Charlie wasn't lazy, but he liked to get to things in his own time. He tended to let everything progress naturally, whether it be a homework assignment or his latest stray. He had thoroughly exasperated the Hogwarts Professors with his inability to grasp the concept of a deadline, turning in easy work early and difficult assignments late. Mum had wrung her hands over it, but Dad had said that it was no bad thing to live life at your own pace, even if it wasn't quite in sync with the world around you.

Besides, Charlie's ways worked quite well for him on the reservation. Dragons followed their own rules. They ate and slept and socialized as they pleased, and they certainly couldn't be made to fit a schedule.

Charlie lived in his own little cabin, caring for the dragons and the other animals that always found their way to him at all hours of the day and night. He could go to the mess hall of the reservation or the pub in town for company if he liked, and write home when he felt he needed to. He was a bit homesick sometimes, when he read letters about the Quidditch exploits of his nieces and nephews or the latest drama at Sunday lunch, but in general, his life suited him.

That is, until Colleen arrived and turned it upside-down.

Colleen showed up on Charlie's doorstep in the pouring rain one evening, dragging her enormous suitcase and sniffling.

"They s-s-said at the m-mess that this was where p-people come who n-need a p-place to stay." She stammered, beginning to cry. Charlie took in her bedraggled but fashionable clothes, pink luggage, and muddy high heels and decided that she would not take well to being informed that his home was indeed the Reservation's de facto sanctuary- but for stray animals, not young Irish girls. Instead, he had ushered her in, drawn her a hot bath, and made up the couch. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal – after all, while many of the animals Charlie helped ended up being adopted, a pretty young witch couldn't possibly want to stay in a bachelor cabin on a dragon reservation in Romania.

He could not have been more wrong. After about a week, Colleen seemed set to move in permanently. Her things was everywhere, and she had taken to naming his pets, after Charlie had mentioned that only his dog, Catch, and his oldest cat, Otto, had names. She read his books (or tried to – Charlie suspected that technical tomes on dragons bored her) and ate his food, although she let him do all the cooking.

Charlie was at a loss to understand why, and, as the brother of Fred and George Weasley, he felt compelled to investigate. Charlie recognized that teenage girls required tact, but subtlety had never been his strong suit. He decided to just ask her.

"Colleen?" He began tentatively as they ate dinner one night "Are you planning on staying much longer?" Colleen promptly burst into tears.

"I knew I would have to leave soon! " She wailed. "I've been a terrible nuisance-"

"No you haven't!" Charlie lied desperately. He had no experience with crying girls, as Ginny had always been fiercely stoic, and Colleen's dramatics alarmed him.

"Yes I have!" She sobbed. "You're chucking me out, and I have nowhere else to g-go!"

Charlie decided that there was a time and a place for honesty, and this was not it.

"I didn't mean that, Colleen! I was lonely before, I like having you here. I just want to know more about you." Colleen stopped crying and looked at him pityingly.

"Oh, Charlie, I should have known this would happen." She said sadly, blowing her nose on her napkin.

Charlie was deeply confused by this development in the conversation.

"Er- what?" he said blankly. Colleen heaved a dramatic sigh.

"You've fallen in love with me!" She exclaimed. "I don't blame you – a beautiful and vulnerable girl practically falls into your lap, of course you couldn't resist me. But I have to inform you that I am madly in love with another man, and I shall never forsake him, although he has abandoned me and our child." She put a protective hand over her belly for emphasis, and then started to cry again.

Charlie was a little overwhelmed by this turn of the events, and felt as if he had lost control of the conversation .

"Er- I'm not in love with you?" he tested hesitantly. That made no impression on her tears. "You're pregnant?" he tried again.

"Yes!" She wailed – and the whole tale came pouring out – or some highly dramatized version of it.

