The Dragon Uprising of 2012

by MuggleBeene

Daphne Greengrass finds herself once again over in Romania. Could it be more than chance that she and Charlie Weasley end up at the pub on Valentine's Day? What happens next? Part of what happened in the Four Months Later portion of the story Misfits. Not a part of the Professor Muggle series. Written for the Teachers' Lounge Valentine's Promptfest.

The Dragon Uprising of 2012

Hampstead, London, Friday, 3 February 2012

She unlocked her door, waved her hand to illuminate the minimum amount of lights to keep from tripping and walked over to the kitchen counter. After setting her bag on the counter, kicking off her shoes and unfastening her hair from a semi-formal updo Daphne Greengrass looked into her cupboard. All of the options for food were, if she was honest with herself, rather uninteresting.

"Just like my life."

She looked at the label of the soup tin and...just couldn't do it again. It wasn't that she was a bad cook; far from it, actually. She liked cooking when it was for more than one person, but just for herself it seemed such a bother. Much easier to go get takeaway, especially in the Muggle world. As she made her way into her bedroom she started the process that her sister Astoria called 'de-witching'; removing every trace of clothing, accessories or shoes that could be construed as magical and not Muggle. The official Ministry Department of International Cooperation robe was the first thing to go, followed by her wand which was placed on top of the bookshelf and teetered for a moment before falling onto the floor, unnoticed. She then made her way into her spare bedroom, the room that Astoria called 'decadent and wasteful' until she and little Scorpius stayed there right after she left Malfoy. With a smirk Daphne remembered that it wasn't so wasteful to Astoria at that moment.

Eventually, after rummaging through her dresser and fishing her favourite pair of jeans out of the dirty clothes hamper, Daphne realized she needed her wand. Yes, the jeans could stand to be washed and, yes, she needed to do that soon, but this was just down to the little Chinese takeaway. They certainly wouldn't care that she'd just cast a slight freshening charm on the jeans. A few moments later, after searching for her misplaced wand she found it and, in her bra and knickers, finally cast that freshening charm on the jeans. From there it was the first shirt she could lay her hands on in her closet, a mostly red plaid flannel thing that she couldn't remember ever purchasing, followed shortly thereafter by a pair of mid-calf leather boots and a fleece jacket. She pulled up her brown hair into a sloppy ponytail, pulled out a knit stocking cap from the pocket of the jacket and pulled it on.

A quick glance into the mirror made her laugh. "Oh Astoria, I don't know what you could possibly be talking about, I always look glamorous."

With that she pocketed her wand, pulled her handbag from the counter and left the flat, once more to make her way toward Kentish Town Road, a quick word and an exchange of Muggle money with the woman at the restaurant, then back to her flat for another exciting evening.

And that was what happened. Following another round of takeaway she looked around her flat as if expecting someone to scold her, shrugged and decided that she didn't care if it was half-nine, she was going to bed. It was early February, after all, and her bed was warm, soft and comfortable. Before she got there, though, she stopped in front of her bookcase, reached behind the rather large (and boring) book from her father about magical history and pulled out one of those horrid dragon keeper novels. She and Astoria traded them back and forth, rolling their eyes and laughing about how awful they were, but in the next moment they were extolling the virtues of the ones they wanted to trade. 'No, Stori, this one is even worse. You have to read it.'

Once she'd put on her usual sleeping attire, an oversize t-shirt of some Brazillian Quidditch team she'd picked up while in the country for a meeting, she started reading again, but it wasn't keeping her attention like it used to, those horrid romance novels. Something wasn't right. After shrugging it off as just 'one of those things' she kept reading, and after she came upon a certain paragraph she realized what it was, and the realization was enough to make her speak out loud.

"That's all wrong, they don't use full-strength shocking wards on older dragons. Wrong, wrong, wrong."

She sat there, for a moment, book in hand until she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Weasley."

-ooo-

Ministry of Magic, Monday, 6 February 2012

Percy Weasley sat in his office at the Ministry, looked at his colour-coded schedule and smiled. He was very happy. It was all arranged, everything, right to the last detail. His mum would watch the girls, the hotel was reserved and paid for in full, the restaurant reservations were triple-confirmed, the florist was taken care of as well as the jeweler...everything was perfect for Valentine's Day. Yes, it was eight days away, but Percy was taking no chances as the previous year he'd been called away for Ministry business and had to miss their special day. Not this year, oh no. He'd blocked off his calendar the moment he returned from that horrible trip, he'd promised Audrey that it wouldn't happen again.

