A/N:

This was written for prompt #33 for the LJ community flames_n_tats' National Charlie Month Fest. I seriously wrote (most of) this in a day, so I hope its entertaining. I must thank Sara Winters for all of her encouragement and input, suggestions, feedback, and for her tips on how to dirty the piece up a little bit and for being a most fantastic beta! And to Rita Arabella Black for all of her Charlie love rubbing off on me and telling me about this challenge to begin with. For the ladies at the Sober Universe, whose love for Charlie Weasley served as inspiration to blatantly objectify him.

Also, I just changed the ending. Just a bit. I'm a little happier with this one than the one I had originally written.

Charlie Weasley was furious!

He didn't care that he was a brilliant scarlet at the moment. Dealing with this moody, humourless, sexy... with her thick, dark hair, her brown eyes — always curious for more of everything around her — always regarding him with amusement and exasperation, her lips that seemed to curve so sensuously into a perpetual pout....

Stop doing that Weasley!

Dealing with this sullen, anal-retentive witch was the last thing he wanted to do. But the complaint that Maude and Milton Baumfart had made against him meant that he did have to deal with her instead of helping his team deal with Gus, a male Ridgeback who was going through a rather testy stage of puberty.

As it was, he would've preferred handling Gus' growing pains rather than listening to more of Greengrass venting her spleen.

"Don't argue, Weasley! You'll do your best to keep your mouth shut and let me do all the talking from now on." Daphne Greengrass stared at Charlie, shooting him a glare that could've strangled him if it had hands.

"Fine by me! I prefer dealing with dragons instead of thickheads who can't even FOLLOW – THE – RULES!! What bloody fuckwit decides that touching a newborn hatchling would be safe without precautions?!"

She huffed disgustedly at him. "You realize every single time you open that inelegant piehole of yours, you end up costing this reserve potential revenue from our patrons. And I have to smooth over relations with customers that you manage to either piss off or insult when they get injured on your watch!"


"Insult? I was being honest! I'm not even sure those idiots could read."

"Didn't it ever occur to you to simply remind them of the reserve's policy inside the nursery? That visitors are not to touch the hatchlings as they get adjusted to the environment?" Daphne shook her head. "A nice, simple restatement of the rules after Mrs. Baumfart burned her hand would've sufficed. You didn't have to question their literacy skills."

"Whatever! Like you wouldn't have done the same if you had been there."

"Or swear at them like you do with your mates here!"

Charlie fumed, crossing his big, tattooed arms across his chest. She was right, of course. He had lost his temper with them and said things that would've made a Death Eater blush. But he hated being told what to do, especially by Daphne Greengrass, who was not only a couple of weeks new to the reserve as its Advocate Witch, but who was the same age as Ron. Merlin-on-a-biscuit he loved his brother dearly, but it felt like he was being told what to do by him! Charlie hated taking orders; this situation was not helping at all.

Even the visual of an angry Daphne Greengrass was not helping maintain his cool. He found himself drawn to her fiery eyes and skin, flushing as she tried keeping her temper in check. He liked the way her hair fell out of her sleek bun and how those dark tendrils framed her face with soft, wavy wisps, which surprised Charlie because he had always pictured her with straight hair cascading down her smooth, naked back....

You're doing it again, Weasley!

He tried ignoring the heat stirring in his body, but it was difficult to do. She watched him for a few moments. Her eyes seemed to flicker to his tattoos and his arms, lingering on them for a few moments.

Checking him out.

That was unlikely; Daphne certainly didn't seem like the type of girl who would be drawn to a bloke like Charlie — covered in scars and body art, in clothes that had random singe marks and tears all over them. She was so professional, in her stilettos, her clean business robes, her skirts and sleeveless blouses that let him see a surprising amount of skin. Charlie thought she'd be more into business-wizards than keepers.

And yet here she was, surrounded by the latter.

Daphne sighed. "I'm only trying to make sure this reserve keeps going and, at the end of the day, that you still have a job. Mister Temper Tantrum."

"Oi!"

"Would you prefer Mister Unemployed?"

Charlie slumped in his seat. Dragons were the only things he knew, next to Quidditch. He might be able to play, if something happened to his job here. But it hurt, the thought of no longer stepping foot on the soft green grass of the Balauracasă Reserve, where he had worked for so, so long. Longer than any relationship with a girl. Longer than he had attended Hogwarts. Longer than he had fought in any war.

