For QL season 2, Beater 1. Optional prompts are "I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness a million times, but never once into it" - Jonathan Safran Foer, and "The secret of happiness is not doing what one loves, but loving what one does" - J. M. Barrie

Ps, my word counter says 3252. Sorry.

By the time that Charlie arrives on scene, the fire is burning white-hot. His companions are linking the hose to the nearest hydrant. So he finds himself dragging the hose towards the burning car.

It's a familiar scene. He's seen this six times himself in the past three months, and knows of three others that he didn't help put out. And they are no closer to catching the car bomber than they were three months ago.

Charlie pushes that out of his mind and focuses on doing his job and putting out the fire. It takes them until the sun is well into the sky. By that time, he is exhausted.

He takes the files of the latest bomb to the police office. His brother lifts his head. "Another one?"

"Just like the others."

And his brother swears.

Charlie makes his way through the back alleys quickly. The moon is bright enough to light his way when the street lamps stop. He knocks on a metal door, knocking out a specific rhythm he was taught.

When the security person peeks out, he opens the door wider, allowing Charlie to move past him with ease.

The music is soft in the background, but it does well to drown out any conversation. He motions for the bartender to pour him a glass, which he quickly throws back, motioning for a second. He's usually not the bar type, far too overcrowded for his tastes, but sometimes, after a bad day, Charlie finds himself in this bar.

He swirls his drink around. Thinking about the fire that just took a family's life. He doubts that he could wash the scent of smoke off his body for days.

"You must not come here often," a voice says.

Charlie turns around, meeting stunning grey eyes. He smiles. "Not at all. Is it that obvious?"

The stranger laughs. "Probably not to everyone else. Can I buy you a drink?"

"I don't see why not," Charlie says, motioning for the blond haired stranger to sit.

"Why are you a firefighter?"

Charlie smiles. "I enjoy it," he replies. "I like knowing that I saved people. What about you?"

His companion laughs. "You don't have to enjoy what you do to do it."

Charlie tilts the other man's head up, meeting his grey eyes. "But that's the secret to happiness - loving what you do. Maybe it's about time that you did something else."

"Maybe," he agrees.

Then the blond haired man kisses him. And Charlie can feel the pent up frustration seep from his body.

"Rough night?" his companion asks.

Charlie nods. "I don't want to talk about it."

The man, who Charlie has started referring to as "grey eyes", smiles and nods. He takes a swig of his drink. "What would you like to talk about then?"

"You know," Charlie starts out, "it's been weeks, and I still don't know your name."

The man puts his glass down and faces Charlie. "That would take all the mystery out of it, wouldn't it?"

"But I'm curious."

He sighs. "Malfoy," he finally answers. "Draco Malfoy."

Charlie's heard the name before, or at least the last name. He just can't place it. But he offers his hand, "Charlie Weasley, at your service."

As he gets home, he finally places the name. It's been thrown around the department several times before. Investigations of sorts into the Malfoy family. He should go to his brother and give over Draco, but he isn't sure he can.

It's then that Charlie realizes he's in a little too deep.

Charlie is standing outside the interrogation room, watching as his brother looks over the files. "So you finally caught the car bomber?" he asks casually.

Bill doesn't look up from the paper. "Yeah. He goes by the street name of Pretty Boy. So far we haven't gotten anything out of him. Not even a name." Bill sighs. "I don't know if I can get him on these bombs, Char."

He opens the door. It's just enough to allow Charlie a peek into the room. The blond hair man sitting in it is familiar. And before Bill can walk through, Charlie holds his arm. "That's your guy?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It can't be him," Charlie insists.

Bill raises his eyebrow and lets the door close. "You know him?" When Charlie hesitates, Bill pushes. "Char, if you know anything, you got to let me know."

Taking a seat, Charlie shakes his head. "Bill," he whispers, voice tight.

"Please."

It's all Charlie needs. Because despite everything, he knows that justice does come first. "I've met him."

Bill raises his eyebrow again. "In your sort of way?"

