Misfits
He walked into his little house, knocked the mud from his boots and vanished it quickly with his wand. It was a habit, ingrained in him as soon as he could wield a wand by his mum, and over the years he was thankful for her drilling it into his head. He stuck the wand in his dragonhide coat on the sleeve in the little pocket as he sat down, procedure out in the field but, like the vanishing of the mud, a habit that came in useful. He always knew where his wand was, a must in a profession like his. Too many rookies had forgotten that and had ended up in the hospital ward. As he took off his boots he let them drop loudly on the floor, and before he stood up he lined the boots up heel to heel and slid them under the bench.
After making his way into the little kitchen Charlie began rummaging around in the cupboards, trying to decide what to make for supper. There wasn't much. He'd forgotten to send in the order to the village along with the company cook; breakfast and lunch were provided on the preserve but the evening meal was their own responsibility, and it wasn't his fault he'd forgotten, exactly. Moira, the Welsh Green, was close to laying her egg and wasn't cooperating with the junior keepers very well. He'd assigned the juniors to her, as Moira was usually quite cooperative, but pregnant dragons were unpredictable even at the best of times. Still, they should have been able to handle her, but work was work and if it wasn't challenging then it would be boring. He hated boring.
As he stood there, looking inside his refrigerator and stared at the one egg in the container he corrected himself; life on the Romanian Dragon Reserve could be boring, and if he thought about it, his life was rather boring at times. Boring interspersed with moments of extreme non-boring. Merlin knows the paperwork was boring. According to the letters from his family, once he'd sifted through the usual 'dragon's are dangerous' bits, he lived the most boring life of all the Weasleys, Percy included. As his mum never failed to remind him, Percy was married with two beautiful little daughters, not to mention all of the other Weasley grandchildren.
Thinking of his mum's letters, with their not-so-veiled intentions of setting him up with someone, made him close the door on his charmed cooling box and realize that he needed a drink, especially after her last letter. In not so many words she'd indicated that one of the Ministry officials in his Dad's office had a wonderful son who wasn't seeing anyone. It was bad enough when his mum tried to set him up with witches, but now she'd given up on that and was trying for wizards? He needed a drink.
-ooo-
She watched as they walked into the restaurant, if it could actually be called something approaching a restaurant. In her mind it was nothing more than a glorified pub, worse than what the Hog's Head was on it's worst day. And that was saying something. Still, at least they were a diversion, the obviously puffed-up little twats from the Romanian Department of International Cooperation. A working dinner, her boss said, would set them at ease, make the new regulations go down a bit smoother. She'd been given extra Galleons for alcohol to ensure that. Idiots.
It was at times like this, sitting in a little backwater hovel while the uncultured yokels came in wearing horrid dragonhide clothing and boots that she wondered how she had ever ended up in situations such as these. They'd brought her on to the department because she had shown promise on the entry interviews and examinations. Over the years her abilities to handle delicate negotiations, hosting meetings with important delegates from foreign countries and putting them at ease, had pushed her towards the top of her department. The fact that she never failed to obtain the agreement the department desired, sometimes more in their favour, didn't hurt, either.
Still, she knew the moment she was able to return back to London she would have to have her house elf clean her robes and shoes multiple times to get rid of the the smell of dragon dung; it was absolutely everywhere in the damn restaurant.
"Ah, so good to finally meet you after all of the owls." A large man with a bushy mustache, at least three her age, took her hand and kissed it. "You do us honor coming to handle such little things. We do not usually see someone of your stature here in our little village."
She gave him a practiced smile, ignoring the way his eyes roamed over her cleavage. "It is a pleasure." After letting him hold on to her hand for a moment longer than was proper she nodded towards the empty seat next to her. "If you would be so kind, I would have ordered a bottle of wine but I defer to your judgment. Perhaps a local vintage?"
As the man flagged down a waiter and the other two members of the Romanian delegation were seated she nodded to the other two members of the British International Relations negotiating party, inwardly laughing as the junior member pulled out the parchment. It was going to be easy, perhaps the easiest agreement she'd handled, and if everything went as she thought perhaps she'd be able to save the remained of the alcohol budget and spend it on herself. Merlin knows nobody else would.
-ooo-
Charlie shook out his arms after Apparating, as even all these years after receiving his license he was still a bit nervous about splinching. He knew he shouldn't have worried, as after all he'd been Apparating down to The Bat and Dragon for years. With a resigned frame of mind he entered the place, as he knew that he'd get a somewhat decent meal, have a few too many drinks and have to listen to all of the amateur dragon keeping crap from the bartender. Sure, Grigore was a decent sort, older than dirt, but he'd never passed the tests to become an actual dragon keeper but was a self-professed 'expert.' Worst case scenario he'd listen long enough to get a free drink out of the deal.
As he made his way over to the bar he noticed old Valeriu at a table with some people, which didn't make him happy. The old man had been out at the Reserve often enough, as he was the Romanian official in charge of the reserve on a political level, but for Charlie the man was about as effective as gnome on a broom. He checked that; knowing Valeriu it would have to be a drunken gnome.
"Ah, Keeper Nevăstuică! What can I do for you tonight?"
Charlie inwardly cringed but kept his face calm. He was always keeper 'weasel' to the old man, even though he'd tried to correct him. He'd tried teaching him how to say 'Weasley' but had given up after two years. "Stufat de miel. And two beers."
"For you, no problem." Grigore smiled. He raised a finger and then leaned across the bar. "I heard about the Green. Music will help, I think. Heard the others in here, they say she's close to laying. Music." With a smile he stood up. "You think on it."
"Right." Charlie nodded. "Music." As the man walked away all he could think was 'idiot.'
The beer came first and after the day he'd had Charlie downed about a third of it in one drink and was happy that the place wasn't too full. He never liked sitting between people at the bar, one of the reasons he always chose the end. Over the years he realized that growing up in The Burrow, with everybody on top of one another all the time, he relished having personal space.
