loudly and buck his hips forward.
“Merlin, you want it, don’t you Charlie?” he hummed, bringing his mouth back to Charlie’s. “You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want my cock.”
He reached between them and palmed at Charlie’s cock. He wanted to take control. Charlie wanted to let him.
“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” Charlie groaned, pressing forward for more friction.
Sirius stepped back suddenly, leaving Charlie cold, but he made quick work of undoing his own trousers. He yanked them down, and his cock sprang free. Charlie eyed it hungrily.
“On your knees,” Sirius instructed.
The command sent a thrill through Charlie, and he dropped quickly to the floor. Sirius’ fingers threaded into his red hair and brought his head forward.
“Open,” he said in the same commanding tone, and Charlie obliged. He took Sirius into his mouth, and the sound Sirius made as Charlie locked his lips around his cock and began to move made him want to rut against his leg or the floor or fucking anything.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Sirius told him, and Charlie nodded eagerly.
He started slow at first, his cock sliding gently back and forth into the hot heat of Charlie’s mouth, but then his grip in Charlie’s hair tightened and he groaned, and his hips began to thrust faster, more urgently. Charlie held onto Sirius’ hip with one hand and let his mouth be fucked, let Sirius’ cock press to the back of his throat over and over. He fumbled to get his own cock out, freeing it from his pants and stroking hurriedly as Sirius moaned loudly and bucked harder.
“Wait, wait,” Sirius grunted after a few more pumps. Charlie pulled back and looked up at him as he wiped the precome and spittle from his chin. “I want to fuck you,” Sirius said.
Charlie’s cock twitched in his hand. “Think you can?” he said teasingly, and Sirius’ eyes gleamed at the challenge. He yanked Charlie up, spun him quickly and pressed him over the kitchen table. Charlie’s hands spread out in front of him as his trousers and pants were pulled down to his thighs. He rested his head on the cool wood, and Sirius’ hands moved gently over the curve of his arse.
“So fucking beautiful,” Sirius murmured.
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s lower back, and then his fingers were pressing inside him, working him open. Charlie moaned and pressed back into Sirius’ hand, wanting, needing, more.
“Fuck, Sirius,” he panted. He tried to lift his torso up but Sirius used his free hand to press Charlie back down into the table. He kept his hand pressed into the middle of Charlie’s back, holding Charlie down as he added a third finger. Charlie rarely let other people take this kind of control, but, fuck, he loved it.
Finally and all too soon, Sirius pulled his fingers away. Charlie made a needy sound at the loss, but then the hard press of Sirius’ cock pushing into him was overwhelming him, and his hips were twitching back, wanting more, wanting desperately to be filled.
“Fucking Merlin,” Sirius exhaled when he was fully sheathed. “You feel so fucking good, Charlie. Fuck it’s been so long.”
It was fast and hard and dirty. Sirius fucked him roughly bent over the table, using one hand to stroke Charlie’s cock in time with his thrusts, and Charlie swore loudly as Sirius’ movements became quicker and more erratic. With one final pump he was spilling inside Charlie, moaning his name over and over. His hand stuttered on Charlie’s cock but then a moment later he pulled out of him, and the feel of come still warm in his arse had Charlie thrusting desperately, and he came in hard, hot spurts over Sirius’ fingers.
Charlie barely had time to catch his breath before Sirius had yanked him back up and spun him, kissing him hard. Charlie opened for him and let his mouth be ravaged, until the kiss became softer.
“Merlin,” Sirius finally whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “That was — Fuck. I needed that.”
Charlie’s hands cupped his face, his thumbs stroking across his cheeks, and he pressed another soft kiss to to Sirius’ lips.
“Do you really need to go?” Sirius asked quietly, his hands skimming over Charlie’s chest. “I know you do but — Fuck, I wish you didn't. This place makes me — Merlin, I just need more of that. Need more of you.”
Charlie sighed and pulled away. How many times had he heard those words over the years? How many more times would he wish he felt the same? They dressed in silence, and then he caught Sirius around the waist, kissing him again.
“You don’t need me, Sirius,” he murmured quietly. “Nobody…” He shook his head. “Just trust me. This was so amazing, and I’ll never forget it, but we both know I can’t stay.”
Sirius looked at him for a long time, and then he nodded.
“Thank you,” he said as he pulled away from Charlie. “For this. It was...”
Charlie smiled. “I know. Take care of yourself, okay, Sirius?”
________________________________________
Present - 1999
Charlie and his mother had a tradition in which every second Sunday evening he would Floo call her after dinner, and she would fill him in on the family news and lecture him on his life choices.
The things he was told off for varied from how messy his hair was, to what he had eaten that day, to his lack of presence in their life back home.
She was proud of him, he knew she was, but after losing Fred all she wanted was to keep the family close by — preferably under one roof — but Charlie couldn’t stay. He needed his life in Romania, needed the isolation, and no one else in his family had ever seemed to understand that.
He sighed and rubbed at his face as she talked, feeling guilty that he hoped this would wrap up soon as the hearth was hurting his knees.
“I just don’t understand why you insist on staying there alone,” she huffed. “Harry came back after just a few weeks.”
Charlie clenched his jaw and tried to stay patient. “Harry had different reasons for coming here, mum. This is —”
“Don’t you dare say that’s your home, young man,” Molly scolded. “The Burrow is your home. Your brothers and Ginny are here, and they’re all quite happy to stay close by. I wish you would just consider doing the same. I hardly think Tonks would have wanted you to be there all alone.”
Charlie’s hands balled into fists, and he took a calming breath. “I’m not talking about her,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s not healthy, Charlie,” she said. “You never talk about her. I really think —”
“Mum, look, I have to go,” Charlie said, hearing a noise behind him. “I’ll write to you through the week, okay? I love you.”
He ended the Floo call before she could protest and turned to see Draco lounging on his couch.
“Do you make a habit of listening to private conversations?” he grumbled, pulling himself off the floor.
“It’s hardly my fault you choose to carry out a private conversation in a public area,” Draco said, shrugging. “What was that about?”
He was still wearing the flame repellent shirt that Charlie had lent him a few days ago. He’d tried to charm it to fit the smaller man properly and had gone a little too far, so it hugged Draco’s chest and arms more than it needed to. Charlie wondered if he kept wearing it on purpose because he knew what it did to Charlie seeing him in it. Thankfully, things had been a little easier between them in recent days. Charlie was trying to keep things professional. He thought a few times he had seen something in Draco’s eyes when he glanced over at Charlie, but it was always gone in an instant, and Charlie thought he had probably just imagined it. He wouldn’t bother someone who didn’t want to be bothered, and Draco had been less hostile towards him, so he left it alone. He’d even managed to make Draco laugh once or twice, and it became his silent mission to make it happen more often.
Draco worked incredibly hard with the dragons, and Charlie was impressed by how quickly he’d learnt. He had a quick mind and was incredibly smart. Charlie was completely intrigued by him. He knew Draco would do well when he moved on to Bulgaria, but every time Charlie realised the date of his transfer was approaching, something unpleasant knotted inside him.
Charlie tore his eyes away from Draco and dropped into the couch opposite him.
“None of your business,” he said. He aimed his wand at the fireplace and ignited the logs, warming the room quickly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Draco finally broke it.
“You knew my cousin,” he said evenly. “I heard your mother mention her.”
Charlie’s chest constricted in that familiar way and he looked away from Draco. “Yes,” he said crisply, hoping his tone would be enough to deter anymore questions. He hated talking about himself. Hated sharing.
“Were you and she…” He trailed off and Charlie couldn’t help it; he snorted.
“Merlin, no,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s — No, definitely not.”
“But you were friends?” Draco pushed. Charlie stood up quickly.
“I’m not talking about her.”
He strode out of the room, searching for the bottle of Firewhisky he knew was in the kitchen. To his dismay, Draco followed him.
“You didn’t like it when your mother compared you to your siblings, did you?” he asked.
Charlie glared at him as he poured the amber liquid into a glass. “What are you doing, Draco? You don’t like me, why do you give a shit?”
Draco shrugged again. “I’m just curious. Your posture changed, you got all… tense.”
Charlie threw back his drink and let the burn slide down his throat before turning back to Draco.
“I’m not like them,” he said simply.
“What does that mean?”
Charlie exhaled and sat down at the table, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you being so annoying today?”
Draco sat opposite him, reaching for the glass as Charlie refilled it.
“I realised when I was listening that you never talk about them,” he said. He sipped at the drink and made a face but didn’t offer it back to Charlie. “You never talk about anything personal. I find it odd. Even in school your brother and sister were always prattling on about some Weasley or another. I suppose it’s hard not to, when your family seem to single handedly be responsible for half the Wizarding population.”
It was supposed to be insulting, but a smile quirked at Charlie’s lips. He summoned another glass and filled it.
“I’m not like them,” he said again before he could stop himself. “I don’t — I’ve never really fit in with my family.”
Draco continued to sip on his Firewhisky but didn’t say anything. He clearly wasn’t enjoying the taste of it but he kept drinking.
“I’m —” Charlie shook his head and picked up the Firewhisky bottle. “I’m going to need to need a hell of a lot more of this before I have this kind of conversation.” He swallowed the half glass he had and quickly poured another.
“I love my family,” he said after a few minutes of silent drinking. He didn’t know why he was letting this out, but the more he spoke the more he wanted to. “More than anything. And having a big family is great, but it’s also very... suffocating. Your voice gets lost, drowned out by however many others. People don’t see you individually, unless you’re different.”
Draco listened silently, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s face.
“I’ve known since I was young that I wanted different things, that I wasn’t like the rest of them, and now that’s how the world sees me too. I’m the Weasley who doesn’t want a family of my own. The Weasley who doesn’t want to stay in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life. I’m the Weasley who prefers to work alone, and who prefers men, and who doesn’t want to get married. I’m not just seen as one of the Weasley brothers, I’m seen as all the things that make me different to the rest of my family, and it makes me —”
“Lonely,” Draco said in a low voice, cutting Charlie off.
Charlie swallowed, and the nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “And… well, it’s hard, because I want to see them, I do, but they just want me to talk about Fred and Ton — the war — and they want me to change, want me to settle down and be different and I just — I don’t know how to be that person.”
“I suppose when you’ve been one way for such a long time it’s hard to figure out how to be anything else,” Draco said, and Charlie stared at him, because he’d never been able to put it into words before.