Dragons were Charlie's life, as were the people who worked with him. They were his family away from the Weasleys. They, along with his parents and his siblings, had helped him recover during those first two years after he lost his brother, and imagining a future without them was—

"Meeting over, Weasley. I'll come find you if I need you." She picked up her quill again and began jotting down notes, signalling that this meeting was indeed done and he needed to get the hell out of her office.

He chanced one more question, this time his voice and demeanour noticeably softer. "When's the hearing again?"

"Two weeks from this Friday. The Department of Magical Employment and Quality Assurance are sending their representatives down here, as well as a Matron who's contracted by the Ministry to evaluate any injuries received in situations such as this."

Charlie nodded, more resigned than normal. "Okay then. I'll get back to work."

"Yes do. And try to not burn or insult anyone today? Can you manage that for me? Please?"

He mumbled something vulgar under his breath, but noticed that she was trying not to grin as he got up to leave.

"TO THE LEFT, IDRIS!!" A shirtless, sweaty Charlie waved his arms, his wand pointed at his throat, casting the Sonorous Charm. "MORE! AND TIGHTEN THE ROPES! YOU'VE GOT TOO MUCH SLACK THERE!!"

Idris Shelton, the other team leader, gave him the affirmative signal and started barking orders at the other keepers on brooms. They were working on restricting Gus, the adolescent Ridgeback, to make sure the creature didn't haul off and seek out Bessie, an Ironbelly who was going through a similarly difficult adolescence and whom Gus had become inexplicably fixated on.

Charlie shuddered; the thought of those two dragons mauling or mating with each other was too scary to contemplate.

He removed the charm and lowered his wand, walking backwards as he regarded the keeper-made net used to wrangle Gus into the holding area. Charlie wiped his wet brow. It was mid-day, and the heat of the sun seemed to be angled just so to sit right on top of Charlie's red head, making him sizzle like a piece of hot meat.

So engrossed was he in his duties that the click click click of stiletto heels on the sizzling stone path behind him barely registered.

He kept walking... and walking...

And he stumbled right into another person.

"Whoa!" He fell backwards despite his best efforts to remain upright.

"Ouch! Dammit Weasley!"

There was no mistaking the dulcet tones of Daphne Greengrass' voice. He twisted around, bracing himself on his arms, his fists on ground near her hips. She was rubbing her head, her face scrunched up in pain.

"Merlin, Greengrass! Y' shouldn't sneak up on a bloke while he's working—"

"You need to watch where you're going!"

"I need to watch? You're the one trying to be all covert and stealthy, and we're engaging in a very delicate operation."

As if on cue, Gus reared his head and breathed out an immense stream of fire, eliciting a round of the most colourful swears Charlie had ever heard from Idris and the other keepers. Idris shouted at the team to clear the area and let Gus' anger burn out. Charlie scrambled up and put his wand to his throat.

"OI! GIVE GUS FIFTEEN MINUTES!! LET HIM SPEW! HE NEEDS TO VENT!!" Charlie barked. He wondered vaguely if Gus' attitude was in any way revenge for the way he acted around his mum and his dad growing up. He grinned and gave thumbs up to his team, who were all flying out of the way while still holding their ropes.

"Oh, yes. It's clear this is precision work," Daphne drawled.

Charlie lowered his wand and snapped back her; he noticed drops of sweat cascading down her brow, rolling down her neck... and further down the top of her chest, barely exposed as her blouse's neckline swooped in a slightly provocative manner.

He couldn't stop looking at her. Her moist skin, her hair coming undone, her breath coming out in annoyed pants... Charlie couldn't stop his mind from going to a very naughty place, wondering whether this was how she might've looked after a night of--

"Are you going to stop staring and help me up, Weasley?"

That snapped him out of his reverie. "Was there something you want? Or are you just here to waste my time?"

She opened her mouth again... but stopped short of saying anything. Charlie followed her gaze.

Daphne was staring at his chest.

"Interesting choice of body art, Weasley."

It wasn't an unusual experience, after all. Plenty of times, when visitors came to the reserve and saw him without his shirt, the witches in the crowd would take the opportunity for long, lingering looks, as if wanting nothing more to use his torso as a platter to eat their sweets and other desserts.

And that was long before he ever got his Horntail tattoo.

Female attention was, therefore, something Charlie had never lacked. Judging from the way Daphne Greengrass' attention was one hundred percent focused on his chest, he, clearly, still had it. She was utterly captivated by his body.

