Grand Prize Winner

2017

The ability to play a prank is partially genetic, partially taught, and often a combination of the two. For the most part the pranks are not harmful, have no lasting impact and make everyone laugh, even the person who is the target of the prank. Sometimes, though, what is intended and what happens are very different. The history of pranks for those of Weasley and Potter lineage is well known, but sometimes it is the one least expected who pulls off the greatest endeavor, one spoken of for years. In the end everyone agreed it turned out for the very best, with the added bonus of making sure nobody took the perpetrator for granted.

-ooo-

It was a typical early-summer morning at Grimmauld Place, as James was still asleep, Albus was reading a Muggle comic book and everybody else was too busy to see the owl. Lily saw it, though, and as her mum continued to work the cooker and her dad read the paper and drank coffee she slid off her chair and went over to the door. After loosening the latch and pushing open the top half of the door the owl came in and instead of going to her father, as most of the owls did, Lily watched it land on the counter next to her mum.

"Lily, can you get the owl?" Ginny moved the last of the breakfast pans into the sink. "Please?"

After taking the letter from the owl she looked at it for a moment. The writing looked sort of familiar but it had her mum's name on it, so she waited until the dishes were out of her hands and handed it to her mum. Heading back to the table she had just sat down when she heard her mum burst out laughing.

The paper moved down and Lily watched her dad look interested. "Another one of George's things? Or has Ron been Ron again?"

"It's Charlie." Ginny sat down and shook her head. "I'm guessing George did this. Signed him up for a contest and Charlie won it."

"OK, so not too bad." Harry nodded. "So what'd he win? A year's supply of chocolate frogs?"

"That'd be really brilliant." Al looked up from his comic. "Just think, I'd finally get..."

"No, not chocolate frogs." A smirk grew over Ginny's face. "Complete makeover."

"I did it!" Lily pumped her arms in triumph and then grew nervous. She sat back in her chair. "It was me." As the exclamation 'what' came out of her parents' mouths simultaneously, she looked over to her brother, tone questioning and cautious. "It's funny, right?"

Al nodded. "Yeah, I guess. So they put him in posh clothes and fix his hair." After a shrug and a mouthful of cereal he nodded again. "They'll have to take photos so, yeah. Not bad."

Ginny bit her lip slightly and turned to her husband. "It's not just photos and clothes. This is much bigger. Much bigger. Looks like Lily and I will be going to Wales today."

-ooo-

Charlie Weasley sat in what was currently acting as the office in his house. Acting, as the room was originally part of the barn, as was most of what he was using as a house. He'd purchased the place at the beginning of the year, when he'd taken the management position at the newly opened dragon reserve in the Welsh mountains. As it was a brand new refuge it didn't have the accumulated housing and infrastructure of the Romanian reserve, so as they were focusing on the dragons instead of the staff he'd purchased what was listed as a few outbuildings and a 'fixer upper' house on a good bit of land. It had been a working farm for magical crops at one point, but the previous owners had sold things off bit by bit until there really wasn't much farmland left, just the buildings and a bit of trees and such.

The house was actually in worse shape than the pictures he'd seen, so he'd moved into the most stable structure, the barn. Thankfully the winged horses once kept there required a good bit of space, so the rooms he'd portioned off for himself were generous. His mum was aghast, of course, and had sent him several architecture and home improvement magazines, but he'd simply stacked those in the corner. Seeing those from the corner of his eye reminded him of one of the biggest adjustments he'd had to make after moving to Wales; mail. He'd received it in Romania, of course, but back then it was purposeful mail. Now along with the usual correspondence he got adverts, magazines, you name it. Sometimes it was a good thing he'd opened the mail, like the time he'd almost thrown away what looked to be an advert but turned out to be a letter from a prospective dragon keeper, but most of the time it was just a bunch of shite. The last one he'd opened that wasn't crap, though, but had made him walk and rant for a few moments before writing his sister. He'd thought about Flooing her but his fireplace wasn't connected yet, even though he'd sent in the paperwork weeks ago.

He sat at the table and sipped his coffee, black as usual, and waited for Ginny. As he contemplated making another cup he replayed everything over in his head, the situation he was in, and how George had gone too far this time. He had no idea about anything to do with makeovers so he'd contacted his sister. Merlin knows she'd spent hours with all those witch magazines as a kid, trying out daft hairstyles. She'd know what to do.