But as soon as he heard the knock on his office door he knew. He wasn't a seer, but that little drop, that sinking feeling in his stomach told him that all his plans were for naught.

"Weasley, so sorry, this just came in. Here you go, mate."

As the delivery wizard left his office Percy tentatively reached over and pulled out the parchment from the envelope. He was right. Valeriu's people in Romania were causing a fuss about something again and it had fallen to him to sort it. He usually got the Romanian things; mostly as a favour to him, he always took an extra day to visit with Charlie, but this was scheduled right over Valentine's Day. A few extra moments revealed that it wasn't just a one-and-done meeting, either; no, this was a tour up and down magical Romania to explore fostering business relations between the countries. A whole week starting on Saturday the twelfth to ooh and aah over some magical crop in the fields or whatever it was Valeriu wanted to show the British and Chinese delegations. The Chinese as well? They were always very thorough in their dealings, Percy admired them for it, but it also meant that everything would take time, time that he didn't have.

"No." Percy pushed the chair back from the desk and stood up straight. "Not this year."

With the envelope and parchment in his hand he walked purposely towards the door, opened it and did not shut it which caused the junior grade Ministry employees to gasp because Mr. Weasley always closed his office door. They followed him with their eyes, gasping yet again when he walked into Mr. Thompkins' office without knocking or announcing his presence to Thompkins' assistant.

Walter Thompkins looked up from his parchment, half-eaten pastrami sandwich in his hand, and stared oddly at Percy. "Weasley? Something wrong?"

"Yes, I'm afraid there is...I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot represent the Ministry in the Romanian delegation."

"Really?" Thompkins put the sandwich down, leaned back in his chair and dusted off his fingers. "I take it you have plans?"

"Yes, I do. Perhaps someone could go in my place?"

"Wait a tic, Weasley...you want someone else to do your job?" He held up a hand. "Not that anyone could replace you, but I can't just send one of the kids straight out of Hogwarts. I need someone who's been there, knows the lay of the land, can deal with old Valeriu..."

"Daphne Greengrass!" It was out of Percy's mouth before he could even think. He'd answered a letter from his brother Charlie that has mentioned her previous visit. "She was there recently."

Thompkins shrugged. "Right, as always, but Romania's your baby, with your brother there and all..but if it's fine by you it's fine by me." He picked up the sandwich again and smiled at Percy. "Oh, and Weasley? You get to tell her."

-ooo-

Magical Romania, Bat and Dragon Pub, 14 February 2012

Even though the customary start of spring was only ten days off it felt cold, even in the pub, so Charlie Weasley chided himself for ordering another beer. If he could flag down the waitress he'd order a firewhiskey, if they had any left, or if that was gone some Fetească neagră, maybe even one of the older bottles that barkeep Grigore kept hidden. The older bottles were smoother, richer wine; the usual 'house' wine at the pub was crap, and that was being charitable. The only person he knew who actually liked the house wine was Hagrid, and that man would drink just about anything.

Being a dragon keeper in Romania did have some perks, and being a regular at the Bat and Dragon for over a decade meant that there were perks upon perks. Charlie's favourite, and one that gathered a few envious stares from the patrons, was the small sofa that was positioned directly in front of the working, non-Floo fireplace. When food was brought out the little side table, normally set for drinks, would be magically expanded by the waiter or waitress, allowing for comfort and warmth.

That warmth was interrupted, though, by a stream of people entering the pub one after the other, and from the looks of their cloaks and robes it was obvious that they were some sort of official delegation. The type of delegation that Grigore would sell the good Fetească neagră

at triple price. So much for a nice glass of wine. Charlie leaned back into the sofa, extended his legs in front of the fire and crossed them, his heavy boots making a small 'whump' on the ancient wooden floor.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Charlie looked up and...there she was, official Ministry robes and all. He'd thought about Daphne Greengrass several times since her visit over to Romania a couple of months ago, some funding dispute about British dragons, but there was something about her that made him think about things he hadn't thought of in ages. She also made him laugh. He was pretty sure she was the type of woman who would not appreciate that last fact.

"Ms. Greengrass, what a pleasure. What brings you to the illustrious Bat an' Dragon?" He nodded at her robes. "Business, I assume? Or is it then charming ambiance?"

"Yes. Quite." She smiled at him and stood silently as if waiting for something.

Finally he got the hint and stood up. "I'm so sorry, rude, I know, but out on the Reserve...would you care to join me, Ms. Greengrass?"

"Thank you, I would. No apology required, but appreciated nonetheless." She went to sit and realized that the small table was actually a small sofa with a table. After a second of pause she took off her outer, heavier robe, folded it neatly, placed it along the back of the sofa and sat down.