Just as he was captivated by hers.

Stop that!

He raised his chest up, using his knees to prop himself on the ground. So long as she was continuing to gape at him, Charlie decided he needed to have a little fun with Daphne.

"Interesting body art, Greengrass? Are you talking about my Horntail?"

She had stopped blinking all together. "Yeah." Her voice came out like a croak.

"As you can see, it starts right here," he said languorously, pointing at his right shoulder, "and wraps all the – way – down." His finger glided down his chest, from his right pectoral muscle and it followed the length of the Horntail's iridescent blue body, tattooed diagonally across his tight torso. "And it finishes right here." He angled his body, making sure to flex and give her eyes full, unencumbered access of the tattoo as it covered the left side of his body. He twisted around to show off the dragon's intricately detailed head, resting low -- very low -- on his bare back.

For good measure, he lifted up his sculpted arm, flexing it just right so Daphne could see him in all of his ripped glory. 


She nodded. "It's..." She blushed violently. Oh, this was too good for Charlie! Her professional demeanour had officially been binned. All thanks to his sweaty half-nakedness.

"It's, um, complex."

He raised his eyebrow, not bothering to hold back a grin. "I can make it breathe fire for you if you want."

She snorted feebly. "It breathes f-fire?"

"It does. It also moves, rears its head up, and lunges forwards." He winked at her. "It'll do whatever I want."

She froze and caught his eye. He reveled in her befuddled expression.

After a moment, Daphne coughed and shook her head. "Wh-whatever." She wriggled out from underneath of him, and stood back up, brushing her skirt and sleeveless blouse off. Both were smudged with dirt from her fall. "Weasley, I need to see you tonight."

"Well, that's a little forward of you."

"About the case!" She gritted her teeth in frustration. "I want to keep you informed about it and I have found some information that might please you."

"Depends on how you phrase it, Greengrass."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Charlie said, shrugging, "you don't really have the most charming demeanour."


She glared at him. "Charming demeanour?"

"You could make a birth announcement sound like a life sentence in Azkaban. Might want to work on that a little bit."

Narrowing her eyes, Daphne's nostrils flared. "Rest assured, I won't be taking your advice about how I should or should not act, Weasley. Now meet me tonight, ten o'clock. I'll be sitting at those couches in the mess hall." She pivoted on her sharp heels.

"Come alone!" she barked over her shoulder. "And put on some clothing!"

At ten o'clock, Charlie found Daphne where she said she would be. But he didn't approach her right away.

He leaned his body against the door frame directly in front of her, watching as she sat with her bare feet tucked under her legs, a large book on her lap, her Dictation Quill scribbling furiously on a parchment that lay on the coffee table in front of her. She held a goblet in one hand, and there was another matching one on the table next to an open bottle of wine. Her lips were moving; he could make out words like, "therefore", "Mister Weasley", and "through no fault of his own".

However, as much as all of this intrigued him, what made him hesitant to disturb Daphne was how she looked. Her hair, which was normally wrapped up in a tight bun or ponytail now fell in loose waves, spilling over her shoulders, grazing her cleavage. It was wild and big and even longer and thicker than he had thought it would be. He could imagine tangling his fingers in that luscious mass, coaxing her head back as he nipped at the skin on her neck, as her legs wrapped around his waist, and as his other hand cupped her—

"You going to stand there all night Weasley, or are you going to sit with me?"

She didn't look up to address him. Instead, she crooked her finger, beckoning him to join her. Swallowing and hoping fervently that she wasn't a secret Legilimens, Charlie eased himself over to the empty spot on the couch.

Casually, without pulling her attention away from her text, Daphne picked up her wand and paused in her dictation. She pointed it at the second goblet, and, with a swish and flick, intoned—

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The goblet Levitated slowly towards Charlie.

"What's this?"

"I have a simple butterbeer in mine, as I refuse to drink until I'm finished working. You have a vintage Muscat Ottonel of the Fou Valley Vine. 1993. A very good year for their grapes." She raised her glass. "A toast, Weasley."

Charlie clicked his tongue. "Does this have anything to do with seeing me shirtless today?"

He smirked as she glared at him. "Maybe you were right. About the whole demeanour business."

It amused him to no end that she was trying desperately to keep her voice mild and to not roll her eyes. "So is this your idea of a charming demeanour then?" 


