Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its respective characters and settings. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made on my part.

Beta: Ameths and Lisa
Lovealion Prompt: 33 (though I wrote it under a different name...Kamerreon's fully aware of who I am.)
Pairing: Charlie/Harry
Warnings: Slash (male/male relationships of a sexual nature), LIME AHEAD! (this means things will get hot and heavy towards the end! IF YOU DO NOT LIKE, HIT THE BACK BUTTON NOW!) I will not have one person ruin this for the rest. You have been warned so don't complain.
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, McGonagall comes up with a plan to help the eighth year students settle into the real world. Harry soon discovers there really is life beyond the Prophecy.

Authors Note: Sorry...had to go through and put spaces between words Fanfiction shoved together (which this site always does.)

Authors Note to AnimeMangaAngel: That was possibly the best review I've ever gotten and I was completely sad to see that there was no way for me to reply! I'll reply at the end of this page…because I don't want to ruin anything for new readers.

On a still, unremarkable Tuesday evening, Minerva McGonagall had a brilliant idea.

It came to her quite suddenly, just as her eyes swept over the Great Hall. There, perched at the head of the Gryffindor table sat three students that would have graduated the year previously had things not taken the turn they had. In fact, there were many such students scattered throughout the Great Hall, and each had chosen to return to Hogwarts to complete the studies they had inadvertently missed out on. It was actually quite responsible of them, yet she was struck by just how many of them there were—far more then she'd anticipated.

That was why, as the opening feast began that evening, Minerva began to plot. There simply weren't enough teachers to form a separate year, and the classes would be far too crowded if they combined the returning eighth years with seventh years.

Minerva drummed her long nails on the table, mulling over her plan. It would take a few calls and some extra paper work, but she felt it was entirely worth it in the long run. She smiled slightly—a sight so uncommon that several students shot her curious looks before returning to their meals. Yes, it was settled. Hogwarts would be hosting a new program—one that was desperately needed for the returning students and could be beneficial to future Hogwarts' students. New era, indeed. She couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, alarming several colleagues in the process.

..::..::..::..::..::..::..

"She's finally lost it!" Ron whined as he plopped heavily into a chair by the fire.

The common room was crowded, and it was only luck that he'd managed to find a spot in the chaos. Their actual rooms were located down a hall just to the left of the Fat Lady. They would have gathered there, but the rooms were just that: spare rooms that had probably been used as classes in the past. There simply wasn't another space that could be used the way they were used to. After all, the four house commons were the only areas set up to accommodate students properly. This, Hermione had already stated, was another good reason for McGonagall's newest idea.

"Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Haven't we had this discussion before and decided that I'm right?"

"Yeah, but that was before she called me up." Ron groaned. Harry spoke before the two could really start fighting.

"It can't possibly be that bad, mate."

"You don't understand, Harry. She paired me with Williamson!" Harry blinked and furrowed his brow, wondering where he'd heard the name before.

"Why is that a bad thing?" He vaguely recalled seeing an Auror by that name after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

"I've heard he's even worse than Mad Eye was!" He paled at his own words.

Hermione huffed. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic." She almost smiled at the end but quickly pulled on a straight face.

"Says you!" Ron groused. "You get to study with Bill!" She did smile then, excited by the prospect. After much deliberating, Hermione had come to the conclusion that she loved Ancient Runes far too much to not do anything with the knowledge she had. Curse breaking would not only allow her to work with those skills but would also take her all over the world, visiting places most people only dreamed of seeing.

"Oh, by-the-way Harry, McGonagall told me to send you up." Ron promptly smacked the back of his head. "Ow! What the heck was that for?"

"Why didn't you tell him that immediately?" She growled. "Now Professor McGonagall's been waiting up there for a good ten minutes for someone that didn't even know they were supposed to see her! She has other things to do Ronald! Didn't you think that maybe—"

Harry drowned out Hermione's lecture and left the common room in a daze. His thoughts were sporadic, bouncing from one thing to the next. The war was still heavy on his mind, though like the others he was trying his best to move on. Several months had passed after all and he'd learned the hard way how bad dwelling could be. Then there was the thought of the meeting set before him. He'd always planned to become an Auror, it was what everyone expected of him but that was just the thing. It wasn't what Harry had chosen, it was just another part of his life that had been decided for him and Harry had gone along with it. Why? Perhaps it was to please everyone else. Perhaps he felt it was what his parents would have wanted. Or perhaps, he hadn't really thought he'd live past the war. He hadn't made any long term plans or goals because deep down, he felt they would have been pointless. Thankfully, he'd been proven wrong; though, now he had another dilemma to face.

What exactly did he wish to do with his life?

The second most obvious choice would be Quidditch. He was certainly good at the sport and so many teams would jump at the chance to have The Harry Potter on their side. And therein lay the problem. Harry didn't like his fame, no matter how many times Snape had said otherwise. He hated being the center of attention. He hated all the media and lies that came with it. Flying was fun but because Quidditch would just keep him in the limelight, the idea held no real merit.

Harry reached the Gargoyle statue mid thought. The creature was already sitting to the side, open specifically for the interviews McGonagall had been working on all day. The stairs were motionless as he scaled them.

"Hello, Mr. Potter."

The doors to the office were propped open, and Harry had a clear view inside. In front of the heavy oak desk sat a low table with several stacks of papers and two plush chairs to each side. McGonagall was sitting primly in the left chair, and she gestured for Harry to take the other as he entered. He made himself comfortable as she flipped through the papers in her lap. "Would you like some tea?" Harry nodded slightly and took the offered cup, sipping it as McGonagall sorted through another pile.

"Good evening, my boy!" Harry almost choked on the tea. He'd forgotten about the portrait that now hung above the headmaster's desk. "How are you feeling?" Dumbledore's bright blue eyes still managed to twinkle, even through the grain of canvas.

"Uh, fine, sir," Harry managed just barely, still taken off guard. McGonagall spoke then, saving Harry from the uncomfortable situation.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I have several Aurors here who would love to take you on as an apprentice." Harry blinked at her words. She was assuming, just as everyone else had, that he wanted to be an Auror. Somehow, Harry had been expecting more from her, but then, hadn't he once told her that a career as an Auror was exactly what he planned to pursue?

"I don't want to be an Auror, Professor." McGonagall glanced up in surprise while Dumbledore chuckled as if he'd been expecting the comment, and perhaps he had. Even while Dumbledore had been alive, Harry hadn't really known what the man was thinking; he supposed his portrait must be similar in that regard. Dumbledore began speaking then, as if continuing a conversation he'd been having previously. It took Harry a moment to understand what the man was referring to.

"Ah, this is a splendid idea if I do say so myself! I'm not sure why I didn't think of it, actually." He tugged at his beard in thought, and the canvas of the painting seeming to flutter.

Harry leaned slightly towards McGonagall, speaking low enough to not be overheard.

"Is it even possible for a portrait to have a new idea?"