Charlie sat down right after Daphne, making sure to sit along the edge of the sofa so as to not crowd her and make her uncomfortable. "So, what's the Ministry got you doing this time, something super secret? Is Britain..."

She silenced him by putting her index finger to her lips. "Oh no, I couldn't say. Ministry oaths. Horrible things happen if I reveal details."

"I bet." Charlie lifted up an arm and motioned for one of the waitresses or waiters. "I was hoping to get a bottle of Fetească neagră but I'm sure Grigore is saving up for you politicians. Whatever he's charging is too much."

"Hmmm..." Daphne looked at him as the fire cast flickering shadows across his face. He was somewhat wild, with the beard and hair, not to mention the dragonhide leathers. It was while studying him, and mentally comparing him to the characters in those dragon keeper fantasy romance novels that he caught her out.

"Ms. Greengrass, what are you doing?"

She shook her head, was embarrassed for a milisecond but covered it up quickly, effortlessly. "I apologize. It has been quite the trip so far, thanks to your brother."

"My brother? Really? Which one?"

"Percy, actually." She smiled at him but lost his attention as the waiter came over. She listened as Charlie went back and forth with the man, in Romanian, finally sending the man away. He didn't look happy. "What was that all about?"

Charlie rolled his eyes, leaned back and put his arm on the back of the sofa, draping it down so it did not touch her. "I told him that I wanted Grigore to send over one of the good bottles of Fetească neagră, the stuff that he hides and keeps to himself, and that I don't want to pay visiting politician prices, I want to pay dragon keeper prices."

She smiled. "I may be able to help when he returns. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

A few minutes later Grigore arrived and spoke with Charlie in Romanian. As before Daphne didn't understand a word, but from her observations it was plain that Charlie was not getting what he wanted. She tapped Grigore on the arm, ceasing the flow of Romanian.

"Yes, Miss Englez?"

Daphne tilted her head at Grigore. "I do apologize, as I know what he's asking is..." She paused, glanced at Charlie and then beckoned Grigore to lean down so she could whisper in his ear.

Charlie watched as Grigore stood up straight, put his hand on his heart and nodded at Daphne. After the barkeep walked away he looked at her. "What'd you do?"

She smirked at him. "No, just wait. You'll ruin it. The wine will be here soon."

"Right. The good stuff. I've been coming to this place since 1992 and this is the second time you've been here and you..." He stopped mid-sentence, ran a hand over his beard and sat back. "I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

"I take it you are inferring something, Mr. Weasley."

"Cut that out, it's Charlie. And yeah, I am inferring something Ms. Greengrass."

Grigore arrived before Daphne could respond and placed the tray on the expanding little table between them. On the silver tray stood a bottle of Fetească neagră, dust partially covering the label, two crystal glasses and a vase with a single red rose. Grigore smiled widely at Daphne, winked at Charlie and left.

She reached over and turned the bottle so the label was readable, smoothing away the dust with her manicured fingers. "Is 1962 a good year?"

"Bloody fucking hell." Charlie turned the bottle towards him. "I bet so." He poured her a glass, poured one for himself and then raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to you, Ms. Greengrass. That was impressive. How'd you do it?"

"I think we should drink some of this first, don't you?"

She clinked her glass with his and they both took a drink. Charlie closed his eyes as the taste washed over him. She was good, really good as it was the best stuff that he'd ever had in the damn pub.

"Ok, what's with the rose?" He readjusted his arm on the back of the sofa, leaving his hand on the top of the cushion.

Daphne smiled. "I simply reminded him what day it is in Britain."

Charlie thought on it and eventually sighed. "Dunno, what's the big deal about a Tuesday?"

She sat back and crossed her legs. "Not much, normally, but when it's the fourteenth day of February..."

"Valentine's Day?" He tilted his head back and laughed. "Oh bloody hell. What'd you tell him?"

"Nothing more that what I told you. I just said it was Valentine's Day in Britain. I didn't say we were on a date, I made no statements. He came to that conclusion on his own."

Charlie took a sip of wine and nodded his head towards her. "Well, happy Valentine's Day, Ms. Greengrass."

"Please, as it is Valentine's Day, and we may or may not be on a date, I believe you can call me by my name."

"May or may not be..." He laughed. "You may be the only politician that isn't family that I like, Daphne."

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment." She took a sip of wine. "So is Valentine's Day not celebrated here in Romania?"