Ever since moving back to Wales to take over the small, privately-funded dragon refuge, ever since then he'd been subjected to George's humour. Where before he'd been in Romania, too far away for most of his brother's lunacy, now he was in Wales, an easy owl's flight away, which George had taken full advantage. The first few months had been irritating at best, infuruiating at the worst, as George's attempts to make up lost time were starting to get old. With his breath coming in a more deliberate, slower cadence Charlie thought about how even at this age he was going to pull the older brother card on George. If that failed there was always the tried-and-tested formula of wrestling him down on the ground, pinning an arm behind his back and farting on his head.

While despairing that he hadn't had chili the night before he heard a pop outside and a slight twinge on his skin, which meant that Ginny was there. Instead of going to the door, though, he went to the small, camping cooker that was setup and started the fire with his wand. He could do with coffee but his sister always preferred tea. It was as he was setting the kettle on the cooker when the door opened.

"Harry would be horrified, no security."

Charlie felt a grin break out over his face and turned to answer his sister when he stopped mid-sentence. He closed his mouth, ran a hand over his beard and gave his niece a look, brows narrowed. "I felt the wards, but why'd you bring the pixie? She in trouble?"

Ginny didn't answer him, instead she looked down to her daughter. "Well?"

Lily winced and then...it all came out in a rush, hands going about wildly. Her brothers had been entering Charlie in all sorts of contests, from the ones in the back of the Marvin the Mad Muggle comics to the ones in the Daily Prophet, but hadn't won anything. When she'd come to them with her idea they told her it wouldn't work, that the idea was dumb, and that just made her mad. It wasn't a dumb idea, entering Charlie into all the contests and drawings in the magazines for witches. James had told her it didn't matter, that every entry was just the same as the others, and she realised he was right but the way he told her just made her mad. So she entered all the contests in women's magazines while searching until she found the perfect contest. And then one day she found the perfect contest, filled out the form, sent in the money and hoped for the best.

"Wait...sent in the money?" Charlie looked to his niece. "What? How much..."

"Two Galleons." Lily nodded emphatically. "I used my allowance and made James pay me back and..." she scrunched up her eyes as she knew it was going to be bad. "...I told dad I needed something for school but sold his autograph to Jenny. I needed money! It was a Galleon a ticket so I had to buy two, better chances that way."

"You did what? Lily Luna...Merlin, a Galleon a ticket? Wait...a Galleon a ticket?" Ginny scowled at her daughter "We'll talk later." Then she turned back to her brother, trying to remember something, and then, as a dawning realisation came over her, sighed. "Charlie, can I see the letter they sent you?"

"Sure. Tea?"

After a glance at her watch Ginny nodded. "But you may need something stronger if it's what I think it is."

As Ginny stood at the makeshift desk and read the letter Charlie looked over to his niece, who was going back and forth between feeling proud of herself and a bit nervous. He kept his eye on her as he sat down and overly-exaggerated rubbing his beard in thought.

Taking the bait Lily came closer to him. Uncle Charlie had always been one of her favourite uncles, only slightly below Ron, but that was because he was always so far away in Romania. Now, though, she wasn't sure if she'd done something bad. "I'm pretty sure you don't have to do the makeup. For the makeover."

'Maybe I'd like a bit. Play up my eyes." He smirked. "They told you it was dumb, and you'd show them, right?" As Lily seemed to relax and smile a bit he continued. "I know what that's like, Bill always did stuff..."

"Charlie?"

Ginny's voice had a hesitancy about it, making him turn to her, a bit nervous. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Bad? No. Not bad." She looked at her daughter for a moment, shook her head, and turned back to her brother. "It's actually wonderful. I know the contest. Witch Weekly ran a story about it along with...it's a charity sweepstakes. All proceeds go to charity. All the companies involved are donating..."

He shrugged. "So I get a makeover, they put some clothes on me I'd never buy, give me a wonky haircut, take some pictures and it all goes to charity. I'm fine with that."

"Hmmmm...no." Ginny shook her head. "It's a total makeover. Total. Clothes and hair are just the start."

While looking at his sister he understood what she meant, sort of, and nodded. "So are they gonna paint my house, then? Good luck on that."

"Nope." Ginny turned the pages of the letter over to the last page. "Total makeover. It's more than painting your house..." She paused. "...even if this technically isn't a house, it's furnishings, the garden, and...well, I think you should read this. Like you were Percy read this."

After taking the letter from his sister, with a sigh Charlie turned to Lily, who seemed fairly proud of herself. "I might just give you what I had planned for George, when I thought he did this."

"What?" Lily smirked at him, freckles prominent on her cheeks. "Are you gonna jinx me?"

"Nope. Fart on your head."

Lily shrugged. "Big deal. I live with James an' Albus."