The alcohol was making his brain feel fuzzy, and the heat coming from the fireplace in the next room was making him sleepy. “You changed though, didn’t you?” he said without thinking. “From what I hear, you were a right shit before, and now you’re…”
“I’m what?” Draco asked, and Charlie thought he seemed amused.
Charlie sighed, slumping back into his chair, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. Firewhisky always did this to him, always hit him all at once. “You’re nice,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Draco chuckled. Charlie quite liked the sound. “I don’t think anyone has ever used the word nice to describe me, so we’ll chalk that up to your drinking problem.” He reached out and took the glass from Charlie’s fingers. “You should go to bed,” he said.
“Mm,” Charlie agreed, sleepily. “Not with you though, you don’t like me. You think I’m a whore.”
Draco stood up and put the half empty Firewhisky bottle away. “I don’t know what I think,” he said so quietly that Charlie almost missed it.
________________________________________
June 1998 - Romania
Harry showed up unexpectedly six weeks after the war ended. Charlie had only been back for a few days, and had so far avoided speaking with anyone back home. He wasn’t ready. It was pouring with rain when he pulled the door of his cabin open and the drenched man stumbled inside. Harry dropped the rucksack from his back to the floor and Charlie barely had time to open his mouth before Harry was on him, his lips seeking Charlie’s desperately.
Charlie’s shirt was soaked through in seconds as Harry’s hair and clothes dripped on him, and he pressed his hands to Harry’s chest, pushing back.
“Harry, shit, Harry, what are you…?”
Harry tried to kiss him again, hands fisting in Charlie’s shirt as he tried to drag him closer.
Charlie pulled his head away again as his traitorous cock twitched with interest. “Harry stop. Look at me. What’s going on?” he asked, hands on Harry’s shoulders now.
“I know how this works,” Harry said, shaking fingers fumbling with the buttons on Charlie’s shirt. “Ron told me that you — I don’t care if it’s not more. I just need... Just distract me, Charlie. Please. I need to get out of my head.”
“Harry,” he said gently, reaching between them to hold Harry’s frozen fingers still. “This isn’t the way to cope with things.”
The fight seemed to disappear from Harry then, and he slumped forward against Charlie’s chest.
“I know that,” Harry said. “But I’m not ready to… I just can’t yet. Please, Charlie.” He looked up, green eyes tormented. “Please, I need you.”
And maybe he should have fought harder, maybe he should have sent Harry away, but the dark haired man was trembling in his arms, face twisted in anguish, and Charlie broke.
He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and he kissed him. He’d never considered Harry this way before — didn’t even know this was where Harry’s preferences lied — but their lips moulded together easily, and the intensity of the kiss built quickly. Charlie walked them back into the living room, leading them towards the fireplace so Harry could at least dry off.
Clothes were torn away and teeth clacked, and Harry was so frantic, so desperate. It wasn’t until Charlie finally laid him down in front of the fireplace and pushed slowly into him, heat from the flames dancing across their skin, that Harry exhaled and all his tension finally seemed to melt away as they moved together. He panted Charlie’s name over and over, begged him to move faster, harder, clawing at his skin, until they finally collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor, sweating and panting and sticky.
Charlie didn’t know how else to help him, didn’t know what to do, and Harry ended up staying. Charlie couldn’t send him away, and so Harry helped where he could with the dragons during the day. At night he would fall into Charlie’s bed, as needy and urgent as he had been that first night. He’d whisper how badly he needed Charlie, offering up his body and trusting Charlie to make him forget. Charlie closed his eyes and kissed him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what the right thing to do was.
Harry would always fall asleep quickly, only to wake up a short time later screaming because of nightmares, and Charlie would hold him against his chest as he cried. Charlie didn’t think either of them really knew what they were doing, though he was quite certain they were using each other. They were both hurting, both trying to figure out how to move forward.
He kept thinking he should tell someone, that he should get Harry help, and he’d almost resolved himself to do it, but then one day Harry smiled, and it was different. Slowly, the tension across his shoulders that usually only dissipated when they were in bed disappeared altogether. When he kissed Charlie now it was slower, less urgent, and though he still woke up distressed every night, he began to whisper to Charlie in the dark and tell him about the dreams, tell him what was hurting him. Charlie bit down on his bottom lip until it bled when Harry talked about Fred and Tonks, forced himself not to run away. Harry needed this.
It was after he had been there for eight weeks that Charlie found him sitting outside one morning, staring at the cloudy grey sky, and he knew.
“I’m ready, I think,” Harry said quietly. “I need to go back and face everything. I think I can do it now.”
“Of course you can,” Charlie agreed, and he meant it. Harry was strong.
Harry looked at Charlie and smiled. “I didn’t think you’d let me stay this long,” he confessed. “I know that you don’t need —”
“It’s fine,” Charlie said quickly. He couldn’t have this conversation, not with Harry.
“I’m going to leave this afternoon,” Harry said. “Do you want me to tell your family anything?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. No, I’ll Floo mum, later maybe. After Sunday dinner.” He looked at Harry and then pulled him into a hug. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. “This —this was amazing, and I’m glad it happened.”
It was the closest he had let himself come to feeling... something, with anybody, but it wasn’t right. Not yet.
________________________________________
Present - 1999
Draco was on his way to being very drunk. He’d woken up that morning, glanced at the calendar, told Charlie he couldn’t help him check the dragon pens, and proceeded to finish the first of what would be many bottles of Firewhisky. Something about today’s date had upset him. When Charlie asked what was going on though, he was told to fuck off, so he let Draco be.
He was slouched over the couch when Charlie returned a short time later. Charlie looked down at his crumpled form and shook his head.
“It’s barely ten,” he said, plucking the almost empty bottle from Draco’s hands. “I thought you didn’t drink during the day.”
Draco muttered something that sounded a lot like go fuck yourself as Charlie put the alcohol away and rummaged through the cupboard for the sobering potion he new was there.
He found the depleted potion and strode back to Draco, pressing it into his hand.
“Drink this,” he said, settling beside Draco on the couch.
“Don’ wanna,” Draco said, sagging sideways into Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie shook his head and took the potion back. “If it was me in this state, you’d be furious,” he muttered, pressing the bottle to Draco’s lips and tipping it back, making him drink. Draco coughed and spluttered, but he swallowed the potion. He slumped back against Charlie, who set the empty bottle down and waited.
Several minutes passed, and finally Charlie felt Draco tense beside him and pull himself hastily away to the other side of the couch.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he muttered darkly. He made to stand up, but Charlie grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on, Draco? Why are you so upset?”
Draco tried to wrench himself free, but Charlie held on.
“Draco, talk to me.”
“Why should I?” Draco snapped. “Why should I trust you with anything to do with me when the most I can get out of you is a drunk confession that you don’t fit in with your family? You won’t open up, won’t talk about anything that’s actually important, so why should I?”
He yanked his arm again, getting his wrist free, as Charlie stared at him. They hadn’t spoken again about Charlie’s family, or anything else to do with his personal life. When he’d sobered up after that first conversation, and Draco had broached it with him, he’d shut it down quickly and refused to let Draco talk about. He could see then it had upset Draco, that he’d wanted Charlie to open up to him, and Charlie hadn’t understood why, or how to do that.
But as he watched Draco make to leave the room, his mouth dry and his heart racing, he realised he didn’t want to stay silent this time. He wanted Draco to know this part of him.
“She was my best friend.”
Draco paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Who was?”
He knew. He knew who Charlie was talking about, but he was going to make him say it.
Charlie closed his eyes. “Tonks,” he said, and it felt so strange, so unfamiliar to say her name again, and he immediately felt guilty that he had gone so long without saying it, without acknowledging her. Merlin, she would have hexed his bollocks off if she could see the mess he’d become.
“We met on the Hogwarts Express, on our first day, and we were friends immediately,” he said. He almost smiled at the memory. She’d barrelled her way into his and Bill’s compartment and began chatting like they were all old friends. It wasn’t until they were almost at Hogwarts that she realised she hadn’t introduced herself.
“I — She was an extension of my family. She was with me the first time I tried out for the Quidditch team and almost killed myself because I was showing off, the first time I saw a dragon. She was the first one I came out to.” The look she had given him when he first told her was forever burned into Charlie’s mind.
“Fucking obviously,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “I knew the minute I met you.”
Draco had slowly come back into the room, and sank silently onto the couch beside him.
“When I was fifteen,” Charlie continued, the ache in his chest so bad he thought it might crush him, “my first and only boyfriend humiliated me in front of the whole Great Hall, and Tonks —” Charlie gave a watery chuckle and realised his face was wet. “She hexed him in the face every morning for a week, right in front of Dumbledore and all the staff. Got so many detentions, but she didn’t care. She only stopped when the teachers finally threatened to take away her wand. She always had my back, always.” Charlie wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “And I wasn’t there in time during the battle. I didn’t get there soon enough to have hers. I wasn’t there in time to help her, or Fred, or Remus. I wasn’t there —”
He broke off, his whole body shuddering as a sob escaped his lips, and then a warm hand was on his, squeezing his fingers. Draco didn’t say anything, somehow he knew Charlie didn’t need him to. To talk about it, to say out loud the thing that had plagued his mind for so long, it was enough for now. He could feel a warmth inside him that hadn’t been there before.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Charlie letting his breathing steady and return to normal as Draco’s thumb stroked idly across the back of his hand.
“It’s my mother's birthday today,” he said quietly. “Did you know she died just after the battle?”
Charlie looked up at him in surprise. “No, I didn’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s why I — It’s why I needed to make something of myself,” Draco said. “She did everything, everything, to protect me, and all she wanted was for me to make a good life for myself when it was all over. No one in England would give me that chance until I went to Kingsley. That’s how I ended up here.”
Charlie squeezed his fingers. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.
Draco met his eyes, glanced at his lips, and for a fraction of a second he seemed to sway towards Charlie, but he caught himself and swallowed.
“There were certain things that were important to her,” he said slowly. “Certain… morals she wanted me to abide by. And now she’s gone —” He closed his eyes. “Now more than ever, I need to make sure I live up to her expectations. There were things that were never taken lightly in my family, things I was taught to treat with respect.” He opened his eyes and looked at Charlie, and he looked sad. “I… I like you. But I could never be the way you are about relationships, could never treat sex so casually.”
Charlie wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and resting his chin on Draco’s head.
“You think I'm a bad person,” he murmured, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.