"Hmmm...I think they do in Muggle Romania, I'm not sure, but here in magical Romania they celebrate Dragobete. It's an old holiday, based on pagan myth, I think. It's the twenty-fourth. If you were at the old Bat an' Dragon on that day you'd see some good stuff. Keepers usually stay away from the pub on that day." He leaned forward. "There's something about that holiday and keepers being especially lucky or something, I don't know for sure, all I know is that when I was the new boy at the Reserve one of the older guys came down here for a pint and showed up two days later married to a local bird."

For the next two hours Charlie and Daphne had a meal and another bottle of wine. Daphne told him about the different places she had been to on the tour as well as her upcoming itenerary. Charlie told her about the places that were not on the usual magical tourist path, places that the local magical community visited and told her some of the old legends about a castle she was slated to visit in two days. Their close conversation warmed old Grigore's heart so much that after he cleared their plates, and noted that they were on sitting closer together on the sofa, he even brought them a third bottle of wine, albeit one from 1994. They didn't notice the difference in quality. The fourth bottle was from 2010.

Eventually Grigore made his way over to the sofa, wiping his hands with a towel. He leaned down and said something in Charlie's ear, softly, in Romanian. Daphne couldn't hear what he'd said so she leaned against Charlie.

"What issit?"

Charlie laughed, turned around and looked over the back of the sofa. "Oh shiiiit...we're the only onesss here."

Daphne turned her head slowly and it was true; there were no other customers in the Bat and Dragon, including her official delegation. "Bollocks."

Her expression made Charlie laugh, such language from a lady? He'd found out that Daphne was not a typical Slytherin, not a typical politician and not fussed about their age difference. He also wasn't sure of how he should handle...

"Can I stay with you?" Daphne put her arms around his arm and hugged on him. "Please I'm all alone and..."

"Sure." Charlie stood up, stumbled slightly, and held his hand out to her.

Thankfully for both of them Grigore gave them a Reserve portkey. The Bat and Dragon had an agreement with the Reserve; dragon keepers were too valuable to spend time in hospital for splinching. Much better to have them sleep off a good drunk. Valeriu authorised the portkey creation years ago, not surprisingly, when he was pissed down at the pub. Soon the small statue of a Ukranian Ironbelly began to glow blue and the two of them disappeared. Grigore chuckled to himself as he put out the fire in front of the sofa; Keeper Nevăstuică, the red-headed one, would have good stories to tell next time.

-ooo-

Romanian Dragon Reserve, 15 February 2012. 3:00 am

Daphne stood outside the building and even in her inebriated state admired it, as it was nothing like what she thought it would be.

"Better'n what you thought, eh?" Charlie took her hand and started down the path, past the cabin.

"Isssint that yours?" She pointed with her free hand towards the little cabin, not fussed whatsoever that she was holding his hand.

"That? Pffft, that's a junior cabin. I'm Senior Keeper, just one bloke ahead of me in the whole damn place. Much better than that little..."

"Oh. Isssat it?" Daphne pointed up the path, towards the top of the slow, rolling hill.

"Yep, that'sit."

The cabin looked much larger than the cabin Daphne pointed out initially. Where that cabin was a modified A-frame structure the cabin ahead of her didn't really look like a cabin, exactly, but a regular two storey house albeit with a rather impressive stone fence that surrounded the structure. As they got closer she realized that with the exception of the gate in front it was exactly like the mountain chalets she had seen in Switzerland.

Charlie opened the door for her, winced and as she walked in wondered how bad it would be inside, as he hadn't cleaned in ages. As soon as he entered and closed the door though, he didn't care if George had been experimenting with new Wheezes in his cabin, because Daphne Greengrass stood in front of him, her dark hair falling out of some pretty style, and he was pretty sure the look in her eyes was the same one he was giving her.

-ooo-

The Royal Dracul Hotel, Magical Section of Bucharest, 15 February 2012. 4:15 am

Ian Christopher-Marks was soundly asleep when the Patronus entered his hotel room. He knew that because he had set the Dicta-Quill to start recording whenever any messages were sent to him, a habit due to a slight oversight on a trade mission to New Zealand. It wasn't the Patronus that woke him, though, it was the alarm and the scratching of the Dicta-Quill on the parchment.

He sat up in bed and immediately knew who was contacting him, as only one person had a caracal Patronus. For some reason, he remembered her 'little chat' with him when he'd called it a 'big cat.'

Mr. Christopher-Marks, it is not, as you say, a 'ruddy big cat' but a caracal. They are native to Africa, southwest and central Asia. They have been found in tomb paintings and mummified remains in ancient Egypt and were apparently revered by both wizarding and Muggles alike. Please remember this in the future.