McGonagall thought for a moment then shook her head.

"I don't believe so. It's one thing if they were already aware of plans, but I think this is beyond the capabilities of that magic. When he was helping us during the war, he wasn't telling us anything he hadn't already figured out while he was alive." She looked at him in full then, a questioning look on her face. She cleared her throat and spoke in her normal tone once more. "I was under the impression you wanted to be an Auror."

While it wasn't an outright question, Harry could hear her curiosity plainly.

"I think I might have, at first," he said. "After everything that's happened though—" He trailed off, unsure how to explain. McGonagall smiled softly and nodded in understanding. He continued. "Maybe something with flying?"

"Quidditch?" Her tone was rather disapproving, but he quickly elaborated.

"No, not Quidditch. It's fun and all, but I don't think I'd want to do that for the rest of my life." This was the truth but not his main reasoning. "What else is there with flying involved?"

It was Dumbledore who spoke up.

"Do you like dragons, Harry?"

"Well, yeah. Dragons are cool." Harry frowned, wondering if portraits could go mad, when McGonagall cut in once more.

"I see where you're going with this, Albus." She turned back to Harry. "This is just a suggestion, Mr. Potter, and you certainly have the previous experience to back it up but," she paused, "how do you feel about working with dragons?"

Harry thought it over. On and off, throughout the years, he'd been exposed to dragons in one form or another. McGonagall was certainly right about that. How did he feel about working with them? They were certainly interesting creatures and quite beautiful, as well. Did he think he could handle the dangers of it? Well, that was a silly question. If he could overcome a Horntail at the age of fourteen, he could certainly work with other dragons. Not to mention, they'd be training him wouldn't they? It wasn't going to be like his fourth year, being tossed into the dragon's lair without any experience on the matter.

He'd be able to fly again, too, he realized. Dragon keepers flew on and off on the job constantly, he recalled from Care of Magical Creatures—to help the babies learn to keep their wings going and to clean the large fields the dragons were kept in. Not to mention they needed the height to repair any decaying wards around the pens; the dragons' heavy magical auras meant the wards needed to be renewed at least once a month.

"Well, Mr. Potter? You needn't decide right away," she assured him, breaking the silence. "If you need a few days to think on it—" She broke off as he shook his head.

"No, I don't," Harry finally spoke. "I think that's a really good idea actually."

McGonagall sat stunned for a moment before quickly shuffling through another stack of papers. After hearing him turn down the Auror training, she'd expected him to be like several of the other students that had visited that day, unsure of what they wanted in life and requiring several days to think things over. To hear him readily agree to something should have made her hesitate, but the awed sound of his voice made her think the idea held true potential. She silently thanked the scheming man that now sat watching them with a smile. As she gathered the papers required, she wondered suddenly if Dumbledore had thought over this very problem years before, perhaps even the year Harry faced off against the Hungarian Horntail. It certainly wouldn't surprise her.

"Here we are." She read a couple lines before addressing him once more. "You are, of course, familiar with Mr. Charlie Weasley." Harry nodded. "He's sent word that he'd be more than willing to take on an apprentice. There are several other trainers here, but I think you'd be happier working with someone you're familiar with. Is that true?" Harry nodded once more, still in awe that he had a new goal in life. "I'll get everything settled on this end, and on the fourteenth you'll be joining the others at 7:30 in the Great Hall to join your new guide." She shooed him away with a content look on her face that reminded him oddly of a cat.

Harry felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he made his way back to the common room. Once again, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but the ones there now were far more pleasant than the ones before. After Voldemort's defeat, he'd felt odd, like something important was missing. He'd neglected to tell anyone because he hadn't quite understood it himself. It wasn't that he was unhappy the Dark Wizard was no longer around, but something was missing. Harry finally knew what that something was: an aspiration.

Harry had spent his entire life working up to one point: the defeat of Voldemort. Once that had been completed, he was left out on a ledge scrabbling for balance, alone and with nothing to aid him. Finally, he had solid ground to stand on and a plan with which to move forward. It was both comforting as well as exciting, and suddenly Harry couldn't wait for the fourteenth.

..::..::..::..::..::..::..

Twelve days passed rather slowly for two of the Golden Trio. Ron, of course, felt the time had passed far too quickly. He spent his days slacking off, much to Hermione's chagrin, as he spent what little time he had left to actually enjoy himself. At least, this was how he explained it, dreading what would certainly be pure torture. Hermione had finally asked him why he'd agreed in the first place if it was such a task, but Ron simply looked at her as if she were mental, telling her it was his dream to be an Auror and no matter how much torture he had to endure, he swore he'd make it. Hermione surprisingly found his answer to be more than satisfactory, cuddling up beside him with a good book.

Harry, for his part, spent the time allotted reading up on dragons. The more he read, the more excited he became, and the slower time moved. By the time morning dawned on September fourteenth, Harry was wide-awake and fully packed. His miniaturized trunk was settled in his robe pocket. Though he hadn't actually slept the night before, Harry felt alert as he made his way to the Great Hall alongside Hermione and Ron.

They reached the hall in record time; both Harry and Hermione were too excited to make small talk as they walked. Ron just groaned and filed along beside them. The hall was filled with the steady clattering of voices.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Hermione smiled happily, flinging herself at Ron who grunted in reply. "Promise to write you two! I want to hear all about your studies!" She grinned at Harry, and gave him a tight hug. He smiled and hugged her back just as tightly, crinkling his nose.

"Perhaps you should get a trim Mione. Your hair's getting quite long." He chuckled as she slapped him playfully. Another voice cut in.

"You sound like Mum, Harry." Harry turned and smiled at the sight of Charlie, who came up beside them. The taller man ruffled his hair affectionately and clapped Ron's shoulder. Harry ducked his head, a blush staining his cheeks. Had it really been that long since he'd seen the man? He'd seen him at Bill and Fleur's wedding and in passing since, but he hadn't really looked at him then. He'd had other things on his mind, like finding the Horcruxes.

Charlie looked good for lack of a better word. Romania was certainly good to him. His complexion was darker than the rest of his family, though Harry suspected it was more the amount of freckles he sported then any actual tan. His hair was longer too. If he remembered correctly, Molly had hacked it all off the last time he'd been there. The length was still rather short, just past his ears, but it was nowhere near the buzz cut he'd been sporting when he'd left.

"I dunno what her deal is. She's got a thing with scissors." Charlie ran a hand through his own hair in memory. "Ask Bill, he'll tell you the same." He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. Harry tried not to shiver. What on earth had gotten into him anyway? Charlie turned to Hermione then, as if suddenly remembering something. "Speaking of Bill, he's looking for you." He nodded in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. "Last I saw him he was over there, talking with some guy. I dunno his name. Had a similar haircut though."

Ron groaned at the comment, recalling the ponytail Williamson was known to wear. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Ron's hand, giving Harry a quick peck on the cheek.