-ooo-

Sunday at the Burrow usually meant that a good smattering of Weasleys were in attendance, but the Sunday after Charlie won the Grand Makeover Prize was fully attended. Some wanted to find out exactly what he'd won (even though they'd read about it) while others wanted to tease the Weasley brother who was finally back home after all those years. Mostly they all wanted to wanted to be there when Molly went mental with happiness, especially about his hair; she'd been wanting to cut it for years and now she'd have a professional, a top professional, tell him that he needed to cut it.

As the smaller kids ran about the Burrow Charlie sat on a sofa by the window, looking at Quidditch Weekly while Percy and Hermione sat at the table, going over the letter as well as the new information packet he'd received. He'd endured a good bit of teasing so far, especially from George and Bill but also a surprising amount from Harry and Ron. While George and Bill would come up with the most outlandish things, Ron would throw in something every now and then while Harry would act as if he was contemplating what they said and then say something even stupider. Charlie knew they were having him on, there was no way they'd dress him up worse than Gilderoy Lockheart and parade him through all the magical cities of Europe. Was there?

"Here."

Charlie looked up to see his dad holding out a cup of tea. He took it and quickly took a sip, balancing it as his father sat down. "Thanks."

"Quite welcome. I must say your mum is thrilled, you know."

"All because of a contest?"

"What? No. Well, yes, in a way, but mostly that you're home. You're in Britain, that you've changed house. Wales is...oh blast it, you know what I mean." He gave Charlie a quick pat on the arm and then his tone turned serious. "You aren't really mad at Lily, are you? She's worried."

"No, I'm not. Irritated, yeah, sure, I mean, I'm busy trying to get the Reserve off the ground, and now I've got to do some stuff. Those two..." he motioned towards Percy and Hermione "...are trying to figure out exactly what I have to do versus what they want me to do."

Arthur nodded, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and raised his eyebrows. "Might be best to play along. It is for a good cause, you know, Muggleborn orphans and squibs, and bit of publicity for your new Reserve might be helpful. You do take donations, correct?"

"Charlie?" Hermione's voice caused everyone to look, as her voice was the auditory version of the shock on her face. "You were m...you're div..." She paused, took a deep breath and then looked over to him with a smile just barely held in check. "As part of the contest you agreed to allow a full background check."

"Standard." Percy sat back in his chair across the table. "Ensures someone meets all eligibility standards and doesn't have any..."

"Oh fuck." Charlie sat back on the sofa, letting his head fall against the window. "I knew it would come out, she said it'd be fine, but no. Figures."

"Charles! Language." Molly entered the room, wiping her hands on her apron. "What..."

Hermione had turned the parchment around so Percy could read, and after he read the two of them looked over to Charlie. At this point everyone in the room was looking at Charlie.

"Fine." He pulled his head off the back of the sofa and looked at them, glaring at George on the way, until he landed on his mother. "Mum, you know how you're always telling me I need to get married?"

Molly shook her head. "It would be nice..."

"Well I was once. I got divorced." He looked over to the source of the laugh, only to see his sister covering her mouth. "What? Is...oh."

"I was right!" Ginny pumped her fist and looked over to her husband. "Ha! Told you!" Eyes bright and with a giant smile on her face she turned to Charlie. "It's who I'm thinking, right?"

"It is. Stupid Harpies." He ran a hand over his beard and looked at all the expectant faces, bar one. "It's Gwennog Jones, we were only married for like a couple of months, and hardly together, she said she'd get Harpies to keep it quiet." He stared at his sister, eyebrows narrowed. "But apparently even if Harpies can keep their mouths shut it doesn't matter."

As everybody began talking Percy took out a piece of parchment and began writing. Once the tumult had sort of died down he cleared his throat. "Charlie, if somehow you and Gwennog are still on good terms I'll add her to the list. You'll be going to the Hecate Ball once this is over, as the final part of the contest winner's obligations, and you will need a date. At least we have confirmation that she..."

"Stuff it, Perce." Charlie gave him a two-fingered salute, which led to more laughter, teasing and general annoyances. As he sat there, drinking tea, he realised that there was at least one reason why he liked Romania.

-ooo-

Two weeks after he'd won the grand prize Charlie stood a good distance away from his house, well, the barn, and flicked his wand at the standard-sized cauldron, increasing the flames underneath. The cauldron's colour shifted to white-hot metal for a moment and then subsided. He levitated over a chair, sat down next to the cauldron and pulled a small pair of silver and dragonbone spectacles out of his pocket. Once those were perched upon his nose he reached into the pocket on the other side of his jacket, took out a small notebook and undid the strap. Flipping through the pages he found the spot, read for a bit and then took a Muggle pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote for a bit. Looking over to the cauldron he flicked his wand once again, this time for a bit longer, and almost the entire cauldron changed colour. It was to the point where if he'd kept it up much longer he knew the cauldron would melt, and that wouldn't do at all, so he waited until the colour was right at the lip of the cauldron and then stopped.

