Chapter Text
It’s not that Harry was bleeding, really. It’s just that all his blood wasn’t necessarily in this body. And that wasn’t his fault.
It really wasn’t.
Charlie was going to kill him.
And then Hermione.
And Draco.
And his dad.
And his dad.
And his mum.
And his grandparents.
And Sirius and Remus and there kids, probably.
And his siblings.
And their partners.
Really just a lot of people which, nice to have people who care about you, but right now Harry was dreading all the looks that would be thrown his way when he got home.
Being able to talk to dragons was all fun and games till you were soaring high in the clouds with one and the weather turns, and you come crashing down through the heavens with a dragon on your tail trying to catch you as you fall.
One great swipe of a talon and Harry’s flailing as his feathers illuminate the night sky, wing torn and feathers falling slower than Harry’s plummeting body.
It wasn’t pretty.
He was pulled close to the dragons body long before they hit the ground, but his wound was still deep and transforming back to his human body was far more painful than he would like to admit.
He was nudged to his feet by a smoking snout, the dragon grumbling and fretting as he limped away from the crash site – it looked a lot like a crater now, with trenches of upturned mud and spun earth.
His right leg was sliced from hip to knee in three deep gashes and rivulets of blood ran from knee to ankle; it was not a pretty sight but Harry made his way to his and Charlie’s home anyway. Wincing a she stepped, but already casting spells to help ease the pain, to begin healing the skin and bone and muscle.
Harry as sent a patronus ahead to Charlie.
The ghostly figure of a Welsh green was not so out of place in the dragon sanctuary, though Charlie would probably be worried out of his mind when it flew into the living room.
Harry just kept walking, the rain soaking through his clothes and hopefully dispersing some of the blood that ran down his leg. It stung enough for Harry to hope the rain was at least doing something.
“Harry?” A light in the distance called Harry’s name, though that may also have been the figure running towards him through the pouring rain.
“Harry!!!”
And someone was holding him, and a beautiful face was lowering him to the ground, hovering over him and sounding so distance as the pain in his leg seemed to ebb away with the rain on the cobbles.
……………………………………………….
“And you had to go out flying with Norberta with a storm on the way” Charlie was furious as Harry sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea with his leg stretched on the chair next to him.
Charlie was pacing.
And sighing.
And throwing Harry glances.
“You know Norberta gets restless when the weather changes and I thought we had more time.” Harry tried to placate.
“Harry,” Charlie sounded exasperated, “you always think you have more time…”
Charlie didn’t finish the thought and Harry didn’t need him too, they’d had this discussion a thousand times.
Harry couldn’t help it and Charlie tried his best to help him but, it didn’t always work.
The simple truth was, Harry didn’t know how to live like he wasn’t dying. Like any moment, any experience could be his last.
And while this mindset made Hermione slow down, made her happy in Draco’s arms every chilly morning and late evening with too much coffee and too many takeaway boxes, it made Harry dangerous. Not reckless, not necessarily, but chasing every moment like he could live a little longer, a little more if he never let go.
The issue also being, everyone who had there memories back still knew of the life they lived before, still felt like that person.
Harry and Hermione had been shoved into a world that wasn’t there’s.
And it didn’t always work out well.
Harry’s leg twinged as he looked at Charlie with a tired smile.
It had been 2 years since he and Hermione had appeared in Malfoy’s garden.
2 years of discovery and heartache, of exploration and domesticity the likes of which Harry had never known.
It was a new adventure.
And he had so many people who cared about him, and none of them seemed to die in front of his eyes so, a win really.
Initially, Harry had spent a lot of time with the adults – with his parents and Remus and Sirius and Charlie and his family and his grandparents and everyone really – but now a days he could be found more with the kids, he adored Remus and Sirius’s children, spent long hours with his siblings and, when humans where just too much, often went to help new dragons parents with their chaotic hoards.
It was a good life, a kind life, a life Harry tried very hard not to take for granted.
Charlie sat next to him and grasped his hand, threading their fingers together and slinging his other arm around Harry’s shoulder, bringing him in close.
“I worry…”
Harry sighed, “I know you do. I just…” he let out a frustrated noise, “you need to let me do the stupid stuff, Charlie. I promise I won’t take it too far, I just need you to trust me to come back every time, even if my legs in ribbons when I do.”
“I know, Hun.” And Charlie kissed his brow, and held him close, and it was ok.