Now mostly awake Ian leaned forward as the caracal floated above his bed and then looked as if it...stumbled? There had to be a reason Daphne Greengrass had sent he Patronus to him, something very important. She didn't use a Patronus for just anything. Then the caracal spoke.

"Oh bloody hell Ian! I'mfinethanks, really don't worry, found a place tonight. Tell those idiots I'm, I'm, I'm fine and seem 'em in the morning."

There was a long pause and Ian thought that was it but suddenly the caracal spoke again.

"I must look a mess butfuckit. Heh. Not it. Him. Heh-heh. Oh I'm bad. Ooooh."

And then the caracal sort of growled, not exactly in a feline way, and disappeared.

Ian got out of bed, stopped the Dicta-Quill and threw the parchment in the fireplace, lighting it on fire with his wand. He realized that he might be only a few years out of Hogwarts but he knew better than to have a record of that message.

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Senior Keeper Weasley Cabin, 15 February 2012. 7:00 am

Charlie opened his eyes a few times, rapidly, then closed them tight as even though he was awake he knew the bright sunlight would be streaming through the windows. Always painful after a night of drinking, but opening his eyes on this morning would provide a different view altogether. It would have been so easy, sleeping with her. He chuckled as he reminded himself that he actually did sleep with her, but it was just sleeping and cuddling. Even in his own state of inebriation somewhere in the recesses of his brain he knew that, regardless of what she was saying and doing, what she was wearing and specifically not wearing, it wasn't right. Instead he'd pointed her towards the bedroom but told her that it wouldn't be right as he wasn't sure he'd remember everything, and he wanted to remember everything. Somehow, even his drunk-brain remembered that bit, though other parts were a blur.

Steeling himself for the worst Charlie opened his eyes and received a shock, as it was very dark in the room, dark enough to remind him of the early, early morning. Pre-dawn, when just the fingers of the sun were stretching through the mountains. He sat up slightly, moving slowly as she was somewhat intertwined with him, reached over and took his watch off of the nightstand. 7:00? His brain knew it should be bright, very bright. Not even when it was stormy was it like this...semi-light. Something was wrong.

He slid out of bed, carefully as to not wake her, and made his way into the kitchen to look out of the window. The kitchen window had one of the best views in the house, allowing it to see down the hill and into the little valley, but most importantly it was where he could start coffee. The morning called for coffee, especially after last night; a large pot of dark, strong coffee. It was while thinking of coffee, and bringing it to Daphne in his bed, that Charlie saw what was wrong. Instead of the view of the little valley all he could see were stones, very large stones. He walked quickly through the house and every single window was the same, they were blocked by stones, stones that looked vaguely familiar.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He walked back quickly into his bedroom, put on his slippers and the heavy flannel dressing gown and went back out to see what was happening. When he went to the front door and opened it directly in front of him, as if it was right out his front gate, was a wall of stone as high as his roof. As his eyes followed the wall higher he realized that the stones covered over his roof, leaving only slits like those old Muggle castles used to have for arrows.

It was while looking up at the insanity that he heard her walking towards him. He turned over his shoulder to see that she had pulled his Great-Grandmother Weasley's quilt off of the bed and covered herself in it, her hair all askew. She looked gorgeous, but that could wait.

"Daphne, what's going on? Is this some Ministry thing?"

Immediately her expression hardened, her face became focused and she walked up beside him. "What's this?"

"Dunno, I'm asking you."

"I have no idea whatsoever." She shivered slightly and pulled the quilt tighter against her arms and chest. "Can we go inside?"

"Sure."

He followed her back into the house and closed the door. She sat on the sofa, so he went over and started a fire in the fireplace, warming up the front room. It was after lighting the fireplace, when the smoke began to roll back out of the chimney, that Charlie knew something was really, really wrong. After a scramble to find their wands they put out the fire, dissipated the smoke and sat on the sofa, both of them utterly confused.

As Charlie sat thinking Daphne went back to the bedroom, as even though the quilt was soft and warm it was not the proper thing to wear whilst trying to figure out what was going on with the stone walls. Her Ministry robes just seemed wrong in Charlie's cabin so she began a search through his wardrobe, settling on a green flannel shirt and a pair of khaki trousers also lined with green flannel. The trousers she shrunk to fit but she left the shirt its regular size. After dressing she made her way into the loo to take a look at her hair but as soon as she looked into the mirror...

"Charlie!"

He rushed into the loo and saw it immediately; Romanian text, glowing in red, attached to a parchment that seemed to have sprung from the top of his mirror. He pulled the parchment off of the mirror and was immediately smacked on the arm by Daphne.