“No,” Draco said quickly, and then he exhaled. “No I don’t, but I — Sex means more to me, Charlie, and it needs to mean something more to anyone I’m close to.” He pulled away from Charlie and looked sadly at him. “I researched as much as I could about you before I came here, you know. I know you’re brilliant, I’ve seen it first hand now. But I just don’t know yet if this — how you treat something that means so much to me — is something I can get past.”
Charlie didn’t stop him when he stood and walked out, the soft click of the bedroom door closing the only sound he could hear apart from his own shallow breaths.
________________________________________
“Charlie Weasley, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Bill grinned at him through the Floo, and Charlie couldn’t help but grin back. His big brother had a way of relaxing him, of making him feel better without even trying.
“Can your favourite brother not call you unannounced just to chat?” he asked, and Bill chuckled.
“Well, yeah of course he can,” Bill said, “but as George is currently at the shop, I doubt he’ll be calling me anytime soon.”
“Prat.”
“Idiot.”
Charlie shook his head as he laughed. “How’re Fleur and Victoire? I may not be your favourite, but I have it on good authority I am the favorite uncle.”
“Really? My five month old daughter who you’ve met once told you that did she?” Bill asked.
“Yes, she did, and I don’t care for your tone, thank you,” Charlie said, doing his best impersonation of their mother.
“You’re such a prat,” Bill said, shaking his head. “They’re both good. You just missed them, actually, they’ve gone to see Andromeda and Teddy.” Bill paused, looking uncertainly at his brother at the mention of Andromeda. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have —”
“It’s fine, Bill,” Charlie said, and for the first time it felt okay to mention her. “I - I actually talked about Tonks yesterday with Draco.”
Bill looked surprised but quickly covered it up. “That’s good Charlie, that’s really good,” he said. “So you and he are getting along alright, then?”
Charlie nodded. He’d sent Draco down to the main dragon enclosure to drop off some things with another handler so he could talk to Bill. He’d probably be gone a while longer; Charlie was pretty sure they were avoiding each other right now.
“What’s that look?”
“What look?” Charlie quickly tried to rearrange his features.
“Don’t play dumb with me. What’s going on?” Bill narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Charlie, did you and he…?”
“No,” Charlie said quickly, and then he frowned. “No, Merlin, why does everyone always assume the worst of me?”
“I’m not assuming anything,” Bill said evenly. “But you just got the same look on your face Ron gets when Mum serves dinner.”
Charlie snorted. “That’s impossible. No one looks at anything the way Ron looks at food.”
“Charlie,” Bill said in that tone that Charlie knew meant he wasn’t going to get away with avoiding this.
He sighed. “Do you remember when I came out to you?” he asked.
Bill chuckled. “Merlin, yes. I was such a little shit back then. I had no idea what I was talking about.”
“You didn't care at all though,” Charlie said. “You just switched your plan from teaching me about girls to about boys. You’ve always looked out for me.”
Bill looked confused. “Well, yeah. I’m your brother. Of course I do.”
Charlie rubbed awkwardly at his chin. Merlin, why was he so bad at talking about things?
“I never planned to use that advice you know. It wasn’t until Hamish —” Bill scowled at the mention of Charlie’s ex, “— that I decided I didn’t want to risk anything like that again. I guess I didn’t realise at the time I was only making myself more different to everyone else in the family by becoming someone who refused to settle down.
Bill looked at him sadly. “I’ve always worried you took what I said too seriously,” he admitted.
Charlie shook his head. “I chose to take it seriously,” he said. “I guess I used it to protect myself, but now…” He dropped his eyes to the flames dancing beside his brothers head. “I don’t know how to be anything else,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how to be… open with someone. How to let them in like that.”
He looked back up at Bill and sighed. “What do I do Bill? I’ve never done this before. I’ve never wanted to do this.”
Bill sat back from the flames slightly, hand running through his hands as he thought. “What does he mean to you, Charlie?” he asked.
Charlie thought about Draco. Merlin, he wanted him. He’d never not chased after someone when he wanted them, hell, he’d seduced his Professor when he was seventeen, but Draco was… Draco was different.
Draco had been to hell and back, and had every right to be broken — most of the men in Charlie’s life had been — and maybe a part of him was, but he fought against it with everything he had. He was stronger than anyone Charlie knew, and he didn’t want to use the words on Draco that he used on other men, didn’t want to have to convince him. He wanted Draco to want him for who he was, he wanted Draco to know the things he couldn’t tell other people. He wanted every part of him; his wicked sense of humour and his bad moods and his brilliant mind.
And even if Draco never wanted him back physically, Charlie knew he’d be happy just to have him there, next to him. The idea of him going away, of him leaving Charlie behind, of never hearing that stupid sneer or laugh again, was more terrifying than anything, and Charlie realised all at once how much he’d be willing to give up if it meant Draco would stay.
“Everything,” he breathed out. “He means everything.”
“Then you need to tell him that,” Bill said simply.
________________________________________
Draco came back just before the sun went down. His hair was tousled from the wind, and he quickly looked away from Charlie when he came in through the door.
“Wait,” Charlie said, before he could disappear to his room. “Can we talk?”
Draco tensed. He looked torn, but eventually he gave a curt nod and moved to sit on the couch opposite Charlie.
“Do you remember the article you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?” Charlie asked. “About Alexander Jenson?”
Draco bristled. “Yes,” he said stiffly.
Charlie took a breath. “Well,” he said slowly. “You weren’t wrong, about what he was to me.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Draco said, pushing up from the couch and striding to the door. “I don’t want to know about you and… and any of them.”
“Draco, wait, please.” Charlie reached for his arm, stopping him. Draco turned, anger across his face. “Please, just hear me out,” Charlie said quickly. “If you’re still… If you still want nothing to do with me after that I’ll leave you alone, for good. I promise.”
He thought Draco was going to push him away, tell him to fuck off, but he wrenched his arm free and stepped around Charlie, settling himself back on the couch.
“Fine,” he said briskly. “Talk.”
Charlie searched quickly for the right words. “They all… they were all in bad places, in one way or another. Alexander was terrified about leaving the country, Krum was under pressure about the tournament, Sirius was locked in that house going mental, and Harry needed to get away from the aftermath of the war. It had nothing to do with them being well known, I swear. They just needed someone to help them unwind, to distract them.”
Draco scoffed. “Am I supposed to think you selfless for sleeping around?”
“No,” Charlie said frustrated. “That’s not what I’m saying. Fuck, this is all coming out wrong. I’m not making excuses for myself, Draco. I just want you to know there was more to those stories than you think.”
“Is that what I am to you then?” Draco demanded. “Another conquest you’ve convinced yourself needs you? I don’t need you Charlie; I don’t need anything from you.”
“No,” Charlie said, blinking as the words settled over him. “I know you don’t.” He looked seriously at Draco. “It’s me who needs you.”
Draco swallowed, looking uncertain.
“Draco,” Charlie said softly, pleading. “I’ll do this however you want me to. If you don’t want to sleep with me, that’s fine, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. If you never want to… well, that’s fine too. I’ll give it up if that’s what you want me to do.”
He stood up and stepped over to Draco, crouching on the floor in front of him. “Please,” he said. “Give me just one chance to prove to you I can be different than how I was before. I never thought I’d want to do this, Draco, but I want to be different — for you.”
“I won’t be a distraction for you,” Draco said, his voice rough and unsteady. “I won’t be something to just pass the time while you avoid things.”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t want to be distracted from anything,” he said. “I want to face it all... with you.”
He couldn’t read Draco’s expression, but then Draco lifted a hand up to cup Charlie’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
He studied Charlie’s face for a long moment, his warm breath ghosting over Charlie’s skin.
“You know,” he finally sighed, a small smile on his lips, “you really are the worst Weasley.”
And then he kissed him.
Author/Artist:
jadepresleyPrompt: 230 by
llaeyroPairing(s): Charlie/Various
Word Count/Art Medium: 11,300
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s)/Content: Brief implied PTSD, sexual scenes, teacher/student relationship
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Enormous thanks to K & L for being such an amazing Alpha/Beta duo. Your help on this and your commentary throughout was invaluable. Also huge thanks to
llaeyro for your fantastic prompt! It kind of ran away with me and ended up as a much longer oneshot than I planned, but I hope you like it!Summary: Charming men and making them feel needed is second nature to Charlie, but his casual confidence is shaken when a man comes along who refuses to look his way.
Christmas 1985 - The Burrow
“Look, Charlie,” Bill said seriously as he paced the small patch of carpet between their beds. “I’m fifteen now, I’ve had plenty of dates, which means I know a lot about women, and I feel like it’s my job as your big brother to fill you in on a few things.”
Charlie was leaning up against his headboard, his favourite book on dragons propped against his knees. The warming charm his mum had cast on their room earlier was starting to fade, and he yanked the sleeves of his new knitted jumper down. He gave his brother an amused look.
“Women?” he grinned. “Plural? Kiss a couple of girls under the Quidditch stands and you’re some kind of expert now, are you?”
Bill scowled at him. “Don’t be a prat, I’m trying to help you.” He flopped down onto his own bed, pushing his fringe out of his face only for it to immediately fall back across his forehead. “Girls love me, you know they do. And you’re thirteen now so it’s time for you to learn how to talk to them.”
“I know how to talk to girls,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. “My best friend is a girl; I talk to Tonks everyday when we’re at school.”
“Tonks doesn’t count,” Bill said dismissively. “She’s basically one of the boys.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to any others. They’re so…” He made a face. “They’re always hanging about after Quidditch trying to talk to us when all I want to do is shower and eat.”
“Well, you might not be interested in them now, but soon you will be, and unless you’d rather talk to Mum about this…”
“Oh, Merlin,” Charlie cut in, horrified. “Did she put you up to this? Did she tell you to talk to me about this?”
“No, Godric, of course not,” Bill said quickly. He stood up and moved to sit down at Charlie’s feet and looked at him seriously. “Look,” he said, “we both vowed to never end up married. You’re not interested now, but you will be soon. I’m just trying to teach you how to win them over and how to make sure you don’t get attached too soon so we can stick to our vow.”
Charlie sighed and set his book down. “Bill, I don’t think this is really appropriate for me,” he said.
“Appropriate.” Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You sound like Perfect Percy. You’re thirteen now, and it’s not like I’m going to tell Mum or Dad we talk about this stuff.”