After a glance at his watch he knew he couldn't put it off any longer, it was going to happen, but at least he had an ace up his sleeve. Or, more honestly, a cauldron.

They were on time, of course. Thankfully he'd insisted that his sister and niece would accompany them, as Lily was the reason for the story. Still, his dad's comment played around in his head, publicity for the Reserve couldn't hurt. They'd arrived not too far off the property line, the Portkey office had actually got it right for a change, and with one eye on the colour of the cauldron Charlie watched them walk towards him.

Ginny was in her normal stuff but it looked a bit nicer, and Lily had on a new jumper. Her hair was done back in proper braids so it made Charlie feel a bit better, as he knew Lily wasn't fond of that. Served her right. But the witch next to Lily...she was definitely not dressed for the location, pale-green robe that swept the ground, high-heels to match not to mention some delicate hat thing. The other woman looked like any other Muggle he'd meet on the street; jeans, trainers, jumper and jacket, hair pulled back. As they got even closer he flicked the cauldron again one more time for good measure, and mostly for show, but he could see them more clearly. The posh woman looked even younger than Ginny but the one in Muggle clothes looked more his mum's age.

"Mr. Weasley! So good to meet you at last!" The posh woman strode forward as if she owned the place and began looking around. "Oh, this is perfect. Perfect! So much potential!" She stopped. "Mr. Weasley, I'm Ella Kitkby, editor of Witch's Advocate. The WA, in conjunction with the Hecate Society and other witches' magazines, would like to officially congratulate you as the winner of the Charming Change Contest. You have no idea how suprised we were that you were our winner."

"I think I've got a fair idea." Charlie snorted, then pointedly turned away and flicked the cauldron again.

"Whatever are you doing? That will ruin a potion." Ella shook her head.

Charlie glanced at his sister and then up to the editor. Hair that colour was probably not natural but all the rage in some fashion circle, he guessed, but she looked about as comfortable as a pixie in a punchbowl. He ignored the woman and went over to the small bucket next to his chair, picked it up and motioned for Lily to come over. When she arrived he looked down at her. "If I've got to do this stuff then you've got a job. That cauldron needs to stay hot, really hot. In here are..."

"Water balloons?" Lily looked up to him oddly. "But...oh, they're not filled with water, are they?"

"Smart. Hagrid's gonna like you when you get to Hogwarts in a couple a' years. Kinda like water balloons but they're filled with...something else. So when the cauldron gets to the halfway point, when it's not white hot, throw one of those in there. Best do it a few meters away, you don't want it to splash out. Trust me. Let's see if you inherited any of your Mum's chaser skills." He felt someone fairly close by so he turned to see the older woman not too far away, a camera in her hands.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. Before we start I've got something for you to sign."

"Sign?"

"Standard form, but I've added a few things." She ignored the glare from Ella and continued on. "Since this whole thing is spinning out of control I've added some clauses that give you last right of approval."

He took the parchment she offered and read it over. "So, I can stop any photo being published? Really? No shit?"

The woman chuckled. "No shit. Sorry, Eddie Howell. I've been assigned to document everything. Before and after shots, all that."

Ella came forward, a supercilious smile on her face. "Edwina is one of our most celebrated photographers. I'm sure that you won't have a problem with any of her photos. Now that we've got that out of the way, how about a tour..."

"I'd be happy to help." Ginny came forward, took Ella by the arm and began to walk away, giving Charlie a wink on the way.

As Ella and Ginny got farther away and eventually went into the barn Charlie looked over to Eddie. "What did you mean, out of control? Lily, watch the cauldron."

As the sight of a small balloon filled with fluid vanished into the cauldron with a flash of fire Eddie turned back to the poor, poor man. He had no idea. As she started to say something she stopped, and then, reconsidering, shrugged and put the camera on her shoulder by it's strap. "You haven't read the gossip rags, then, I'm guessing. You won a contest that many witches would have given their left tit to win, as it's everything; clothes, hair, house, broom, garden...you name it. So there's that, but then you win it, not only a man but, sorry, a Weasley. Your family isn't really known for a low profile, despite your best attempts. Or worst, there's the joke shop. Anyway, on top of that it's come out that you're a dragon keeper, just moved to Wales, and you're single. Sorry, divorced. From Gwennog Jones, one of the most celebrated Quidditch players in the last fifty years, when that comes out...oh, and your brother-in-law is Harry Potter, your sister played for Harpies, not to mention your adorable niece is the one who entered you..." She saw his expression and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I believe it's only going to get worse."