"What'd ya do that for?"

"Do you know why the parchment is there?"

"No."

"Then...you are such a Gryffindor. It could be cursed, you know."

"Oh."

She sighed. "Never mind. What's it say?"

"I dunno. Tiny text." He paused for a moment, sighed and realized it couldn't be helped. He reached into his dressing gown and pulled a pair of gold-framed reading glasses from the pocket, put them on and studied the text. As he tried to read he didn't look up. "Not a word."

"Well, you are older than I am." She paused. "I think they look good on you."

"Flatterer."

"What does it say?"

Charlie shook his head and looked at her. "I have no idea. It's Romanian but it's old, really, really old. I can make out like every fourth word. Dragons, that's easy, that word hasn't changed in, well it doesn't change, but the other stuff...I get dragons, spell, I think handle, portal and that's about it. Doesn't make any sense."

"May I?" She held out her hand.

"Sure, have at it." He handed her the parchment.

Without a word she walked away, into the other room. Not knowing what to do Charlie followed her and found her in front of his fireplace, wand in hand. She cast a spell at the parchment, turning it light blue for a moment, and then she motioned him towards the sofa.

"Text translation charm. I used it when I started at the Ministry, reviewing some of the old agreements in different languages..." She shrugged.

The two of them, close together, held the parchment and began to read. Charlie only had to read a few lines before he started to swear. Daphne read the entire parchment and looked at him.

"I think this is my fault."

"What?" Charlie shook his head. "You set off the protection against dragon uprisings? Really? How?"

"Ummm..." She twisted her mouth in worry. "I sent a Patronus to the junior assistant on this trip last night, to let him know I'd secured alternative accomodations."

"Ah." He gave her a very serious look. "Let me translate from politician. You mean shacked up with a keeper."

"Yes, yes, never mind that. I didn't want you to know so I used your front door and went out by the gate. When I came back inside I locked up and there was a handle on the top of the door frame. I guess in my drunken state I thought it was part of the lock, some odd Romanian security feature."

"Oh fuck." Charlie laughed and shook his head. "Really?"

"I was drunk."

"Well you...never mind. I've done a lot of things when pissed. Bill could tell you...forget that. What else did that letter say? I didn't make it past the whole 'uprising protections are on' part."

"Well, everything is keyed to you since this is your house. You have to say the passphrase to cease the protections." She smiled at him. "You do know the passphrase, don't you?"

-ooo-

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Administration Building, 15 February 2012. 8:10 am

Sorin Negrescu sat at his desk and held a cup of dark, bitter coffee in his hands, using the heat from the cup to warm his hands. For some reason all of the heat charms were off at his cabin, as well as his office, hell, the whole damn Administration building, everything was cold. He'd put up the Floo shield and started a fire in his fireplace, the first one in ages.

"Boss?" Martinez, the Mexican keeper, stood at the doorway. "We've got a problem."

"Cold, no?"

"Si, but...I don't think that's the biggest problem. Have you heard about Weasley's cabin?"

"What of it?"

"It's all covered in stone."

"Fantoma tatălui meu!" Negrescu sat the coffee cup down on the desk quickly, spilling some, but he didn't notice. Instead he turned on the spot and Apparated away.

The pop of apparition didn't go unnoticed ,as an old lady, wrapped in a multi-colored shawl, walked slowly into the room. "What was that?"

Martinez shrugged. "I dunno. I told him that Weasley's cabin is covered in stone, he said 'my father's ghost' so I know that must be bad and then he just Apparated away." He looked at her quizzically. "Tannie Marie, you've been here a long time, do you know what's going on?"

The South African woman smiled, raised a wrinkled finger and wagged it about. "I always told them to take precautions, but they don't want to listen to me. I'm just the old Healer, what do I know about dragon safety." She walked forward and put her arm through his. "Help me, please, Diego. These old bones need help in this cold. Let us go see how Negrescu deals with his red keeper on lockdown."

-ooo-

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Senior Keeper Weasley Cabin, 15 February 2012. 8:45 am

"You have absolutely nothing to eat in here." Daphne stood in the kitchen, an open cupboard in front of her. "Nothing."

"I've got apples?" Charlie stood behind her, a large sack in his hand. "That's food, right?"

"How many meals do you eat..."

"I eat, trust me, I eat." He sat the sack on the table. "I just...I hate going to the shops. When I was little Mum always used to have Bill watch Ron an' the twins so she'd take me and Perce to the shops. Merlin, do you know how long it takes to shop for six kids? Ginny wasn't born yet, but even after she got there Bill did the oldest brother bit and I was 'Mummy's shopping helper.' If I ever get around to it I'm getting a bloody house elf because I hate doing it."