"Take care, Harry! Have fun! And don't forget to write," she reminded him, pulling a reluctant Ron behind her.

"See ya, mate," he said gloomily as they disappeared into the crowd of people.

"So, Harry…" Charlie was grinning, his posture relaxed and content. Suddenly, it made sense how someone like Charlie could be so good with dragons. "Are you excited?" Harry couldn't help but grin. "It's going to be hard work, but I'm not really worried about that." His hand rested on Harry's shoulder as he spoke, and Harry ignored the warmth soaking through the many layers he wore. Charlie wore a simple pair of dragonhide boots, a tank top, and pants made of some type of thick material that Harry guessed was for protection.

Vaguely, he wondered if the dragons felt insulted when they saw wizards wearing clothes made of dragonhide. Hadn't he read something about that somewhere? Something about it actually being necessary for dragon handling? Heat protection, something or other, and dominance, too, he remembered. Heat—his thoughts were a bit scrambled because Charlie's hand was still resting on his shoulder. He blushed again but couldn't think clearly enough to even wonder why—and Charlie was tugging at Harry's cloak now, his eyes shining in amusement. Had he said something without Harry realizing it?

"You might want to tuck this away somewhere," Charlie suggested. "It's not really too warm in Romania at the moment; but the dragons are rather fond of heat, so we maintain a nice and toasty atmosphere for them in the keep." Harry nodded and pulled his trunk out, unshrinking it long enough to stuff his cloak within before shrinking and pocketing it once more.

"When do we leave?" Harry asked.

"I was told we can leave whenever you're ready to." Harry glanced around, realizing the crowd had thinned out as people made their way onto the school grounds to apparate.

"Oh." His face heated up once more, but he ignored it. "Well, I'm all set if you are."

He followed Charlie onto the grounds and passed the front gates where the loud cracks of Apparition could be heard ringing through the morning air. Harry felt the tickle of wards as they left them and turned to Charlie. He almost groaned when he realized they'd have to side-along despite the fact that he had his license. Harry wasn't familiar with their destination, so it would be far too dangerous otherwise. He told himself he was simply nervous because the sensation was twice as bad while using side-along, but a part of him knew this wasn't the reason.

"Alright, Harry." Charlie smiled again. "This might be a bit loud. We're traveling pretty far, so I'm not really going to be concentrating on making things quiet, yeah?" Harry nodded as Charlie stepped even closer than before, wrapping one well-toned arm around Harry's scrawnier frame. "Hold on tight, now; wouldn't want to lose you on this one. You could end up in the middle of a desert or someplace equally unpleasant. That certainly wouldn't be fun," he teased. Harry paused for a second, unsure how best to go about the task. Things were made worse because Charlie's arm was still holding his waist quite securely, the heat of it radiating against him. Why was it so warm? Was Charlie running a fever? Harry looked up slightly, but no, Charlie looked—well he didn't really want to think about how Charlie looked, did he?

"Right," he mumbled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Charlie caught the gesture and tilted his head slightly, finally realizing Harry's predicament. He grinned lopsidedly.

"Easiest way is to wrap your arms around my waist," Charlie said softly.

Harry couldn't stop the shiver that time, praying the older man didn't notice as he quickly wrapped his arms around his midsection. Harry was mortified, convincing himself that he'd been caught, and Charlie was going to pull away, send him back up to the castle to find someone else and— Harry squawked at the loud crack. The sensation of being squeezed through a tube was much stronger then it usually was, and Harry had side-along Apparated on many occasions. This was nothing like those other times though, and the feeling only got stronger as each second ticked by until it was bordering on painful—and then suddenly it stopped.

Harry still clung to Charlie after a second ear-splitting crack filled the air, the sound echoing as the world spun on its axis. He felt faintly ill and despite his earlier embarrassment, was very glad for the firm body now holding him up. He groaned as a rumble sounded in the ear he had pressed against Charlie's chest. It took him a moment to register the sound was Charlie laughing quietly.

"You get used to it over the years. Of course, it's not as bad when it's just one person." Harry pulled away shakily, something Charlie must have noticed since he kept a hand on Harry's elbow as he steadied himself. He took a moment to take in his surroundings.

They were standing in what appeared to be a wide open field atop a slope. There were mountains and hills directly in front of them and down below, a small village sat. The landscape was lush with greenery, feeling similar to Hogwarts, though he knew they were miles away.

"Welcome to Fortareata Dragoni," Charlie declared as he swept an arm melodramatically in the direction of the mountain.

"Um." Harry scanned the area in bemusement. It was lovely, yes, but there really wasn't anything there. Some flowers were scattered throughout, and there was the odd tree every so many miles. "S'not much is it," he said was startled when Charlie burst into laughter.

"Sorry, Harry! I almost forgot." He was still chuckling as he tugged on the arm within his grasp, leading Harry over to a large metal dais hidden among the greenery. "Just step up here now." He stepped onto the platform, pulling Harry up next to him. "There we are!" Harry was struck by the man's grin for a moment before noticing the scenery had abruptly changed. Where at first there was nothing, there now stood a colossal, pitch black wall, stretching from side to side as far as the eye could see. In fact, it was impossibly large, reaching six floors easily and Harry actually had to tilt his head back to see the top. And there, sitting proudly in front of them, was what had to be the largest set of doors Harry had ever laid eyes upon.

"Merlin—" he whispered, the sound barely leaving his throat.

"Impressive isn't it. It takes a lot to keep in something as large as a dragon." Charlie jumped off the dais and led the way down the stone path towards the entrance. Harry slowly followed him, still gazing at the doors. They were carved ornately with runes and glyphs. Charlie walked up to the door and slid his hand down the front of a dragon carved into its base.

"Adamantine," Charlie said softly, concentrating on the movement of his hand. "One of the few materials on this earth a dragon cannot break." There seemed to be a set path to his hand as it veered to the side before finally stopping. "Ready?" He gazed back at Harry with a smile, tugging him forward just as he pushed at the door. Harry knew magic had to be in play as soon as the massive stone began to move. Charlie was strong, sure, but no one on the planet should have been able to move something so enormous with little to no effort.

The sight that greeted him wasn't what he'd been expecting; but then, he hadn't really been sure what to expect. The mountains, which the wall had blocked from view, were visible off in the distance. A cobblestone road stretched out along the wall in each direction. Directly before them, the path shot forward, leading to another wall and set of doors identical to the ones they'd just passed through. Lined up and down the second wall were buildings of all shapes and sizes. It was like a strangely linear town, and people walked to and fro on their daily business. Harry could hear what sounded like sheep and cows off in the distance.

Charlie let the heavy doors close behind them before addressing Harry again. "Those doors lead to the dragons." He gestured to the second set of doors with a nod. "Best not to go through without someone with you."

"How many dragons do you have?" Harry's eyes wandered up and down the path, curious about the tan, stucco buildings and their occupants. Charlie's lip twitched slightly in amusement as he watched his companion take everything in.