As he tried to imagine how it could get any worse he heard Lily calling his name and turned to her. The cauldron was fading quicker than he thought. "Try two this time. One, then the other." As Lily's throws put the balloons into the cauldron and it turned the appropriate shade he turned back to the photographer. "How's it going to get worse?"

Her attention was on the cauldron but turned back to him with a sympathetic smile. "Lad, they're going to be here doing all sorts of...and then there's the the Hecate Ball...I've known a dragon keeper or two in my time, and they all like their privacy. I'm guessing you're the same, and from here on out, well..."

"Fuck." Charlie took off his spectacles and stowed them in his jacket. "My mum will be thrilled. She's been wanting me to cut my hair and get rid of the beard for years. I'm going to be like one of those..."

"Hmmm, you might be surprised. I know who's in charge of hair, he's a good bloke." She turned to the cauldron for a moment. "Sorry, have to ask, what's in there? Eggs?"

"Yeah." Happy to finally be back on his speciality Charlie nodded towards the cauldron and they began walking. "Got these in from a friend who's a keeper in South Africa. Traded him a pair of breeding Welsh Greens. They don't usually live this far north, so it's a bit cold for them at this stage. Once they hatch, though, climate doesn't matter, but right now..." He stopped her once they were fairly close, and he could feel the heat coming off the cauldron. "They're pocket dragons. I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything."

"Pocket dragons? I thought those were..."

"Almost extinct? Yeah, because they were so popular, and then because of bad breeders who wanted a profit, and the fact that they're occasionally poisonous..." He stopped. "Sorry, sore subject. One of the hopes for the Reserve here in Wales is that we can help bring their numbers up. Gotta keep them warm, and since there's not a mummy dragon we improvise."

"So what's in the balloons?"

He smiled broadly at Eddie and turned towards Lily. "Dragon piss."

"EWWWWW!" Lily let one drop from her hand; the moment it broke on the ground the grass around it began to catch fire for a moment and then went out, turning the area of impact into a smouldering circle that didn't smell very nice.

"It's just Welsh Green wee, Lily." He flicked his wand and made the small embers in the circle go out. "Just keeps 'em warm. And you don't wanna know exactly how we get the dragon piss. I can tell you, bringing that stuff back on a broom is not the easiest...wait a second." He turned to her, eyes a little wider. "Did you say something about a broom?"

"I did." Eddie nodded and fought back a smile. "Custom broom from Tighemore and Sons. I take it that interests you?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlie shook his head. "A custom broom? Makes those high-end sticks the Quidditch teams fly look like old school brooms. Think, I could just have one broom instead of three that...dragon keepers need different things, well, they all need some speed of course, but..." He stopped. "I'm sorry. You've been out here for a few minutes and I've gone on about pocket dragons and brooms."

"Understandable." Eddie nodded. "You know, we could take a few shots now, for all the 'before' things. That'll get me out of your hair."

"What about her?" Charlie pointed off to the edge of his barn where Ginny was pointing something out to the overdressed editor.

"For now. You won't be shot of her until it's all over."

"Bloody hell. Fine." He stood up straighter, sucked in his gut a bit and ran a hand through his hair. "How's this?"

"Pitiful." Eddie shook her head and tapped him on the stomach, making him let out air. "You're fine, just...pretend I'm not here. I can disillusion myself if you prefer. Makes the photos a bit harder to process and I need a special lens, but I didn't bring that today so..."

"It's fine." He watched Lily trying to figure out a way to not touch the balloons and took out his wand. "Just don't say what's in this cauldron."

-ooo-

He knew he shouldn't be nervous, but he was. He hadn't seen her in person in...years. At least a decade, and that time was just a chance meeting at a pub in Australia. She looked good, as always, dark hair pulled back in an unfussed way, hardly any jewelry, still as fit as in her playing days.

After turning up the heat on the cooker to it's highest setting in the makeshift kitchen, Charlie took the singing kettle from the grid on the top of the cauldron. "It's not my fault, Gwen." He took a couple of steps over to the table and poured the water into the teapot. "I never said a word. It's because of this bloody grand prize."

