Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine.
Save Yourself
Draco was no stranger to situations of life or death.
Draco was no stranger to flames burning around him, taking his whole world down with them. He knew what it was like to feel foreign in his own home. He was quite familiar with the notion of right and wrong -learned it the hard way, that's for sure- and he had no idea how his world had been reduced to those elements once again.
But there he was.
That was the stuff his nightmares were made of - he still woke up in sweat when the images in his head were ones were of flames, blazing heat, Vincent Crabbe falling to his death, being on the verge of death himself, and being saved because his greatest enemy was merciful.
Draco's short life had been quite eventful. But he wasn't ready to die. Not yet.
He shuddered as he thought of Vince - only after his death did he think of him as Vince, for he'd found himself grieving his death as if he'd been his dearest friend, even as he'd despised his lack of intelligence. It was weird to him, but it also made him realize that maybe right and wrong didn't quite look like he'd previously though.
Right then, Draco had needed to get away. He decided to find this kind of peace away from England, away from his own tainted home, away from where the awful war had taken place, toward hidden corners of the world where no one knew his name. He traveled many cities until he'd arrived to the Romanian city of Vulcan, where the local dragon reserve -the biggest one in all of Europe- had been more than glad to have an extra pair of helping hands.
Ironically enough, there was someone who did know his name in Vulcan.
At that very moment, that someone's face was emerging between the flames. His face was black from the smoke and his clothes were torn. Draco wondered whether burns were creeping over the man's body.
"Draco! Thank Merlin!" A pair of arms held him closely for an instant, then searching eyes were examining his face. "Are you alright?"
"Weasley, I'm completely fine." He was taken aback by such a display of affection, but he was more shocked by the events of the night. Deep down, he welcomed the gesture. "I don't think you can say the same though."
When he first heard that Charles Weasley was going to be his boss, he was prepared for a nightmare. Everyone called him Charlie, but he insisted on calling him Weasley. And a Weasley he was - foolish, joyous and so goddamned moral. But Charlie called him Draco and treated him just as he treated the rest of the team.
It had made him feel welcome. It had also made him rage.
But two years had passed, and his animosity for all things Weasley had been reduced. In fact, he begrudgingly thought that Charlie Weasley was quite the interesting man - a relaxed professional with a sense of adventure that seemed to prolong his otherwise-waning youth. That was something that fascinated Draco. Charlie could appear so carefree, so untouched, yet so successful and unyielding in his area of expertise.
They worked well as a team, and they'd bonded over the fact that they'd found a home in the reserve. It was quite obvious that the reserve was Charlie's only home. To Draco, such a home wasn't only the housing that the reserve provided to its workers - it was made of mountains, trees, rivers, rocks and pure soul. The creatures that inhabited it, human and non-human, were his new community.
But there was fire everywhere. Everywhere. And Draco didn't understand how could it be that he was losing his whole world for a second time.
"I'm not so disabled that I can't keep going," Charlie pointed out. "Where's everyone?"
"Safe, on their way to the city." Draco and his team were still considered rookies, and were instructed to evacuate. "Are you done?"
"Not yet," Charlie answered, and kept talking rapidly. "We had to sacrifice Joia because we couldn't get her to stop breathing flames. We don't even know how she started in the first place, and now it's too late to do anything. You have no idea how everything looks to the west." Draco felt the pain in Charlie's voice and it shook him. Joia was a Hebridean Black and one of Charlie's favorite dragons. "We had to evacuate all the dragons to the North, and there are three of the younger ones missing. I'm going back to get them."
"But you did all you could!"
Charlie huffed. "We were stellar. But our contingency plans didn't take into account a fire this big."
Draco's nightmares took shape in reality, and all he could think about was Vince, and mortal danger, and it was too much to handle.
"Don't go." It didn't sound like the plea it was - it sounded like an order. But Charlie shook his head.
"I have to. Even if it's the last thing I do."
Draco didn't want to think about the implications of Charlie's words.
"You did all you could." When he saw that his words had no effect, he added, "You're the only one who insists on staying."
"But then again, you're still here." Charlie's half-smile seemed out of place. But his words got him to think.
Draco couldn't bring himself to leave. He'd given up his home once - he wasn't ready to give it up twice. He wasn't ready to go back to the place he'd escaped, to live a life he didn't want for himself.
He remembered how Harry Potter had saved him from the flames, and how he was now in position to be a savior. For once, he wanted to save. He couldn't let his home slip away from him. For once, he was worried. He was frozen by his fears, by his memories, and the feeling that there was nothing he could do.
And in a more immediate sense, there was his boss - someone he was taught to loathe, but had learned to appreciate. There was his boss, willing to endanger himself in such a Gryffindor-like, Weasley-like way. And the feelings that invaded him were of dread and worry.
"You need to go, Draco," Charlie insisted. "Go with the guys. They're probably worried by now, and they need you. Tell them I'm fine. Write a letter to Budapest explaining what happened - we need their help."
"Charlie..." It was the first time he said Charlie's name, but it didn't make him falter.
"I'm your boss, and this is an order."
Draco remembered how Crabbe had been swallowed by flames. He knew he couldn't let that happen to Charlie Weasley. Charlie was his equal in many ways, his superior in many others - someone he could always rely on and look up to.
He couldn't let him go.
"I can't," he said miserably. "I can't."
Draco didn't know what Charlie saw in him then. He couldn't quite place why his own heart was racing in his chest - maybe it had something to do with the feeling of vulnerability and the sense of danger. He only realized what was going on when Charlie grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him fiercely.
While the gesture took him by surprise, Draco was more surprised about the fact that he was kissing him back with a need he didn't know he felt. He clutched red hair as if he was clinging to the hope that would make it all go. After all, Charlie was a Gryffindor. And a Weasley. But it wasn't entirely a bad thing.
As it was, Draco felt that he'd found an oasis made of heaven in the middle of burning hell.
Moments later, Charlie's eyes were clouded with determination when they stared at him. They were so unyielding that Draco thought that he'd imagined that kiss
"Save yourself, Draco," Charlie begged. "This place is dead - I'm dying with it. And don't want to lose the two of you in the same night."
Charlie's plea did sound like a plea. But he didn't stay to see the result of his urgency, getting on his broom and riding toward the disaster as fast as he could.
But Draco couldn't move. Charlie's last words rung in his ears, louder than the cracking sound of burning branches and the hot wind that assaulted the remains of the reserve. His eyes were red and teary, and he wanted to believe it was the smoke and ashes making him cry.
I don't want to lose the two of you in the same night.
"Me neither." Draco whispered his confession as he saw Charlie disappear between the flames.
Notes: Written for the marvelous Sam (MissingMommy) for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza. Also written for the Unlikely Pairing category of the Broaden Your Horizons Challenge.
Sam: You gave me the prompt 'destruction' and asked for angst, so here it is. I rewrote this three times, and to be honest, it sucks less than I thought it would. But I can't write Draco to save my life - I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
A million thanks to the wonderful Joanna (DobbyLovesSocks) for beta-reading this story!
And thanks to you, reader!
-Karyn.