Charlie fidgeted uncomfortably. “No, that’s not - that’s not what I meant.” He inhaled deeply, steadying himself to tell his brother the truth. “I don’t think I like girls,” he said carefully.
“Well, no not yet,” Bill said, “but I was your age when I first started to notice them, so soon - “
“No,” Charlie interrupted, fixing his brother with a pointed look. “Bill, I don’t think I like girls.”
Comprehension dawned on his brother’s face, and Charlie held his breath. Bill stared at him, a small crease appearing on his forehead as he frowned.
“I know it’s not —” Charlie began.
“Do you think the same rules apply?”
Charlie looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“With boys. Talking to them… that way. Like I talk to girls. I mean, I know how to win a girl over and break up with them and everything, but I don’t know if my advice would work for boys.”
Charlie scrambled to sit up properly. “You don’t care that I’m… that I don’t like girls?”
“Why would I care?” Bill asked, giving him a funny look.
Charlie opened and closed his mouth. “I... don’t know. I’ve only ever told Tonks. I didn’t know what you’d say.”
“Right,” Bill said. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know, and when you find someone you like you can try it on them. If it doesn’t work maybe I can ask Larry Lewis in sixth year. He like boys too.”
“You’d do that?” Charlie asked.
Bill laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’m your brother,” he said. “Of course I would.”
1991 - Hogwarts
The roar of hundreds of students above them in the Quidditch stands wasn’t enough to deter Charlie from getting what he wanted. He pushed the taller man back roughly against one of the wooden pylons, crowding against him and swallowing the groan that spilled from his lips as he claimed his mouth.
Their belts and trousers hung open and they panted as they ground against each other. The whoops and cheers above them were deafening but Charlie’s attention was completely focused on the heat pooling inside him and the sounds he was eliciting from the other man.
“Oh Merlin, fuck, Charlie!”
“Shh, Alexander. If you’re too loud, and someone walks past, we’ll get caught.” Charlie murmured, reaching between them to palm the hard bulge, and his partner arched into his hand. Charlie pulled back and smirked. “We wouldn’t want that, would we Professor?” He thrust his hand inside the other man’s trousers and began to stroke him quickly.
Alexander’s head lolled back against the pylon, and Charlie moved his mouth to the exposed neck, licking and sucking at the bronzed skin.
“We shouldn’t —” Alexander moaned as Charlie bit down. “Charlie, we can’t - not again - not here —”
“If you want me to stop just say so,” Charlie said, and he kissed him again. Alexander arched into him, and Charlie swallowed another groan.
“I —” Alexander’s fists bunched in Charlie’s Quidditch robes that were still damp with sweat from the exertion of the game he had just finished. Charlie knew how Alexander loved the way he smelled after Quidditch. “Oh, shit,” he groaned as Charlie squeezed his cock. “They’ll - they’ll all be looking for you, though.”
“They can wait,” Charlie murmured, scraping his teeth along the older man’s collarbone. “This is not the first Quidditch cup I’ve won, but it is my last chance to have your lips around my cock before I graduate.” He dragged his tongue along Alexander’s skin, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot behind his ear, breathing him in. “You always know just how to make me feel good. There’s no one like you, you know.” He rolled his hips, pressing his erection against Alexander’s. “Only you do this to me,” he said in a low voice. “Merlin, I’ll miss you when I leave.” He reached his hand up, running his thumb across Alexander’s lips. “Will you suck me?” he hummed. “One more time before we leave. Please?”
Alexander trembled beneath him and then began to tear at Charlie’s trousers, yanking them down, and Charlie grinned against his neck.
“You’re so good to me, Alexander,” he murmured, nipping lightly again at his skin.
Alexander pulled back and kissed him hard before dropping to his knees. He mouthed Charlie through his pants before hooking his fingers underneath the waistband and pulling them down, freeing his cock.
“Melin, I wish you weren’t leaving,” he said as he pressed his lips to the head of Charlie’s cock, and Charlie nudged his hips forward slightly. Alexander’s mouth opened for him, and he swallowed Charlie greedily.
“I’m graduating, you knew it had to stop when the year ended,” he said, letting his head fall back and his fingers card through Alexander’s dark hair. His eyes fluttered shut as Alexander sucked him deeper, the way he knew Charlie liked. “And you’ve resigned anyway, so let’s just- oh fuck - let’s just not talk about this, okay?” he managed to add on.
Alexander’s throat constricted around him, and Charlie groaned. He wouldn’t last long at all; between studying for N.E.W.Ts and training for the Quidditch Cup he’d had no time to seek out Alexander in the last couple of weeks, and he’d been too tired most nights to even sort himself out.
He felt the familiar heat beginning to build at the base of his spine as Alexander moved faster. Charlie’s hips thrust forward in sharp, jerky movements, and then Alexander reached up and tugged lightly at his balls. Charlie groaned loudly and was coming hard and fast, spilling into his professor’s hot, wet mouth.
Noise still thundered above them as hundreds of students continued to celebrate Gryffindor’s win. Alexander scrambled to his feet, pulling Charlie’s pants and trousers up with him. Charlie gave him a lazy smile and wrapped his hand behind his head, pulling him close to kiss him. He could taste himself on Alexander’s lips. He dipped his hand into the other man’s pants and within a few quick strokes Alexander was shuddering against Charlie as he found his own release. They kissed slowly as they both came down from their highs.
“Come to America with me,” Alexander murmured against his lips.
Charlie pulled back with a sad smile. “You know I’ve already made my plans.”
“Why Romania? You could work with American dragons.”
Charlie kissed him again. “You know it’s important to me,” he said quietly.
“I could come with you,” Alexander said, his voice strained.
“No you couldn’t,” Charlie said kindly. “Your place is over there; MACUSA recruited you for a reason. You’re a brilliant man, a brilliant dueler, and you’re going to do huge things. They need you.”
“But I need you,” Alexander said sadly. “Ever since you came to me the first time, sweet talked your way into my bed —” Charlie grinned at him and ran his hands affectionately along Alexander's arms, “— I’ve needed you.”
“Hey, look at me.” Charlie tilted Alexander’s chin up so their eyes met. “This — us — it’s been so special to me. I’ll never forget it.” He cupped Alexander’s cheek, letting his thumb run lightly across his stubble. “But I don’t want to to settle down yet.”
Alexander swallowed thickly. “You don’t need me, do you?”
Charlie sighed. He hated this part, hated hurting people. “I’m not the one who’s going to make you happy Alexander, and I think deep down, you know that too.”
He kissed him again, and this time it wasn’t sweet; it felt sad and final.
Present - 1999
Charlie glanced at the crumpled parchment on the bench of his small cabin for the hundredth time that morning and sighed. He didn’t mind helping Kingsley out — he really didn’t — and he wouldn’t back out now, but Merlin this was going to be a long month.
It’s for his safety, Kingsley had said in his letter. He may have been found not guilty during the trials but that doesn’t mean the Wizarding world has forgiven or forgotten. He’s been put in St Mungo’s three times in as many months. He wants to work, but he can’t do it here. Just give him four weeks of basic training and we can move him onto the sanctuary in Bulgaria.
He did consider saying no, even if he knew he didn’t really mean it. It was when he remembered that the person he was asked to help was Tonks’ cousin that he had picked up a quill and sent his reply. He didn’t even know if the pair had ever met, but they were family, and family had meant everything to her.
The familiar ache in his chest whenever he thought about his best friend was still as painful as ever, so he pushed it away, refusing to acknowledge it. He glanced at the clock - 3:45 p.m. - and shrugged to himself. It was late enough in the day to drink. He summoned a Firewhisky, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat, and then his Floo chimed.
“Charlie, are you there?” Kingsley’s deep voice said from the flames.
“Yeah, come through,” he replied, taking another generous drink and leaning casually against the wall to wait. A moment later, Kingsley stepped out onto the hearth, followed immediately by Draco Malfoy.
“Charlie, hi.” Kingsley beamed at him as he strode forward and shook his hand. “Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate your help.”
Charlie nodded. “It’s no problem.” He looked over the man still standing in front of his fireplace. He didn’t see any resemblance to Tonks, and part of him was relieved; he wasn’t sure how he would handle having a reminder literally staring him in the face for a month. Draco was scowling at him, and Charlie opened his mouth to ask what his problem was, but Kingsley interrupted.
“Look, I need to get back — I have a meeting with Harry that was supposed to start five minutes ago. You both have all the details, so just Floo or Owl me if you need anything else.”
“Tell Harry I said hi,” Charlie said. Kingsley smiled and nodded before he stepped back into the fireplace.
A heavy silence hovered in the room as the green flames died down. Draco was glancing around, a sour look still on his face, and Charlie leaned back against the wall and took another long drink of his Firewhisky.
“So,” he finally said. “You’re the Malfoy brat.”
He saw Draco’s shoulders tense. “And you’re the worst Weasley,” he snapped back.
Charlie couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “I haven’t heard that one before, is that what the papers are calling me now? What happened to the ‘disappointing Weasley’ or the ‘Weasley who abandoned his family?’”
“Oh, they still call you that too,” Draco said flatly. His eyes dropped to the bottle in Charlie’s hand.
“Do you want one?” Charlie asked.
“No,” Draco snapped. “I don’t drink in the middle of the day.”
Charlie shrugged. “Your loss. I’ll show you to your room, and then we can go over how this next four weeks is going to work.”
His cabin had only had a single bedroom before yesterday, but with a few Extension Charms he had been able to create an additional small, but cosy, room. The other option would have been to share with Draco — and as he glanced at him when he pushed off the wall to lead him to his room, he didn’t particularly hate that idea — but he knew Draco’s reputation and knew he’d want his own space.
“This is it,” he said, standing aside and gesturing into the room. Draco paused at the threshold and glanced around.
“It’ll do, I suppose,” he said stiffly.
Charlie bit back a grin. Draco was so… prickly. He wondered idly what it would take to break down that hard exterior…
“Don’t,” Draco snapped suddenly. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” Charlie asked, confused.
“I know all about you, Weasley,” he scoffed. “Everyone knows about your penchant for bedding well known people.”
“What are you —”
“Krum?” Draco cut in. “Potter? Black? All the nameless ones in between? I’m sure adding the now infamous Malfoy name to that list would be a great score for you, but I’m telling you right now it’s not going to happen. Ever.”
“I didn’t even say —”
“You don’t have to. I know that look. I know men.”