Personal space. As he took another drink of beer he realized that was what had driven most of them off at one time or another. Well, after Tonks, anyway. That was something altogether different, as he was heading to Romania and she was going into the Auror program. Their lives were just moving in different directions, even before the geographic distance. The others? Tatiana wanted to move in with him after three dates. Natasha was always after him to open up more, to talk, but sometimes a man just wanted peace and quiet. She never understood that, although in his mind she should; she had four siblings, she should have known how hard peace and quiet was to come by in a large family. Siobhan, the Irish keeper out at the reserve was a giant mistake. She was the only one he'd written to Bill about, all the others were simply 'I'm seeing someone.' He actually told Bill about her, but after two years he supposed he had to tell his family something. They were together when Ginny married Harry, not to mention when Ron married Hermione, and she'd been furious at him for not taking her. He'd tried to explain what would have happened, how his mum would have had them married off almost immediately, but it didn't work for Siobhan. She didn't understand. Working with her after they'd broken up was an exercise in painful reminders.
"Stufat de miel." Grigore sat the bowl down in front of him. "Another beer?"
Charlie leaned over and smelled the lamb stew. "Smells great. Sure, beer'd be great. Oh, and Grigore? Thanks on the music, we might give that a try."
The man waved his hand at Charlie. "You can learn much from me, if you would just listen. Beer is on the house."
"Thanks." Charlie picked up the spoon. Grigore was full of himself in regards to dragons, but the food was good. And you can't beat free beer.
-ooo-
'Décolletage can only get you so far' she thought as Valeriu shook his head yet again regarding the new agreements. It wasn't unreasonable, after all; there were fewer dragons from the British Isles in the Reserve, as the populations were dwindling due to the Muggles' encroachment on the breeding areas. It was only reasonable that the funds going into the Reserve should reflect that reality. A decrease in funding was only fair, as it was only fair for China to pay more for the amount of Fireballs that now resided in Reserve. Valeriu obviously didn't agree.
Her hopes of pocketing the alcohol Galleons had disappeared into the night, as the fourth bottle was delivered to the table. Of course the ponce had picked the expensive wine, as he assumed, rightly, that the British delegation would fund the dinner. Along with the wine her hopes of actually wrapping everything up that evening had rapidly disappeared. She knew that she was stuck for at least another day in this Merlin-forsaken country. Why couldn't the Reserve be in France?
It was while dreaming of France, of the rolling countryside that she loved, that Valeriu put his hand on her knee under the table. Once she'd completed the steadying breaths she smiled at him, but her eyes told a different story as she crossed her legs, angling away from him and more importantly keeping his hands off of her. She hadn't experienced such a blatant move in years, and the cutting remarks from when she first began at the Ministry flooded back to her.
She was in Slytherin, you know. They'll do anything to seal a deal, and I mean anything. Probably poison you in the morning. Bet she'd be a good shag, though. Nah, probably not. Bit of a cold fish, if you ask me.
Luckily the other Romanian delegates noticed Valeriu's inebriation and hastily finished up their wine. As they removed the old man from the table the underlings quickly scheduled another meeting for the following day, this time out at the Reserve. Brilliant. Just what she wanted, a day of traipsing around in dragon dung. Hopefully if Valeriu couldn't keep his hands to himself one of the dragons would eat him.
-ooo-
As Charlie opened his eyes he realized it was Martinez. Why the hell was the Mexican Keeper banging on his door, didn't the pillock know it was his day off? After blinking his eyes a few times he threw the covers off with irritation, picked up his t-shirt from the day before and put it on as he walked to the door. After scratching his beard for a moment he opened the door.
"What the bloody hell do you want? Day off."
The Junior Keeper nodded. "Si, I know, but the boss wants you to do a tour. Big VIPs. They'll be here in an hour."
"Fuck you, amigo, I'm going back to sleep." Charlie started to close the door and walk away.
"No, not today." Martinez put his foot in the doorway, preventing it from closing. "Boss said he'll give you double pay for the day."
Charlie opened the door. "Don't care, don't have anything to spend it on anyway. Tell you what, you tell him that if the kitchen elves stock my cupboards I'll do it."
"Forget again, eh?"
"Shut up." Charlie closed the door hard, forcing Martinez to move his foot. After he heard the Keeper walk away laughing he went in and took a shower, using the special soap that his brother George always sent. The Keepers swore by it, as it knocked down the dragon dung smell for at least four hours. After exiting the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist Charlie took a look in the mirror and shook his head because if she could see him now his mum would have a fit, even as old as he was. His hair could stand a trim, but out on the Reserve nobody really cared. Usually the boss had one of the female keepers do the VIP trick hippogriff tour, as the 'sexy dragon keeper lady' thing was still alive and well in public opinion. He'd read the books, and they were horrible, but that was the image in everyone's head.
As he stood in front of his closet Charlie looked through and tried to decide what he should wear if he was doing his official 'Tour Guide' role. It was one part of the job he hated, dragging people around the Reserve, answering the usual questions and putting on his 'nice' face. Hopefully the damn thing wouldn't last too long, since it was his day off. Not that he had any great plans, just some reading. But most of all he wanted the quiet. No wireless, just the small tick of the clock, the occasional bird call outside; after all those years in his little cabin he had grown comfortable with silence. Eventually after deciding on his best set of dragonhide trousers, boots and jacket, Charlie put his wand in the proper spot and set off to the Administration building with an eye to the sky; rain was imminent. Brilliant.
It was a nice surprise that as soon as he walked into the little reception area that he heard English. It wasn't often that the language was heard, as most of the tours were from the other countries that utilized the Reserve, mostly Chinese. He'd tried to learn that language but trying to teach Cornish Pixies how to recite poetry was probably a more likely outcome than his mastering that language. French, Spanish and Italian were much easier, and of course he'd picked up Romanian, kind of hard not to, but giving a tour in English was going to be much easier. He nodded to Negrescu, his boss, as the man spoke to a tall, spindly wizard in British Ministry robes that reminded him of his brother Percy.
