It wasn't often that the reserve allowed visitors to stay over. All the staff knew that it was more of a struggle to go through all the loopholes and signing all the documents that were needed to get permission someone to visit for a couple of hours. So who knew just how much more trouble someone had to face to have a guest for longer than a week? I could only wonder just how much trouble my mentor, Charlie Weasley, had gone through in order to get the staff to accept his request of having one of his brothers stay at the reserve for who knew how long. Although, maybe if you were one of the more senior members of staff, there were less loopholes to jump through and less documents to fill in? I certainly didn't ask – I was too busy to ask.

For an hour now I had been put to work by my mentor, helping him straighten up his cabin in time for his brother's arrival. Charlie had headed upstairs, sorting out the spare bedroom and left me to my own devices as I cleaned up downstairs. The man was messy – ridiculously so. At first, I'd assumed that it was messy because he was always ready to rush out at the drop of a hat. But, discovering the sheer number of bits and bobs scattered around the cabin, I'd changed my mind.

"How are you doing?" Charlie asked loudly, walking downstairs with old bedsheets in his arms.

I scowled slightly, tying a black bin bag and setting it down outside the cabin; we'd have to throw them all away later. "You have to be the only mentor using their mentee for such improper reasons."

"You'd think that, but at least I haven't made you come and pick me up when I'm drunk off my face," he called out cheerily, walking past me to wash the old bedsheets.

"A small blessing, I'm sure," I grumbled dryly. "You're supposed to be teaching me how to do my job but here you are taking advantage of me."

"Careful Mahmood," Charlie warned teasingly, walking into the front room with two glasses of pumpkin juice in his hand. I gratefully accepted one, listening as he admitted, "My brother is coming tomorrow, I wouldn't make such a fuss but Mum's a bit neurotic when it comes to cleaning."

"Or maybe all her sons are pigs like you." Charlie shook his head as I smiled around my glass. I settled down onto the armchair across from the sofa Charlie was sitting on. He crossed his legs at the ankle, setting them on the coffee table. "It might sound like I'm complaining; helping you do this means that I'm officially assisting my mentor. I'd pick this over dung duty any day."

"Believe me, anyone would."

There was a silence then, one I didn't feel the need to fill. Instead, I looked around the room and was satisfied with how clean it was. Salazar, were all Gryffindors pigs? Or was that just a Weasley thing? When the silence prolonged, I found my eyes shifting back towards my mentor, wondering just what it was that had him staring off into space and so clearly lost in his own thoughts. Was it my place to ask? Or was I supposed to just let him ponder in silence with brows furrowed and a frown on his face.

I cleared my throat softly, seeing if it was enough to have Charlie coming from his thoughts. It worked eventually, making him slowly shake his head and sigh. Finally looking back to me, Charlie offered me a hesitant smile, "Sorry, I don't think I'm the best company right now."

He hadn't been the best company – not for a couple of months at least. Not since he'd answered the call to help Hogwarts.

"Charlie," I started slowly, draining the last of my pumpkin juice and setting the empty glass on the coffee table. He looked at me then, holding my eyes and I almost backtracked, not wanting to ask in case what I thought was a simple question, actually meant something more to him. "Which of your brothers is coming then?"

"George," he finally admitted, and then as if he was suddenly remembering, he added, "You were in the same year at Hogwarts, weren't you?"

"We were." Briefly I thought back to the number of near misses I had in terms of being the victim of one of the Weasley twins' pranks… although, perhaps it was just twin now. Salazar, I didn't want to think on it anymore.

Charlie, although he didn't need to do it, tried to justify his brother's sudden visit, "He hasn't had it easy these past few months. He's not coping at all with … well, he's not coping."

He hardly needed to speak another word. Everyone, those that were close to the twins and even those that weren't, recoiled at the news that one of them had passed. I was one of those people that never thought they nothing was capable of separating one from the other; Salazar, in the Slytherin common room we'd even joked that they would grow old with their respective families in houses that were next door to each other.