Charlie grinned. “Do you now?”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m here to learn from you about dragons. The second this four weeks is up, I’m out of here. Believe me, this wasn’t my choice, and if I had any other options I wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t even know me,” Charlie found himself saying defensively.
“I know enough about your lifestyle,” Draco sniffed.
“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to settle down with someone,” Charlie sighed, reminded of countless conversations over the past few years with his mother.
“Of course there’s not,” Draco agreed. “But if you think I would ever deign to be just another name on anyone’s list, you’re delusional.”
He strode into his room, shutting his bedroom door with a firm thud.
November 1994 - Hogwarts
He’d watched him intently during the dragon task. Charlie knew who he was of course; he could have been him if he’d chosen to pursue Quidditch, but his heart had always been with dragons. He had great respect for Viktor Krum as a seeker — and would be lying if he said he had never admired the way he looked on a broom — but it wasn’t until he’d watched the Bulgarian walk out towards his dragon, his eyes sharp and fearless and his Champion robes hugging the tight ripple of his muscled arms, that Charlie had made his decision.
He waited outside the entrance doors while the feast finished, leaning casually against the stone wall as he inhaled the crisp November air. He heard the low rumble of students milling out of the Great Hall, and then the doors were swung open and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students began to file past him. One of the Beauxbatons boys caught his eye as he walked by, and his lips quirked into a smile, but Charlie let his eyes slide back to the door.
Krum had lagged behind as Charlie expected — Ron had mentioned he tended to leave a short time after everyone else — and the other students had disappeared by the time he strode through the doors. He looked tired, looked similar to the way Charlie often felt after a long day of handling dragons.
He didn’t spot Charlie until he spoke up.
“You really knew what you were doing out there today.”
Krum paused, turning to look at him. He appraised him for a moment before nodding once.
“Thank you,” he said. “Though, I vish I had thought to use a broom as Potter did. That vas quite good.”
“You are good on a broom,” Charlie agreed, arching a brow at him. “You really know how to handle yourself when you ride something powerful.”
Krum looked at him for a long moment, his chin raised slightly, and then Charlie saw something flash in his eyes.
“What are you doing now?” Charlie asked, pushing off the wall and stepping closer.
“Ve are required to go back to the ship,” Krum said. “Although…” He hesitated. “They tend to be more… relaxed for me.”
Charlie smirked. “Perks of being famous, I imagine.”
Krum nodded and pursed his lips but didn't say anything. Strong and silent, didn't want hero worship. Most professional Quidditch players loved the attention that came with their positions. He liked that Krum seemed to be put off by it. He wondered if he ever got the chance to just... be.
“It must be hard,” he said, “being surrounded by people who constantly want your attention but know nothing about you.”
Krum nodded again, slowly this time. “Yes I suppose.”
“Do you ever get time for you?” Charlie asked quietly leaning in closer. “Time to just… unwind?”
Krum remained silent, his face unreadable, but then his eyes flickered to Charlie’s lips. “Vot is your name?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’m Charlie,” Charlie replied, offering his hand. “I’m one of the dragon wranglers.”
“You handle the dragons?” Krum asked, accepting Charlie’s hand and shaking it.
Charlie gripped his fingers tightly and gave him a half smile. “Among other things.”
They stood clasping hands for a beat, eyes locked, and then Charlie pulled away slowly, letting his fingers slide across Krum’s palm.
“And are you not needed to help transport them back?”
Charlie shook his head. “Not yet, I’m in charge of the horntail. Last one to leave. I have some time to kill. You want to walk with me?
Krum nodded once, and they set off across the grounds.
“You must be very powerful if it is the horntail you are in charge of,” he commented.
Charlie shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time with them. It’s all about learning what they want, what they need.”
He glanced at Krum, whose shoulders were still tensed, and Charlie felt a wave of sadness for him, wondering if this was the way he was always forced to carry himself.
Charlie wasn't aiming for it, but they ended up just inside the trees of the forest. The breeze had died off thankfully, and Krum suddenly stopped and turned to face him. Charlie opened his mouth but was cut off by Viktor grabbing him and pushing him roughly against a tree. The dry bark was digging into his back uncomfortably, but he didn’t care.
“Straight to the point,” he said a little breathlessly as Krum pushed a knee between his legs. “I like that.”
Krum’s mouth was on his neck then, nipping roughly and drawing low moans from Charlie’s lips. He moved to Charlie’s jaw and kissed along it, before he made his way to Charlie’s mouth.
“I need you,” he said in a husky voice before his lips stole Charlie’s breath. “Now.”
His trousers and pants were down before he knew it, and Krum spun him quickly. Charlie braced himself against the tree, stroking himself as Krum worked him open.
“Do it,” he moaned in a low voice. “Please, Krum, fuck me.”
Krum breached him slowly, and Charlie let out a low noise of pleasure as Krum began thrusting into him. Krum’s large hands gripped Charlie’s hips tightly, and they both panted loudly as their bodies moved to meet each other.
All too soon, Charlie was groaning and spilled over his own fingers, and just a few thrusts later, Krum followed him over the edge.
They stayed pressed together for a few short minutes as their breathing returned to normal. Krum pulled out of him and murmured a quick cleaning charm, and Charlie stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the familiar ache that came with being fucked this way. They redressed silently, and then Krum turned him around, leaning in close.
“I vould like to see you again,” Krum said, his thumb gently stroking Charlie’s bottom lip. “This… I needed thiis. Needed you.”
“I leave tonight,” Charlie said regretfully. “But this — it was really special to me.” He kissed Krum, enjoying the scratch of his stubble against his chin. “No one has made me feel like this. Thank you,” he murmured.
They pulled apart, and Krum looked at him for a long moment before nodding.
“Good luck with the tournament,” Charlie said quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning and leaving the trees.
Present - 1999
A week in, and it wasn’t going well. Charlie slammed the door to his bathroom shut, using all the willpower he possessed not to go back out there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to snog the bastard or punch him in the face.
He stripped off his t-shirt, inspected the damage from being singed by one of his dragons, and decided just to banish it. He was rubbish at repairing scorch marks; he’d just get a new shirt. He pulled off his jeans and stepped into the shower, turning the water on and making it as hot as he could bear. Steam rose up quickly, filling the small bathroom, and Charlie felt his muscles finally relaxing as his body adjusted to the water temperature.
Draco Malfoy was an honest to god nightmare. Not with the dragons; no, he was a natural with the dragons and was picking up on all Charlie’s instructions with an ease he’d never seen in anyone else. If he was bad with the dragons it might have made the whole situation easier.
He was just a complete prick to Charlie. He sneered, scoffed, and muttered insults under his breath.
Whenever they finished training, hot and exhausted, Draco would take his shirt off, and his skin would gleam with a fine layer of sweat, and Charlie’s mouth would go dry every time. Draco caught him looking. Every damn time he would catch Charlie looking and would happily remind him that he thought Charlie was nothing more than a whore who would never have him, and fuck, didn’t that just drive Charlie crazy?
He wondered if Draco was doing it on purpose, flaunting himself in front of Charlie like that to drive him wild. Probably. Harry and Ron had always said he was a total menace.
His prick was half hard just thinking about the way Draco looked when he pulled his shirt over his head, with tousled hair and slick skin, and Charlie reached down to stroke himself slowly until he was throbbing. He fucked his hand hard and fast as he thought about all the things he’d like to do to that smart mouth of Draco’s.
He hadn’t brought in fresh clothes, so he wrapped a towel around his waist when he’d finished and pulled open the bathroom door.
Draco was on one of the couches, reading an old copy of the Prophet. Charlie never got them until they were at least a couple of weeks old; Ginny sent them when she remembered, a habit she’d picked up during the war to keep him informed, but she was so busy now with Quidditch training that there was usually a week or two between his deliveries.
He paused as he caught the image on the front cover and a fond smile crept over his face. Draco saw his expression, he always saw, and he frowned, closing the paper to inspect the cover.
He read the headline: MACUSA’s youngest ever Head of Law Enforcement, England’s own Alexander Jenson, takes down notorious crime syndicate boss...turn to page 2 for full details. He looked up at Charlie.
“Did you fuck him too, then?” Draco asked bluntly.
Charlie glared at him. “I’m not going to keep telling you that I don’t fuck everyone I meet, Draco.”
Draco was reading the article and his eyes narrowed.
“He was a Hogwarts Professor before he went abroad,” he said. “You did fuck him, didn’t you? You fucked a Professor. Salazar, what does your mother think? How does this creep still have a job if he’s preying on students?”
Charlie felt himself flush. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. He strode over and snatched the paper from Draco’s hands. He wouldn’t let this get out. People had slowly found out about the others, but he wouldn’t ruin Alexander’s career by letting this become public too.
“You really are completely shameless, aren’t you?” Draco said, shaking his head. “I bet you came onto him, too. I bet you risked the man’s career just so you could get off and —”
“You don’t fucking know me!” Charlie realised he was shouting as Draco flinched. “You don’t know what it’s fucking like for some people, so just shut your fucking mouth!”
Silence hung between them, and Draco looked uncertain for the first time.
“What are you talking about?” he finally asked.
“Fuck you.” Charlie glared at him, and then turned and stormed into his room, slamming his second door for the day.
June 1996 - Grimmauld Place
He’d met Sirius Black once when he was a child. His father had taken him along when he had to meet with Dumbledore, and Sirius had been there. Charlie remembered thinking he was the epitome of cool, with his shaggy dark hair and leather jacket, and had stared at him in awe.
Years later, in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the feelings he hadn’t been able to identify back then in the pit of his stomach were still there as he talked and laughed with the man.
He was older, yes, and Azkaban had weathered him, but the easy way he threw his head back when he laughed when he had all the reasons in the world to be sad, and that coy little half smile he did, had Charlie’s cock twitching from the moment he sat down.
Sirius was shaking his head as he sipped at his elf wine.
“I can’t get over it,” he said, grinning. “You’re just all grown up now. I heard you lived in Romania.”
“I do,” Charlie said, drinking generously from his own goblet. “I’m headed back there this afternoon. Had to see Dumbledore earlier about connecting with a few people abroad. I saw Tonks as well, and she told me you were here, so thought I’d come by.”
Sirius licked at his bottom lip, lapping away a dribble of wine, and Charlie’s mouth went dry.
“I hear you're a dragon tamer now,” he said. He was wearing a leather jacket again. Charlie’s eyes had gone straight to it when he walked in the room.
“I hear you’re a wanted criminal.”