Charlie knows that his brother loathes to ask the question. They haven't talked about Charlie's bedroom activities since he confided in him years ago. But he knows Bill has to ask. "Yeah, it was a few weeks back. Right after all this started."

"I need a name."

"Malfoy," Charlie says. "Draco Malfoy."

"Charlie, you -"

And Charlie knows what he's going to say. He's going to tell him off the times that the department has looked into the Malfoy family.

"I didn't know his name until a while after everything started," he cuts Bill off. "I was a little too invested by that point."

Bill sits on the desk. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get him to confess." His gaze never wavers from Charlie's. "But I think you may."

Charlie shakes his head.

"Look," he starts, "he's obviously a part of something big. I can't help him if I don't know what that is."

He sighs. He knows that Bill is right, and that Bill will help Draco. So he nods. "All right."

Together, they stand. And Bill gives his brother one last look before striding into the interrogation room, Charlie close on his heels.

The blond doesn't lift his head until Bill voice echoes the room. "You're one difficult man to find, Pretty Boy."

"You're not a police officer," he says, staring at Charlie. "Why are you here?"

Charlie doesn't answer. He just takes the seat across from Draco, meeting his grey eyes with his own blue ones. Draco's stare is only torn away when Bill slams his hands on the table.

"I'm asking the questions here. Not you." Bill opens the file and turns it so Draco can look. "You see, I have ten car bombs that have went off in the past three months. And all of the evidence is linking back to you."

Draco leans forward. And starts to go through the pictures. "I'm not sure what I can help you with, officer. I don't know anything about car bombs."

"Are you sure? Because these -"

"You were using me, weren't you?" Charlie asks, cutting across his brother. Bill shoots him a glance, but Charlie never looks away from Draco. "I've been wondering how so many bombs have gone off right under the firefighters' noses. And I can't help but think that it could only happen if you had insider information."

Draco never wavers. Yet he doesn't speak. There's something in his eyes, though, that makes Charlie continue.

"Is that why you approached me? Come on, Draco. You're not helping anyone, especially yourself, by staying silent. Tell me. Is that why you approached me."

Bill sits down next to Charlie as he realizes what Charlie is doing. "You help us by telling us everything you know on the Tojours, and I'll protect you."

Draco laughs humorlessly. "What makes you think this has to do with the Tojours?"

"Don't insult our intelligence. We've been following the family for years. But we haven't gotten anything concrete against them yet," Bill says. "So you help us get them, and I'll do everything in my power to keep you from jail."

Raising his eyebrow, Draco leans back. "And why would you do that?"

"A favor."

He studies Bill and Charlie for a while. "Your older brother," he says to Charlie. "I didn't take him to be an officer."

"Doesn't matter. Tell us what you know about the Tojours."

"Recently a new family has been...overreaching. The bossman doesn't like it when people overstep their boundaries," Draco explains. "I was told to handle it."

Bill taps a photo. "This is what you call handling it?"

Draco shrugs nonchalantly. "I set and detonated them when I knew there wasn't anyone in the car."

"So you weren't aiming to kill anyone?"

Folding his hands, Draco sits up straighter. "I've learned that fear is a very powerful tool. I don't have to kill someone to handle the family's problems. I just have to scare them enough."

"How did you know when to set them?"

Draco eyes flickered in between Charlie and Bill. "I followed them for a week. Learned their schedule. And after I realized what he does, I knew that I could use that."

Charlie laughs. "You did use me."

"At first."

Without a second thought, Charlie stands up. He exits the room without a word. And he leaves. He doesn't remember most of the trip home.

He throws his keys in the container near the door and slips off his shoes. He starts to nurse a glass of whiskey.

The door swings open. And in the doorway is his brother and Draco. "What are you doing here, Bill?"

"Until this is over, he needs a place to stay." Bill must sense that Charlie is about to protest because he continues, quickly. "I'll be here. I just can't take this mess around Fleur and Vicki."