"We only have ten at the moment. We might get a Chinese Fireball within the next week though. It's fairly rare since they're so well off in their natural breeding grounds." Charlie was moving to the left as he spoke, letting Harry follow at his own pace. The small brunette looked up then, curiosity in his eyes.

"What types of dragons do you have," he asked.

"Well, we still have Norbert." He ticked them off on his hand as they walked. "There's a female Opaleye named Syria. A male Vipertooth named Demakis who's surprisingly docile." He chuckled. "We have three common Welsh Greens." Harry made a small sound in bemusement, so Charlie elaborated. "Well, they're the easiest to work with, so we keep several of them on hand to train beginners like yourself and for breeding purposes." Harry nodded in understanding as they passed what looked like a pub of sorts. "Let's see, two of the Greens are female: Midori and Esmeralda. The male is Irvin." They passed a gated off area, where Harry could see the sheep he'd heard earlier.

"We have only one male Longhorn at the moment, named Vireo. We'd have more, but there's a nest of them about ten miles passed those mountains. They're not bothering any of the neighboring villages, so there's not really a need to interfere with them." Harry nodded as they passed an unmarked building that looked more like a home than anything else. He briefly wondered why Charlie had emphasized that it was male, but the man spoke again before he could question him.

"There's one you may be intrigued by: Hungarian Horntail named Daemon." He grinned teasingly, and Harry scowled.

"Oh, you're funny." Harry rolled his eyes while Charlie snickered.

"He certainly lives up to his name; he's a real demon to work with." He shook his head slightly in memory. "There's a male Short-Snout named Argyros. He's actually the only one of our dragons on that particular mountain ridge." He pointed to the far right side of the mountains, and Harry followed the line of his arm. A part of him expected to see something off in the distance, but it simply looked like a mountain. "And I left my favorite for last." He grinned as he spoke. "The female Longhorn. Her name is Aurelia, and she's an absolute sweetheart. Sometimes I feel like she might actually understand every word I'm saying."

"Why wouldn't she be able to?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's not common for a dragon to know English. Most of them only know Draconic, and some of them know Latin."

"Is that why they don't like Wizards very much?" Harry stopped when Charlie did; the look on the older man's face was unrecognizable.

"Maybe, partly." He looked pained. "You have to understand Harry. The Ministry calls anything they deem dangerous a creature. Werewolves are considered creatures even though most of their lives are spent just like human beings." Charlie's blue eyes were bright as he gazed out into the distance. They blended perfectly into the pale sky above them. "But I don't consider dragons creatures, despite what they say. They're just as much a being as you and I are. They have cities and families, dreams and aspirations. Wizards have taken these things from them for thousands of years. I don't blame them for holding a grudge."

It struck Harry then, something so profound it took his breath away momentarily. Harry watched as Charlie's face melted into concern, saw the man's mouth moving as he spoke but could not hear him. Felt those large, callused hands grip each of his shoulders.

It was people like Charlie who he'd fought those battles for: people who understood how important it was that every creature on the planet be considered an equal. Yet if that were true, which he knew to the very depths of his soul that it was, then the war was not over just yet. The battle had been won, perhaps even the most proverbial of them, but there was a long path ahead. Harry swore to himself that he would be there to see things change. Even if the enormity of the task would span far beyond his years, he would be one of the stepping stones, one of the pushes that got things rolling in the right direction.

"—rry! Harry! Are you OK?" Charlie sounded worried. Harry blinked slightly, gripping the hands on his shoulders and staring up into those ice blue orbs.

"Agh." His voice cracked slightly. "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? Maybe you should lie down. You look a little pale." Charlie fussed a bit, tugging him up to the door of the building Harry only just realized they'd stopped in front of. Of course, it was less of a door and more a piece of red cloth that was held up at the two top corners.

"What's this?" Harry looked around as they entered, clearing his throat as they walked. The walls were the same plaster as the outside. The entrance dipped down into a circular area where several plush chairs and a couch sat before a low table. They were pale beige, lighter than the walls, but splashes of color were added through several throw pillows and a stitched quilt that hung over the back of the largest piece. The place was warm and inviting, reminding Harry of the Burrow.

"My home, of course." Charlie chuckled and led him past the living room, which opened up into what looked like a kitchen area. He led Harry to a stool and told him to sit before rummaging around in the cupboards, returning with a glass filled with water, which Harry drank gratefully.

"This is nice, Charlie." Harry smiled as he looked around the small space, finally noticed the winding, iron stairs that sat just off the side of the kitchen.

"Glad to hear it, since you'll be bunking here with me for now." Charlie chuckled at the blush that crept up Harry's collar.

"Ah, um, bedrooms are upstairs then?" He asked.

"Bedroom, yeah. There's a bathroom up there as well." Bedroom Charlie said. Singular. They'd be sharing. Harry wondered if you could pass out from too much blood rushing to your head. He was certainly feeling a bit faint. "You OK?" Charlie moved around the bar, reaching out to feel Harry's forehead. Of course, that only made matters worse. "You were so pale before; now you look like you might be running a fever."

"N-no, I'm fine, really Charlie. I'm just not used to the heat yet is all." Harry gently pushed the hand away, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so unbalanced around someone. No, scratch that, he could remember feeling something similar around Cho, but it hadn't been nearly as intense.

Charlie's eyes narrowed as he watched the younger man. His head cocked to the side as a thought came to mind, but he shook it off, stepping back. "Right, well, let's get you upstairs for a lie down anyway, yeah?"

The bedroom was a loft style; the windows from the front of the building let in a lot of light and make the room feel bright and airy despite the tan plaster and dark red coverlet. The bed was very large and sat opposite the windows, its surface covered in many pillows. There were two plush chairs directly next to the windows and an armoire on the opposite wall. A single door next to the bed led into the bathroom.

Harry didn't think he'd actually be able to sleep as he crawled into the huge bed, but he soon found his eyes drooping of their own accord. Lack of sleep the night before had finally caught up to him, and he fell into a deep slumber. He was so sound asleep by dinner time that Charlie left him as he was, unwilling to wake the exhausted young man. Harry never even jostled later that night when Charlie settled in beside him.

..::..::..::..::..::..::..

The next several months passed in a blur for Harry, who was finally getting into the flow of things. He found that the majority of the scientists and dragon handlers had second homes right there in the Keep and that most of them were located along the west side of the linear village. It explained the many blank buildings they'd passed on the way to Charlie's house and of course the very house itself. There were several buildings considered offices and labs on the east side, as well as small farms where they raised sheep, cows and other medium-size mammals as food for the dragons. The building they'd passed the first day was not a pub, as Harry has first assumed, but it was a sort of restaurant where everyone could gather to eat and drink together, catching up on everything around them. The Keep was similar to a small village rather than just a place to study dragons, and Harry was soon introduced to Charlie's "family" of sorts while he was living and working there in Romania.