"Look after him when he's here, Mahmood," Charlie said suddenly, offering me another short smile that disappeared just as quickly as it came. "I think he might do well with having a familiar face whilst he's here."

Days later, whilst I was busy giving some of the younger dragons their health checks, I found myself preoccupied as one of the rookies, a nosey bugger approached me. With gloved hands, I reached into the box I'd used to transport the baby dragons and picked up one of the Welsh Greens. The dragon snapped at my glove protected fingers and I was silently thankful that they were too young to produce fire. Lifting the dragon up, I gave it a look over for signs of abnormality, finding none I was satisfied and placed it on the weighing scale. From beside me, Cooper cleared his throat to get my attention but I paid him no mind. Instead, I made note of the dragon's weight and overall appearance before replacing it in the box. Finished with my work for now, I picked up the box and handed it over to a hovering Cooper.

"Return these to their exhibits whilst I go and check on the mature Romanian Longhorns," I ordered, removing my gloves and preparing to head out from the observation cabin and towards the outside pens. Cooper kept up with me and I tried not to roll my eyes, he obviously had some 'information' that it was essential he shared with me. "What?"

"Did you hear the news? Weasley's brother arrived last night?" Cooper nudged me as if irritated that I wasn't giving him more attention, "Rumour has it he's being a recluse."

"Well if he's being reclusive, maybe don't go talking about him." Without another word, I headed towards the Longhorn exhibit and approached the pen.

The trainee, relatively new and less experienced than I was, stood on the outside of the pen greeted me. I greeted them back before turning to the senior dragonologist who accompanied her and gave me an overview of what she needed me to do. Assuring me that she would remain on the outside to make sure I was safe, she ushered me inside.

For a moment, I hesitated on the outside of the exhibit, as I always did before entering the pen. My eyes scanned the enclosure, clocking the Longhorn that had been isolated; it looked fairly docile. But as always, when it came to dragons, you could never be too sure.

Hopping the fence, my hand reached into my back pocket to make sure my wand was there just in case I needed to stun the dragon. Of course, if I did need to stun the dragon, I'd have to do it repeatedly and if I was the only on casting the spell, I was sure to be burned to a crisp.

Extending my hands cautiously before me, my eyes tracked the Longhorn – a female who we wanted to check was coming into season – raised her head and watched me with suspicious eyes. Her eyes flickered over me, and seeming to decide that I wasn't a threat, she lowered her head and returned to her slumber. I crossed the remaining space and then cast another glance to the senior dragonologist who nodded encouragingly. Right.

I took a deep breath and then hurriedly straddled the dragon at the base of her neck. She reared with an angry roar at my unexpected weight, trying to buck and throw me off but I clung firm. Reaching around the dragon's neck, I found the soft area – hidden and guarded – and rubbed it soothingly. It took a moment, but she settled finally. I hesitated once she'd calmed to double check that she wasn't going to try to throw me off again, and then I got to work. Shuffling forward, I reached around to check that her glands had swollen up nicely. With careful fingers, I examined them and then sat up straight, looking back towards the senior dragonologist.

"It's all good," I called out, preparing to dismount when there was a call of my name.

The Longhorn freaked out at the sound and I clung tightly once more, struggling to calm the dragon and throwing an irritated look towards Charlie. The annoying man was grinning teasingly at me. When it was safe to, I dismounted from the dragon and hurriedly made my way towards the fence where Charlie leaned.

"You almost got me thrown off the bloody dragon," I accused, climbing the fence and jumping to the other side.

"Hey, if you wanted a safe job, you should've chosen to work with flobberworms over dragons." He shrugged a shoulder and then he gestured inconspicuously behind him. I followed the gesture, surprised to find him brother standing a few feet behind him. George Wesley was being unusually quiet, and I wouldn't have noticed him if Charlie hadn't pointed him out. But now that I did see him, I realised he was watching me in a strange way; neither disinterest nor interested. Eventually, I smiled at him, trying to ease through the reintroduction and although he was slow to do it, he returned it. Salazar's soul, he'd changed a lot.