Daphne smiled at him. "Charles, that was a lovely story. Wonderful family insights. But I think we should...I'm bloody hungry and all you have are apples?!"

"Whoa." He backed up a step.

"Uh!" She gave him a pointed look. "You work with dragons and I scared you?"

He held his index finger and thumb closely together. "Just a touch."

"Good." She turned back to the cupboard so he wouldn't see her smile. "Maybe you have enough to make an apple crumble or a pie."

A silvery, shimmering stoat hovered a foot or so in front of Charlie. The deep, gruff voice that came out of the little animal was a shock to Daphne, but not to Charlie. He knew exactly whose Patronus that was. The little stoat stood on its back legs and opened its mouth:

Weasley, Auntie Marie says you turned on uprising protections. Nothing in or out until passphrase is said. If you don't do that will be ten days until stones recede. Jones fixed heat, your walls turned it off, cannot fix yours. Send Patronus back in reply.

With the dissolution of the stoat Charlie immediately wanted to start everything over. Well, everything from ordering that second bottle of wine with Daphne, everything from then on, because...

"Charlie, send them a Patronus message. You do know how, don't you?" Daphne stood with a container of flour in her hand. "I can do it, if you can't, but I don't know if you want everybody to know I'm here."

"Uh, sure. Give it a shot."

Daphne took out her wand, cast her Patronus and watched as the caracal bounced off of the wall and back into the room, tumbling as if it had been hit by a Beater's bat and disappeared.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." He ran a hand over his beard. "I wasn't going to go bragging about it, if that's what you mean. I didn't want to presume anything...but that's not the problem. I have a crap Patronus."

"Your Patronus is made of feces?"

"No, damn it." He shook his head at her. "It's not funny."

"Sorry, hunger makes me a bit cross."

"Ok, fine." Charlie took out his wand and one statement of 'Expecto Patronum' later...nothing happened.

"Something wrong?" Daphne looked at him. "Charlie?"

For the longest time, ever since he learned the spell, Charlie Weasley used the happy memory of a long night in a very small Muggle tent with Nymphadora Tonks at the 1990 Glastonbury festival. But it wasn't working. Something was different.

"Ahem. Mr. Weasley, your attention, please?"

He looked over to Daphne and watched as she opened his green flannel shirt and revealed she wore no bra or vest underneath. He stood there open-mouthed for a bit. "Damn."

Charlie smiled and without removing his eyes from her let out a calm, measured 'Expecto Patronum.' At that moment silver vapour burst from the tip of his wand, coalescing into the shimmering, floating form of a...hedgehog. This was the moment he always dreaded, as every single time someone found out his Patronus was a hedgehog, that he, a dragon keeper for Merlin's sake, when they saw his Patronus they mercilessly took the mickey. It was also possible the least macho Patronus on record, according to Martinez. After crafting his message he sent the little hedgehog off and waited.

"That was the absolute cutest little Patronus I have ever seen." Daphne buttoned the shirt most of the way as she walked towards him. "There's hope for you yet, Mr. Weasley."

"Hope?" He was confused, as that was the last thing he thought he would hear. "Whatd'ya mean?"

"One would assume that dragon keepers would have big, tough animals as their Patronus, but the fact that you have an adorable little hedgehog tells me that there's more to you than meets the eye. Yes, you have that amazing dragon tattoo..."

"Peruvian Vipertooth."

"Please don't interrupt when I'm paying you a compliment, Mr. Weasley. What I was saying is that it would be impossible for someone to have that Patronus and not be more sensitive than what the public thinks of when they hear the words dragon keeper."

"So my hedgehog is a good thing?"

"Yes, most assuredly."

Another Patronus sailed through into the cabin, this time a raccoon. In Martinez's voice it laughed and stopped in front of Charlie. Boss says your passphrase is in your Keeper Manual. Since we both know what happened to that, amigo, look in your closet. Tannie Marie says it should hold out until Dragobete. She said there's enough for two.

"Fucking hell." Charlie gave the raccoon a two-fingered salute and without another word headed out of the kitchen.

Daphne, unsure of what to do, walked over and picked up an apple. She took a bite; as hungry as she was it tasted wonderful, sweet and crisp with just a hint of tartness. She was just about to take another bite when Charlie walked in, beaming, carrying what appeared to be a wooden box the size of a shoebox. Before she could ask he sat it on the table, took out his wand and unshrunk the box. He cracked it open and smiled at her.

