Sanctuary
Charlie returned to Romania desperate to escape the repercussions of the terrible war. So many had died – Remus, Nymphadora, Moody, Dumbledore, Sirius, Fred - and for what? All to appease the insecurities of a halfblood madman?
In Romania he found a measure of peace, tending to his dragons all day long.
On the nights he didn't drink himself into a stupor in an attempt to block out the terrible memories of betrayal and loss, he would invariably find himself in the dragon stables, finding comfort in the large, powerful, sinuous bodies of the creatures, in their smooth scales and sharp fangs. It was the danger that Charlie loved, the power – it made him feel alive, that he was a part of something bigger. The dragons knew him and trusted him. He was not master of these majestic creatures, merely their friend and helper. Very few could do what he did and remain unscathed.
On his days off, he played Quidditch for the local Romanian team, and the day had arrived for the bi-annual Eastern European Quidditch Championship - a three-day tournament featuring teams from all over Romania, Bulgaria, Russia, and the Ukraine. From a distance Charlie saw a figure being mobbed by folk in all directions. He moved closer and realised the man was one of the most recognisable faces in World Quidditch. Viktor Krum.
Viktor gave a start of surprise as his brown eyes met Charlie's blue ones. "You are the brother of Ronald Veasley?" He asked in halting English, oblivious to the adulation of his fawning fans.
"Yeah, uh yeah, how did you...?" For once tongue-tied, Charlie stared at him.
"Ve met long ago, at your father's house. I came vith Hermy-own-ninny, and ve all played Quidditch together. You vere the seeker on the other team...but it vas a long time ago, I do not think you vill remember..." He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly.
Charlie flushed, humbled by Viktor's modesty. He realised he did remember that day, and remembered it well. He and Viktor had eluded each other for hours, the scores tied as they desperately vied for the snitch, until Viktor had raced Charlie in a speedy, exhilarating nosedive towards the turf, their arms outstretched. Just when the snitch was within Charlie's grasp, in an extra burst of speed Viktor snatched it out from his fingertips and flew into the air triumphant, leaving Charlie to crash head-first into the ground.
Charlie smiled in remembrance and nodded. "We're playing each other again today. Rematch?" He challenged, raising a thin red eyebrow. Viktor nodded and smiled.
That evening, high on adrenaline after catching the snitch, Charlie fucked Viktor against the change room lockers until both men were well-satiated. Gasping for breath and sporting bruises which could not entirely be attributed to the Quidditch match just played, Viktor begged Charlie for a rematch, albeit one of a different kind. With a feral grin Charlie assented and for the next few days the two men engaged in creative and energetic sexual activities in Charlie's bed, in the shower, on the coffee table, the floor, and on one occasion in the Dragon sanctuary, in the process discovering that the smell of dragon smoke was the greatest of aphrodisiacs.
Having over-exerted themselves in their free time to the point of complete and utter sexual exhaustion, the Quidditch grand final featured neither seekers' teams, and after one final mind-blowing farewell fuck, they both went their separate ways: Viktor returning to Bulgaria and Charlie back to work. Neither had any regrets, although Charlie sincerely hoped his sister-in-law Hermione would never find out.