"Ah, here is our Senior Keeper. Charles Weasley, perhaps you know him?" Negrescu smiled. "This is Mr. Thompson of the International Relations department."
Charlie shook hands with the kid, because that's what he was; a kid. He couldn't have been more than a year or two out of Hogwarts. Mentally he realized he was in for a long day, because there was nothing more fun than playing Dragon 101 to some wet behind the ears government official. "Nice to meet you. You in charge of today's little excursion?"
"No." The kid shook his head. "You're...wow, you're really him."
Charlie gave Negrescu a quick glance and his boss raised an eyebrow as if to say 'sorry.' "I guess so, I'm me. So what's the agenda today, since nobody told me anything."
Negrescu came up quickly and put his arm around Charlie. "It seems there is a bit of a disagreement regarding the Romanian government and the British about funding. Valeriu and his staff will be here soon."
Instead of cursing, like he wanted to, Charlie just nodded.
"Sorry to be rude..." Thompson looked embarrassed. "...but I was in Ted Lupin's year at Hogwarts. You're really Charlie Weasley, right?"
It clicked for Charlie, as it wasn't impressive to the kid that he was a dragon keeper, instead the kid knew all about his family and Harry Potter and that horrible battle at Hogwarts. "Yeah, that's me. What's the matter, didn't recognize me? Going a bit grey these days, but you wait until you've been out of Hogwarts for over twenty years."
"It's the beard." The kid shrugged. "You don't have one in the pictures."
"Got tired of shaving." Charlie looked at his watch and then over to Valeriu. "How long until we can get this started? You know what, I'm leading this, so nobody's going anywhere until I have some coffee." He looked at the kid. "Tea? Coffee?" Thompson shook his head so Charlie turned to his boss. "Unless they want to do it by themselves they'll just have to wait. I need coffee."
As he made his way into the room that everyone used as the break room Charlie saw a woman sitting in one of the chairs next to the window. That didn't improve his mood, as taking women dressed like that on a tour of the Reserve usually meant doing so many clothes preservation charms that it extended the tour by at least an hour. The bad mood was further compounded by the fact that whoever had coffee before him had left just enough in the pot to maybe give him two swallows.
"Bloody morons." Charlie waved over the coffee can. "Who the hell leaves that much coffee?"
"I apologize." The woman in the chair turned to him. "I would have made more but did not know where the supplies were kept." After a sardonic smile she raised her coffee cup. "And don't all Weasleys drink tea?"
Charlie studied her for a moment and then remembered that she'd been at the Bat and Dragon the night before. He'd thought her attractive in that old, proper society way. He also knew that she'd probably throw a fit about being out on the tour. She obviously knew who he was, but that wasn't surprising, since her accent reeked of posh London. He waved the empty pot slightly. "Not this one. So how's the last of the pot? They probably made it last night."
"Strong." She took a sip. "Delicious."
With a grumble he started making a second pot, making sure to use Dimitri's coffee. The old Keeper was a pain in the ass, especially since he'd been passed over for promotion nigh on three decades, but he did buy good coffee. As the wonderful sound and smell of coffee brewing filled the break room Charlie went over to the woman. "Charlie Weasley, obviously, but I don't think we've ever met."
"I don't suppose we would have met. I attended Hogwarts much later than you, and I was certainly not in Gryffindor."
"Right. I'm not good at ages or playing guessing games..."
She straightened her shoulders slightly. "I was in your brother's year. Your youngest brother."
The boxes started to check off in Charlie's brain. In Ron's class, not a Gryffindor. That meant she had to be around her early thirties. As he began to wonder what house she was in he watched her adjust her hair, blatantly letting her robe fall down to her elbows and exposing an unblemished left arm.
"I thought you'd ask about that immediately. Tsk tsk." She shook her head. "Yes, I was in Slytherin. What of it?"
"Listen, lady, I don't care what house you were in. I need coffee, you drank the last of the pot, I've got to play 'happy keeper' with you and Valeriu because you two are arguing about something and it's my bloody day off. The last battle was over ten years ago, get over it. You want to play Slytherin games? Fine with me. Be my guest. But when we're out there, and the dragons are close? All I care is that you do exactly what I say so we can get this over as fast as possible." He walked away and went to the coffee pot, stuck a cup underneath and let it fill with the dark, fragrant liquid.
A moment later she stood next to him. "I apologize for my behaviour. Old habits. Daphne Greengrass. A pleasure to meet you, Keeper Weasley."
He turned from the coffee pot to see her, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Greengrass."
"Oh no, not Mrs. Ms. Greengrass, please."
"Ok. Old habits, huh?"
"Yes." She nodded and took a hold of her coffee cup with both hands. "When someone such as yourself learns of my house, and when I attended Hogwarts...most are not very forgiving, even after all these years. That includes my former housemates."
Charlie took a sip of coffee, savoring the taste. "Damn war's been over forever but some people can't let go."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "A most interesting observation, especially from a Weasley."
"We're not all the same, you know."
"Obviously." She glanced around the room. "I cannot imagine your family over here, especially with all of their children."
He shrugged. "You'd be surprised." After another sip of coffee he sat on the back of an old, stuffed chair. "So what was that about your old Slytherin housemates? You're not their favourite person, then?"
"Hardly." She held out her coffee cup. After Charlie took it, filled it with coffee and handed it back to her she didn't drink it; instead she warmed her hands. "Being sorted into Slytherin does not immediately make one a Death Eater or one of their sympathizers, obviously, but to most of the world that is simply a known fact. My family did not align themselves one way or the other. As my sister and I did not openly declare for Voldemort the Slytherins did not trust us."
"And since you were in Slytherin everybody else didn't trust you." Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Bunch of morons."