"I may not have a house elf, Ms. Greengrass, but I have a really good friend who did my shopping. Of course, I'll owe him big as always, but what's a few bottles of firewhiskey among friends?"

She smiled and inspected the box. While moving things about she asked him the question without looking at him. "The Keeper Manual?"

"Uh..." He hesitated. "The official story or the real story? I don't know if I should tell you, you are a politician."

"And a Slytherin who not only threw herself at you last night, but a Slytherin who was grateful enough of the fact you did not take advantage of me while inebriated to flash you in your very kitchen."

"Ok, yeah, for that you get all three versions."

"Three?"

"There's the official version, the real version and the very secret real version."

"Ooh, a mystery. Exciting."

"The official version is that I lost it my first year when I accidentally dropped it in a Chinese Fireball."

"In a Chinese Fireball?"

"Yeah, in. It's a great story, total bullshit, but a great story. The real version is that Fred and George visited and they borrowed it and ruined it with one of their experiments. See, the official version is enough of a shit story the keepers know I'm hiding something but plausible enough the boss buys it. And the second version is enough of a story that I would want to hide so the keepers believe it." He paused. "Ok, before I tell you the real story I'm gonna need a secret in trade."

"Oh my." She made the motion as if she was fanning herself. "Keeper Weasley, I'm not sure if I'm ready for this. It's all so sudden." She kept his gaze for a moment before laughing. "I do apologize, it's those dreadful keeper novels. This is like something out of..."

"Lust's Crimson Wings?"

"Merlin's pants! You've read them!"

He held up a hand and pointed a finger at her. "A secret first, then you'll find out."

"Fine." She shrugged her shoulders. "The Minister for Magic is sleeping with his assistant."

"Shacklebolt is sleeping with his assistant? Really? What's the assistant's name?"

"Wilbur."

"I...wow. No clue." He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, then continued. "Then again, like I'd know anything over here. Ok, I guess that's sort of big enough for this..."

"Charles. I just told you a secret about the British Minister for Magic. How could your secret about your keeper manual possibly be bigger than that?"

"Oooh, proper name. All right, Daphne. The really real reason I don't have my manual is that I gave it to the author of those dragon keeper novels to use as a resource. For a small cut of the profits. I also proofread the books and make things slightly off, so nobody can tell they were..."

"You've met him?" Daphne looked at him in wonder and excitement. "Stori and I love those books, they're so awful and wonderful. What's A. Emery Shonewile..."

"Stop it, you're having me on."

"Absolutely not."

"Well, the name's fake."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Obviously."

"And it's not a man, it's a family member, though. I couldn't give that manual to a complete stranger; there's stuff in there that..."

Daphne waved him off. "Hold on, I almost have it...ah. Of course. Hermione."

"What? How'd you do that?"

"Anagram of Hermione Weasley. It's not that difficult."

He stared at her for a bit. "Are you sure you weren't in Ravenclaw?"

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or to be offended, so instead I'll ask you if she writes that way on purpose."

"Yeah." He nodded. "She writes a regular version and then makes it all, uh, that way."

Daphne nodded, processing everything. After a few moments she walked over to him and stood in front of him. She looked up, into the blue eyes set in the weather-beaten, freckled face and the beard showing bits of white. This was a face she wanted to see many more times, if the feeling in her stomach was any indication. "So if I may sum up everything; the protections are in place, you could get rid of them with your passphrase but that's in your manual that Hermione has in England, we do have food thanks to your friend who will require payment in alcohol because your mum traumatised you as a child with shopping, the protections will disappear in ten days..."

"Nine actually, I think."

"Nine days." She tilted her head at him. "You are quite the interrupter."

"Family of seven. Kind of have to every now and then. Sorry."

"Right. Until then we're here and will remain so until the Romanian Valentine's Day, which is called..." She paused and looked at him.

"I didn't want to interrupt."

"Cheeky. The holiday name?"

"Dragobete."

"I suppose I'll have to learn about that holiday." She looked at him. "Anything else?"

"Yes." He reached forward, pulled her close to him and picked her up by the waist. "The heat's off and we can't light a fire, so we'll need to keep warm somehow. Since we'll be here for nine or ten days, give or take, I'll need to send a Patronus or two. I think I need some more Patronus-quality memories."

Instead of replying she kissed him.

They ignored the next two Patronus messages, but when Charlie's Patronus made its next appearance, two days later, it was very, very bright and defined.

A/N: This story was written for the Teachers' Lounge 2014 Valentines Promptfest. Please leave a review, and check out the other stories, which are listed at topic/119413/104638777/1/2014-Valentines-s-Promptfest-story-list