Bill has already gone to bed. But Charlie is still sitting in his kitchen, sleep the furthest thing from his mind. He hears a shuffle of feet, causing him to look up.

Draco is standing in the doorway. He looks like he's about to talk.

"Don't," Charlie whispers. "Just don't."

His companion crosses the room and pours himself a glass of whiskey. "I just wanted to say I'm...I'm sorry."

Charlie laughs humorously. "You're sorry? For what exactly? Lying to me; using me; or is it something different?"

Draco downs most of the drink in one swallow. "I don't put emotions out on the line often. Actually, until I met you, I never did. Yes, I used you at first. But after a while, I wasn't spending time with you just for the job anymore."

"You're saying that you started actually caring about me?" Charlie questions, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head. "You only care about the family and your -"

Draco covers Charlie's lips with his own. He presses into it, hard. Charlie fights it before giving in and kissing back. It's rough and raw, full of anger. When they break apart, they are panting.

"Do you honestly think I would just give up the family because your brother asked?"

"What?"

"I've been thinking about getting out for a while now. But the only way to really leave is to die. I'm not particularly fond of dying," Draco explains. "So I figured giving them up would work just as well."

Charlie furrows his eyebrows. "Even if you give them up, they will get out eventually and come back after you. Why would you risk that?"

Draco shrugs. "I've been a part of the family most of my life. Someone once told me that it might be time for me to do something else." He leaves the glass on the counter. "Good night."

"Night," Charlie echoes.

He watches as his companion disappears from the kitchen. He downs the rest of his whiskey and places both glasses in the sink. Draco's words bounce around in Charlie's head as he makes his way to bed. Maybe he got Draco all wrong.

"There's been another one," Charlie sighs. He drops the file on his brother's desk. "This time, there's a body."

Bill glances up from the file. "That's not Pretty Boy's style." He gives the file back to Charlie. "Go talk to him. Take Ron with you. I'm going to need another police officer there to hear what he has to say."

"Where are you going?"

"To see if I can't find any leads," Bill responds.

Charlie swings by the desk furthest from the door. His youngest brother is sitting there, looking over another case. "Ron."

"Charlie! I heard that you've been helping Bill out on a case," he says. He wraps his arms around Charlie.

Charlie laughs. "Yeah, been a string of car bombings that we've been looking into. He's off chasing a lead, but I need someone to go with me on this one."

Ron narrows his eyes, but eventually nods. He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. He motions for Charlie to lead the way, which he does. Charlie fills Ron in on most of the details of the case on the walk to his place.

"Why are we here?" Ron asks skeptically.

Charlie ignores the question in favor of entering his apartment. "Draco," he calls out. He sets the file on his kitchen counter as he pulls out his brother a drink.

The blond haired man appears in the doorway. "Isn't that Pretty Boy, the one Bill brought in a few days ago?"

Charlie just nods. "Did you leave?" he asks.

"Why would I?"

"That's a yes or no question," he replies. "You didn't slip out while I was asleep?"

Draco moves towards the files. "I'm guessing there has been another bombing?" When Charlie doesn't reply, Draco rolls his eyes. "No, I didn't leave."

Charlie opens the files and slides the picture towards Draco. "Are you sure? Because this looks like what you do."

Draco studies the pictures. "It's not mine."

"Don't lie," Ron growls.

Charlie shoots him a look. But Draco speaks. "Where was the detonator?" Draco raises his eyebrow. "Well?"

Ron moves to glare at Draco from over Charlie's shoulder. "What does that matter?"

Draco looks at the picture and pushes it back to Charlie. He meets Charlie's blue eyes. "I'm very specific about where I place mine. It's always in the same spot. But I don't need to tell you that, do I, Charlie? Because that's how you linked the bombings in the first place."

"You little -" Ron growls, trying to lunge past Charlie.

Charlie hold on to his brother tightly. "He's right, Ron. The placement of the detonator is wrong."

"What's so different about this bombing?" Draco questions. When Charlie doesn't respond, he presses on. "We both know that you would've known where that detonator was placed right away if it was just a bombing."