She looked at him suspiciously, big dark eyes following his pour and said nothing until he sat down. "You're just bitching. And making tea, so that would make this a bitch's brew." After waiting a moment, and getting no response, she shook her head. "It's no wonder we didn't last, Chas."

"Hummmph." He sat down and smirked. "There's a lot of reasons we didn't last. Let's see..." He began tapping on the table. "Too young, work schedules, too immature..." he tapped his chest "...too focused on Quidditch..." he pointed at her and then continued tapping "...the bloody press, your dad, my mum..." He put on his glasses and poured the tea. "Have I mentioned we were too young?"

"Dunno, wasn't listening." She winked at him. "I just take it with honey these days."

"Guess things do change, then." He pushed the honey over towards her, turned back towards the cauldron, looked at his watch and then returned his focus to the table and his tea.

"And some things don't." Gwennog added a small bit of honey and then shook her head. "Right here's a perfect example. There's dragon eggs in that cauldron, right? You've been half-listening to what I said, right? Half your attention on the eggs or whatever's in there..."

"Yeah, it's dragon eggs."

"It's why you're a dragon keeper, Chas. You care about them."

"Someone has to." He sat up straighter in his chair and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yep!" She clapped her hands. "Right there! Defensive about it, and I haven't said a word! Brilliant." With an easy laugh she reached across and put a hand on his arm. "I have always known how you feel about dragons, and if it wasn't for people like you they'd be gone. I get it now, how much attention they need and...I get it now, but when we were married? Christ, I was barely out of my teens and you still were a teenager, just moved to Romania. Back then I thought it meant you didn't care about me, but...oh for fuck's sake." She sat back in her chair and held her tea with both hands. "Charlie, why do you think I'm here today?"

"Because it's coming out in the press?"

"Well, partially." She gave him a small smile. "And because I need to warn you about...shit, I've heard a few of my players talk about you in the locker room. You're a hot property, ex-of-mine. And since the thing about our two-month marriage is coming out I thought I'd tell you how I'm handling it, and thought..."

"Sorry. Sorry, fuck, I'm...sorry, Gwen." Charlie sat back and crossed his legs. "Thanks for doing this, I mean, yeah, it was fun but..."

"We were young, we realised it wouldn't work and yes, it was fun. You were always fun, Chas." She raised an eyebrow. "If it makes you feel better I'll be at the Hecate Ball, so whatever lucky witch is your date..."

"Thanks." Charlie put his teacup on the table. "But as it stands right now I'm taking my niece. It's her bloody fault I'm in this, so..."

"Cute, but I'll bet you a dragon's egg you will have a date by then." She reached forward a hand and extended her little finger. "Bet me?"

"A dragon's egg?" Charlie's eyes went wide. "Are you mental? I can't..." His eyes flicked back to the cauldron and the pocket dragon eggs. "Ok. Fine." He extended his hand and locked little fingers with her. "You're on, but not for ownership. I'll name one after you, that's it."

"Like you'd ever bet an egg."

-ooo-

The workshop was coloured by the sun streaming in through windows on the far side of the room, windows that actually made up most of the wall. Natural light was best, it allowed one to see any imperfections in the wood and allow the grain to 'speak' as old man Tighmore taught her years ago. She was moving her hands along the wood, feeling the curve, and debating whether to take it down a bit and add the wind-resistant varnish when her boss knocked on the wall, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Bout done with that, yeah?"

She nodded. "Almost. Debating on the varnish."

He shrugged. "Let one of the juniors finish it up. Old man wants to see you. It's all right, don't worry. Don't thank me yet, though. Off you go."

Laying down her tools she pushed her blonde hair back, readjusted her glasses and set off through the shop, eventually coming to the office at the top of the stairs. Seeing the old man wasn't anything to make her nervous, she'd worked for him almost since she'd left Hogwarts. And 'old' was funny, since he was the youngest son left in the Tighmore and Son and he was at least a hundred but he called himself 'the baby.' He didn't mess around, was ruthlessly direct and a right bastard when any of the broom companies tried to copy his stuff. After a sniff and readjusting her jeans she knocked on the door, didn't wait for an answer and walked in.

Billy Tighmore looked up from his parchment, pulled his reading glasses off and let them hang around his neck on a leather thong. "Ah, Katie. Good, good, come in and take a seat." After waiting until she'd followed directions he leaned forward. "Got a special job for you. High profile."

"Crap." She grimaced and huffed slightly. "Send Gaspard. He likes that shit."

"I could but he's been a wanker lately." Billy shook his head. "Nope. You're the one. Think you might like this, though. Special broom for a contest winner...stop, nope, just wait." He wagged his finger at her as she was becoming more disgusted. "This isn't a show broom, it's a work broom. For a dragon keeper."