Finally turning back to Charlie and the second senior dragonologist, I assured them both, "She's in good health and can be moved out soon to the new reserve for the mating programme."

"We'll have to coordinate the move," Charlie said, sounding professional for a short moment as he looked to his colleague. "Roberts, can I leave you to coordinate this with Mahmood? I'm off duty right now."

"Go ahead," she assured Charlie. I instead watched as Charlie eventually led George away to show him the rest of the reserve. My eyes followed the two brothers for a moment before I turned back to Roberts, preparing to discuss the moving arrangements we needed to make.

The most horrendous part of working on the reserve was drawing the short straw which meant having to do the early morning rounds to check on the dragons. And because I had the absolute worst luck on the face of the planet, I was got the short straw more often than not. And just to be fair – we actually used straws at the beginning of the month whilst setting up the rotas for arranging the shifts. Maybe I needed to look into things that would help increase my luck. Salazar knew I was getting sick of waking up early in the morning.

But maybe there were good things about having the early morning rounds; most of the staff were still asleep and there was a peace to the reserve that was so rarely found during the rest of the day. I made my way progressing through the reserve, checking on each and every one of the dragons as I went and making sure that none had somehow managed to get out during the night. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

I entered the part of the reserve that housed expectant mothers and young dragons that were isolated from aggressive males prior to their reintroduction. Approaching the first pen, housing an Antipodean Opal Eye who guarded a clutch of seven eggs, from behind the fence I checked that all seven eggs were still there and unhatched. Before I could approach, the expectant mother raised her tired head and roared fiercely at me. Expecting her hostility, I reached into a basket of raw meat and threw a lamb leg into the pen to tide her over until it was time for breakfast. It worked.

She headed straight towards the lamb's leg and started to eat as I climbed into the pen. As I approached the nest, she watched me suspiciously. But, when she seemed to decide I wasn't a threat, she turned back to her snack. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Continuing to approach the nest, I squatted down before it and began a thorough inspection of all the eggs in the clutch. I checked them for size, for signs that they were getting enough heat and for any changes in the thickness of the shell. Satisfied and making a note of all my observations, I rose to my feet and quickly made my way back towards the edge of the pen. But, spying the person standing a fair distance away from the pen, my steps slowed slightly.

George Weasley stood on the other side, looking as if he hadn't caught a single minute of sleep and he made no move to greet me. I offered him a small smile before hauling myself out from the pen and planning on moving on to the next. Only, Weasley took an aborted step towards me then and I made myself stop. He certainly had no reason to be here.

"Aren't you scared, Mahmood?" he asked after a long moment, taking me by surprise.

"Scared?" I repeated, watching him carefully.

He gestured behind me, "Of the dragons?"

"I was at first," I confessed with a shrug. "But it's something you kind of have to get over or else you'll be a pretty shit dragonologist. I'm not really scared of them anymore. Besides, they're gentle creatures at heart."

I waited for him to say something; whether he would be continuing to conversation or ending it. He needed to say something for this to progress without me seeming unbelievably rude as I brushed past him to continue with my work. Because I really did need to continue with these rounds before the other dragonologists in charge of breakfast got to work.

Eventually he did speak. Though it wasn't 'I don't think I'll ever not be scared of dragons' or even a 'goodbye'. Instead, he admitted, "I never expected to see you here, Mahmood."

"In Romania?"

"No." There was a smile at his mouth, barely there and flickering away before he agreed, "Alright yes that too. But also working with dragons is the last thing I ever thought you'd do. You're a bleeding dragon tamer, Mahmood."

"I'm not really taming dragons," I insisted, a bit surprised at the awe in his voice. Like the work I was doing was special – like I was special. Slowly, hesitantly, I started to walk towards the next dragon pen and he followed alongside me.

"Regardless. I'm just surprised is all."

"A good surprised?"

He nodded, and this time his smile lasted longer. But it faded, nonetheless. "A good surprised."