Jocasta Arvanitis was a slight woman, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in manner. She knew what she wanted and was far from being meek. Her last name, as well as her dark features, hinted at her distant Albanian heritage, though she'd been born and raised in Greece.

Michael Anderson, on the other hand, was a loud, boisterous man from the States who wasn't at all afraid to express his opinion. This, coupled with his sometimes-foul language, had earned him many smacks upside the head from Jocasta who wasn't a fan of such discourse. He was built like Charlie, broad and compact, though he was slightly taller than Charlie's 1.81 meter stature. Though he was just as tan as the others seemed to be, his pale blonde hair reminded Harry strongly of the Malfoy's, and it had taken him several days to get used to the man's presence.

Sleeping in the same bed as Charlie still made Harry's face alight in flames at times, but he soon discovered that Charlie was a very heavy sleeper, especially after working with dragons all day. Though he'd woken up entangled with Charlie on many mornings, Harry was finding the company to be less embarrassing then he'd first assumed it would be. Charlie was so casual about everything; it was hard to feel less than comfortable in his presence. It helped that, though he teased Harry occasionally, brushing his flushed cheeks in amusement and asking him if he'd ever "get used to the heat," Harry was positive the man had no idea of his crush. Certainly, the casual brushes Charlie made when they passed each other meant nothing. The long hours Harry would study only to look up and find Charlie studying him where simply a coincidence. A piece of Harry prayed this wasn't true, but he ignored it for the most part.

Still, after working with the Welsh Greens all day (cleaning their pens was a tiring job but nowhere near as exhausting as cleaning the actual dragons had proved to be), Harry was usually just as tired as Charlie and fell into a dreamless sleep almost every night. It was quite a relief, in fact. Harry had been certain he'd have issues with nightmares and would have felt horrible waking Charlie on a nightly basis. To his immense surprise, no such haunting came to him, and Harry sometimes wondered if Charlie's company had something to do with it.

It wasn't that he was accusing Charlie of anything sneaky, but he did suspect that there was more to the man then what met the eye. People felt automatically comfortable in his presence. A room could be filled to the brim with angry handlers, but when Charlie walked into that same room, it was as if a wave would pass through and suddenly everyone would grin at each other in embarrassment, apologize, and go about their business. He seemed to have a similar effect on the majority of the dragons who could be in the worst sort of temperament before Charlie arrived and then suddenly be calm and accepting the next minute. Harry still hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask the man about it.

Harry was tutored in several of the east buildings, sometimes by fellow handlers and other times by the scientists. Though it was not technically in their job descriptions, they had agreed readily when Charlie had asked, knowing the handler was one of the busiest due to his uncanny attunement with most of the dragons.

Harry soon found that he much preferred the handlers as teachers; they had a similar mind-set as Charlie when it came to the well-being of the dragons. The scientists often aggravated him more than anything, spouting nonsense about how dragons were only useful as long as they could be harvested for ingredients. Harry found it barbaric and had a hard time biting his tongue to keep from going off on an angry spiel.

It was just such an occasion, almost a month after he'd starting the program that Harry had finally had enough. The man who was tutoring him seemed to be the worst of them all. The scientist was from Bulgaria but did not remind Harry of Victor Krum in any way. He often spouted cruel remarks about other creatures aside from dragons, ranting at how werewolves and vampires should have been eradicated years ago because of their "uselessness to the scientific community." Surprisingly, it was not a rant of that nature that had taken Harry to the edge but rather the same argument the man had been spewing since the first day he'd begun working with him: why dragons should not be allowed to have their own lands.

-
"It is ignorant," the man's heavy accent was laced with venom, "to allow such aggressive, savage creatures to roam free. They should all be locked up in pens where it would be easier for us as a society to keep tabs on them." He chuckled then, and the sound was more cruel then amused. "Not to mention it would be more convenient to extract ingredients from them this way." He was watching Harry as if he expected him to nod and agree, but Harry shot out of his seat in anger, barely reining in his magic.

"You're a complete and utter bigot." Harry had a hard time keeping his temper in check as he spoke. "Acromantulas eat anything that lives beside them, yet those creatures do not condemn them because of this. They live alongside them; they respect them, and they thrive!"

The man lunged at Harry, who gasped as his back was slammed against the far wall. He knew the man was harsh, perhaps even cruel in his words, but he'd never actually expected him to physically assault him.

"How dare you!" His accent was heavy and menacing as he spoke. "You stupid child! Would you respect me," he spat the word as if it were a poison, "if I were trying to eat you?" Harry grunted as he was lifted off his feet in emphasis, the man shaking him. There was a long pause before Harry met those dark eyes once more.

"That depends." He hissed as the pressure against his chest increased. "Do you need too?" The man's face fell blank for a moment before twisting into confusion. The pressure on Harry's chest lessened, and he took in a gulp of air before continuing. "Does the life of your clan, your family, and your children depend on my death? If it did, then yes, I'd respect you and be honored that you chose me to sustain them." The man scoffed but released him, swiveling on his foot and stalking further away. Harry slid down the wall with a groan just as Charlie came to the door to collect him for the evening.
-

Charlie's eyes had narrowed as he took in the scene. The man had been fired the next day, and though it meant Harry would not have to deal with that particular argument once more, he'd refused to be tutored by the scientists any longer. Charlie had been confused at first until Harry had explained all that had been said to him from the first day he'd started his tutoring sessions. Though they could not be fired from the Keep—their opinions were their own, after all—Charlie had agreed to ask only the other handlers to teach Harry. No one argued with the man, not that Harry expected them to.

It had been nearly three months since Harry had started his apprenticeship and Charlie, with the help of the others, taught Harry more about dragons then he had even thought existed. They'd even, at one point, taken him up on broom to study the wards that kept the dragons from flying away. That particular aspect had been a bit beyond Harry, who had never actually taken runes, but Charlie had assured him that he would only really need to know the basic upkeep; the rest was applied yearly by professionals.

Still, although the job had been fun up to that point, Harry was far more excited for the current day's events. Charlie had decided to take his team out to the far pens, where the more dangerous dragons were kept. They were focusing on Syria, since it was her birthday, and Harry desperately wanted to go along. He sat at the kitchen table, watching as Charlie ate the breakfast Harry had made for him. Since it wasn't the first time Harry had woken up early and made the two of them breakfast, Charlie hadn't said anything about it. Inwardly, Harry swore that he wasn't trying to bribe the man; he was simply being nice. If making him a warm breakfast would maybe push him into saying yes, well, who was Harry to look a gift horse in the mouth?

"So," Harry began, pretending to be engrossed in his food, "you're going out to the mountains today, huh?"

Charlie let a small grin lift the corner of his lip. "Yep. It's Syria's birthday. Call it a visit of sorts." He grinned outright as Harry glanced up through his lashes.

"Well, that's nice." Charlie chuckled again at the casual words, wondering if Harry would say it or if he'd have to invite him along himself. "Do you think I could maybe, you know," Harry stopped and shifted gears. "Well I was thinking I'd love to come along if it's not too much trouble."