"Quite." She blew over the surface of the coffee, cooling it slightly and then took a sip. "Learning who to trust, learning to read those subtle cues has helped in my career."
"Politics." Charlie shook his head. "You can have it. I'll stick to dragons, they don't give a shit whether you've filled out the parchment in triplicate." He shrugged. "Sorry about the cursing."
"I've heard much worse. Remember, I attended Hogwarts with..."
"Ron, yeah." Charlie chuckled. "Me an' Bill taught him all the curse words when he was little. Got him in a lot of trouble."
"He managed that quite well for himself, along with his wife and Potter." She looked at him for a moment. "So why Romania? The rest of your family is off leading the new wave of the Ministry, leading lights of the new wizarding world, populating future Hogwarts classes with all their offspring, not to mention that joke shop..."
Charlie shook his head. "That's not me. Guess I'm the odd one in the family." He turned his head, as he recognized that idiot Valeriu's voice. "Drink up, they're here. Time to go play with dragons, Ms. Greengrass."
-ooo-
She stood next to the indicated spot as Weasley quickly disabled the ward. He had explained that it was a very negligible ward, simply one that gave the dragons a slight shock. They had been trained initially with a very strong ward to keep them in the designated enclosures, but after the dragons were accustomed to the location of the ward the strength was decreased to simply remind them of it's location. Mentally she chastised herself for being so stroppy with Weasley, as he could be a valuable ally with the negotiations with Valeriu. She'd read his file in the pre-visit briefing, of course, but never imagined that she would be out at the Reserve as the hope had been that the business would have been conducted briskly with the old man at the restaurant.
As Weasley indicated for them to enter the enclosure she looked off into the distance as a large green dragon with two enormous, gold horns lay sleeping near a tree. Her research team had provided her with the precise counts of all the dragons at the Reserve, specifially the number of British dragons, but she knew that the specimen off in the distance was a Romanian Longhorn, one of the native breeds.
"Stay close, everyone." Weasley motioned for them to follow. "Bertha is an old girl, she isn't fussed about much, but she can still be a handful."
As they followed she heard Thompson and Valeriu discussing the specific numbers of Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks. The Greens outnumbered the Blacks five to one because of the sheer amount of space required by the Blacks. Valeriu was insistent that even though the number of Blacks was much smaller than the Greens the funds required to house the Blacks offset the numbers. It was the position he'd held previously, and a possible sticking point to their negotiations.
"Watch your step." Weasley took her arm, preventing her from moving forward.
She looked down and saw entrails from some previous dragon meal. "Oh."
"Yeah, Bertha's a messy eater these days. We'll move her later today and one of the young ones will finish up. Good thing you're not wearing leather, she'd think you were a cow."
"I don't wear leather." She stepped away from him and carefully made her way around the smelly pile of guts.
"Bet you don't." Without another word he moved away and led them to a spot closer to the dragon but still in the safe zone.
As he began his talk about the Longhorn, detailing their breeding program, how their numbers were initially depleted due to the magical properties of the gold horns, how they'd brought it back from the endangered list, Daphne studied the Keeper. He wasn't what she usually found attractive, as he was rather rough and tumble. There were none of the refined mannerisms of the men she usually found intriguing. Unwittingly she found herself thinking of those rubbish Dragon Keeper novels that were quite popular. They were lurid pieces of writing, filled with absurd tales of romance and eye-rolling battles with dragons, but they were one of her guilty pleasures. Many a night, after returning home from the Ministry and the endless parchment that piled on her desk, she had retreated to her bedroom with one of the novels and read until the wee hours. The reality of a dragon reserve compared to the fiction was quite humorous. If the books were any indication the Longhorn in front of them would cause horrible carnage and after the danger was abated the end result would involve robe-ripping bedroom escapades.
The dragon did nothing of the sort. It laid there, sleeping, and didn't move.
"Fascinating, Ms. Greengrass, are they not?" Valeriu stood next to her, smiling. "Not quite what you expected?"
"I've done my research, sir." She nodded quickly, returning herself to her task. "Perhaps we could see some British dragons? That is why we are here, after all."
"Of course, of course!" He broadly, as her comment went over his head. "Weasley! Let us see some of your native dragons."
Weasley shook his head. "I'm not messing with the Blacks, it's mating season. Greens are off in the north enclosure, only way in 's by broom and I'm not taking any tourists."
"Ah." Valeriu raised a finger. "But there is one about to lay, no?" He turned to her. "A sight for you, seeing a mother dragon in her nest. Come, we will go."
She watched as Weasley didn't bother to mask his irritation with the old man but he acquiesced.
-ooo-
All Charlie could think was if it wasn't for the fact that he was dependent on Valeriu and the Romanian government for most of the funding at the Reserve he'd tell the old man where he could stick his wand. Taking tourists to see Moira while on her clutch? Madness. And then there was that Greengrass woman; definitely not the usual Slytherin. It made sense why she was in politics, all that Slytherin scheming and plots-within-plots they were so well known for, but apparently she wasn't one of those types of Slytherins, the ones that Ron still cursed every time they were at The Burrow. It probably didn't hurt that she wasn't hard on the eyes, too.
As they got closer to the hatchery Charlie banished all thoughts of Greengrass and fell into Keeper mode almost by instinct. Moira would be agitated that they'd brought a tour, she'd know that the other people didn't smell right and would be on her guard. Messing with a dragon on a clutch was bad enough, but get her agitated and it could be a disaster.
"Right." He stopped before they crossed the ward line and slipped out his wand. "My word is law here. Don't care if you're the bleeding Minister for Magic or Merlin himself, you will do exactly as I say. One step wrong and you'll have an angry mum ready to tear you limb from limb. You lot together aren't worth that and it'd be a mess of paperwork and inquiries, not to mention the damage you'd do to all the time we've spent with Moira. Got it?" He waited until everyone agreed. "Right. Ten meters behind me, no sudden moves and for the love of Godric keep your wands stowed."