Sirius gave him that half smile and shrugged, but a shadow passed over his face. “It’s nice to be wanted for something, I suppose.”
Charlie eyed him for a moment before setting his goblet down. Feeling bold, he reached out and let his fingers touch the back of Sirius’ wrist. “I’m sure there are other things people want you for,” he said in a low voice.
The air around them seemed to change, a current that wasn’t there before hummed over them, and Charlie saw Sirius’ breath hitch.
A heavy silence hung between them, and Charlie waited until he saw Sirius’ eyes dart briefly to his lips and then back up before standing. He moved slowly, purposely, never breaking their eye contact as he stepped closer, his legs brushing the other man’s knees.
Sirius swallowed as he looked up at Charlie — the only indication he was nervous — and something flashed in his eyes. Want. “There’s no one else here,” Sirius said quietly.
Charlie nodded. “Good. Stand up.” Sirius obeyed, and Charlie reached out to run his thumb along the man’s cheek.
Sirius’ eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch, and Charlie felt a pang of sadness wondering how long it had been since he had been made to feel wanted, cared about. He trailed his thumb softly down across Sirius’ bottom lip, before leaning in and capturing his mouth with his own.
His lips were chapped and rough, but the kiss was soft and tentative. Charlie wanted him to be comfortable, wanted him to take what he needed, so he deepened the kiss slowly, letting it build between them. He twisted his fingers in Sirius’ dark hair and pressed forward, letting his half hard cock brush against Sirius’ leg.
Sirius pulled back. He was seeking permission, and Charlie gave the slightest nod. A moment later and hands were on his hips, turning them both so Charlie was backed up against the old oak table. Sirius lifted him so he was sat atop it, and then he nudged Charlie’s knees apart and stepped between them, bringing their mouths back together in a frenzied, desperate kiss.
Charlie’s legs were locked around his hips, and he groaned as Sirius pressed firmly against him. Sirius swallowed the sound, his hands tearing at the buttons of Charlie’s shirt. His mouth moved to Charlie’s neck as he pushed the shirt away, and Charlie let his head fall to the side as Sirius left hot, open mouthed kissed along his throat and the crook of his neck and his shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful,” Sirius said breathlessly as he ran his hands over the exposed chest. He dropped his head and took one of Charlie’s nipples into his mouth, tugging lightly and making Charlie moan loudly and buck his hips forward.
“Merlin, you want it, don’t you Charlie?” he hummed, bringing his mouth back to Charlie’s. “You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want my cock.”
He reached between them and palmed at Charlie’s cock. He wanted to take control. Charlie wanted to let him.
“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” Charlie groaned, pressing forward for more friction.
Sirius stepped back suddenly, leaving Charlie cold, but he made quick work of undoing his own trousers. He yanked them down, and his cock sprang free. Charlie eyed it hungrily.
“On your knees,” Sirius instructed.
The command sent a thrill through Charlie, and he dropped quickly to the floor. Sirius’ fingers threaded into his red hair and brought his head forward.
“Open,” he said in the same commanding tone, and Charlie obliged. He took Sirius into his mouth, and the sound Sirius made as Charlie locked his lips around his cock and began to move made him want to rut against his leg or the floor or fucking anything.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Sirius told him, and Charlie nodded eagerly.
He started slow at first, his cock sliding gently back and forth into the hot heat of Charlie’s mouth, but then his grip in Charlie’s hair tightened and he groaned, and his hips began to thrust faster, more urgently. Charlie held onto Sirius’ hip with one hand and let his mouth be fucked, let Sirius’ cock press to the back of his throat over and over. He fumbled to get his own cock out, freeing it from his pants and stroking hurriedly as Sirius moaned loudly and bucked harder.
“Wait, wait,” Sirius grunted after a few more pumps. Charlie pulled back and looked up at him as he wiped the precome and spittle from his chin. “I want to fuck you,” Sirius said.
Charlie’s cock twitched in his hand. “Think you can?” he said teasingly, and Sirius’ eyes gleamed at the challenge. He yanked Charlie up, spun him quickly and pressed him over the kitchen table. Charlie’s hands spread out in front of him as his trousers and pants were pulled down to his thighs. He rested his head on the cool wood, and Sirius’ hands moved gently over the curve of his arse.
“So fucking beautiful,” Sirius murmured.
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s lower back, and then his fingers were pressing inside him, working him open. Charlie moaned and pressed back into Sirius’ hand, wanting, needing, more.
“Fuck, Sirius,” he panted. He tried to lift his torso up but Sirius used his free hand to press Charlie back down into the table. He kept his hand pressed into the middle of Charlie’s back, holding Charlie down as he added a third finger. Charlie rarely let other people take this kind of control, but, fuck, he loved it.
Finally and all too soon, Sirius pulled his fingers away. Charlie made a needy sound at the loss, but then the hard press of Sirius’ cock pushing into him was overwhelming him, and his hips were twitching back, wanting more, wanting desperately to be filled.
“Fucking Merlin,” Sirius exhaled when he was fully sheathed. “You feel so fucking good, Charlie. Fuck it’s been so long.”
It was fast and hard and dirty. Sirius fucked him roughly bent over the table, using one hand to stroke Charlie’s cock in time with his thrusts, and Charlie swore loudly as Sirius’ movements became quicker and more erratic. With one final pump he was spilling inside Charlie, moaning his name over and over. His hand stuttered on Charlie’s cock but then a moment later he pulled out of him, and the feel of come still warm in his arse had Charlie thrusting desperately, and he came in hard, hot spurts over Sirius’ fingers.
Charlie barely had time to catch his breath before Sirius had yanked him back up and spun him, kissing him hard. Charlie opened for him and let his mouth be ravaged, until the kiss became softer.
“Merlin,” Sirius finally whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “That was — Fuck. I needed that.”
Charlie’s hands cupped his face, his thumbs stroking across his cheeks, and he pressed another soft kiss to to Sirius’ lips.
“Do you really need to go?” Sirius asked quietly, his hands skimming over Charlie’s chest. “I know you do but — Fuck, I wish you didn't. This place makes me — Merlin, I just need more of that. Need more of you.”
Charlie sighed and pulled away. How many times had he heard those words over the years? How many more times would he wish he felt the same? They dressed in silence, and then he caught Sirius around the waist, kissing him again.
“You don’t need me, Sirius,” he murmured quietly. “Nobody…” He shook his head. “Just trust me. This was so amazing, and I’ll never forget it, but we both know I can’t stay.”
Sirius looked at him for a long time, and then he nodded.
“Thank you,” he said as he pulled away from Charlie. “For this. It was...”
Charlie smiled. “I know. Take care of yourself, okay, Sirius?”
Present - 1999
Charlie and his mother had a tradition in which every second Sunday evening he would Floo call her after dinner, and she would fill him in on the family news and lecture him on his life choices.
The things he was told off for varied from how messy his hair was, to what he had eaten that day, to his lack of presence in their life back home.
She was proud of him, he knew she was, but after losing Fred all she wanted was to keep the family close by — preferably under one roof — but Charlie couldn’t stay. He needed his life in Romania, needed the isolation, and no one else in his family had ever seemed to understand that.
He sighed and rubbed at his face as she talked, feeling guilty that he hoped this would wrap up soon as the hearth was hurting his knees.
“I just don’t understand why you insist on staying there alone,” she huffed. “Harry came back after just a few weeks.”
Charlie clenched his jaw and tried to stay patient. “Harry had different reasons for coming here, mum. This is —”
“Don’t you dare say that’s your home, young man,” Molly scolded. “The Burrow is your home. Your brothers and Ginny are here, and they’re all quite happy to stay close by. I wish you would just consider doing the same. I hardly think Tonks would have wanted you to be there all alone.”
Charlie’s hands balled into fists, and he took a calming breath. “I’m not talking about her,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s not healthy, Charlie,” she said. “You never talk about her. I really think —”
“Mum, look, I have to go,” Charlie said, hearing a noise behind him. “I’ll write to you through the week, okay? I love you.”
He ended the Floo call before she could protest and turned to see Draco lounging on his couch.
“Do you make a habit of listening to private conversations?” he grumbled, pulling himself off the floor.
“It’s hardly my fault you choose to carry out a private conversation in a public area,” Draco said, shrugging. “What was that about?”
He was still wearing the flame repellent shirt that Charlie had lent him a few days ago. He’d tried to charm it to fit the smaller man properly and had gone a little too far, so it hugged Draco’s chest and arms more than it needed to. Charlie wondered if he kept wearing it on purpose because he knew what it did to Charlie seeing him in it. Thankfully, things had been a little easier between them in recent days. Charlie was trying to keep things professional. He thought a few times he had seen something in Draco’s eyes when he glanced over at Charlie, but it was always gone in an instant, and Charlie thought he had probably just imagined it. He wouldn’t bother someone who didn’t want to be bothered, and Draco had been less hostile towards him, so he left it alone. He’d even managed to make Draco laugh once or twice, and it became his silent mission to make it happen more often.
Draco worked incredibly hard with the dragons, and Charlie was impressed by how quickly he’d learnt. He had a quick mind and was incredibly smart. Charlie was completely intrigued by him. He knew Draco would do well when he moved on to Bulgaria, but every time Charlie realised the date of his transfer was approaching, something unpleasant knotted inside him.
Charlie tore his eyes away from Draco and dropped into the couch opposite him.
“None of your business,” he said. He aimed his wand at the fireplace and ignited the logs, warming the room quickly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Draco finally broke it.
“You knew my cousin,” he said evenly. “I heard your mother mention her.”
Charlie’s chest constricted in that familiar way and he looked away from Draco. “Yes,” he said crisply, hoping his tone would be enough to deter anymore questions. He hated talking about himself. Hated sharing.
“Were you and she…” He trailed off and Charlie couldn’t help it; he snorted.
“Merlin, no,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s — No, definitely not.”
“But you were friends?” Draco pushed. Charlie stood up quickly.
“I’m not talking about her.”
He strode out of the room, searching for the bottle of Firewhisky he knew was in the kitchen. To his dismay, Draco followed him.
“You didn’t like it when your mother compared you to your siblings, did you?” he asked.
Charlie glared at him as he poured the amber liquid into a glass. “What are you doing, Draco? You don’t like me, why do you give a shit?”
Draco shrugged again. “I’m just curious. Your posture changed, you got all… tense.”
Charlie threw back his drink and let the burn slide down his throat before turning back to Draco.