"Do not push it!"

He chuckled. "Okay, I won't. Now, to get back to what you were saying before." He raised his glass. "What are we toasting?"

"Our victory on Friday."

"Uh, great?" It came out as a question rather than statement. "Care to explain?"

"Yes. But first," she said, raising her eyebrow and smirking. "Drink."

They both did from their respective goblets. Charlie's was particularly brilliant tasting — smooth, not too dry or bitter, with a hint of fruit that didn't overpower his tongue.

He licked his lips. "That was great. I don't normally go for wine too."

"It should be good. They grow their grapes using fertilizer developed from the waste produced by your very own dragons. Here in the reserve."

Charlie's face froze in disgust. Gingerly, he sat the glass back down on the table. He coughed and turned back to face Daphne. "You got some news?"

"It turns out that your friends, the Baumfarts, love to travel around the world."



"Bully for them. What does this have to do with the complaint against me?"

"Well, they have a rather calamitous history wherever they go." She tossed a file into his lap. "This is the paper trail for all the complaints they've filed over the last seven years, starting from 1999."


Charlie hummed. "Um, do I have to read all of this?"

She rolled her eyes. "In – summary," she said, her tone indignant, "there have been eight separate incidents, all in different countries, all with the same fact patterns. Couple travels. Couple finds dangerous, yet exciting adventure. Couple gets hurt on said adventure because they put themselves in harmful situations, but ones that aren't overly obvious to a body determining whether a reasonable wizard or witch would have known it was harmful."

"Err... come again?"

"They played you, Weasley. Like a bloody Cherub harp! They played this entire reserve with some cooked-up burns and false allegations of neglect by a handsome, charming, yet rather oafish dragon keeper." She took a sip of her drink and grinned triumphantly. "I swear I amaze myself with my intellectual capabilities!"

"How do you mean, they played me?"

"This is their M.O. They trump up fraudulent claims against companies that engage in high-risk activities. There're loopholes in wizarding law in several of these countries allowing hefty penalties for these businesses and the Baumfarts have exploited this. They've been awarded huge settlements by the high-risk ventures who don't want the negative publicity affecting their businesses and risk the ministries shutting down their enterprises all together. It's really quite odd that no one's caught up with them until now." She winked at him. "I suppose it took a Slytherin to analyse their file and see how the dots connected."

Charlie leaned forwards, his hands clasped together. This is nice and all, Daphne."

Her eyebrow rose at the sound of Charlie saying her first name. "I'm Daphne now?"

His lips twitched. "But, I don't see how this means victory for us on Friday."

"It's because they didn't do their research. Prior to this, they have not had the Ministry of Magic investigate their 'claims' because they were injured at businesses where the Ministry held no interests. This reserve is funded as a joint venture between the Ministries of Romania and Britain with its main goal to function as a biological research facility for magical beasts. Dragons are a Class D Dangerous Creature. Thus, claims involving any and all matters regarding them fall upon the Ministry to investigate and hear. And there is case law that supports our position."

"Which is?"

"That any sane, rational, reasonable wizard and/or witch of average intelligence would know better than the Baumfarts did, especially given that they've been injured several times. Oh, and that the Baumfarts are ignoramuses whose con-artistry needs to be stopped."

He stared at her smiling, shining face for a few moments. "I'm officially in awe, Daphne."

"Well, of course you are," she chirped and placed her parchments down on the table. She continued sipping on her drink, staring at him with thoughtful eyes. There was a lull in their conversation. Charlie watched her as she looked at him with a smug smile.

"You really looked pleased with yourself."

"And why wouldn't I be? I've got those two prats right in their well-monied bollocks!"

He laughed. Godric! He didn't want to admit it, but so much about her overly confident nature, her way of teasing and talking to him — he got why it was both infuriating and irresistible. She was the type of witch he wanted. Her arrogance drove him crazy, but honestly, he wouldn't be able to stay away.

Really, he just had to try to know her better.

"This is the first time you and I have actually shared a space together and we're not at each other's throats."

Charlie grinned. "That thought had occurred to me. It's not bad."

"Just 'not bad'? I'd like to think being in my presence is pretty stimulating." She smiled broadly, her tongue pressing against her teeth, a sexy image against those brilliant red lips of hers.

His eyes bulged out and he laughed. "You do realize that, if I had had a drink in my mouth, I'd be doing a spit take right now."