"Well I don't think many people would expect the quiet, mousy girl I was to wind up working with dragons." Shrugging, I evaded his eyes that were insistent on watching me.

"It's just a side of you that I never expected to see," he defended, when we finally got to the next pen. He lingered behind the safety line around the pen and I stayed at his side as I surveyed the occupant – occupants of the pen with curious eyes. It seemed that the nest of Hebridean Black dragons had hatched.

"It's not as if we talked often – or at all – in Hogwarts," I murmured absentmindedly, counting how many baby dragons I could see. There was one missing?

I crept closer to the pen, searching for the fourth baby dragon and found it shielding itself under its mother's wings. With a relieved breath, I made a note of what I'd found.

From behind me, Weasley spoke up, "Maybe we could remedy that." I turned curiously towards him, watching as hesitation flickered over his features, "It's good to see a familiar face."

"For me too," I assured him.

The next day found me inundated with covering duties for a pair of dragonologists who were off at the nearest hospital because their surrogate had gone into labour in the middle of the night. The pair, senior members of staff and usually busy with more than their fair share of tasks, had split their duties between those of us that were supposed to be working the next day. So, I found myself waking up early again so I'd have enough time to complete all the tasks I needed to get done today.

Walking out of my cabin, I headed straight for the incubation cabin where eggs that were labelled as being at risk had been taken from their mothers to be reared under the careful watch of an alternating rota of dragonologists. Kenders had stopped me on her way to the hospital last night, telling me that four eggs from four different species had been added to the incubation cabin and needed my careful attention. Assuring the older woman that I would give it my all, I ushered her towards her husband as he waited anxiously behind her.

Pushing the thought away, I continued on my way only to stop curiously in my steps when the door to Charlie's cabin opened. With mild curiosity, I watched and expected Charlie to step out to help lighten the burden of the absent dragonologists despite him having been given the late night shift yesterday. Only, it wasn't Charlie. It was his brother.

Weasley stood on his brother's doorstep, a mug of something in his hands as he studied the space around him. I planned on heading away quickly, before he caught sight of me. But it was too late. Weasley's eyes settled on me and I watched as his brows rose in surprise. His mouth parted, as if to speak my name and I contemplated walking away quickly.

"Morning," he called out from the doorstep, raising the mug to his lips. "Are you busy?"

"I'm on egg duty," I answered and it was explanation enough. Well, it was enough information for someone that worked with dragons but to someone who knew next to nothing about dragons, it might have been an odd statement. Definitely an off statement given the quizzical furrow of his brows. "I – um, should get going."

He called my name, making me still instantly. I turned curiously, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I come with you?"

"To the egg incubation cabin?" I checked and he nodded. "Well, I don't see why not."

"Great, just let me get changed."

"Don't dress warmly," I warned as he headed back inside.

Whilst he was away, I watched the door for his return. He didn't make me wait long. Weasley was back, having changed into comfortable clothes and left his mug behind. Shutting the cabin door behind him, Weasley jogged down to join my side and greeted me once more. I returned the greeting, leading him without another word towards the incubation cabin. We walked in silence and as we walked, I continued to cast glances towards Weasley. Although it was too early to think it, I couldn't help but wonder if his stay had helped him in any way.

Reaching into my pocket, I drew out my set of keys and found the right one. Weasley settled behind me, watching as I unlocked the door to the cabin and pushed it open. I recoiled slightly at the wave of heat that burst forth from inside but pushed forward regardless.

"Merlin, it's boiling in here," Weasley murmured from behind me, following me further inside.

"The eggs need to stay warm," I said without casting a glance back. I shrugged out of my outer jacket; it'd been so long since I was on egg duty that I forgot just how hot it was in here. Draping my jacket on a nearby desk, I walked to the long row of artificial nests that were made to house the eggs that were taken from their mothers.