Colleen was a half-blood witch from Dublin. Her parents had gone through a nasty divorce during her third year at Hogwarts, and she had spent her holidays after that being shuttled being them, often without warning, as they did their best to hurt each other through her. She had left home immediately after her graduation, electing to take a Muggle job where her parents would be unlikely to look for her. She met Ivan, a twenty-five year old immigrant from Romania, at a pub, and "it was love at first sight" – until Colleen got pregnant and Ivan got deported.

Colleen was eighteen, not in contact with her parents, and not qualified for any decent job, Muggle or Wizarding. But true love conquers all, and of course her love for Ivan – and presumably, his for her – was true. So Colleen followed Ivan to Romania.

And arrived at his house to meet his wife and two sons. She was prepared to accept this development as Ivan's unfortunate past, for which he was not responsible, but when Ivan pretended not to recognize her and shut his door in her face, she was forced to accept reality, or something close to it. Heartbroken and desperate, she had followed reports of odd behavior until she located the Romanian Wizarding community, of which the nearest manifestation was the reservation.

Charlie listened to Colleen's tale kindly, then made her hot chocolate and put her to bed. He thought long and hard before he went to bed himself, but Charlie was Molly Weasley's son through and through, and for him, there was really only one option.

The next morning, Charlie took Colleen to the reservation infirmary and arranged for her to have whatever care she needed for the duration of her pregnancy, in exchange for helping out with cleaning and paperwork for a few hours a day. He left her there and returned to his cabin to turn his attic into a proper bedroom, complete with baby cot and changing table. He fished a mail-order catalogue out of his desk and ordered every book on pregnancy and childcare he could find, and then he sat down to knit Colleen a Weasley sweater.

They developed a routine. Charlie went to work all day (or sometimes all night, when he had a night shift) and when he came home, the house would be clean (or at least, as clean as when he left). He would make dinner, and Colleen would do the dishes. She named his animals, and he cared for them. Charlie knew he was doing all the work, but Colleen was pregnant…and spoiled, thoughtless, and immature. But Charlie was used to taking care of others, as older children in large families always are.

Charlie was perfectly content with the situation, but he still didn't really see it as permanent. Colleen would have the baby and get used to being a mother, and then she would get tired of living in the middle of nowhere and take her child back to Ireland.

He was partly right- Colleen did get tired of living in the middle of nowhere.

Charlie was on duty when Colleen went into labor in late April, nine days before her due date. He was supervising the mating of the Hungarian Horntails, a very tricky business, and was therefore unable to be contacted and missed the whole thing. He arrived home exhausted, to find a note on his door saying that Colleen was at the local Muggle hospital and had had a healthy baby girl. He went to bed happily, planning on visiting mother and child in the morning.

However, as Charlie left for the hospital the next day, he opened his front door to find a basket with a note attached. It was typical of Colleen – dramatic and effusive.

Dear Charlie,

You have been so kind to me, and I can never repay for all that you have done. Alone and pregnant, I was utterly helpless, and you saved me.

Now that I have had the baby, I'll be able to take care of myself. But I can't take care of her – I am only eighteen, what do I know about being a mother?

Not as much as you know about being a father. After seeing how well you take care of every stray that comes your way (including me) I am confident that you will be a wonderful parent for my baby.

For this reason I have put your name on her birth certificate as her father. It serves that bastard Ivan right to be replaced.

Anyway, although it breaks my heart, I leave her to you, so she will be well cared for. I will go and try to build a new life for myself, leaving part of my soul behind with my darling girl. You need not worry that I will return and take her from you – I have arranged for you to have full legal custody.

Lots of Love,

Colleen

p.s. I have named her Charlotte, after you.

Charlie read the letter three times before he lifted the blanket covering the basket with trepidation to find that sure enough, a tiny dark-haired baby slept there, with an official Romanian birth certificate tucked in at her feet. He looked helplessly at her for a moment before sighing deeply and bringing her into the house.

"Bloody hell…"he mumbled, putting the basket down on the kitchen table and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'm in for it now…"