"Oh, Harry," Charlie smiled. "How could I say no to someone so cute?"

Harry blushed the entire way to the gates. Charlie had never called Harry cute before—sweet, yes, and a few times he'd called him little raven. He cast a surreptitious look at Charlie as Mike pushed open the large, adamantine gates. Charlie was looking back at him, a smile on his face. He blushed even harder. Maybe Charlie liked him too? Sure, Harry really didn't have experience with relationships. The only two he'd ever had ended in disaster. Cho because she hadn't really liked him that way and was too busy mourning Cedric to realize the fact and Ginny because they'd both decided they felt more like brother and sister. Actually, both had ended because feelings were misunderstood. The more he thought about it, the more worried Harry became. What if Charlie really didn't feel the same way, and Harry was just too absorbed in his own feelings to realize it? Well, it was no matter, since he really hadn't planned on acting on those feelings. He'd hate to ruin the new bond the two of them seemed to share.

Charlie stood beside him, his large hand cupping the back of Harry's neck and rubbing slightly in a soothing gesture he'd taken to using whenever the younger man seemed agitated. The effect was instantaneous, Harry melting under the ministrations, a small sigh escaping him. Harry vaguely noticed Jocasta grinning at them before looking forward once more as they traveled across the field. Touch and Charlie seemed to have another odd affect, and Harry was again reminded of the strange gift the man seemed to posses. He let the other two walk ahead slightly before finally addressing the topic he'd wondered about for months.

"Charlie," he asked. The man in question hummed in reply. "Why do you have such a calming effect on me?" Even as he said it, he felt a small blush stain his cheeks. Charlie absently ran his thumb up and down the side of Harry's neck before speaking, the action managing to calm the boy further though he didn't know how it was possible.

"Well, I guess I'm a bit of an empath." Harry blinked, turning to look into that icy blue gaze. Harry wondered how the eyes he'd attributed to cold felt so warm when he looked into them.

"An…empath? Like, you can feel emotions?" Harry questioned.

"Sort of. Mostly, I can send some of my own emotions into others," he replied and, assuming that might bother the other man, started to pull away. "Sorry, I mean, sometimes it bothers people. I should have told you."

"No wait!" Harry flushed at his outburst, waving off the two handlers a few meters in front of them when they paused to look back. When they turned to continue walking, Harry unconsciously rubbed his own neck before realizing what he was doing and laughing nervously. "It helps, obviously." Charlie smiled, brushing a few locks of hair behind Harry's ear. "I don't mind, really."

"That's good, Harry. I find it hard to keep myself from touching you." It was said casually, but Harry felt like he was about to faint. The implications of those innocently spoken words were not lost on him, and he nearly tripped as they finally reached the gates to Syria's quarters. Charlie's deep chuckle rang out as Harry righted himself.

"Oh," was all he could manage at that point, but he didn't protest when Charlie's hand settled onto his neck once more.

"Here we are!" Jocasta called out merrily. Harry looked around, noticing that the particular part of the mountain they stood before had a cave taking up a large part of its side. The cave was deep enough that even in the bright light of the afternoon, Harry could not see its back. He suspected that this was where Syria lived, and Jocasta's next comment proved his theory. "Syria! Little love! Come out and see us!" Mike snorted at her, but the woman's words seemed to have had some effect as a rumbling sound could now be heard deep in the cave. Harry watched in awe as the large Opaleye stepped out into the light, squinting for a moment before cautiously making her way forward.

"So this is Syria?" Harry gazed up at the dragon in amazement. The Welsh Greens were very pretty dragons, but they had nothing on the creature that now stood before him. The incandescent glow of her scales was mesmerizing; he could hardly look away. He felt draw to her, and his feet moved him closer to the low gate without his consent.

"Watch it, Harry! Not too close, yeah?" Charlie's voice rang out, but Harry was focused entirely on the beautiful creature before him. She'd been watching the two other keepers closely as they unshrunk several dead sheep for her, clucking in distrust, a low rumbling in her chest, but her head swiveled sharply at his approach.

"Merlin," Jocasta's heavy accent filled the air then, "has he lost his mind?" Harry paused at the gate just as Syria tittered at him, lowering her head and taking a curious step forward.

"Jesus, kid! Get back from there!" Mike growled out. The three keepers made to stun her, but Harry spoke then, unaware that he'd unconsciously slipped into Parseltongue.

"~Hello beautiful.~" His hand reached out as her head lowered further. Charlie made a strangled sound of protest as Harry's hand finally met her snout. "~So very beautiful.~" Even through the hissing of Parseltongue, his awe was evident. Syria let out a low hiss then, pushing forward against his hand in a nuzzling gesture.

"Holy shit," Mike groaned, too stunned to say anything more. Even Jocasta was too startled to reprimand Mike for his language.

"I didn't—" Charlie's voice was shaky as he spoke. "Merlin, Parseltongue? I didn't think of that." Harry was grinning now as Syria nuzzled against his chest, soft hissing and rumbling emitting from her in waves.

"Is she," Jocasta hesitated, "purring?"

"Harry," Charlie still sounded slightly strained. "That's—is she talking? She certainly seems to understand you." Harry absently stroked her head as he spoke back, this time in English.

"I don't know if she can speak it." He glanced at him then back again. "The sound she's making, it's not really Parseltongue, though I guess it's similar. It's just a sound though. It's the same sound a content snake makes, but they're not actual words." Charlie jerked his head in understanding when Harry turned to look at him once more. Harry frowned at him, wondering why Charlie had actually backed up. "Charlie, why don't you come here and see her?"

The older man hesitated for a moment before taking a cautious step forward. If Syria had claimed Harry as her own, approaching her so soon could be devastatingly dangerous for both of them, despite Charlie's empathy. Syria watched his approach with narrowed eyes, the rumble in her chest deepening into a feral growl. He halted his approach immediately, watching as the muscles in her flank tightened in preparation to attack.

"~Wait beautiful.~" Harry hissed lowly, trying to placate the agitated creature once more. He didn't understand why she was behaving the way she was. Usually the dragons reacted in a more positive way with Charlie. "~He will not hurt you. He's a good man. He will not hurt either of us.~" She was watching Harry now, as if listening to his words. "~Please understand me.~" He pleaded softly. Her next hiss sounded different then the last, and Harry tilted his head as he tried to understand what she was telling him. The sound was unlike the Parseltongue he was so used to, but it held a similar undertone to it. "What language is that?" His voice was soft as he listened to her.

On the far side of the gate, Mike and Jocasta exchanged wide-eyed glances, but it was Charlie who spoke.

"Draconic. She's speaking Draconic." His voice was steadier than it had been but still filled with wonder. "You could tell she was speaking." It wasn't a question.

"~Can you speak slower, beautiful?~" Harry rubbed her snout again and tilted his head as she began to speak once more, the sound smoother as she slowed herself down. Harry strained to understand her, listening as words formed, his mind making the connections.