He disabled the ward and took a tentative step into the tall grass. Moira sat on her nest made of uprooted trees, rocks and the dirt that made up her home for the unhatched dragon. As he walked slowly towards her she lifted her head, exhaled smoke out of her nostrils and stared at them.
"Stop." He held up a hand. "No closer."
"Weasley, perhaps..."
"Shut up, Valeriu." Charlie slowly turned to glare at the old man.
The sound drew everyone's attention. Moira lifted her bulk slowly, revealing the glittering egg half-hidden under her abdomen. As her wings unfurled more smoke began pouring out of her nostrils.
"That's it." Charlie began backing away slowly. "Just take it easy, all of you. Back behind the ward line. She's not having it." A few paces later, seeing the marker stones with their worn, etched runes, he waved his wand and uttered a few words in Romanian, snapping the wards back in place. "There. Now just stand still and wait."
Every eye turned to the Welsh Green, waiting to see what would happen. Eventually, as they were far enough away, Moira folded her wings, bathed her egg in fire, and then settled down again. She never took her eyes off of them.
As they began the long trek back to the Administration building, probably for more negotiations Charlie fell into the routine of the Keeper's walk, verifying the ward stones were active, scanning the sky over the mountains for signs of the Blacks and noting the size of the cattle herd over on the south pasture. He was too wrapped up in the routine to notice that he wasn't walking by himself.
"That little display was rather unnecessary, wasn't it?" Greengrass walked alongside, her dark hair somewhat damp against the mist that hadn't ceased during the tour. "As if we don't know that a mother dragon would be protective of her young."
Charlie looked behind for a moment, then turned back to her when he was sure that Valeriu was out of earshot. "He's a bloody idiot. Politicians all are, the lot of them."
"I'm a politician."
"Sorry, didn't mean any harm. It's just...this place is a giant Galleon pit unless they want to show off. They've been trying to decrease funds ever since...shit. Probably shouldn't have said that. Ignore me. I'm just a Keeper."
"I don't think so." She gave him an appraising glance. "I will omit your statement regarding funding in our negotiations, but I don't believe that you are just a Dragon Keeper, Mr. Weasley. I understand you've published several articles regarding dragon behaviour that have been widely circulated amongst the dragon community."
"You've read them?"
"No, I have not, as they were not germane to my position. But it was noted in your file."
"So I've got a file, eh?" He rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. What else did your file say?"
"Not much, actually. You keep a rather low profile compared to the rest of your family."
"Good." Charlie walked on for a bit but then turned to her. "And what about you? What's your file say?"
She stopped, bent down and picked up a stick. A moment later she lifted a transfigured umbrella against the mist. "Oh, the usual. Slytherin house, a small posting after Hogwarts as they were not sure about my loyalties, a wizarding oath later to verify that I wasn't a hidden Death Eater supporter. Additional oaths required after my younger sister briefly married Draco Malfoy and had a son. Once they had divorced, of course, some of the old Slytherin types had yet another reason not to trust me. Moving my way up in the department, negotiating treaties and agreements with other magical governments. The usual."
"Yeah, the usual." He kept walking and noticed that even at his rather brisk speed she kept pace. "So you don't really fit anywhere, eh? I can relate."
"How so? I have been told on numerous occasions that you were a rather impressive Quidditch player. You could have even turned professional, if the stories are to be believed."
"Ehhh." He waved her off. "Quidditch was fun, but nothing compares to dragons. Very unpredictable, even if you've been working with them for years."
"You seemed to know what Moira was going to do."
"That's because you don't mess with a mummy dragon on her clutch. Doesn't matter if you've been around her forever, put her in that situation and the rule book goes out the window. She just reacts, doesn't think of what's normal, she does what's best for her."
"And her egg."
"Yeah." He nodded. "Especially that."
She moved the umbrella over, lifting it higher, so that it covered both of them.
-ooo-
Four months later
Daphne sat outside of the cafe, sipped her cappuccino and waited. She was early, as always, but since she was in the bright Parisian sunshine waiting was not something to endure but to savor.
"Daph!" Tracey lifted up her hand a few tables away and then quickly took a seat next to her friend. "There you are. I was worried I'd have to wait for you like always." She sat her sunglasses on the table. "I thought it might be a trick, you owling me to go shopping in Paris. Coming over for the food, or the wine, that didn't surprise me, but shopping?"
"I needed some new things." Daphne motioned to a waiter. After he took Tracey's order she began their usual conversation. "And how are the children?"
"Growing like gillyweed and messy as ever. If Hamish was ever home it would help."
"You were the one who married a Quidditch player. You should have known."
"Oh, I know. Mum never fails to mention it. Not a proper husband for someone 'like us.' I think she may die of mortification."
"Not to mention your name. So common." Daphne smirked at her.
"Please, I get enough of that. Going from Davis to Bruce didn't help, obviously. 'Why couldn't you settle down with a nice, pureblood boy from Slytherin?' Stun me." She took the espresso from the waiter. "So, if what your sister said is to be believed, you're seeing someone. That wouldn't be the reason why we're here, are we? French lingerie?"
A sly smile crept across Daphne's face. "Perhaps. Amongst other things."
"What, the fancy knickers or the man? Please, give me something, Daph. If I have to read Babbity Rabbity one more time I'll go mental."
"If I tell you then you mustn't say a word, not to anyone, especially my sister. I doubt she would understand."
"When was the last time you spoke to Astoria? She's not the meek little thing who married Malfoy, of all people. Not anymore. So? How long?"
"Only a few months. Our schedules don't agree very often, so we make the best of what time we can."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, this isn't one of your negotiations. Stop holding your cards so closely. What's he like? And who the bloody hell is it? Anyone I know?"
"Well..." Daphne took a sip of her cappuccino. "He's older than us. Eight years, to be precise. And he attended Hogwarts."