"I have that much of an affect on you, Charlie? I'm even more impressed with myself."

"So, I'm Charlie now?"

She had a cheeky glint in her eyes and she flashed a lopsided grin at him. "You are."

That was it. The moment! Something had changed between them. Maybe he could take this opportunity to get a little more insight into this woman's mind. Thinking about any question, any topic he could ask her, Charlie fixated on the one area that he had wondered about the moment she first arrived. It would be an easy question to ask; nothing too personal nor too objectionable.

"Daphne, can I ask you a question?"

"Why not? Doesn't mean I'll answer it. But ask away."

"Why a dragon reserve? Why work here when you could work anywhere else?"

"That... was not what I was expecting."


He chuckled. "What were you expecting?"

"Hmm, let's see. Maybe something along the lines of, 'What's going to happen with the case, Greengrass?' 'What is the strategy for Friday, Greengrass?' Or, if you wanted something more personal: 'Are you single, Greengrass?' 'Do you fancy any blokes on this reserve?' 'What? You don't? Do you fancy any witches?'"

Charlie laughed heartily, although he could feel blood rushing to his face. "You really do think highly of yourself, don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm me, after all." Daphne smiled easily at him. "To answer your question, I had my choice of a nice job with Gladrags. Contracts, licensing and the like." Her smile faltered, and she ran her fingertips on the edge of her goblet. "But I didn't just want to be somewhere stuck in an room all day long."

She turned her eyes back up at him. Charlie was struck by how serious she looked.

"I needed something different. And not in England. Not after the war."

That was not the answer he had expected.

"Did you lose anyone?" he asked, knowing he didn't have to finish saying "in the war?" He still felt the dull pit in his heart as he thought about Fred, and looking at Daphne's face now and remembering her words, he could sense that she must have known some deep loss attached to those years of fighting.

Slowly, hesitantly, Daphne blinked... and she nodded.

"Family?"

"No. A boy." Her jaw flexed and she reached for his goblet this time, taking a long, slow drink. "And no, he wasn't a Death Eater."

"I didn't — didn't think he was."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It comes with the territory. You tell people you're a Slytherin, and they start searching your arm for the Mark. They do it all the time." She held hers out to show him; her clear, smooth skin revealed nothing other than the start of a light tan, thanks to working so high up in the Romanian mountains. "It's why I wear shirts with no sleeves, or with cuffs that I roll up whenever I'm around others."

He suddenly felt pangs of guilt as he thought about every accusation and every bad thing he had ever said about her House.

"He wasn't even a Slytherin. No, he was a Ravenclaw, although he could be so outright Gryffindor sometimes it drove me bloody insane."

Charlie couldn't help but smile; her tone wasn't bitter, but wistful. He caught a glint of moisture gathering in her eyes; he felt his own chest hitch as Fred's smiling face floated into his head.

"He died defending the castle. And before that, he was tortured many, many times by the Carrows, by some of my Housemates as well." She looked at Charlie. "After the war, I fought and urged my father to turn over any and all evidence about any Death Eaters that he had helped throughout the years. Then, I left my family, became a licensed Magical Advocate, and found myself working here in Romania."

After a pause, Daphne's face broke into a smile. "I suppose I've got a thing for danger, and for wizards who do dangerous things."

Charlie laughed at that.

"I don't like getting my hands dirty with physical labour, but when it comes to destroying the opposition in any other way, I will do it."

He gaped at the deadly tone of her voice. "You are a scary woman, Daphne. You know that?"

Her face softened, and she blinked again. "I never told you that I'm sorry about your brother, Charlie."

Again, not what he was expecting.

"Um, thanks," he managed.

"I do mean it. I can't understand it, because it's different for all of us, right? But I am sorry. From what I saw of him at school, he didn't like Slytherins all that much, but he was quite funny."

Charlie tore his eyes away from her, cupping his chin with his hand as his elbow rested on his knee. He didn't want to start crying — not here and not in front of Daphne.

Instead, he focused his ever-blurring vision on the folder that she had given him. "S-so, what's the game plan for Friday then?"

Daphne watched him, not answering his question at first. He exhaled in relief when she moved over to sit down next to him, and opened up the file. Charlie let her talk and his mind kept floating back to the smiling face of his brother, every once in a while taking in the scent of fruit that came from her hair.

"No! No, no, no, no! All bloody wrong!"

