auntbijou (auntbijou) wrote in weasley_loving, @ 2008-05-09 22:57:00 |
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Current location: | The Burrow, at night |
Current mood: | awake |
Current music: | "Kimi Station" Orange Range |
Entry tags: | rated r, ship: charlie/harry, user: auntbijou |
Fic: Here There Be Dragons; Charlie/Harry; Soft R
Title: Here There Be Dragons
Author: auntbijou
Pairing: Charlie/Harry
Word Count: 956
Rating: Soft R
Summary: Sometimes, Harry needs explanations. Even if it is first thing in the morning.
Disclaimer:> Don’t own it, don’t make any money from it, just like to play with it.
Warning(s): established relationship, male/male
A/N: I just LOVE Charlie Weasley. And originally wrote this for dragon_handler, which is, of course, no more. *sniff, sniff* Besides, what’s not to love about Charlie? He’s a Weasley, he handles dragons, he’s brave, he was a legendary Seeker for Gryffindor before Harry Potter ever came to Hogwarts… yeah… shutting up now. Go read!!
He sat up and stretched, reaching his arms up over his head so that the Hungarian Horntail on his back appeared to ripple and flex its wings. Each vertebrae in his back popped, tendons stretched, and muscles released their tension, resulting in a satisfied groan that ended on an exhale as he looked sleepily around the tent, scrubbing his head for a moment and sending his hair into crackling life.
Oh yeah. That’s right.
He turned to look at his companion, who was still lost in the abandon of sleep, eyelids fluttering slightly as their owner wandered in dreams. Black hair splayed across the pillow, a tangled disorder that refused to obey any comb or attempts to tame it. He snorted and with a grunt, got up. Today was the day he told his family.
“No! No! I won’t let you!”
Startled, he turned. “Harry?”
Harry was flailing, twisted up in the covers as he fought something in his dreams. “I won’t let you do it! I won’t! Why can’t I move? Why can’t I… no, no…”
Oh. It was that dream again. He stepped to the bed in one smooth move, scooping up the thin body of the man in his bed, and began whispering softly, “Wake up, Harry. Wake up, love, it’s just a dream, just a dream, love, wake up, come back to me.” Over and over, with soothing caresses, he whispered to Harry, until the green eyes fluttered open and stared at him with confusion.
“Ch-Charlie?”
“And who else would it be?” Charlie smiled, knowing humor was the anchor Harry needed most right now. “Sounded like you were on the tower again.”
Harry burrowed into his chest, trembling. Everywhere else, Harry put up a front of being strong, being focused, being… Harry. But here, in Charlie’s arms, it was safe to be a scared little boy. “I hate that dream, Charlie, but I can’t help feeling it’s trying to tell me something.”
Charlie snorted. “Don’t think about it now. We have quite a few things to do before we trip back to England and the Burrow.”
“Do we have to?”
He smiled, stroking the wild hair and understanding. These last three months had been a break for Harry, a chance for a bit of normal in the insanity of the war. Their blossoming relationship had had a chance to grow here. And once they returned, they’d go back to moments stolen here and there, passing touches in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, hurried kisses in the library, quick gropes in an empty room… he sighed. He was tired of that, and so was Harry. Which was why he had to say something. “Harry, I’ve been thinking…”
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“You were thinking. That is never good.”
Charlie laughed. “Shut up, sprite, and listen. I was thinking… why are we hiding?”
Harry looked up. “Because your family would have a fit. Because it would be just one more thing for the papers to grab on to declare me abnormal, or mentally disturbed, or… or something. Because it might damage your career…”
“Why?” Charlie really wanted to understand this.
“Why? Because we’re gay!! Because we’re two men, in a … a… relationship!” Harry sounded nearly wild and he tried to back away from Charlie.
“And why is this bad?” He had all the patience in the world. Little brothers, and dragons taught you that, and he needed it by the ton now.
“You know how the world looks at gays!”
“Wrong. I know how the magical community looks at gays. And it isn’t what you think.” Charlie kept his firm hold on Harry, meeting the brilliant green eyes steadily. “I know what Muggles think of gays. Wizards are a bit more tolerant, love. We believe magic calls to magic, regardless of the vessel it is contained in. Sometimes those vessels are of different sexes, and sometimes, they aren’t. No one blinks an eye.” His hands stroked Harry’s body firmly, gently, soothingly. “The only reason I’ve held off telling my family is because I know Mum will go wild with relief to know I’ve finally settled down.”
“Settled… down?” Harry couldn’t help responding to Charlie’s touch, raising his own hands to stroke down the corded arms.
“Mmmm-hmmm…” He couldn’t help focusing on those red lips. “With my one and only.”
“Really?” The lips parted, moist and soft, just begging to be kissed.
“Really.” Tempt me, oh, tempt me, he thought, watching that mouth. “So, after we get old Katya to try destroying that Horcrux with her breath, what say we make a little stop in Budapest? There’s a jeweler I know in the Old Quarter who owes me a favor or two…”
“Yeah?” Though Harry’s nose had wrinkled at the mention of the oldest dragon on the preserve, he’d flushed at the mention of the jeweler. The lips moved closer and closer, Harry’s hands tightening on Charlie’s biceps.
“Yeah. I’ve brought him some pieces from old dragon hoards that helped him get his shop out of debt, and got him back on track.” His mouth was just above Harry’s, his own hands spread in the small of the younger wizard’s back. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to make bonding bracelets for us.”
Harry froze. “Bonding … bracelets?”
“Would you, Harry? Bond with me?” The entire world was at a standstill. All he could hear was the beat of his heart, and a harsh sob from Harry.
“You… you want me…” It was a whisper filled with wonder.
“With all my heart.”
When Harry’s mouth pressed against his, the world started again, everything was right, everything was beautiful, and he knew, he knew, everything was going to be all right.
Mum was going to go spare.