Libary of Dragons
Sorry for the Late update, but thanks to the people who reviewed and read. Here's more.
Breeze and Drizzle
The following morning was populated by squalls of drizzle and a chill wind, but that did not stop Charlie from his dawn-time routine. Dressed in the same shorts as the previous morning and a fresh t-shirt, the Dragon Tamer ran onwards, his eyes squinted to protect them from rain stinging at his cheeks. The salty drops ran down his face and back, mingling with the sweat shivering over his body, drenching him.
The sun was late to show itself but that was mostly due to the black clouds reflecting Charlie's mood. He was not irate through the weather, more through his lack of progress. He had visited around fifteen churches the previous afternoon without so much as a whisper about his father. Still, what could he have expected? London was a huge city and Arthur but one man. He could not get upset because he hadn't succeeded straight away.
He had other things to look forward too, besides, and couldn't go around with a face like a wet weekend, even if it was raining on a Saturday. Percy's birthday was fast approaching and a Weasley party was always a good laugh.
Charlie's feet squelched on through a field to the next style that met him. As he crossed it, he happened to notice an old farm of some description. It looked abandoned, which wasn't uncommon in this area. Farmers usually sold up to their neighbors and the house they had lived in wasn't needed. Picking his path back up, Charlie continued on his way, his breathing coming slightly heavier now.
--- --- ---
"Morning," Amelia smiled drowsily at Ron in the half-light of the bedroom. With a cool hand she traced a line down his bare chest, pausing at his navel and the line of dark hair snaking from it. A soft kiss was left on his freckled shoulder.
"Morning, love," He kissed her forehead, drawing her to him. The contours of her warm body felt right against his own, skin on skin. "Sleep well?"
She nodded. "Like the dead, though someone tired me out last night," She grinned and pressed her lips to his."
"Not too tired I hope?" He smiled roguishly. Amelia giggled and kissed him again.
"Never too tired for you,"
Last night Ron had sighed into her ear, confessing his love for her. She had clawed at his back, nipped his collarbone and later, when he was spent and trembling, she had whispered to him in the darkness. And I love you.
The older woman, still spry and flexible from her Auror training, easily straddled his narrow hips. When he tried to protest, she used one hand to push him back into the pillows. She had made him work for her for the last few weeks, making him strain for every drop of perspiration she sweat but had learned it seemed. He wasn't the only one who had been quivering. Now it was her turn to work for him, a sort of reward as she saw it.
--- --- ---
Akhim had found his way out of the treasure-filled chamber and into a half-buried pyramid. It had been dark and claustrophobic in the ancient limestone passages, a maze of shadowy hallucinations cast by the magic-light he conjured. Hieroglyphs and paintings of the Ancient Ones skittered away above and beneath his pathways. He had found his way out after some time and more than a few wrong turns.
Sand shifted beneath his feet, caressed his bare cheek as the wind brushed past. It was dark out here too, but spangled with constellations and the air was alive and warm. He raised his face, eyes closed to it, relishing in the freedom and openness. His hood fell backwards and his arms stretched outward embracing the breath of the Gods, the invisible mares that rode upon the wind's back.
When he looked back to the pyramid, he could not see it. For miles around him, further than his eyes could see, dunes stretched across the horizon. The sands seemed silvered in the night, desolate and beautiful. They rose and fell like gently whispering waves, undulating but barren. Another test from the Gods. Cross the desert and live, find the pieces of the Torc that belonged to him. If he died, none would mourn him.
His sense of freedom faltered. He had no water. He had no food; no shelter. But he was a wizard, he had two wands and was chosen by the Ancient Ones to bear their symbol. He could summon water from the depths and crystalise sand around him for shelter from the merciless desert sun. He was strong.
He didn't ask how he knew which way to go, which invisible path he was to take. The same pulling, the same certainty as in the dead forest some time ago drove him onward. He turned westward, where during the day the sun would be at his back and full in his face as it set, bleeding, into the sands in the evening. As he took the first step in the new direction a shiver ran up his arms, dancing around tattoos and scars and youthful contours.
A smile tugged at his lips, broad and proud, thrilling at the new feeling. Before, in the forest, he had felt a minuscule equivalent and only when he was closer to his quarry. And before he had acquired his third piece, he had felt nothing until he touched it. It seemed the more Torc Pieces he acquired the stronger the sense of its presence in the world became. It would become easier, he felt, and rightly so, holding more items of the Gods.
