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1.
You’re sitting at the Hufflepuff table in the great hall when a ball is announced. Professor Dumbledore must have saved that announcement for last, because the room descends into a chaos of conversations.
You glance at Charlie over in his seat with the other Gryffindors, to find him looking back at you, eyebrows raised in wordless query. You nod once, and that’s sorted.
As you turn back to your chicken, Penny is staring at you incredulously. “Did … Did Charlie just ask you to the ball?”
You hum in confirmation around your bite of drumstick. “Or I asked him.” You say once you finish your bite. “At any rate, we came to an agreement.”
“Not the most romantic way to go about things.” Penny tisks.
You wave her concern off. “Eh.”
“The two of them are really doing a service to the school, when you think about it.” Tonks steals your dinner roll, despite the heaping basket of bread sitting right in front of her. You pull your plate closer, shielding your dinner with your arms.
“Do tell.” Penny props her chin in her hand.
“Anyone going out with Charlie gets to hear all about the nine uses of dragon blood,” Tonks said. “All. Night. Long.”
“Twelve.” Rowan looks up from her book.
Tonks points at you. “And all this one ever goes on about is the cursed vaults. Made for each other, those two. What’ll probably happen is that they’ll dance for a half-hour for appearances, make a round or two as prefects, and then skive off to explore the Forbidden Forest.”
“We haven’t found Professor Kettleburn’s Chimera,” you say. “Yet.”
“If it were anyone but these two, I’d say ‘exploring the forbidden forest’ was a euphemism.” Penny said. “But I guarantee (Y/N) will be washing mud off her best slippers the morning after the ball.”
You raise an eyebrow. “At least I don’t have to dodge unwanted blokes for the next two weeks.” You watch as Billingsley tries to get Lizard’s attention.
“There is that,” Penny gives Billingsley the side-eye, like he’s an acromantula lurking in wait.
—
2.
You plop down at the trestle table in the dragon reserve’s mess tent across from Charlie to go through your mail.
Charlie looks up in surprise, his porridge spoon hanging out of his mouth. “When did you get in?” He says around it. Only it comes out as “‘en ‘Id oo ‘et in?”
“Five minutes ago.” You say distractedly. “I slept in my office on campus last night.
“You could’ve come home.” He says, putting the spoon down.
“It’s hatching season. I would’ve either woke you, or come back to a cold, empty bed.” You make a sour face.
“I don’t mind when you wake me.” He draws circles with his fingers along the Table’s wood grain pattern.
“The last thing you need is to be tired while turning the eggs under a sleeping dragon mum.” You give him a lopsided smile. “But I’m back now. With nothing to do for the next nine months but to teach archaeology classes and analyze data —“ you trail off as an envelope with an owl post stamp catches your eye.
With trembling fingers, you tear into the envelope. The words inside send your heart soaring. “Mr. Scamander agreed to an interview.”
“Rolf?”
“Newt, Dragon Boy.” You make a face at him. “He’s agreed to help me with the background for my next book. The one on Grindelwald’s time in New York.”
You look up, and Charlie is bouncing in his seat, looking at you with a vaguely hopeful look.
You grin at him, and nod once.
Charle’s broad smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Hey Godwin! I’m taking some of my days off soon!”
“What?” Charlie’s supervisor glances up in confusion. Then she notices you and scoffs. “Oh. It’s you. I might have known.” She flounces away without another word.
“I think she likes you.” Charlie tells you.
—
3.
Victorie Weasley is the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen.
Too bad you’re hopeless with babies.
You’re holding her awkwardly under the arms while she screams bloody murder at you. You just hope you won’t drop her. Why did you agree to babysit?
Oh yeah, you wanted to do something nice for Bill and Fleur. Why couldn’t you have sent your honorary big brother and his wife a card or something, instead?
What were they thinking, trusting you with a helpless, tiny human?
When Charlie flues into Bill’s kitchen, you give him a desperate, hopeless look.
His tender expression reassures you, even as he motions for you to give him the baby. He swaddles Victorie in her blanket with the dragons on it. Then he shows you how to hold her, nestled with her head on your shoulder. He pats her back and makes soothing sounds until she falls asleep.
“Not too different than a baby ridgeback,” he murmurs.
“I was never afraid I’d drop Norberta,” you say back.
“You know what the best part about babies is?” Charlie whispers in your ear.
“What?”
“You get to spoil them, then give them back.”
You nod. At least dragon babies aren’t so squishy and helpless.
—
4.
Charlie lifts his head from your lap to give you an incredulous, searching look. You interpret it to mean: what is this shite you’re reading?
You huff in agreement as you hold the book up for his inspection: A pretentious title from the muggle world that Percy suggested for book club.
He reads the spine, then rolls his eyes. He flops back down, but waves for you to continue.
You purse your lips as you pick up the thread of the story. Before long, your dry recitation has him snoring like it’s Professor Binns’s class back at Hogwarts.
You’re tempted to join him. The patter of rain on the roof of your tent has you feeling sluggish.
As excruciating as it is to get through the dusty prose, it’s going to be fun to hear Ginny, Hermione and Rowan eviscerate the text next Sunday.
—
5.
You and Charlie flip your tavern table and shelter behind it. Around you, shards of stone and wood shatter and fly under the power of concussive spells.
Looks like the dark wizards you were tracking found you, first.
Pity. You were hoping to stretch this little side job into a proper vacation.
Charlie presses his finger to his lips, points to you, then circles his fingers in the air in a wordless plan for you to flank your opponents while he draws their fire.
You nod once before apparating around behind the dark wizards, blindly firing stunners as you materialize. In moments, three hooded men lie unconscious at your feet.
Charlie searches their pockets until he finds a crimson red Chinese Fireball egg. He runs his wand over it, muttering the spells that will tell him that it’s still viable. After a moment, he gives you a thumbs up.
You point with your chin at the exit. Best to get back to the dragon reserve before the local aurors come around to ask questions.
As you pop away, you bare your teeth in a feral smile. Who would have guessed that the shady contacts you made while searching for the cursed vaults would be useful for reclaiming the reserve’s stolen dragon eggs?