Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.
There Are No Death Eaters Any More.
"Good morning, Mum!" George called out, appearing in the fireplace of The Burrow early the next day. Officially, he still lived above the shop, but he was spending most mealtimes and a lot of nights at his parents' place. Nobody said anything.
Keeping her eyes on the sausages in the frying pan, Molly replied, "Morning, George. How are you this morning?"
"Fine," George replied. I just feel as though half of me is missing and my heart's stopped. I can't sleep and I'm doing the work of two because hiring an assistant would feel like I was replacing him.
George sat down at the scrubbed kitchen table, where Percy was already tucking into a large fry-up. He had come in from work too exhausted to eat the night before.
"Morning Percy," said George, "How's it going?"
"Fine," Percy replied. Still eaten up with guilt for having betrayed the family for so long, working long hours at a harrowing job in some sort of attempt to pay the Order back for the Resistance I never managed.
"Will you have a sausage, George? Or just some toast?" Molly asked in a light tone. She kept trying to coax him to eat more.
"Sausage would be lovely, Mum, thanks," George replied, because he knew he'd be able to tip it onto Percy's plate when she wasn't looking.
Once George had his sausage, Molly took a cup of tea up the stairs to wake Arthur. George leaned towards his brother and Percy sat up hopefully, thinking, stupidly that he was about to be teased.
"You know Angelina and Alicia have taken on the ice cream parlour?" He began.
Percy slumped again. George hadn't told a joke since the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Doing a good job, I hear," he answered, confused by George's conspiratorial tone.
"Well apparently they had …" George broke off, sighed, tried again, "Charlie was in there."
"He's staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm meeting him for lunch."
George checked the door. "I know," he said.
Percy tried to work out why Charlie shouldn't be eating ice cream. Then understanding dawned.
"He was with someone?" Percy asked.
George nodded. He looked like he might cry or be sick.
"It's horrible, Percy," he said. "It was Draco Malfoy. She said they were touching each other, flirting. I mean, what's that scum doing with our Charlie? Twisted pervert. Just 'cos Charlie's never had a steady girlfriend doesn't mean … Charlie's too nice, he won't understand how evil that little tosser can be. I could throw that runt a lot further than I'd trust him."
"You want me to warn him?" Percy asked.
"I know it's stupid. I should be able to talk to him myself. It's just that … he's still my big brother the Quidditch captain. You know. We idolised him. I can't go up to him now and ask him if he's bumming a Death Eater."
"They're all ex-Death Eaters now," Percy reminded him.
"That's Ministry mouthwash and you know it. Malfoy is darkness in human form." George stabbed at his sausage fiercely.
There was no point in arguing with George. In fact, anger was an improvement on his recent moods. George looked at the sausage. Percy held his breath. Was he actually going to eat it? Then they both heard their parents' steps on the stairs and George hurriedly scraped the sausage onto Percy's plate.
Percy walked out of the midday sun into the gloom of the bar. He spotted Charlie, on a bar stool, already half-way through a pint.
"Hey! Percy! What can I get you? Do you want to look at the menu or would you rather go somewhere else?"
"I have to say something first," Percy said heavily, sitting down.
How did Percy always find things out? Charlie wasn't going to inflate his ego by asking. He just put down his pint, resigned.
Percy spoke softly: "I'm sure you think you know what you're doing. And he may look the same as your usual now. But he isn't. He's damaged and dangerous. He was virtually Voldemort's apprentice. God knows what Dark Magic he's learnt."
Charlie picked up his pint again, "I thought the Ministry wanted us to all forgive and forget."
"I don't blame him," Percy said earnestly. Charlie looked sceptical. Percy continued, "I know most people do. But, Charlie, the thing is that next week you'll be back in Romania and it'll be the rest of us left here with the consequences. There's no telling how bad they could be. You dump this one and he could destroy the lot of us. You can't do this to him. Not with what he knows and what's happened to him. No!" he answered the question on Charlie's face. "Ministry files are confidential."
"I could look after him," Charlie tried.
Percy gave a dry laugh, then said, "That's hardly your forté. Just end it quickly and kindly. Now get me a bitter lemon and the menu and we'll talk about other things until I have to go back to work.
Three quarters of an hour later, Charlie was sitting in the sun with his third pint, working out where he could take Draco that evening. He could try to take him through the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London, but, given his politics, Draco was unlikely to be keen. Anywhere wizard, though, and they would have to put up with the poisonous stares. They could just stay in Charlie's room. But he felt the need to feed Draco. I'm turning into my mother, Charlie thought. Except she doesn't feed Death Eaters and then shag their brains out. At least I hope she doesn't.