“I’m not like them,” he said simply.
“What does that mean?”
Charlie exhaled and sat down at the table, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you being so annoying today?”
Draco sat opposite him, reaching for the glass as Charlie refilled it.
“I realised when I was listening that you never talk about them,” he said. He sipped at the drink and made a face but didn’t offer it back to Charlie. “You never talk about anything personal. I find it odd. Even in school your brother and sister were always prattling on about some Weasley or another. I suppose it’s hard not to, when your family seem to single handedly be responsible for half the Wizarding population.”
It was supposed to be insulting, but a smile quirked at Charlie’s lips. He summoned another glass and filled it.
“I’m not like them,” he said again before he could stop himself. “I don’t — I’ve never really fit in with my family.”
Draco continued to sip on his Firewhisky but didn’t say anything. He clearly wasn’t enjoying the taste of it but he kept drinking.
“I’m —” Charlie shook his head and picked up the Firewhisky bottle. “I’m going to need to need a hell of a lot more of this before I have this kind of conversation.” He swallowed the half glass he had and quickly poured another.
“I love my family,” he said after a few minutes of silent drinking. He didn’t know why he was letting this out, but the more he spoke the more he wanted to. “More than anything. And having a big family is great, but it’s also very... suffocating. Your voice gets lost, drowned out by however many others. People don’t see you individually, unless you’re different.”
Draco listened silently, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s face.
“I’ve known since I was young that I wanted different things, that I wasn’t like the rest of them, and now that’s how the world sees me too. I’m the Weasley who doesn’t want a family of my own. The Weasley who doesn’t want to stay in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life. I’m the Weasley who prefers to work alone, and who prefers men, and who doesn’t want to get married. I’m not just seen as one of the Weasley brothers, I’m seen as all the things that make me different to the rest of my family, and it makes me —”
“Lonely,” Draco said in a low voice, cutting Charlie off.
Charlie swallowed, and the nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “And… well, it’s hard, because I want to see them, I do, but they just want me to talk about Fred and Ton — the war — and they want me to change, want me to settle down and be different and I just — I don’t know how to be that person.”
“I suppose when you’ve been one way for such a long time it’s hard to figure out how to be anything else,” Draco said, and Charlie stared at him, because he’d never been able to put it into words before.
The alcohol was making his brain feel fuzzy, and the heat coming from the fireplace in the next room was making him sleepy. “You changed though, didn’t you?” he said without thinking. “From what I hear, you were a right shit before, and now you’re…”
“I’m what?” Draco asked, and Charlie thought he seemed amused.
Charlie sighed, slumping back into his chair, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. Firewhisky always did this to him, always hit him all at once. “You’re nice,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Draco chuckled. Charlie quite liked the sound. “I don’t think anyone has ever used the word nice to describe me, so we’ll chalk that up to your drinking problem.” He reached out and took the glass from Charlie’s fingers. “You should go to bed,” he said.
“Mm,” Charlie agreed, sleepily. “Not with you though, you don’t like me. You think I’m a whore.”
Draco stood up and put the half empty Firewhisky bottle away. “I don’t know what I think,” he said so quietly that Charlie almost missed it.
June 1998 - Romania
Harry showed up unexpectedly six weeks after the war ended. Charlie had only been back for a few days, and had so far avoided speaking with anyone back home. He wasn’t ready. It was pouring with rain when he pulled the door of his cabin open and the drenched man stumbled inside. Harry dropped the rucksack from his back to the floor and Charlie barely had time to open his mouth before Harry was on him, his lips seeking Charlie’s desperately.
Charlie’s shirt was soaked through in seconds as Harry’s hair and clothes dripped on him, and he pressed his hands to Harry’s chest, pushing back.
“Harry, shit, Harry, what are you…?”
Harry tried to kiss him again, hands fisting in Charlie’s shirt as he tried to drag him closer.
Charlie pulled his head away again as his traitorous cock twitched with interest. “Harry stop. Look at me. What’s going on?” he asked, hands on Harry’s shoulders now.
“I know how this works,” Harry said, shaking fingers fumbling with the buttons on Charlie’s shirt. “Ron told me that you — I don’t care if it’s not more. I just need... Just distract me, Charlie. Please. I need to get out of my head.”
“Harry,” he said gently, reaching between them to hold Harry’s frozen fingers still. “This isn’t the way to cope with things.”
The fight seemed to disappear from Harry then, and he slumped forward against Charlie’s chest.
“I know that,” Harry said. “But I’m not ready to… I just can’t yet. Please, Charlie.” He looked up, green eyes tormented. “Please, I need you.”
And maybe he should have fought harder, maybe he should have sent Harry away, but the dark haired man was trembling in his arms, face twisted in anguish, and Charlie broke.
He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and he kissed him. He’d never considered Harry this way before — didn’t even know this was where Harry’s preferences lied — but their lips moulded together easily, and the intensity of the kiss built quickly. Charlie walked them back into the living room, leading them towards the fireplace so Harry could at least dry off.
Clothes were torn away and teeth clacked, and Harry was so frantic, so desperate. It wasn’t until Charlie finally laid him down in front of the fireplace and pushed slowly into him, heat from the flames dancing across their skin, that Harry exhaled and all his tension finally seemed to melt away as they moved together. He panted Charlie’s name over and over, begged him to move faster, harder, clawing at his skin, until they finally collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor, sweating and panting and sticky.
Charlie didn’t know how else to help him, didn’t know what to do, and Harry ended up staying. Charlie couldn’t send him away, and so Harry helped where he could with the dragons during the day. At night he would fall into Charlie’s bed, as needy and urgent as he had been that first night. He’d whisper how badly he needed Charlie, offering up his body and trusting Charlie to make him forget. Charlie closed his eyes and kissed him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what the right thing to do was.
Harry would always fall asleep quickly, only to wake up a short time later screaming because of nightmares, and Charlie would hold him against his chest as he cried. Charlie didn’t think either of them really knew what they were doing, though he was quite certain they were using each other. They were both hurting, both trying to figure out how to move forward.
He kept thinking he should tell someone, that he should get Harry help, and he’d almost resolved himself to do it, but then one day Harry smiled, and it was different. Slowly, the tension across his shoulders that usually only dissipated when they were in bed disappeared altogether. When he kissed Charlie now it was slower, less urgent, and though he still woke up distressed every night, he began to whisper to Charlie in the dark and tell him about the dreams, tell him what was hurting him. Charlie bit down on his bottom lip until it bled when Harry talked about Fred and Tonks, forced himself not to run away. Harry needed this.
It was after he had been there for eight weeks that Charlie found him sitting outside one morning, staring at the cloudy grey sky, and he knew.
“I’m ready, I think,” Harry said quietly. “I need to go back and face everything. I think I can do it now.”
“Of course you can,” Charlie agreed, and he meant it. Harry was strong.
Harry looked at Charlie and smiled. “I didn’t think you’d let me stay this long,” he confessed. “I know that you don’t need —”
“It’s fine,” Charlie said quickly. He couldn’t have this conversation, not with Harry.
“I’m going to leave this afternoon,” Harry said. “Do you want me to tell your family anything?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. No, I’ll Floo mum, later maybe. After Sunday dinner.” He looked at Harry and then pulled him into a hug. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. “This —this was amazing, and I’m glad it happened.”
It was the closest he had let himself come to feeling... something, with anybody, but it wasn’t right. Not yet.
Present - 1999
Draco was on his way to being very drunk. He’d woken up that morning, glanced at the calendar, told Charlie he couldn’t help him check the dragon pens, and proceeded to finish the first of what would be many bottles of Firewhisky. Something about today’s date had upset him. When Charlie asked what was going on though, he was told to fuck off, so he let Draco be.
He was slouched over the couch when Charlie returned a short time later. Charlie looked down at his crumpled form and shook his head.
“It’s barely ten,” he said, plucking the almost empty bottle from Draco’s hands. “I thought you didn’t drink during the day.”
Draco muttered something that sounded a lot like go fuck yourself as Charlie put the alcohol away and rummaged through the cupboard for the sobering potion he new was there.
He found the depleted potion and strode back to Draco, pressing it into his hand.
“Drink this,” he said, settling beside Draco on the couch.
“Don’ wanna,” Draco said, sagging sideways into Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie shook his head and took the potion back. “If it was me in this state, you’d be furious,” he muttered, pressing the bottle to Draco’s lips and tipping it back, making him drink. Draco coughed and spluttered, but he swallowed the potion. He slumped back against Charlie, who set the empty bottle down and waited.
Several minutes passed, and finally Charlie felt Draco tense beside him and pull himself hastily away to the other side of the couch.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he muttered darkly. He made to stand up, but Charlie grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on, Draco? Why are you so upset?”
Draco tried to wrench himself free, but Charlie held on.
“Draco, talk to me.”
“Why should I?” Draco snapped. “Why should I trust you with anything to do with me when the most I can get out of you is a drunk confession that you don’t fit in with your family? You won’t open up, won’t talk about anything that’s actually important, so why should I?”
He yanked his arm again, getting his wrist free, as Charlie stared at him. They hadn’t spoken again about Charlie’s family, or anything else to do with his personal life. When he’d sobered up after that first conversation, and Draco had broached it with him, he’d shut it down quickly and refused to let Draco talk about. He could see then it had upset Draco, that he’d wanted Charlie to open up to him, and Charlie hadn’t understood why, or how to do that.
But as he watched Draco make to leave the room, his mouth dry and his heart racing, he realised he didn’t want to stay silent this time. He wanted Draco to know this part of him.
“She was my best friend.”
Draco paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Who was?”
He knew. He knew who Charlie was talking about, but he was going to make him say it.
Charlie closed his eyes. “Tonks,” he said, and it felt so strange, so unfamiliar to say her name again, and he immediately felt guilty that he had gone so long without saying it, without acknowledging her. Merlin, she would have hexed his bollocks off if she could see the mess he’d become.
“We met on the Hogwarts Express, on our first day, and we were friends immediately,” he said. He almost smiled at the memory. She’d barrelled her way into his and Bill’s compartment and began chatting like they were all old friends. It wasn’t until they were almost at Hogwarts that she realised she hadn’t introduced herself.
“I — She was an extension of my family. She was with me the first time I tried out for the Quidditch team and almost killed myself because I was showing off, the first time I saw a dragon. She was the first one I came out to.” The look she had given him when he first told her was forever burned into Charlie’s mind.