Weasley remained silent, trailing behind me and watching as I checked on all of eggs and made sure that they were doing better than when they had first been brought into the incubator cabin. Feeling his eyes, heavy and dark on me, I turned curiously towards Weasley. He was standing beside me, eyes trained on my arms; they were a testament to the time I'd spent working here – littered with scars and burns.

"They're gross, right?" I asked a little self-consciously, turning my eyes away from him.

"No, not at all," he said firmly. Not that I believed him.

Looking back to the parchment before me, I marked down the eggs that I believed were close to hatching. It was stupid and I could've ended the conversation but I struggled not to add, "Most guys don't like it when a girls got burn scars all over her arms."

"That's bullshit." His response was instantaneous. "It just show that you're hard working. That you enjoy the work you do."

"Sweet talking, Weasley? What are you trying to get from me?"

"Sweet talking you, yes. But I'm not trying to get anything from you." There was that smile again, a flicker and a ghost of his old one, "Not yet, anyway."

Somehow, Weasley had developed a habit of following after me as I went about my day to day business. I was surprised when the day after my shift in the incubation cabin, Weasley was already waiting outside his brother's cabin. He'd approached my side and asked me what I was up to today and somehow, without asking me he'd slipped himself into becoming a part of the daily schedule.

Every morning I greeted him, walking with him to the first of the pens I was scheduled to work at and making sure that he remembered the safety procedures that I'd taught him. Every morning, he recounted them back to me with such precision that he was an application short of becoming a trainee dragonologist. Privately, I'd spoken to my mentor, wanting to make sure that it was alright for his brother to be following after me for long, gruelling hours. Charlie had simply assured me that he was glad his brother was seeming to become more and more like his old self.

And now, as we sat around the lit fireplace in my cabin, I wondered that Charlie was right. Slowly, without me realising, Weasley was changing; his pale pallor was warming under the sun and his smile was growing more frequent and lasted longer. He was still contemplative, losing himself in his thoughts – usually melancholy in nature if his frown was any indication, but he started more conversations and was falling into the habit of telling jokes. Not as often as he used to, but still.

I curled my hand around my mug of hot chocolate, watching as George stirred the whipped cream in like a savage. Feeling my eyes on him, he raised an eyebrow, and I just shook my head.

"Shouldn't you be spending more time with Charlie whilst you're here?" I asked, taking a sip.

"Honestly, Charlie's just happy that I'm getting out of the cabin." George smiled wryly, admitting, "Everyone thought I would come here and lock myself in a room."

George glanced away then, eyes settling somewhere far behind my shoulder and seemingly staring off into space. I shouldn't have asked. I should've kept the question to myself. But I asked anyway, "Is that what you did at home?"

George looked to me then, holding my eyes for a fraction of a second before he was looking away again and staring into his mug. Slowly, like he was ashamed of being judged, he confessed, "It was the reason my family wanted me to leave home – to get away for a bit. I couldn't deal with everyone watching me so I hid away. I needed to get away."

"And so, you came all the way to Romania."

"If I couldn't get better here, then I'm fucked." Draining his hot chocolate like he wished it was something else, George leaned forward to put his empty mug on the coffee table. I did the same, placing my half empty mug beside his and turned, so I sat facing him.

For a long moment, George sat, propping his head up on a closed fist and watching me. I held his eyes, seemingly unable to look away. I wasn't certain I wanted to either. He breathed out slowly and extended a hand towards me. I watched, mesmerised, as he trailed a soothing finger over the puckered flesh of my arm; I almost recoiled, wanting to pull my sleeve down again. But there was something almost calming about the way his gentle touch mapped out my skin.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly.

"You haven't apologised yet." Frowning, I waited for him to expand on what he'd said, "Everyone apologises for the loss and you haven't done it yet."

I considered him for a moment, watching as he finally drew his hands away. He tucked his hand back to his side, as if he was tucking himself as far out of reach as possible. I swore, under my eyes, his own had chilled over and lost their warmth. I wanted to reach for him, to call him back from the dark place he'd lost himself in.

"Well, will it make it any better for you?"