"Hmmm..." Tracey tapped her fingernails on the table. "A Slytherin eight years older..."
"Oh no, not Slytherin. Gryffindor."
"You're kidding." Tracey chuckled. "Your father would come unglued."
"He would, if I bothered to tell him. I'm over thirty, I have made it this long without..."
"Oh who cares about your father, what's his name? What's he do?"
Daphne paused. This was the moment that they had both dreaded. In the small hours of the morning, when she lay in his embrace, they had discussed what would happen when they revealed their relationship to the world. At first they had been rather tentative around each other, as she had found 'additional reasons' to visit the Reserve. The attraction between them was almost palpable to her, but she could not fathom if he returned her interest. Eventually, one late afternoon when she had 'accidentally' missed her portkey, he took her to dinner at that horrible Bat and Dragon restaurant. It was there, over a passable meal and awful tasting beer, that they talked long into the night. They were not so different, the two of them. Of course, there were the obvious differences, as she worked in the rarefied air of international politics and he the more down-to-earth world of dragons, but they were both somewhat out-of-step with what the world believed that should be. To most of the wizarding world she was nothing more than her house, a Slytherin woman who would manipulate and use her body to obtain what she wanted, leaving men in her wake. He was a Weasley, one of that newly-illustrious family born to set the tone for the world in the wake of Potter's victory, marrying young and fathering scads of ginger-haired children. They both rejected their expected roles, and had found someone that understood. It was still new for them, the understanding, and it worried her that it would not withstand the scrutiny.
She swallowed and looked Tracey directly in the eyes. "He's a dragon keeper."
"What?" Tracey leaned forward. "Merlin's beard, are you joking? It's like one of those nasty novels! How'd you meet him, one of your work things?"
"Precisely. I met him in Romania."
Tracey wrinkled up her nose. "What about the smell?"
"Not an issue, there are ways of dealing with that." She hesitated. "His name is Charles Weasley."
After blinking a few times Tracey shook her head. "Right. You're dating a Weasley? Good one, you almost had me. I really believed you. So what's the real deal?"
Daphne looked at her watch. "He'll be here in a few hours, if you'd like to wait. I thought we could do some shopping before that."
"You're not kidding, are you?" Tracey sat back in shock. "You really are dating a Weasley?"
"Yes." Daphne reached into her robe and pulled out a photo. "This was taken last week."
Tracey took the photograph and couldn't believe her eyes. There, in front of a newly-hatched dragon, was a bearded man in dragonhide leathers. He wasn't tall, rather stocky if she was honest, and as she watched as he picked up a scrap of meat and tossed it to the little dragon. "How old is he?"
"Just turned forty." Daphne took a sip. "Not all of us marry right out of Hogwarts, you know."
"That's because you're an odd duck." Tracey winked at her, as it was a name she had teased Daphne about for years. "Is it true what they say about dragon keepers?"
"Those novels are an unrealistic fabrication and appeal to one's baser instincts." After a few seconds she smiled. "But not entirely inaccurate in some respects."
"Don't knock a good shag." Tracey put her hand over her heart. "About time, too. You had me worried."
"About?"
"Doesn't matter, that's replaced by new worries. Have you told his family? I doubt they'll be very receptive, especially Ron. You remember what he was like at school."
"I do, but I've dealt with him on occasion. He's grown up somewhat. Still has horrible table manners. I guess there's only so much Granger could change, after all. I'll give you a first-hand accounting after next week, as it's a family dinner. His parents' anniversary."
"Oh Merlin's pants, Daph." Tracey drank the rest of her espresso. "You're doing all of it at once? With all those kids and everything? I mean, how many are there?"
"Twelve nieces and nephews. I double-cast the contraceptive charm just to be sure."
"I bet." Tracey shook her head. "I'm sorry, I still can't believe this. The last bloke you dated was, well, rather stuffy. I never expected a dragon keeper, let alone a Weasley. So, is it like the novels? Burn scars and everything?"
"Yes, he has a few of those." Daphne bit her lip slightly. "Not to mention the Peruvian Vipertooth tattoo that covers most of his shoulder, chest and back. I could swear I've seen that thing staring at me."
Tracey threw some Galleons on the table. "Ok, enough of this, let's go hit the shops. I know of a place that does wonderful things with dragonhide."
-ooo-
Charlie arrived outside of Shell Cottage, nervous for a couple of reasons. Ok, more than a couple, he admitted, as he adjusted his tie. He knew she said he didn't have to dress up but he wanted to as picked out the suit to wear for her, and also because she'd look wonderful, just like she had every time he'd seen her. He smiled as he remembered what she looked like without the clothing. It was while he was thinking of those memories that he was met by a small, blonde blur.
"Uncle Charlie!"
"Louie, how you doing, mate?" He picked up his nephew. "Damn, kid, what'd you do, eat a hippogriff? You're heavy."
"No, Maman said I couldn't have anything to eat 'cuz we're going to Granny an' Grandpa Weasleys' house."
"That's right." Charlie stuck his nephew on his shoulders and looked towards the house; Bill stood in the doorway wearing somewhat formal robes. "Come on, let's go inside before your dad throws a wobbly."
"Charlie, why are dressed like a Muggle?" Bill picked Louis off of his brother's shoulders and told him to go play. "Come on in, Fleur's getting ready. You're early. What's the matter, fatally ill or something?"
"Fill you in later. Got anything to drink?" Charlie sat down at the kitchen table and heard stomping upstairs. He caught Bill's eye and glanced towards the ceiling.
"The girls." Bill sighed. "Twelve and nine going on twenty and seventeen. You'd think going over to Mum and Dad's is a major production." He handed Charlie a bottle of wine and a glass. "Dom's teasing Vic about a boy, apparently. Don't say a word."
