A/N: I thought Charlie could use a little fanfic lovin', since for the most part everyone ignores him. Sorry about how short the chapter is...

Disclaimer: I am naught but a poor high school student with too much time on her hands...don't sue me. If it sounds familiar, it's not mine.

There was nothing he could have done.

There were certain risks associated with this job, everyone knew that. When you were working in close proximity to something as lethal and unpredictable as a dragon, well, you had to know what could happen.

He could still see the beast charging him, feel its hot, rancid breath on his face, feel the agony of the dragon's claws shredding his leg…It had been one of his favorite dragons, a massive male Opaleye with only half a left ear and a red spot on its throat. Dragon A379, affectionately known as Albert. The dragon that ended his career as a Dragon Keeper.

Charlie winced and gingerly sat up in his bed. He had been stuck in the Infirmary for two weeks so far, while an overworked Healer poured foul-smelling potions down his throat and frowned at his leg. The cuts had been deep and had gotten infected, as injuries caused by dragons are wont to do, so now his left leg looked more like a Christmas decoration—a lovely combination of red and green—than a limb. His friends, other Keepers who wore the telltale scars and burns of people who work closely with dragons, had visited him in the first few days after his accident. After a week, the stream of visitors had been reduced to more of a trickle, and it had been four days since anyone besides the Healer had been to see him. They had told him how lucky he was that the brute hadn't used fire, or that he should be grateful that it only got one leg before they had managed to stun it. But, oddly enough, Charlie didn't feel lucky or grateful. He felt betrayed. A dragon who had been familiar with him, maybe even friendly, had turned on him and had stolen his dream with a few swiped of its claws. He knew it was stupid to feel this way—dragons were never friendly with humans, no matter what Hagrid might have thought. But there was almost no chance of ever going back to work as a Keeper. Even if he escaped having a limp for the rest of his life, his leg wouldn't be able to maneuver with the speed and strength that was required for handling dragons.

Charlie sighed and stared moodily at his heavily bandaged leg. If he was lucky, he would get reassigned, probably filing papers at the godforsaken Sanctuary Administration Building. He would be miserable, but at least he would have a job and he could sneak out to see his dragons whenever he had the time. If he was unlucky, they would quietly dismiss him and he would wind up penniless and living with his parents again.

The arrival of the overworked Healer to check his bandages brought him out of his reverie. She was young, extremely thin, and even more harried-looking than usual.

"Dragons have been restless," she said in explanation of her stained robes and the dark circles under her eyes. Charlie nodded knowingly. When the dragons were restless, people got burned, bitten, and clawed. There had definitely been an influx of patients in the last few days.

"So, erm….have you heard from your family lately?" the Healer inquired awkwardly as she gently peeled back the gauze on his leg. Charlie watched her carefully study the wounds, frown yet again, and make a note on the chart she carried before replying.

"Yeah. My mum's been worried sick…I think she writes about three times a day, but only sends the letters once a week because the owl had trouble with the cold. She'd send me a Howler for sure if I didn't write her just as many times." The Healer poured a deep purple liquid into a glass, added three drops of a fluorescent green potion, and stireed the mixture gently as he talked.

"Not that there's much to write about. 'Dear Mum, drank all my potions and didn't swear at the Healer when she put that stinging stuff on my leg,' that sort of thing," he continued.

The witch smiled tensely and made another mark on her chart.

"Your leg is still not healing as fast as I'd like, but it's finally showing some improvement. You might be able to get out of here as soon as next Thursday, if you're lucky," she said quickly, before running off to tend to a man who looked like he'd had half his face burned off.

Charlie collapsed against the pillows, resigned to another week of boredom and idleness. He had come all the way from Ottery St. Catchpole to the Carpathian Mountains of Romania to work with the dragons at the Carpathian International Dragon Sanctuary, not to sit in bed. He had been fascinated with the graceful and deadly creatures ever since he had first seen a drawing of a Welsh Green in one of his brother Bill's picture books at the age of six. The dragons entranced him…how impossible it seemed that something that large could fly, that a living creature could breathe fire…All he had ever wanted to do was to live among these majestic, terrifying creatures.

He sighed again and reached for the heavy leather-bound book on his nightstand. Well, he had lived his dream for three years. He had known that it was highly probable that he would be horribly injured at some point on the job, but he had thought that it would be when he was getting older and losing his dexterity and reaction time. Three years had not been enough to satisfy his need to be with the dragons. But then again, he thought as he opened "Men Who Love Dragons Too Much" to page 67, he would never be able to satisfy that need. The dragons were as much a part of him as having red hair and six siblings was.

There you have it. Please REVIEW. It's not that hard...just click the button, type something, and you've made my day!