His feet at first sank into the shifting grains of sand but a quick spell remedied it and made his path less tiring. He walked as the heavens turned above him, relishing the cool breeze, letting the wind-mares nuzzle at his bare fingers and feeling the company of the ancient magic that touched him from afar.
--- --- ---
Later, in the kitchen, once Charlie had returned from his run, he stuck the kettle on to boil and was wiping his torso and head down with a towel. He sighed resolutely. He could only try again. He would find-
"Charlie?" The French accent to his name made him turn and regard his sister-in-law, who, in her long silk dressing-gown, looked far out of place in the Weasley household. Although a few hairs were wiping from a thick blonde plait, and she was in her pyjamas, he found it hard to believe that she slept at all. Well, Bill would often look like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards when he got up, while his wife was the complete opposite. "Could i trouble you for a cup of coffee?"
She smiled warmly at him and he felt the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He nodded, smiling in return but looked away from her. She was part Veela, he had been told as much, but falling for his brother's wife was out of the question, besides the fact he would never have normally found her to be his type.
"How do you like it?" He was also thankful she could not see the self-conscious blush rising up his neck to his cheeks. She could see every inch of his torso, the musculature, the tattoo and the myriad scars. He wouldn't have minded Ginny seeing, she was his sister. His mum would have probably whacked over the head for the tattoo and as for Hermione...well... But Fleur was different. She was, as many would see it, a class above them. She came from a well-off family, pure-blood through and through and was well bred and educated. He was rough around the edges, and for a pure-blood, fairly low in status.
"Black wiz two sugars, if you please," He heard her take a seat at the table behind him. He waited for her comments while starting to make the drinks. As he expected, she did comment, but it was not worded how he would have thought. "You must be very brave, Charlie, to 'ave such scars,"
"Thankyou..." He said uncertainly. He had been called many things, but brave was not one of them. Stupid, careless, seasoned, yes, but not brave.
"You were a Gryffindor too, ah?" Charlie nodded. "This whole family is trés courageux." She was quiet for a time. The tea-spoon Charlie was using clinked against the cup sides as he stirred her coffee.
"From ze dragons?"
"Hm?" Charlie turned, the two cups in his hands, setting them down on the table.
"Your scars are from ze dragons you work with?"
"Oh, yeah," He sat down opposite her, still a little uncomfortable but mellowing.
"And you work abroad?" Again, Charlie nodded. "So you speak many languages?"
"Erm...Nine, including Egyptian thanks to Bill, though my French is dire," He took a gulp from his tea. "Why do you ask?"
She smiled though her voice held a tremor she couldn't quite mask. "Curiosity, I suppose...I..I know so little of you..." Charlie dismissed it quickly, however. He wasn't one to pry. Let her keep her secrets. "Anyway, i must go and see to William, he will be 'ungry by now I am sure," She stood, her coffee in hand and moved to leave the kitchen.
"Oh, Fleur, you don't know if my mum's up yet do you?" The veela turned suddenly sad eyes on him.
"I have not seen her since Thursday night. She did not come down for any of her meals yesterday. We left her dinner outside her room, knocked to make sure she was ok-" She was cut off by Charlie passing her in the doorway. "Charlie-" But he was already up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He needed to make sure she was alright; his mother never refused to leave her room, she had too much to do.
He turned left at the first landing, passing Percy's room and then took the three steps to the annex his parents had shared. The tray outside the door held the remains of the past night's meal. It had been picked at he saw, the cutlery was used and the glass was empty. Now he was here, he was not sure how to go about it. He felt like a child again, about to breach the sanctuary of his parents room.
Steeling himself, Charlie knocked twice on the door and waited a moment. There was silence on the other side of the door, but that wasn't to say she hadn't used a silencing spell. He turned the handle. Locked. A quick spell removed the manual lock but the door still held fast.
"Mum?" Charlie inquired. No answer. "Mum, open the door," He tried to open it again but it simply rattled in its frame. "Mum! Open the door!" Louder this time and more forceful. "For Merlin's sake, open the door!" He banged on the wood with his fist. Percy's door opened behind him but Charlie ignored it. He was focused on his mother's room. "Open-"
The door swung inwards.