Dangerous? Draco? Voldemort's apprentice? He couldn't reconcile Percy's description to his memory of the pale, broken boy who'd cuddled up to him the afternoon before. They'd spent a couple of hours just lying together. Charlie had surprised himself by not minding. He had wrapped his arm round Draco's chest, and been alarmed by how his ribs jutted. He noticed just how underfed the teenager was, how dry his skin, how lank his hair.
It had been Draco who had eventually left the bed, dressing speedily and apologising that his parents were expecting him home. He'd grabbed the Pygmy Puff cage and Apparated away. As soon as he'd gone, Charlie realised that they hadn't arranged to meet again.
Charlie had spent the first few hours of today unable to get on with anything, distracted by thoughts of Draco. And then, looking out of his window, over Diagon Alley, he'd seen him. The blond hair had been washed and brushed and he was wearing a pristine summer-weight robe in Slytherin green. End it quickly and kindly? Too late already. It could have annoyed Charlie, the neediness of the boy, just standing outside the pub, waiting. But from Draco somehow it didn't.
He'd been about to raise his window and wave, when the shop assistant from the Owl Emporium opposite had deliberately shaken a sheet covered in droppings over Draco. Charlie thought it would be best to pretend he hadn't witnessed that humiliation. He dressed and ran downstairs instead, surprising himself with his own eagerness. When he stepped out into the street and saw his beautiful boy, he had to stop himself from grinning so hard.
Draco answered with a shy smile. He covered this with a cool toss of the head and said, "I know we're both very busy." Charlie knew that actually neither of them had much to do, but he nodded. Draco continued, "But as I was in the area I thought I'd just check if you were free this evening."
So Charlie had a few hours to plan and prepare. He didn't think Tom would send food up to the room and Charlie couldn't cook, even if there had been facilities up there. So it was looking like take-away. It could be Muggle, Draco wouldn't know.
When they met again at seven o'clock, Charlie was carrying a couple of kebabs. It was still light and warm, so they ignored the glares and strolled down Diagon Alley to Knockturn Alley. Draco was right, most of the shops were boarded up and all were empty. They ate their kebabs, and looked around.
"Where have they all gone?" Charlie asked.
"I know some are still alive and out of jail. They must be lying low. Not a good time to be of our persuasion," Draco answered quietly, adding, "I used to love it here. It was probably my favourite place." He wandered sadly from window to window, trying to peer in, ignoring his food.
"They'll be back," Charlie said, "When the heat dies down."
"Won't be the same," Draco said, shaking his head, "well, I won't be the same."
Then Charlie stood behind him and put his arms round him. Their reflections stared back, hollow eyed, from the plate glass of Madame Nightshade's Cornucopia. Charlie nuzzled into Draco's neck. Then Draco turned round and kissed him. Charlie had never before spent so long just kissing. Draco's mouth was small but very warm.
Once back in the room at The Leaky Cauldron, Charlie took hold of the younger man's hands and stared into his eyes. The sad, grey eyes looked straight back. Charlie raised his right arm, thus lifting Draco's left so that his sleeve slid to his elbow. Charlie licked the skin where the Dark Mark had been. Then he let go of Draco and crossed over to the trunk under the window. He had taken some time over the afternoon to tidy up and now most of his possessions were in the trunk.
Charlie pulled out a battered, leather backpack. Draco asked what it was.
"My dragon kit," Charlie answered, carrying it over to the bed, where he searched through the contents. He pulled out a white tub.
"Moisturiser?" Draco asked incredulously. "What do the other dragon tamers make of that?"
Charlie laughed and shook his head.
"You can't tame a dragon," he said.
Draco lifted his chin and curled his lip: "And don't you forget it!" he said haughtily, a glimpse of his boyhood arrogance passing over his face. "Why are you grinning like that?" he demanded. "Don't shake your head."
"Come here," Charlie said, patting the bed.
"No, you come here."
So Charlie did. And he started to smooth the moisturiser onto Draco's arms - one at a time, paying particular attention to the flaking skin of his elbows and knuckles.
"You don't take care of yourself," he murmured.
Draco looked panicked. "You don't like my body?"
"Of course I do."
"But I ought to look after it better?" Draco asked.
Charlie answered, "No, there's no need. I'll look after you now."
Charlie pushed his fingers into Draco's long, sweet-smelling hair and pulled him into a kiss. Draco responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms round Charlie's waist. They fell onto the bed together. They had been lovers for two weeks now. Charlie had forgotten to go back to Romania and Draco was trying to forget that school started again in a week.
Draco unbuttoned Charlie's jeans and Charlie pushed up Draco's robes. Already, his bones were less visible and his skin smoother. Charlie planted kisses from nipples to navel, where he sucked in soft tummy flesh, leaving a red mark. He stroked the pale skin of thigh and whispered, "Oh, Lucius!"
Draco had leapt from the bed, adjusted his clothing and Apparated away before Charlie realised what he'd said.