"What?" Charlie looked at himself. "You said suit. I'm wearing a suit!"

"And every once in a while, I'm wrong." Daphne said, running her hand down his body, feeling his lapels. "You are not a suit wizard. It's the only time you don't look like your normally handsome self."

He cocked his eyebrow. "That's the second time you've called me handsome, Daphne. Now I'm starting to think you mean it."

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "I'm not blind, Weasley. But, we have to fix this." Looking around her, Daphne made sure the main building of the reserves, where they were going to meet with the Baumfarts as well as the Ministry officials, was empty. The only two people around were the pair of them.

She grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him into the nearest loo.

"Oi! This's the men's room!"

She said nothing, but shoved him into a stall, shutting the toilet seat and setting her bag on top of it.

Charlie started laughing as her fingers danced on the buttons of his coat, undoing them.

"At least buy me dinner first." He chuckled even harder as she yanked off his jacket. "I'm starting to feel dirty, you undressing me in a men's bathroom stall."

A pair of amused but exasperated eyes flashed up at him as she flung the offensive article of clothing over the door of the stall. Daphne stood with her arms crossed, appraising him shrewdly.

She reached for his tie and loosened it. Looking again, she shook her head and took the thing off all together.

"You really need me to be in as little clothing as possible, don't you Daphne?"

She stared at Charlie, her lip twitching, but she didn't respond to his advances. "Hmm. Shirt's very nice on you, and having it tucked in allows the ladies a fine look at that arse of yours."

Well, that was new. Not that he didn't know he had a fine arse, but that Daphne had come right out and said it. 


"What am I? A man or a piece of meat?"

She grinned. "For today's purposes, you're a bit of both. There are four women on this panel that's coming today. I'm going to ambush Marius Pucey, the Head of the Department of Magical blabbity-blah—"

"I do love it when you talk all professional, Daphne."

"—and drag him into a room with the Baumfarts, wowing them with my negotiating skills. Your duty, Charlie," she said, pressing her chest against his, "is to stumble—"

She undid his top button and admired the view.

"—onto the rest of the panel."

She undid the next one down and spread his shirt just a bit, revealing a small, tantalizing glimpse of his tattoo. All the while, he tried not to think about how thin his shirt actually was; doing so would only make him more cognizant of her soft skin as her fingers grazed his and touched his body through the flimsy fabric. Or the swell of her bosom as she stood so tantalizingly close to him.

Or the way she stared at his tattoo again — just as she did on the reserve that other day. Like he had completely confounded her.

"Your job will be to charm the skirts off of the women in that room. If you think you can charm any of the other wizards coming today, then turn it on. That way, if negotiations fall apart, which they won't, but just in case they do, we'll present our position to a less-than-hostile panel."

He stared at her. "You know, I'm not sure if my scruples allow you to use my body for your nefarious plans."

"Oh, believe me, I can come up with far more nefarious plans for your body than this. This is a walk on the Quidditch Pitch compared to anything else I'm capable of concocting."

Charlie cocked his eyebrow. "Don't make me try to read your mind."

She patted his collar down; she made sure his shirt was open, but not too much at the top. "I may or may not tell you later. But first, do you want to have a job here or not?"

He squinted one eye as he thought of the best possible way to answer her. And then, it came to him. "Have a drink with me, and I'll indulge this little Slytherin scheme of yours."

She stared at him shocked and quite clearly thrown off of her game. "I hate to break it to you, Char-, Weasley, but Rules of Advocate and Solicitor Conduct states that we cannot have anything but a professional relationship while I'm assisting you with a claim."

"Fine then. A business drink."

"In your quarters, right? Because that's where you do all of your business?"

"At a tavern, Daphne. A proper drink between two friends."

A smile blossomed on her face. "We're friends now?"

"Maybe we are. But I'm also cursing that stupid professional code of yours for being so... stupid."

Her mouth twitched as she gave his look the once-over. "Of course you are." A giggle floated from between her lips as she unbuttoned his cuffs and folded them twice, pushing his sleeves halfway up his forearms. "Honestly, I'm pretty fit."

"The humbleness, especially, is extremely sexy." Try as he might, Charlie couldn't stop grinning.

She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, flashing him a supremely satisfied smile. "You look rather fit yourself. So, I think we're ready, Weasley." She stuffed his discarded jacket deep into her case and gestured towards the door. "After you."

