Draco had learned a lot of things during the war.
He had learned always to watch out. You never knew when the enemy was going to attack. Even your friends could get bored and attack you, just for the fun of it. Draco had learned that.
He had learned not to hope. Every time you hoped, your hope got crushed. When he hoped for Voldemort to spare him, he had given him the mark. Crushed his hopes. When he hoped that Harry would win the war, he died. He didn't really die though, Draco knew that, but his real hope had been crushed. He had dreamed he could just live a normal life with his family. But no. Hopes and dreams got crushed. Draco had learned that.
He had learned not to care. When you cared, you got hurt. You were weak. Voldemort could make him do everything. Just one threat about touching his mother, and Draco would do anything. He cared too bloody much. Care was a weakness. Draco had learned that.
He had learned not to trust anyone. Everyone was going to betray him, at some point, in some way. Draco had learned that.
No. That isn't true. He thought to himself as he felt the warmth from the sleeping body which was pressed against his.
Charlie would never betray him. Charlie loved him more than anything. He was Charlie's Dragon, and oh how Charlie loved his dragons.
Draco could also love Charlie, he could care, because Charlie could take care of himself, Draco didn't have to worry that anyone would touch him, and why would they? Everyone loved Charlie.
And he hoped for Charlie, oh he hoped that Charlie would always be with him. He hoped that Charlie would never look at him the way the others did. And he knew he wouldn't. Charlie was his friend. A friend that would never turn against him. With Charlie, Draco was safe, no one could harm him.
It's fate. Draco thought to himself.
Meeting Charlie Weasley in a dragon reserve in Romania, running there to be saved, and meeting the only person who could safe him.
It's fate. Draco repeated. And he didn't mind fate at all.