Summary:
After the war, Charlie and Luna are paired to focus and deal with the magical creatures - those allied and those that still sought their blood. This is their journey through friendship and healing.
Disclaimer:
The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. All canon characters, plots, quotes and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.
Rating warning:
Rated T
I.
She met him the day she returned to assist in the reparation of hogwarts. His hair was the identifier, but his mannerisms and attitude were what set him apart from her school mate. Standing amid the rubble, he shouldn't have looked out of place - he was scarred, tanned from campfire (not sun from lounging on a beach somewhere), and had an air of danger that radiated off him like a hot desert road - yet out of place he did appear; for the resulting tranquillity experienced post battle seemed to set him on edge - seemed to unsettle the ginger man rather than soothe. He appeared coiled to pounce, ready for any action, ready to tame dragons bare handed without his wand. She should have been wary, on her guard; as his brother was known to demonstrate a sharp streak of mean at times - but his humor - it was sweet, it was... Genuine, and lacking desire to inflict pain upon another. It made her pause. Reassess.
She realized her typical fashion for bantering with the world may not work on him. He seemed completely accepting of her oddities, almost as if he too spoke the language of her thoughts - or was at least interested enough not to dismiss them outright.
She was intrigued enough to want to understand why she couldn't trip him up or keep him at a distance with her vague musings, to understand how to communicate on his level.
The two worked side by side throughout the summer. Their tasks focused on the magical creatures - those allied and those that still sought their blood. They were tasked with relocating those which were left habitat desolate due to the war; corralling and relocating dangerous regulated creatures that had been used as weapons; and attempting to begin reversing those whose numbers had been decimated by encouraging breeding exposures.
It was a summer of growth and healing, expounding secrets and illuminating dark shadows. It was... Luna had no words to describe...
Her summer that hadn't yet ended.
II.
She'd apparently heard his name mentioned in passing, years before - offhand. He'd never been aware of even her existence, before meeting her that day amid the burnt battlements and torched grasses. She'd walked towards him - a bright sun spot on a barren wasteland - and her keenly masked mind called to him like honeysuckle after the rain.
He'd been fascinated by the mythical creatures she babbled about constantly, intrigued by her seemingly vague - but in actuality - completely perceptive twittering. Drawn in by her wide eyes that held depths such that he'd never seen before - especially on someone her age. Her earnest nature chipped away at the walls he'd constructed, the fortress around his sense of self.
He found himself drawing each day out longer, not wanting to retreat to the isolation that had kept him warm like a blanket all the years at the dragon refuge. He began to instigate situations that would guarantee a reaction - whether it was her trilled laugh, her thoughtful gaze, or her disregard apparent in airy disapproval.
He'd never seen her angry - even when she'd been severely burnt by an exploding skrewt - she'd carried on as if it was another day pulling weeds. Her reactions confounded him, as the Weasleys were a passionate bunch, and never seeing her angry - always calm and serene, maybe a titch detached if disgruntled - was doing his head in; if only because he couldn't comprehend it.
He began to appreciate the straightforward dynamic between his brother and the bookworm - fire to fire - never boring, never dull.
But time with her - despite the lack of volatility - wasn't boring, wasn't dull. Not at all.
Her completely unique outlook was refreshing and always kept him on his toes - never sure when he'd need to quickstep around a topic or reaction - to doge or parry with her sharp wit and her tongue that whispered truths most would leave unsaid.
And as the week's progressed, so did their acquaintance.
She was refreshing, she was the smell of rain after a storm. Charlie felt safe, and that unnerved him.
III.
It was fall before she asked him a personal question - though for most it would be nothing more than a standard query. So surprised he was, by her question; he ended up requiring a healing spell on his left leg and forearm as the creature he'd been wrangling got the jump on him.
"Why dragons?" She'd asked, all misty voice and ocean eyes.
He'd thought about his answers - did he give the standard acceptable answer, or the truth - the latter less glamorous and definitely less accepted.
Truth won out, as he sensed she knew when a falsehood was being fed to her, and he respected her enough to not want to deceive.
"I was in third year, and had always been drawn to the outdoors... to those creatures that defied being tamed and tethered. When we were able to take care of magical creatures as lessons, I was ecstatic... I had always felt a bit - off... Around those in my class, especially around my roommates. It wasn't until a year later I truly became aware of why. But those lessons, they gave me freedom - which, growing up in a close-knit overbearing family didn't provide much of - and those freedoms were a blissful break in time. I could just be me with the creatures, there were no judgements, no pressure to be anything but who I am."
"That was the DA for me, my refuge - my escape..." She trilled, motioning for him to continue.
"And, despite my odd ball sense of being, my preference for dangerous creatures over humans - I also craved adventure and speed - and Quidditch filled that and more. And here now was this boy - struggling with how to fit in, knowing he was a round peg in a square hole - who fit the rugged, powerful, danger-seeking athlete stereotype to perfection; yet who remained constantly aloof to all the twittering and fawning. I was a contradiction, and it frustrated others."