“Fucking obviously,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “I knew the minute I met you.”
Draco had slowly come back into the room, and sank silently onto the couch beside him.
“When I was fifteen,” Charlie continued, the ache in his chest so bad he thought it might crush him, “my first and only boyfriend humiliated me in front of the whole Great Hall, and Tonks —” Charlie gave a watery chuckle and realised his face was wet. “She hexed him in the face every morning for a week, right in front of Dumbledore and all the staff. Got so many detentions, but she didn’t care. She only stopped when the teachers finally threatened to take away her wand. She always had my back, always.” Charlie wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “And I wasn’t there in time during the battle. I didn’t get there soon enough to have hers. I wasn’t there in time to help her, or Fred, or Remus. I wasn’t there —”
He broke off, his whole body shuddering as a sob escaped his lips, and then a warm hand was on his, squeezing his fingers. Draco didn’t say anything, somehow he knew Charlie didn’t need him to. To talk about it, to say out loud the thing that had plagued his mind for so long, it was enough for now. He could feel a warmth inside him that hadn’t been there before.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Charlie letting his breathing steady and return to normal as Draco’s thumb stroked idly across the back of his hand.
“It’s my mother's birthday today,” he said quietly. “Did you know she died just after the battle?”
Charlie looked up at him in surprise. “No, I didn’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s why I — It’s why I needed to make something of myself,” Draco said. “She did everything, everything, to protect me, and all she wanted was for me to make a good life for myself when it was all over. No one in England would give me that chance until I went to Kingsley. That’s how I ended up here.”
Charlie squeezed his fingers. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.
Draco met his eyes, glanced at his lips, and for a fraction of a second he seemed to sway towards Charlie, but he caught himself and swallowed.
“There were certain things that were important to her,” he said slowly. “Certain… morals she wanted me to abide by. And now she’s gone —” He closed his eyes. “Now more than ever, I need to make sure I live up to her expectations. There were things that were never taken lightly in my family, things I was taught to treat with respect.” He opened his eyes and looked at Charlie, and he looked sad. “I… I like you. But I could never be the way you are about relationships, could never treat sex so casually.”
Charlie wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and resting his chin on Draco’s head.
“You think I'm a bad person,” he murmured, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.
“No,” Draco said quickly, and then he exhaled. “No I don’t, but I — Sex means more to me, Charlie, and it needs to mean something more to anyone I’m close to.” He pulled away from Charlie and looked sadly at him. “I researched as much as I could about you before I came here, you know. I know you’re brilliant, I’ve seen it first hand now. But I just don’t know yet if this — how you treat something that means so much to me — is something I can get past.”
Charlie didn’t stop him when he stood and walked out, the soft click of the bedroom door closing the only sound he could hear apart from his own shallow breaths.
“Charlie Weasley, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Bill grinned at him through the Floo, and Charlie couldn’t help but grin back. His big brother had a way of relaxing him, of making him feel better without even trying.
“Can your favourite brother not call you unannounced just to chat?” he asked, and Bill chuckled.
“Well, yeah of course he can,” Bill said, “but as George is currently at the shop, I doubt he’ll be calling me anytime soon.”
“Prat.”
“Idiot.”
Charlie shook his head as he laughed. “How’re Fleur and Victoire? I may not be your favourite, but I have it on good authority I am the favorite uncle.”
“Really? My five month old daughter who you’ve met once told you that did she?” Bill asked.
“Yes, she did, and I don’t care for your tone, thank you,” Charlie said, doing his best impersonation of their mother.
“You’re such a prat,” Bill said, shaking his head. “They’re both good. You just missed them, actually, they’ve gone to see Andromeda and Teddy.” Bill paused, looking uncertainly at his brother at the mention of Andromeda. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have —”
“It’s fine, Bill,” Charlie said, and for the first time it felt okay to mention her. “I - I actually talked about Tonks yesterday with Draco.”
Bill looked surprised but quickly covered it up. “That’s good Charlie, that’s really good,” he said. “So you and he are getting along alright, then?”
Charlie nodded. He’d sent Draco down to the main dragon enclosure to drop off some things with another handler so he could talk to Bill. He’d probably be gone a while longer; Charlie was pretty sure they were avoiding each other right now.
“What’s that look?”
“What look?” Charlie quickly tried to rearrange his features.
“Don’t play dumb with me. What’s going on?” Bill narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Charlie, did you and he…?”
“No,” Charlie said quickly, and then he frowned. “No, Merlin, why does everyone always assume the worst of me?”
“I’m not assuming anything,” Bill said evenly. “But you just got the same look on your face Ron gets when Mum serves dinner.”
Charlie snorted. “That’s impossible. No one looks at anything the way Ron looks at food.”
“Charlie,” Bill said in that tone that Charlie knew meant he wasn’t going to get away with avoiding this.
He sighed. “Do you remember when I came out to you?” he asked.
Bill chuckled. “Merlin, yes. I was such a little shit back then. I had no idea what I was talking about.”
“You didn't care at all though,” Charlie said. “You just switched your plan from teaching me about girls to about boys. You’ve always looked out for me.”
Bill looked confused. “Well, yeah. I’m your brother. Of course I do.”
Charlie rubbed awkwardly at his chin. Merlin, why was he so bad at talking about things?
“I never planned to use that advice you know. It wasn’t until Hamish —” Bill scowled at the mention of Charlie’s ex, “— that I decided I didn’t want to risk anything like that again. I guess I didn’t realise at the time I was only making myself more different to everyone else in the family by becoming someone who refused to settle down.
Bill looked at him sadly. “I’ve always worried you took what I said too seriously,” he admitted.
Charlie shook his head. “I chose to take it seriously,” he said. “I guess I used it to protect myself, but now…” He dropped his eyes to the flames dancing beside his brothers head. “I don’t know how to be anything else,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how to be… open with someone. How to let them in like that.”
He looked back up at Bill and sighed. “What do I do Bill? I’ve never done this before. I’ve never wanted to do this.”
Bill sat back from the flames slightly, hand running through his hands as he thought. “What does he mean to you, Charlie?” he asked.
Charlie thought about Draco. Merlin, he wanted him. He’d never not chased after someone when he wanted them, hell, he’d seduced his Professor when he was seventeen, but Draco was… Draco was different.
Draco had been to hell and back, and had every right to be broken — most of the men in Charlie’s life had been — and maybe a part of him was, but he fought against it with everything he had. He was stronger than anyone Charlie knew, and he didn’t want to use the words on Draco that he used on other men, didn’t want to have to convince him. He wanted Draco to want him for who he was, he wanted Draco to know the things he couldn’t tell other people. He wanted every part of him; his wicked sense of humour and his bad moods and his brilliant mind.
And even if Draco never wanted him back physically, Charlie knew he’d be happy just to have him there, next to him. The idea of him going away, of him leaving Charlie behind, of never hearing that stupid sneer or laugh again, was more terrifying than anything, and Charlie realised all at once how much he’d be willing to give up if it meant Draco would stay.
“Everything,” he breathed out. “He means everything.”
“Then you need to tell him that,” Bill said simply.
Draco came back just before the sun went down. His hair was tousled from the wind, and he quickly looked away from Charlie when he came in through the door.
“Wait,” Charlie said, before he could disappear to his room. “Can we talk?”
Draco tensed. He looked torn, but eventually he gave a curt nod and moved to sit on the couch opposite Charlie.
“Do you remember the article you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?” Charlie asked. “About Alexander Jenson?”
Draco bristled. “Yes,” he said stiffly.
Charlie took a breath. “Well,” he said slowly. “You weren’t wrong, about what he was to me.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Draco said, pushing up from the couch and striding to the door. “I don’t want to know about you and… and any of them.”
“Draco, wait, please.” Charlie reached for his arm, stopping him. Draco turned, anger across his face. “Please, just hear me out,” Charlie said quickly. “If you’re still… If you still want nothing to do with me after that I’ll leave you alone, for good. I promise.”
He thought Draco was going to push him away, tell him to fuck off, but he wrenched his arm free and stepped around Charlie, settling himself back on the couch.
“Fine,” he said briskly. “Talk.”
Charlie searched quickly for the right words. “They all… they were all in bad places, in one way or another. Alexander was terrified about leaving the country, Krum was under pressure about the tournament, Sirius was locked in that house going mental, and Harry needed to get away from the aftermath of the war. It had nothing to do with them being well known, I swear. They just needed someone to help them unwind, to distract them.”
Draco scoffed. “Am I supposed to think you selfless for sleeping around?”
“No,” Charlie said frustrated. “That’s not what I’m saying. Fuck, this is all coming out wrong. I’m not making excuses for myself, Draco. I just want you to know there was more to those stories than you think.”
“Is that what I am to you then?” Draco demanded. “Another conquest you’ve convinced yourself needs you? I don’t need you Charlie; I don’t need anything from you.”
“No,” Charlie said, blinking as the words settled over him. “I know you don’t.” He looked seriously at Draco. “It’s me who needs you.”
Draco swallowed, looking uncertain.
“Draco,” Charlie said softly, pleading. “I’ll do this however you want me to. If you don’t want to sleep with me, that’s fine, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. If you never want to… well, that’s fine too. I’ll give it up if that’s what you want me to do.”
He stood up and stepped over to Draco, crouching on the floor in front of him. “Please,” he said. “Give me just one chance to prove to you I can be different than how I was before. I never thought I’d want to do this, Draco, but I want to be different — for you.”
“I won’t be a distraction for you,” Draco said, his voice rough and unsteady. “I won’t be something to just pass the time while you avoid things.”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t want to be distracted from anything,” he said. “I want to face it all... with you.”
He couldn’t read Draco’s expression, but then Draco lifted a hand up to cup Charlie’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
He studied Charlie’s face for a long moment, his warm breath ghosting over Charlie’s skin.
“You know,” he finally sighed, a small smile on his lips, “you really are the worst Weasley.”
And then he kissed him.
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Date: 2017-06-19 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-19 10:46 pm (UTC)It was basically 5 stories in one. And even if the Charlie/Draco pairing wasn't mine at all (and my favorite Charlie pairing wasn't in it), I enjoyed them all nevertheless.
I really liked the way you characterized Charlie but still stayed in canon. Plus the flirting was hot! Yes, sometimes a bit clumsy but that's totally Charlie's charme!:)
Plus Bill & Charlie best favorite brothers forever! <3