"It won't," he admitted slowly, like he was confused at my response. It wasn't the same, but he breathed out and some of the restraint he'd showed had faded away. "I'm glad I came here Mahmood, that I got to see you again."

"Even if we didn't really speak much at Hogwarts?"

"Even then." He offered me a smile, one I returned. "We might've faced a riot if we became friends while at school."

"Gryffindor and Slytherin house weren't exactly known for their friendship."

He scoffed a laugh, "You can say that again."

George had been here for almost two months now, and you could see it in the way he carried himself, walking around the reserve with an easy confidence. I was certain he knew the reserve almost as well as I did, given the number of times he'd accompanied me during my shifts. He even smiled more freely now, joking around with a group of trainees who were taking a break. I was glad for it, glad to see the continuous changes that George was going through. He was becoming more like his old self, more like the version of him I knew. But, deep down, I knew he wouldn't become the same person as before; he'd lost a big part of himself. Still, he was healing like it was natural to do. And Salazar, I was grateful for it.

Brushing my hands dry on my trousers, I surveyed the pen that I'd just cleaned to make sure that I'd missed nothing. The pen was currently empty, with the reserve expecting the arrival of a pair of breeding dragons from two separate reserves to start up our own cluster of Ukrainian Ironbellies. Turning away from the pen, I proceeded to clock out for the day. Part of me wanted to talk to Charlie, to tell him how much I was second guessing his decision to make me one of the lead dragonologists in charge of the Ukrainian Ironbellies. The other part of me wanted to take a long bubble bath.

Walking out from the equipment cabin, I replaced the rake I'd borrowed and found myself standing face to face with a waiting George. He offered me a smile, one I retuned with a tired one of my own. For a moment, he seemed concerned at my lack of energy but then he gestured for me to walk alongside him.

"Are you free?" he asked.

"I'm done for the day, so yeah."

"Great." He took my hand in his and started to draw me behind him as he led me towards Charlie's cabin. Even when I watched him in unhidden surprise, he continued to draw me behind him. "Let me make you dinner."

"Dinner?" I repeated dubiously as we walked into Charlie's cabin. When Charlie had offered to make me food, he'd presented me with a burned omelette. He claimed it was a mishap, that he took after his mother's talents and the second time would be better. I wasn't willing to let there be a second time.

Like he could hear my doubt, George smiled knowingly, "Don't worry, I take after my mum in terms of cooking. So, you don't have anything to worry about."

I wasn't too sure if I believed him, but I'd heard all Charlie's mother's cooking. She'd even sent some food over to tide Charlie over when he happened to miss Christmas because of work. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, I followed George into the kitchen. Distantly, I wondered where Charlie was and remembered that he'd been given the late shift tonight. We were alone. Coming to that realisation, I watched as George moved effortlessly around the kitchen, chopping something up, throwing something else into a pan, and washing something else. He paused briefly, asking if I wanted something to drink and then pouring me a glass of lemonade when I'd answered.

Nursing my glass, I propped my hip against the counter and continued to watch him. As if feeling my appreciating eyes, he turned and teased over his shoulders, "I seem like the sort of guy you want to settle down with, don't I?"

"Joke all you want, Weasley, but when it comes to cooking, all I'm good for is following a recipe." Smiling, I watched as he drained some pasta and set it aside. "Maybe you could teach me?"

"No."

His instantaneous response had me scowling at his back, "Why not?"

"Because then you wouldn't need me."

"Oh please." Rolling my eyes, I continued to watch as George moved around the kitchen. He started to whistle under his breath, the tune unfamiliar and catchy, but welcome, nonetheless. It was amazing to see him so relaxed, and open. I hated to ruin the atmosphere so I kept my curiosity to myself.

Swirling my lemonade around the cup, I stared off into space for a moment before George called my name. Startled, I looked up at him in surprise. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

This time he scowled. Ringing his hands dry on a tea cloth, he approached me. Standing in front of me, he reached out a hand and held mine between his own. "Come on, tell me."

"How much longer are you here for?"