"Wouldn't dream of it." With a quick wave of the wand the cork was out of the bottle. Once he'd given himself a generous pour Charlie looked over to his brother. "Um, about the suit. I got it in Paris, first chance to wear it."
"You. You went to Paris? Right." Bill got a glass and joined his brother. "I think there's more to the story."
"That's why I stopped here first. Bill, I'm bringing someone to the party."
"Is it that bloke from the Ministry that Mum..."
"No, it's not a bloke." Charlie rolled his eyes. "She's going mental in her old age, I swear."
"Says the one an ocean away, I've got a front row seat. She's over here all the time, good thing her and Fleur get along now. So who is this mystery woman? Fill me in. Another Keeper?"
"Hell no, you know how that one turned out. She's...she's a little bit younger. Ron's age, actually. Same year at school."
"Cradle robber." Bill shook his head. "Anyone we know?"
"That's the thing, see. Ron and that lot will know her, but I don't think they exactly liked her back then. She was in Slytherin. Now before you say anything her family wasn't with them, they stayed out of it. She works at the Ministry. International Relations. Met her when they came over to the Reserve about some contract a few months back."
"You know Mum'll have you married off and her pregnant the moment you step foot in the house. So she was in Slytherin? So she's younger? Big deal. She got you to actually look like a human being. Hell, you even trimmed that beard, didn't you?"
"Yeah, she said it was getting a little too poky."
"Charles! I thought I heard your voice." Fleur came downstairs and kissed him on the cheek. "You look very handsome. Bringing a nice man as your date?"
Charlie watched her keep a straight face for a moment and then break out into a smile. "Sure, keep 'em coming. I can handle it."
"Love, Charlie is bringing a date of the female type to the party." Bill nodded and effected a serious expression. "I believe our little Charles is finally growing up."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Oh blow it our your arse. Come on, I need you to add her name to the ward book or else she'll be stuck outside the ward line."
"Fine." Bill got up, left the room and came back momentarily with a large, leatherbound book. After turning the pages he got to the section entitled 'The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole.' After the quill was dipped into the inkpot, he looked over to his brother. "Ok, hope you know her full name, otherwise it won't work. You do know her name, don't you?"
"This is payback, isn't it?"
"Of course, little brother. Her name?"
"Daphne Isabella Greengrass."
Bill started to write and then looked up. "Wait, you're having me on, aren't you? You and her? She's out of your league."
"Tell me about it." Charlie smiled. "Or am I out of her league?"
"Boys." Fleur nudged Bill's chair with her foot. "Write."
Bill carefully wrote the name in the ward book and set it aside for the ink to dry. "So really, you and a politician. Brilliant. I'd never had figured that one."
Charlie took a sip of wine and pushed back the glass. "Better not have too much, don't want to splinch myself, especially in this suit. I'd better go, really. Meeting her at her flat in London but I had to get her on the ward book first, you know."
He stood up to leave but Fleur stopped him. She brushed off his shoulders and smoothed the lapel of his suit. "You look very 'andsome, Charlie. She is a lucky girl."
"Thanks." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you later."
-ooo-
Daphne stood on the edge of the party, near one of the trees that held the Chinese lanterns. To say that it had been quite the evening was stretching the definition of understatement, as from the moment she arrived with Charlie it had been somewhat of a whirlwind. Initially the excitement had been that he had 'finally' brought someone, but that was muted when certain family members recognized her. Unsurprisingly it had been Potter that had broken the ice, welcoming her in and talking about inconsequential Ministry items while the Weasleys questioned Charlie. They weren't blatant about it, obviously, and his mother was quite welcoming, although hesitant.
The meal, out in the garden amongst the trees, was definitely an eye-opener. As the noise and chaos bubbled along she wondered how Charlie had survived, as the man she knew loved his quiet time. They had been seated at a table with Bill and his family, the oldest daughter on her left. It had been quite an illuminating dinner, as Victoire, a second year Gryffindor, couldn't care less that her Uncle Charlie's girlfriend had been sorted into Slytherin. That gave her a double shock, first in regards to the disappearance of the Gryffindor and Slytherin animosity, but second that the girl had called her Charlie's girlfriend and she hadn't dissuaded the girl of the notion.
The Weasley wives, on the other hand, were not as welcoming, specifically the former Gryffindors. As their children ran around the women came over to have a friendly little 'chat,' but they forgot that not only was she a former Slytherin but that she also negotiated with some of the most maddening foreign diplomats. As their conversation went on she realized exactly why they were wary of her, not that she was a Slytherin, but that they were very protective of Charlie. As that tumbler fell into place she felt more relaxed, and after innocuous discussions regarding dresses and such she was actually given a compliment by Hermione, which almost caused her to spill her drink. Apparently persuading Charlie to wear something other than his usual Reserve appropriate clothing was something of a minor miracle.
Now, as the evening wound down, Daphne watched as the children began to tire and some of the men came to grips with their amount of alcohol intake, specifically Percy. That surprised her, as whenever she had dealt with him at the Ministry he was quite efficient and did not have much of a personality.
"Sickle for your thoughts?" Bill Weasley handed her a drink. "He'll be a while, Mum's got him."
"Oh. Thank you." She took the wineglass. "I have to say that he tried to prepare me, but this was nothing like I expected."
"It's a bit much, but we're not always here at the same time. Can't tell you the last time Charlie was over." Bill took a drink of firewhiskey. "So you and Chuck, eh?"
"Chuck? I'll see what he says to that."
"Oh shit, don't. Sorry. Someone else used to call him that."
"Ms. Tonks?" She caught his eye. "He told me. Her son is the one with the hair that changes color, correct?"
"Yeah, that's Teddy. Harry's his godfather. Pretty much part of the family."
"I...never mind."
"No, what? I'm dying to hear what you think of this crazy bunch."
"I saw your daughter, your oldest daughter, flirting with him." Daphne gave him an apologetic smile.