"Jaci ui douta rumag?" She spoke.

"~Again, please.~" He murmured softly. Syria repeated them even slower, and Harry flushed as he realized what she was asking. He is your mate? "Oh." He rubbed his cheeks slightly, hoping his blush wasn't as obvious as it felt. "~Um, I don't know.~" He blushed harder, wondering what on earth had possessed him to say that.

"Holy fucking God." Mike sounded like he was ready to piss himself. Jocasta slapped him hard on the arm, the sound reverberating off the cave walls.

"Watch ya mouth!" she snarled.

"But GOD Jocasta! They're having a conversation!" he hissed. "He's speaking to an effing dragon!"

Charlie couldn't help but chuckle at the declaration.

"They are, aren't they?" He grinned as Harry motioned him forward once more. This time Syria seemed to allow it. He didn't dare move as she turned from Harry's attentions to assess him. She nudged him with her nose, something that would have overbalanced most, but Charlie had the balance of a seeker and was not thrown. They took a deep breath, something that had both Jocasta and Mike raising their wands in alarm, wondering if they were about to witness the blood red fire Opaleyes were so known for. But Syria only seemed to have taken in his scent as she sat there for a moment before doing the same to Harry.

"Jaci ui vi bensvelk rumag ihk wux." Syria stated with surety. Harry turned bright red and refused to look the others in the eye.

"What did she say?" Jocasta questioned, but Harry just shook his head.

"It's nothing, really. She just thinks he smells good." Of course, this lie only made him blush harder because he'd actually just been thinking the same thing. Charlie gave him an odd look, one that said clearly, "I know you aren't telling the truth." Harry met his gaze and shook his head slightly, biting his lip. The action seemed to catch Charlie's attention, his eyes darting down to his lips a moment before looking back up. Syria made a rumbling sound that, to Harry, sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"Jaci tuoric wux, moxt lexi." If Dragons could smirk, Harry was certain Syria had accomplished it. A small choking sound was the only indication of his stress, his face already as red as it could get. Charlie tilted his head in curiosity at the shocked look on his face. Mike, however, seemed annoyed.

"If you're not gonna share what she's saying, what's the point of speaking it," he growled. Jocasta just rolled her eyes.

"~Talk about something else, please!~" Harry begged, and Syria tittered once more. Harry thought for a moment she wouldn't agree, but she acquiesced, asking for the delicious sheep she could smell from there. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Syria; or rather, Harry spoke to her and translated for the others. They'd paused only once to eat lunch and shower the large creature, something she'd happily agreed to.

Harry found that, after the embarrassment had passed, he'd enjoyed talking with her immensely. Like the few snakes Harry had talked to, Syria was very blunt when she spoke, not understanding, or else just not caring, about human sensibilities. She felt that if something were the truth, she had no reason not to speak of it, and she did so without restraint. She'd called Mike an obnoxious feather brain and declared that Jocasta smelled delicious, something that had the woman scooting back several feet much to Syria's amusement.

Much later, the evening sun had begun its decent and they began packing to head back to the village. Syria told Harry to visit her soon; she'd enjoyed having someone to talk to, though she was annoyed he didn't "follow his instincts" as she'd put it. When they'd finally reached the house, Harry tossed his supplies on the floor next to Charlie's. The man in question was already lounging against the arm of the couch and patted the spot beside him in invitation. Harry, not noticing the gleam in the man's eye, let himself sink into the comfortable furniture.

Charlie scooted close enough to touch Harry's neck, making the younger man shudder before slightly relaxing and letting his head lull back against the seat, his eyes falling shut on their own accord. Charlie ran a finger down the curve of Harry's throat, watching as he swallowed once.

"Charlie," Harry began, but if he actually meant to ask a question it was lost as Charlie replied with his own.

"Harry, what did Syria really say?" he asked, continuing to run a finger up and down the slender throat before him.

Harry swallowed again before speaking.

"What? She said a lot, and I told you guys what she was saying."

"I know she said something, several something's actually, when you first started talking to her. What was it that had you blushing so prettily?" Charlie let a finger trace Harry's jaw line. He wasn't really paying attention to his hand's movements; he simply hadn't been kidding when he'd told the other man he had a hard time not touching him.

"You're kind of cheating, you know," Harry murmured, but he didn't try to pull away.

"I guess." The finger traced over the slightly exposed collarbone of Harry's right shoulder. "Does it bother you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "It feels nice."

There was the blush again, and Charlie smiled. A long moment passed. Charlie continued to trace the features before him while Harry drifted from the contact.

"Please, tell me?" Charlie shifted closer. The action actually caused Harry to turn his head. His eyes opened into bright green slits. The blush, Charlie noted, clashed beautifully with those eyes. Harry hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"She said," he cleared his throat, his blush as bright as it had been earlier that day. "She asked me if you were my mate." Charlie couldn't stop the grin from forming. "And told me you'd be a good mate for me." Harry looked up through his lashes, but the expression on Charlie's face left him staring, stunned. The man's eyes were slightly hooded in an emotion Harry didn't think he'd ever seen directed at him before; it was a mixture of adoration and lust, but it was nothing like the creepy stares he got from his fan-girls. This was so much more. It was pure and true, the same look Harry had seen so many times while looking through old photos of his parents.

The hand that had been petting him paused at the juncture of his neck. His breath hitched as he realized the truth of Syria's voice shook precariously as he continued. "She also said you desire me." Charlie's eyes seemed to darken further at the words. Harry felt time, stop but the illusion was broken when Charlie leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Cho's kiss had been too wet and far from pleasant; even having been inexperienced, Harry had known this instantly. Ginny's kisses had been soft and hesitant, and she'd often smelled heavily of floral perfume and tasted like the flavored chapstick she was so fond of. Charlie was nothing like either of them. The body in front of him was not soft and pliable; it was hard and warm—so very warm as those strong arms circled his waist, pulling him closer. Charlie's kiss wasn't the least bit hesitant as his tongue found entrance and nearly devoured him from the inside. It was hot and intense and mind blowingly powerful. The hands that slid up the back of his shirt were not soft and delicate but strong and rough, and Harry gasped into the kiss, his arms gripping Charlie's shoulders as he was pulled impossibly closer.

This kiss was wet but in a good way: a way that sent shivers down Harry spine to pool in his groin. He moaned when Charlie's arms lifted him, forcing him to straddle Charlie's hips. Harry broke the kiss to throw his head back when calloused hands pulled him down as Charlie pushed up, their clothed erections rubbing against each other.

"Charlie…" Harry couldn't tell if the hissed name was in Parseltongue or not, but it simply didn't matter as the motion was repeated, and Harry cried out again. Those sinful lips latched onto his neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Warm hands glided up his spine, in strong contrast to the cool night air drifting through the door. His shirt was removed entirely as Charlie continued to map out the same path with lips and teeth. His breath hitched as the tongue traced the curve of his collar before dipping lower to latch on to a pink nipple. He moaned at the sensation, never having known he was so sensitive there.