Charlie walked out, admiring his far more casual, simple look in the mirror. Certainly the tucked-in shirt did give a free and clear view of his slate-grey trousered backside.

He chanced one more glimpse into the mirror just before he left the bathroom, smiling more broadly when he saw Daphne's eyes planted right on his outstanding rear end.

"You must've been brilliant, Daphne! The way the Baumfarts scurried out of your meeting with them and Mister Pucey—"

"My brilliance goes without saying, although that doesn't mean you have to stop talking about it."

"Oh, I won't, don't worry! The way you helped me out here, you deserve to hear your praises sung for at least two weeks. Maybe even more!" He gave her a wink.

"The Ministry and other international officials are looking into any possible crimes that they may have committed. Perhaps what we uncovered is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What we uncovered?" Charlie nudged her with his arm. "You sound like you're a bit of a team player."

"Well, I wasn't expecting to work as well as I did with you."

"We're even on a first-name basis, without any hint of irony or sarcasm."

Daphne stared ahead of them, grinning. "That we are."

There was silence for a few moments as they stepped out onto the field, just past the wards of the reserve. A few more paces, and they could Apparate to the nearest village, to have a pint at the keepers' favourite spot, The Dragon's Breath.

"Pucey was certainly admiring one very sly Slytherin." Charlie slowed his pace down and slung his suit jacket over his shoulder.

Daphne hummed, clearly satisfied with herself. "Indeed. He said I should consider taking a position in the Ministry's Department of Magical Advocacy."

That stopped Charlie dead in his tracks. He watched as Daphne walked further away. "Wh-wh-what? Y-you're... h-he offered that to you? I thought you liked it here. You said a couple of nights ago that didn't want some shitty desk job."

And that she liked danger and blokes who liked danger.

He was sure his heart missed a few beats. How the hell could she contemplate leaving this place? Sure, Charlie knew he infuriated the treacle tart out of her, said and did things that riled her up, that got her goat.

But she liked it! Dammit, he knew she liked it, and that's why he kept doing it! But had he pushed it too far? Had he run her off? Why was she considering this?

She halted and turned around. "I never said I was taking the offer seriously."

Charlie's face froze, knowing he looked more than a little surprised. "Oh. Well, just wondering. Because I did think that—"

He stopped talking. She was walking towards him slowly, smirking and swaying with each single step.

"Charlie?" she purred. "I only said he asked me to consider it. I don't want to leave Romania."

"You don't?"

"Nope." Her mouth popped as she let the word spill off of her tongue. "There are a few things I'd miss if I left here."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

He licked his lips as he noticed the proximity of her body which was so close to his now. She pressed her palms to his chest, her loose hair, released from the confines of the sleek bun, caught in the wind. Charlie inhaled the sweet aroma, a bouquet of fruit and flower as the tendrils curled around them. He looked down at her face... Godric, her sexy face! Her face, with her plump lips and her strong, dark eyes that stared at him, fluttering ever-so-softly, and looking at him with her insanely sensual expression...

To hell with the rules of her profession!

He needed to kiss her. Now!

"You know that we're no longer on the reserve?"

Charlie leaned his head forwards, letting her breath caress his lips. "The thought had occurred to me."

"And did you know that next to The Dragon's Breath, there's a lovely little inn? With a vacancy."

"A vacancy?"

"Yep," she said, with a nod. "And there may be a room available for one night. Under my name."

His lips were so close now, so painfully close to Daphne's soft, plush ones. He smiled. "Why would you go and do that for?"

"Mm... nefarious plans."

"More nefarious plans, eh? I feel so used. Cheap and tawdry." Merlin, they needed to stop talking and bloody do something before he exploded!

"Are you going to stop talking and kiss me already, Charlie?"

His hand touched her cheek. "Thought you'd never ask." His eyes closed and he felt the gentle pressure of her lips touch his.

The kiss deepened. Their tongues collided and danced and swirled about and he wrapped her slender body in his thick arms and ran his fingers through her luxurious tresses.

They didn't even make it to the inn, opting instead for a slightly secluded spot in the nearby forest. The inn could wait for another round, but neither Charlie nor Daphne had the patience to Apparate to a more comfortable environment. As his lips touched her skin, Charlie felt his body heat up, his face once again reddening into a brilliant scarlet, the only natural response to kissing and touching and unravelling the ever sexy, incredibly sly, and often infuriating Daphne Greengrass.

And just how bloody fantastic it was.

Fin.