"Shit." Bill pushed his hair away from his face. "I told Fleur to talk to her." The party noise continued to ebb and flow for a moment, then Bill turned to her. "I saw you with the kids, you know. Well, the girls. What was all that about?"
"My dress and my shoes. If your daughter suddenly has a desire to go shopping in Paris you can lay the blame on me."
"Pfft." Bill shook his head. "Like they don't go over often enough. My wife's French, remember? Don't worry." Once again a small silence descended between the two of them. "Listen, Daphne, don't take this the wrong way, but be careful with Charlie. He tends to jump in with both feet, for better or worse. That's you, because, Merlin, I mean, he brought you here. He's never brought anyone home before."
"He brought me to see everyone. His home is in Romania."
Bill gave her an appraising glance. "You're right, that is his home. I'm glad you understand. Must be boring out there, especially at night."
"No, it's quite lovely, actually. Very calming."
"Right. Quiet on the Romanian Reserve." Bill looked across the garden and saw that Charlie stood next to their father. Both men were away from the center of the slight chaos. "I think I get it. Don't worry, it gets easier. You should have seen Audrey, Percy's wife, when she came with him for the first time. Thought we'd have to take turns hitting her with an ennervate."
After a few steadying breaths she turned to him. "I'm not trying to lure him into anything, I do not have any ulterior motives other than spending time with him. He is one of the most patient men I have ever met, except when waiting at a restaurant. We're both old enough to know what we want, and if the time comes when that is not aligned we will part. When I'm with him, out on the Reserve, it is just the two of us. Hogwarts doesn't exist, the damned war doesn't exist, it is just the two of us with our books, a fire and a nice, simple meal. I've convinced him to try a better vintage of wine than the usual swill they have over there, but I haven't asked him to do anything he hasn't wanted to. He was the one who decided to wear the suit."
Bill held up a hand in surrender. "Whoa there, what brought that on?"
"Everybody has been holding back the entire evening, except for the children. Harry's daughter asked me if I was going to marry her Uncle Charlie."
"What'd you say?"
"I told her he hasn't asked. It has been four months. Let things move at their own pace, please, William."
"Oooh, right in the proper name." Bill smiled. "All right, you win. We must be transparent to a big Ministry negotiator like you."
"Actually..." Daphne smiled. "It's your coloring. You can't hide it."
-ooo-
The former housemates of Daphne Greengrass, ones that sniped at her for failing to choose the 'proper' side, felt as if Christmas had come early when they learned the identity of her new paramour. How utterly common, a Weasley, not to mention a dragon keeper? She might as well have been paying him for his company, as they couldn't possibly have anything in common. How low has the Greengrass family fallen, I mean, you know about the youngest daughter and Malfoy, right? Such a scandal, leaving him after the baby was born. I've heard that she's taken up with a Muggle, if you can believe that. Kick the house elf and wake it up, we need more firewhiskey.
To the former housemates of Charlie Weasley, it was an interesting story but for the most part they weren't fussed that he was seeing a Slytherin; to them it was the fact that Charlie Weasley, the dragon Keeper that showed up occasionally but mostly stayed with his dragons, had decided to actually date someone. Most had not heard of him dating anyone since Nymphadora Tonks and simply thought of him as a man on his way to being an old hermit, out with his dragons. That was not a belief shared by the extended Weasley family, especially the contemporaries of Daphne. There were many conversations regarding him and Daphne, usually late at night over firewhiskey at Grimmauld Place, and the consensus eventually settled somewhere in the vicinity of 'she's not like those Slytherins, she makes him happy, even though it is funny to think about Charlie being at those posh Ministry events with her.'
Charlie and Daphne didn't care what anyone said.
-ooo-
He walked into their little house, knocked the mud from his boots and vanished it quickly with his wand. It was a habit, ingrained in him as soon as he could wield a wand by his mum, and over the years he was thankful for her drilling it into his head. He stuck the wand in his dragonhide coat on the sleeve in the little pocket as he sat down, procedure out in the field but, like the vanishing of the mud, a habit that came in useful. As he took off his boots he sat them on the floor as silently as possible, lined the boots up heel to heel and slid them under the bench. He had been on one of the night shifts, unavoidable even with his senior position, and had promised her that he would be quiet when he came home. She had a meeting later that morning, a difficult one, and he knew from their previous discussions that she would need to be as sharp as possible.
As quietly as he could he made his way into the bedroom and began undressing, but he heard something and turned. She was lying in bed, hair down, leaning on an arm and looking at him.
"Did I wake you? It's half-four, Daph. You should be asleep."
"I'm fine. I was up with Connor not too long ago."
"But your meeting..."
She smiled at him. "It's only the Ministry of Magic lot. I know how they work, remember? Used to work for them?"
"I know." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "But still, your meeting is hours away. You'll be knackered by that time."
"It's fine, love, really." She sat up in bed and gathered the sheet around her. "Trilby took care of him earlier, so I got some sleep."
He shook his head. "Never thought we'd have a house elf."
"Mother was quite insistent, if you remember. Actually, she didn't give us much choice."
"Right." He smiled and took on an assumed expression of haughtiness. "Charles, as my daughter is insistent upon living with you in that country, I have hired a house elf. I will not have my future grandchild..."
"Enough. Please." She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Come to bed."
He slid in next to her and she moved closer. "I really should shower."
"Hush. He'll be up soon."
"Let Trilby take care of it." He laid there for a while and his breathing became slow and steady. "Do you ever miss it? All the dressing up, portkeying all over the world?"
"No. I do not." She shifted and looked at him. "I still dress up on occasion, you know. Besides, if I returned to that life every moment would be...I'd have to think of what everyone's intentions were, stated or otherwise, and then plan my response...it's too taxing. Life is much better here, with you and Connor and the dragons." She kissed him on the cheek. "Now go to sleep. My meeting will be finished by four. I have plans for us."
"Oh?" He looked over at her. "What are your plans, exactly?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Perfect."