"What?" Katie started to say something else, opened her mouth, and then stopped. After a second she blinked a few times and shook her head. "So we're making a broom for a dragon keeper? They go through them like quills. Why bother when it's just going to be burnt up after a month? You're willing to let all this expense..."

"Your company, your rules. But this is my company, Katie, and you're my employee. You don't want your work to go to waste? Then make a broom to handle being owned by a dragon keeper. Go meet the man and let me know what you think. He's in a reserve out in Wales."

"Wales? When'd they start keeping dragons on a reserve in Wales?"

"I don't know, just go do your job." He winked at her. "And anything patentable you know the drill."

"Right." She sighed. "Half you, half me. Fine. So when do I go..."

"Oh, in fifteen minutes." He smiled. "Got a portkey here, you'll end up with a whole crew. Remember, it's for charity."

"Not publicity?" She smirked at him.

"Fuck no. Too many idiots just want a custom broom, never intend to ride it..." He paused. "Oh, good one, like you've never heard this shit before. Here." He threw her a large envelope with a bulky middle. "Just be ready."

"Fine." She took the envelope and left the office, looking down at her clothes. Sweatshirt, jeans, old trainers, everything covered with a combination of wood shavings and stained with too many things to count. "Brilliant. I suppose this can't get any worse."

Fifteen minutes later she inwardly began cursing herself because it had, in fact, got worse. Much, much worse. She stood on a hill in what she guessed was Wales, under a tree, with a bunch of other people, all dressed very posh and rediculously for a dragon reserve. And then, just when she'd resigned herself to just looking like she'd dressed incorrectly, she heard the voice.

"Katie? Katie Bell, is that you? OH MY MERLIN, it is you!"

Katie closed her eyes because she knew that voice. Maybe if she just pretended she didn't know her it would stop. The hug dissuaded her of that thought very quickly.

"Katie, it has been ages, dearie! How are you..well."

"Hello, Lavender." Katie opened her eyes and took her in. Time had obviously been good to Lavender Brown, time and approximately a million Galleons or whatever. Her hair, once curly and unruly at times, hung lustrously around her head, makeup tastefully impeccable, jewelry flashing but not ostentatious...a nice package.

After a nervous glance Lavender leaned in. "Were you caught by the portkey? It's a dreadful look, love, what were you doing, cleaning out...never mind, never mind. I have a few things in my purse, we can at least do your eyes and lips..."

Katie sighed. Still Lavender, despite all the changes. "It's fine, Lav, back off, I'm fine." She looked over to all the people. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh dearie." Lavender took her arm. "We're the Squad, of course."

"What?" Katie laughed. "The Squad? You can't be serious?" After a second and a look at Lavender she tried to stop the laugh which ended up something like a snort. "You are serious, aren't you? The Squad?"

"Well." Lavender composed her face into a serious mask. "We needed something. Can't just keep saying 'representatives for all of the parts of the contest for the winner.' Completely awful. Miss Bellows, she's the writer for Witches' Advocate that's been assigned, she liked it. We're just waiting for her. Now we'll catch up later, I need to go fill in Winifred about some developments."

"Brilliant." Katie was about to take a step away when a flask appeared floating in front of her. Suspicious, she took a look around until she saw a very tall man with a beard, long dark hair and a series of necklaces visible from the open front of his shirt take his wand and twirl it a bit, making the flask dance. At this point, after being whisked away from her workbench, and being thrust back into dealing with Lavender, she thought 'fuck it', took the flask and tipped it back quickly. Whisky, good whisky, with just the right amount of peaty aftertaste.

"Looked like you needed that." The tall man came over and accepted the flask back from her. "How 'bout you, Lavender?" After Lavender had sneered at him and walked off to talk to someone else he shrugged, took a pull, screwed the cap back on and stuck it in his back pocket. "She drives me nuts."

"American?" Katie looked up at him.

"Sorta. Samoan. It's complicated. But the accent, yeah. American." He glanced over at Lavender, snickered, and leaned down to whisper in Katie's ear. "And her roots are showing."

"You do hair, then?"

"Yup. Should be an easy job, this one. Dragon Keepers, guessing it's not any crazy hair color or style or anything. Hell, might be a buzz cut."

A pop was heard and two people appeared next to the tree, a small woman with dark hair in, of all things, a very delicate pink dress, and surprisingly Hannah Abbott. The dark headed woman smiled, clapped her hands several times off to the side of her face and began speaking as if everyone was six years old.

