For the Favorite Character Boot Camp with the prompt: Pain

Also for the first round of the Men's Tennis event in the Hogwarts Games.

And the bonus slice of the Chinese Moon Festival using the prompt dragons ;)

"You're playing with fire, boy!"

If Molly had known that Charlie would embrace this expression instead of heeding the warning, she probably would not have said it so often. Of all her children, he was the most reckless; even more than Fred and George. At least the twins knew their boundaries. But there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity and Charlie decided to toe it every time.

It's what made him a great Seeker. No one could pull off a Wronski Feint like he could, even on his old, secondhand broom. The wind would blow through his hair and his eyes would water and the ground would loom ever closer. And when most other players would doubt themselves and pull out of the dive, he kept going. When he was a foot away, he'd grip the handle of his broom and shoot back upwards into the sky while the groans from the crowded stands told him that the opposing Seeker hadn't been so lucky.

He had his fair share of hospital wing visits, though. They usually occurred on weekends when he was spending time down at Hagrid's hut instead of studying. He never gave too many details when Madam Pomfrey asked and very soon she wouldn't even look up when he came in on Saturday afternoons. She'd automatically point to the bed by the window and go to find some bandages. One day when he came in with a particularly nasty puncture wound which he refused to explain, she shook her finger at him in disapproval. "You're playing with fire, boy."

That's what they all seem to say, he'd think. But they don't get it.

What no one seemed to understand was if getting burned was the worst thing that could happen, then it was worth the risk. It was to Charlie, anyway. He was a Gryffindor through and through; full of daring, nerve and failed attempts at chivalry. So when an offer from the Romanian dragon reserve came his way, he jumped on it without a moment's hesitation.

When he arrived at the reserve, the Head Dragon Handler looked him up and down. "How are you with pain?"

Charlie shrugged noncommittally. "I'm used to it."

"Good."

It was good too, because Charlie quickly learned that playing with dragon fire was nothing like what he was used to. But he loved it as much as anyone could have predicted and the reckless streak in him was finally being put to good use.

He knew his mother worried. She made it a habit of looking at the family clock throughout the day. Whenever Charlie was at work, the hand with his name on it could never decide if it should be on work or mortal peril and a few times it could be seen on hospital.

She was constantly writing to him to be careful and his reply was always the same.

Stop watching the clock, Mum. Playing with fire is what I do best.