"A person was burned alive," Charlie finally says, his voice tight.

Draco attention is piqued. "Where was the car found?"

Ron opens the file, and reads off an address in the north part of the city.

"Are you sure that the person was burned alive?"

Charlie glares. "The person was in the car when it exploded. Kind of means that they were killed with fire."

Draco shakes his head. "Don't be so sure about that. Have your medical examiner look more closely at the body. I can guarantee that the fire wasn't what killed 'em."

"So what are you suggesting?" Ron asks, curiosity burying itself deeply inside.

"The north part of the city is being...invaded by the new family. It's where all the other bombings have taken place. The person in the car is most likely one of the rival family."

Ron raises his eyebrow. "And what makes you think we believe you didn't kill this person and are trying to pin it on someone else?"

Draco's eyes flicker in between Charlie and Ron. "I don't need to kill. But if I'm right, the person was tortured. The bombing was just a stage. They've realized by now that I'm talking. They are trying to pin it on me."

"So who would've done it?"

Draco grins wickedly. "Ever heard of Bellatrix Black?"

"Do you believe him?"

Bill is standing in front of Charlie and Ron, his arms crossed. Ron is shifting his weight in between his feet.

"Bellatrix is just an urban legend," he assures Bill. "Some story told to scare the rookies."

Charlie shakes his head. "I took a peek at the results from the medical examiner. He was right; the fire wasn't the thing that killed him."

"Which he would've known if he's the one that did it," Ron argues.

Charlie glares at his brother. "Bill, I believe him. You're the one that wanted to take down the Tojours. This is your chance."

"Based on some word of a car bomber," Ron spits. "That's very reliable."

"This isn't his bomb. He's a creature of habit when it comes to placing the bomb. He wouldn't place it somewhere else. It's what lead us to him in the first place."

Bill sighs. And Charlie knows that he's won the argument. "We need more information if we're going to take down all of the Tojours."

Charlie waits for Draco as he is led out of the courtroom. A small detail has been placed on him during the Tojours trails due to the fact that Draco is their main witness against all of the Tojours' big names, including a very real Bellatrix Black. As their main - or only - witness, Draco has received a straggering amount of death threats.

"So what now?" Charlie asks.

Draco shrugs. "I don't know. Every part of my old life is destroyed. Your brother saw to that."

"Starting anew isn't all bad," Charlie assures him. "But you do know that they will come after you once they get out."

Draco nods solemnly. "I don't think they took too kindly to being given up. However, I have a while before I have to worry about that."

The sound of footsteps causes the both of them to look up. In front of them is standing Bill in his uniform. "As promised for your cooperation, the D.A. is releasing you. However, they ask that you check in with me from time to time."

"To make sure I'm not going slipping back into my old habits?" Draco questions. He raises his eyebrow, but there's a smirk on his face. "I'm sure I can manage that."

Bill nods. And he turns around and disappears.

The door opens without a knock. It causes Charlie to look up from the dinner he's making. Standing in the doorway is Draco, holding a bottle of wine. Charlie nods toward the table. "Dinner'll be ready in a few," he says.

After he places the plates on the table, Charlie takes the seat across from Draco. "You see Bill today?" Charlie asks.

Draco nods before eating. It's a quiet affair; something that took Charlie time to get used to. Draco's just not as much of a talker as he is. And when he does talk, it's usually to ask about Charlie's day.

Charlie pours the wine and takes a seat on the couch. He coaxes the day's events out of Draco, smiling as the other man tells him about what happened at the bomb retrieval. It had taken some work to convince the police to allow Draco to chase down other bombers, but it's what he's good at.

There's a loud banging at the door. Charlie sets his glass down and opens the door. Bill is standing there, clad in his uniform, a grimace across his face.

"What's going on?"

By this time, Draco is standing next time.

"Bellatrix Black has escaped."

And Charlie feels the world fall apart right around him.

A/n - so many thanks to both Paula and Laura who helped tremendously with this fic! They are such dollfaces.