She was staring at him, her eyes gazing with transcendence, and he felt again the sense of calm break over him like a wave hitting the shoreline.
"There was a boy, in fifth year. He started seeing what others, what I myself, had missed or tried to downplay for years. The subtle digs, the non-whispered taunts - the clumsy exploring when we'd find ourselves alone... It was confusing, exhilarating, it was everything I hadn't realized I'd been missing... Almost like riding a broom on the field for the first time, feeling the wind in my hair. I felt like I belonged… And then the rest of the whispers started... And the wizarding world, well, you know our world... it wasn't ready for, I wasn't ready for... So I chose dragons. I chose the fiercest, largest, coolest creature I could think of - and set out to tame them. Attempting to tame the beast inside me... what a foolish, naïve, stupid idea… But well, the dragons – they grew on me - who knew I would love this career as much as I do."
"There is a lot you can do back in Wizarding Britain, if you wanted to – the world is a different place since you were in school, and not just because of the war. Though I can see the appeal of a place just far enough away to deter pop-round visits at inopportune times." she said - her ability to cut away down to the marrow of a subject a breath of fresh air.
That she didn't even flicker at his confession, endeared her to him more than he'd ever anticipated with someone so new to his acquaintance.
IV.
"I used to mess around with Fiendfyre and the drought of living death" she admitted, quite at random, as they wrested a bowtruckle infestation into a mossy cage a couple days after his confession. Charlie looked up and waited patiently for her to elaborate… though he had come to expect arbitrary fragments of sentences tossed around and so wasn't sure if he should anticipate more from this statement.
"My mother died when I was quite young, you see, and I sometimes found myself with desperate longings and waves of sorrow so powerful, I didn't know how to channel them. I was always the outsider, especially in the years following her death, and though I never let the barbed words or hurtful actions penetrate my skin and pierce my soul - the painful blemish of witnessing my mother's death wouldn't fade, wouldn't tarnish. Daddy became obsessed with creatures he couldn't see, or prove their existence, the intangible giving him something to continually search for... It's endearing, but wasn't enough for me..."
"And so, in secret, I learned to brew the drought – and kept some on hand at all times once I'd brewed it properly. And I learned to play with the fire, to harness it, bend it; control it. To yield it to my will... It gave me a sense of control, in a world where I had so little. Knowing I had the power to either ultimately end the dark shadows, or purge and regenerate through ash and flame, calmed the unrest I felt inside me - quelled the need to be pulled deeper into the dark abyss."
"You're brighter than the sun, bestowing light and bringing to life all that you touch... Though I guess, sometimes those who shine brightest, hurt the deepest; and your light can gleam so brightly that it blinds people from seeing your true self. Maybe there is a poetic justice to the sun queen, who shares her name with the moon - playing with fire and courting living death" he studied her closely.
"You are an enigma, little moonflame... And… did it help? Are you still walking the edge? Or are the sunbeams a mask to keep others from seeing the bleak landscape of despair?"
"Ironically, the war helped, being taken prisoner. It was something I couldn't control, and yet – being stripped of my powers and ability to defend – actually made me feel more at ease. It sounds absolutely daft, but complete helplessness forces you to embrace the chaos, acknowledge and embrace the desire not to succumb, if only to spite the oppressors... I had no potions on me, they had all broken or were left behind. I didn't have a wand; I couldn't summon the fire. If I had, I would have burned the manor to the ground, but as it is – it now stands as a symbol of our strength. Those who felt terror, shed blood and fell to an almost certain death in that dark fortress – those who have ascended to rebuild and who are learning to live in a peace so raw, so new - it is our talisman, the place of absolute zero, of the end of the dark before the light."
"I don't need the drought, nor the flames anymore... I have found my peace at the bottom of a mansion cellar."
And with that, they continued on their summer tasks.
V.
The autumn came with blowing winds, dreary skies and leaves that gave away their mortality by fading colors, darkened spots and wrinkled skins. They made a proficient team, making their way down their list with an efficacy not anticipated due to the viciousness of some of their prey. As the days wore down, both bore the knowledge that their tasks were soon to be finished, their paths intended to part. They had grown to anticipate the others moods, actions, responses... They were friends of the deepest sense - a melding of intellects and interests.
As they signed off on their shipment, sending the final chimera off to Greece, where their last contract was held, they exchanged subdued glances.
"Well, it's been a pleasure..." He started, but suddenly there appeared to be sand in his eye.
"If it's alright with you, I'd rather enjoy learning how to tame a dragon - maybe play with them, and their fire..."
And so they travelled back to the refuge. He taught her what he knew of each breed and all that he'd learned on the job, and she enlightened him to certain areas of dragon behavior he'd never thought to research or explore. Their friendship grew, and when Luna met Rolf, Charlie was pleased that his best mate had found someone who could balance her moonlit flames.
And Charlie, well, he went back to his now tattered cloak of isolation, blanketing himself in its warmth while he tended to his flock.
Though with Luna's bright continuing support and encouragement, he'd unwrapped the blanket to include another...
And he didn't feel so odd, so out-of-place anymore. In fact, he felt home.