"Don't stop." Harry breathed softly, distracted by the sensations Charlie brought to him.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Charlie's hands at his hips were the only warning he had before he suddenly found himself laying flat on his back, looking up into those familiar blue eyes: eyes that were hooded in passion. Harry arched upward, capturing Charlie's lips once more in a fervent dance of teeth and tongue that had his toes curling in pleasure. Charlie's hands left his hips to trace along the edge of Harry's pants, dipping into the curve of his hip. The sensation made Harry jerk away slightly.

"Alright?" Charlie asked, his voice hoarse.

"Tickles,"Harry replied breathlessly, bringing a smile to Charlie's face. Harry looked ravishing below him, panting in need, vibrant eyes glowing in desire. Unable to resist any longer, he dipped down fora quick kiss before trailing down further. Harry moaned as Charlie's tongue swirled around his navel before dipping inside. It was enough of a distraction that it took Harry a moment to realize his pants were being pulled down his legs. They soon joined his shirt on the floor, and Harry turned scarlet as that gaze raked over his naked form.

"Delicious," Charlie purred before sliding further down. The hot wet tongue licking up his shaft made Harry cry out in ecstasy. No one had ever touched him quite like that. His head slammed into the cushions below him as the warm, wet heat engulfed him. The broken sound of Charlie's name passed his lips before being swallowed by a moan. When Charlie pulled back slightly, Harry's hips unconsciously arched up into that heat, but firm hands pushed him back down. The rumble of Charlie's laugh vibrated to his core, causing him to whimper. Before he could beg for more, Charlie dipped down again, practically swallowing him whole. Harry cried out brokenly, causing Charlie to hum in approval, the sensation nearly driving him wild.

"Char—lie!" The second half was moaned out as Charlie began bobbing his head in rhythm. "Please."

"What do you want, Harry?" Charlie's voice was even huskier than normal.

"More please, Charlie!" Harry begged. Charlie was happy to comply, snatching his wand up briefly to mutter a quick charm that made Harry squeak in surprise.

"Lubrication charm." Charlie laughed at the look on Harry's face.

"A little warning next time would be nice," Harry grumbled, wiggling slightly at the odd sensation. His exasperation didn't last long, however, as Charlie caught his lips in a deep kiss, mapping out the contours of his mouth, their tongues battling for dominance. It wasn't long before Harry was panting again.

Feeling Charlie was far too overdressed, he began tugging at the tank he wore. His message came across quickly, and Charlie pulled back to shed the garment. Harry moaned into the kiss, the feel of skin on skin intoxicating. Charlie slid back down his body, nuzzling against the stomach, loving how the muscles rippled at the contact. His hands slipped down to cup each cheek, caressing the flesh there and causing Harry to squirm in need. There was a languid lick across the tip to taste him before he was swallowed once more. This time, as Charlie's mouth suckled and nipped at him a hand snuck down between his legs, stroking the nub hidden there. The sensation was new to Harry. He squirmed against the finger, gasping when it pushed past the ring of muscle and stopped at the first knuckle.

"Wait…" Harry shivered in apprehension.

"It's OK, Harry. We won't go any farther then you want." Charlie kissed the inside of the leg beside him as Harry inhaled deeply, nodding for Charlie to continue. As a distraction, he went back to work on the need before him, sucking hard enough that Harry yelped then moaned in appreciation. Once Harry was thoroughly distracted, his hand began moving once more, pushing in deeper against the tight walls. The sensation turned to pleasure as he finally found the bundle of nerves he'd been looking for. Harry cried out as spikes of white hot pleasure shot through him. Coupled with the wet heat that engulfed him it didn't take long for him to find completion, his head thrown back and Charlie's name on his lips.

Charlie milked him for several seconds, swallowing every drop before finally pulling back. Another quick spell cleaned them both of the oil.

"What about you?" Harry managed to ask through his shuddering breaths, coming down from his high. "you—" Charlie caught his lips in a slow languid kiss, effectively cutting him off. The taste of himself on that tongue was enthralling, and he deepened the kiss unconsciously, loving how Charlie happily complied before finally pulling away.

"Don't worry. I'm not done with you yet, my little raven."

..::..::..::..::..::..::..

The next morning was awkward, though not for Harry and Charlie. They had enjoyed themselves wholly but, in the heat of their passion, hadn't thought to put up silencing charms. It was Mike who finally approached them with a lecherous grin, Jocasta following with a roll of her eyes.

"So," Mike eyed them both. "I heard the two of you had quite the exciting night." Harry turned bright red, glancing around the Café at the other occupants, several of whom grinned approvingly back at him. He'd noticed all the attention the two of them seemed to be getting that morning, but it hadn't dawned on him why until just then. He groaned.

"Silencing charms." He held his face in his hands as the others chuckled around him. Charlie tugged him over on the bench, wrapping his arm around his waist.

"Well," Charlie smiled. "At least we don't have to worry about telling everyone." Harry elbowed him with a snort but cuddled up next to him anyway, enjoying the warmth that radiated off the man, despite the heat that spilled in through the door.

"Except Molly." Harry scoffed. Charlie paled.

Reply to AnimeMangaAngel:
"I don't always enjoy stories that have Harry going out as an Auror, because it always seemed to me that, with his personality, he would be glad to finally be getting away from chasing bad guys." My exact reasoning! I'm glad I'm not the only one that feels that way...
"ALL magic has a limit to it - including magical paintings." I'm glad you liked this part...since it's actually something I've thought about in most of my stories. I don't mind reading the occasional "superpowered!Harry" but when I'm writing my own versions...I tend to analize everything down to the last degree trying to give it some semblance of something that might actually exist.
"Harry has never been one to shy from life-threatening experiences, either." That was my reasoning…as far-fetched as it is. LOL!
I LOVED your ideas for the bed issue…and I completely agree. Apparently, with the time limit, my brain couldn't think well enough to come up with something so brilliant. I hope you don't mind if I snatch a couple of those ideas up for future reference? ^.^
"I assumed it was for extra precautions in case the dragons ever got out of the inner-most wall." You got it in one actually. I figured, dragons, being as large and dangerous as they are, it would make sense for them to have some extra precautions put in place. I'm glad that came through the way I wanted it too.
The Parseltongue thing deserves a little reasoning on my part. The thing is, to me, Parseltongue, despite its otherworldly nature is still just another language; just as Russian and German is. And, as you said, "dragons are often refered to as flying serpents" made me think along the lines of French and Italian being eerily similar to each other as well as Spanish. Since, I can actually understand most Italian and French but only ever took Spanish, I felt it was not unjustified to say that Parseltongue and Draconic were alike in that manner and that was why Harry could understand them.

Anyway! Thank you so much for the great review and input! I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on my story!

Thanks to all my reviewers actually! You're all so wonderful to me. ^.^