He stilled, searching my eyes. I didn't look away from him, even when his thumb swept soothingly over the back of my hand. "Why do you ask that?"

So I knew when to pull away from him. I couldn't get too attached, it wouldn't do me any good to become comfortable with him, to have him become an important part of my life. Clearing my throat, I drew my hand from his and ducked around him.

"So, what are you cooking?" I asked, peering into a bubbling pot and avoiding his eyes as they stared heavily into my back. "Something smells good."

There were eggs hatching.

I'd barely gotten ready for the day, having just stumbled out of bed when there was hurried knocking on my front door. Opening the door, I found one of the trainees standing on the doorstep. She struggled to get her breath, managing to blurt out that some of the eggs were hatching that moment and I needed to hurry. My mind, still sleep laden, struggled to catch up and then in a sudden burst of understanding, I told the trainee to hurry back to the incubation cabin whilst I changed out of my pyjamas.

In a matter of moments, I was out of the cabin and running towards the incubation cabin, not wanting to miss any of it. The exercise, annoying considering it was first thing in the morning, had me wanting to hunch over at the stitch that appeared. Salazar, how irritating.

I pushed myself forward, slowing when someone called my name. Glancing over my shoulder, I found George standing curiously on Charlie's doorstep. He watched me curiously and I simply gestured for him to hurry up. He hesitated for a moment before rushing down to join me. Satisfied that he was following me, I continued to run until I reached the incubation cabin. The trainee had thankfully left the door unlocked so I rushed right in.

Shrugging out of my outer layer, I draped it haphazardly over the desk and when George stopped beside me, I finally explained, "Some of the eggs are hatching."

"Really?" He mirrored my excited smile and joined me as I walked through the cabin in search of the eggs that were hatching.

I found the trainee who continued to wait anxiously beside the nest. Seeing me approach, she gave me a relieved smile, "Thank Merlin you're here. I don't think I can handle this on my own."

"You don't need to," I assured her, looking back to the nest and monitoring it for any change. The egg, one abandoned by a Norwegian Ridgeback mother, shook slowly as the dragon inside tried to come out. Eyeing the anxious trainee who remained beside me, I offered, "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

"Oh, thank Merlin."

She rushed past me, heading out of the cabin and leaving me alone with George who had crept up behind me. He continued to stand silently, breathing slowly as if he feared that talking or even breathing too loudly would somehow disrupt the dragon. He had nothing to fear, there was absolutely no way that he'd disrupt the egg in any way. It crackled slightly and I turned back instantly towards the egg, not even looking away when I felt George's hand curl around my waist. I breathed in slowly, trying my best to focus on the egg as it continued to hatch before my eyes.

Anticipation built inside me as the dragon, slowly but surely, broke the shell of the egg and peeked it's head out. With a relieved smile, I extended a cautious hand towards the dragon that roared threateningly at me but eased when I scratched along the underside of its neck. I had to be careful that the dragon didn't get too attached or else it would reject its mother when being reintroduced.

"Isn't it adorable," I asked with a smile, turning to George and finding his eyes trained on my face. "George? What?"

He cleared his throat then, looking away from me as he asked, "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"There's no way of knowing yet," I confessed, swearing under my breath when it nipped playfully at my finger. Drawing back, I checked I wasn't bleeding and explained, "The dragon is too young for us to get a proper look at the sex organs. In a couple of weeks, we'll know."

"Oh." He was silent for a moment, hesitating before he asked, "How'd you feel about going on a date with me?"

I glanced sharply towards him, wondering what to say. Before I could take a step back, George's hand tightened around my waist, stopping me from moving away. I swallowed thickly, holding his eyes and struggling to form an answer.

"I have no plans on leaving Romania anytime soon," he added; he was more perceptive than I'd given him credit for. "Well?"

Looking away from him, I glanced once more over the dragon. I needed to arrange for transportation and observation of the hatchling. George's eyes were still trained on me, I could feel them lingering so I knew, when I nodded – soft and subtle – he caught it.