"Attention, attention, all! Thank you so, so much for coming and donating your time and efforts. The Hecate Society, along with the Witches' Advocate, cannot express how much we appreciate your donations today and going forward. It will mean so much for the Muggleborn orphans and squibs, those poor little dears! Such a Squad, thank you, Ms. Brown, for that, very, very exciting! Today is our initial walkthrough of the project with the grand prize winner." She paused and tried to look embarrassed, but failed. "Oh, I do apologise, I didn't even introduce myself. Well, I'm sure most of you know who I am, but for those who don't keep up with such things my name is Bridget Bellows, and I'm the official writer for the contest. Please, I know you want to talk about some of my other works, but remember we need to focus on the job at hand. Ready? Great!" She clasped her hands and looked gleeful. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"Shit." Warren pulled out the flask from his pocket and handed it to Katie. "I think I need more whisky."

"I think you'll need a bigger flask." Katie took the flask and had a slightly longer drink this time.

"Is it usual for you to drink during the day?" Warren raised an eyebrow.

"No, but I think I'll make a Lavender-exception. Hello, Hannah."

"Was that Lavender? Hi Katie." Hannah stood there with a hand on her hip, shaking her head. "What did I get myself into this time?"

"I think we're about to find out." Katie motioned towards the group of people walking down the hill towards the small group of buildings. As she followed she partially listened to the people talking and felt her spirits sink. Dealing with the best and beautiful in her job was inevitable; the old man usually kept the collectors and status seekers away from the custom brooms but every now and then she had to deal with them. She never liked it, always thinking they were so much better than others, so what if they had Galleons?

Her thoughts were interrupted by an elbow in the side. "Ow, what the fuck?" She turned to Hannah, who was smiling at her. "What?"

Hannah pointed towards what looked like a barn. "Him, that's what."

"Oh. I did not expect him, that's for sure." Katie blinked, as there was the last person she'd expected to see in Wales. Eventually they all arrived in a small group around the barn door as Charlie Weasley stood next to the awfully cheerful Bridget. As the writer began to talk it dawned on Katie that Charlie was the dragon keeper, the contest winner, and that she would be making him a broom. She closed her eyes and it was just like it had happened yesterday.

It was her first year at Hogwarts, and first years never made the team, but she had to try. Fred and George said that he would be fair and would tell her if she was any good or if she should just give up, but then they told her that Charlie was so good he was going to go professional so it just made her even more nervous.

And then there was Charlie himself. He was Charlie Bloody Weasley, seventh year, prefect, Gryffindor Quidditch captain. And such a Seeker! She'd watched him on his broom before the tryouts started, just going down to the pitch with Fred and George for 'something to do.' He was so amazing on the broom, doing things she'd never imagined, and he was just so...cool. Handsome.

She stood there off the pitch, broom in hand, and watched as Fred and George tried out for Beaters. They did well, but the seventh years ahead of them weren't going to be kicked off the team for firsties, even if the captain was their brother. Her breath came quicker as she knew it was her turn to be up in the air soon, the Chasers would start the drills; she tied her hair back a bit tighter and wished she wasn't on a horrible old school broom. If she had a decent broom she might have a chance. What she wouldn't give for a good broom. No, a great broom..

"Katie?"

Snapping out of it she blinked and looked up. "Hello, Charlie."

"I thought that was you." He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. "Bit mental, eh?" He motioned over to where all of the other people were standing next to the writer woman, getting parchment handed to them. "I tried to blame George but it isn't his fault."

"This would have been more a Fred thing."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Miss that little shit. It was Ginny and Harry's girl, she put me in for the thing and, well, you're here now. So...not that I'm complaining, really, but, um, why are you here, Katie?"

"Oh. Custom broom. I make them."

"No kidding? Merlin's balls, that's amazing!" He almost bounced in place. "I've always wanted one but they're so expensive and..." He saw that her focus had moved off of him. "Is it Bridget?"

"I think that's her name." Katie smirked at him. "The writer?"

"Crap." He sighed heavily. "This is going to drive me to drink."

"Hit up Warren." Katie motioned towards the group of people. "The big bloke. He's got a flask."

A/N: I had planned on doing this as one, big giant oneshot like Back to the World but wanted to get this out as a start. This is part of the Loungewide Fluff Project over at the Teachers' Lounge, and we all could use a bit of fluff. I'm not going to hide where this one is going, because, well, Fluff, and I'm pretty sure you can guess. Besides the fact it's pretty much a flashing neon light that it's Charlie/Katie, Bad Mum asked for it, so I'm glad to oblige.

As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.