Taming Dragons With Bedsheets

Chapter Eleven: A Bit of Practice

Charlie was feeling a bit awkward as he sat across from Hermione's mother and father at the small dinner table in her flat. Actually, "a bit" was a huge understatement. Hermione's father glared at him between every bite of brunch, while her mother was making him even more concerned. Every now and then, Charlie would catch Mrs. Granger giving him an appreciative, almost smug look from the corner of her eye, and he was beginning to turn a bit red in the face. That only made Mr. Granger look angrier, but there wasn't much Charlie could do about that.

Hermione, for her part, had taken the unexpected arrival of her parents in stride. She had been in the middle of fixing breakfast while Charlie showered when the doorbell to her flat had rang. It was about that time that she remembered it was Sunday- the day of her parents' weekly visit, and she'd thought fast on her feet- much faster than Charlie would've been able, he realized sadly, poking his scrambled eggs around with his fork. With a quick bit of wandwork, breakfast for two had turned into brunch for four. Unfortunately, there was very little she'd been able to do to warn Charlie about the surprise waiting for him in the sitting room when he finished his shower.

He'd entered the sitting room wearing nothing but his flannel pajama pants from the night before, only to find a middle-aged man and woman staring at him with shocked faces. Never in his life had Charlie felt more helpless than in that moment. His wand was back at the Burrow on his bedside table, so he couldn't transfigure himself new clothes, and he hadn't exactly been expecting to end up in Hermione Granger's bedroom last night, so all he had was what he'd arrived wearing.

Which wasn't exactly the perfect meet-the-parents outfit, in Charlie's opinion. Hermione, bless her, hadn't even batted an eyelash when she'd entered the living room to find a half-dressed, shower-wet Charlie standing awkwardly in front of her disapproving parents.

"The tea's ready, Mum and Dad," she said simply, smiling at them and gesturing that they should follow her into the kitchen. Charlie caught her eye, face full of sheepish embarrassment as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. His instincts were yelling "RUN! RUN NOW!", but he felt bad leaving her to deal with the mess on her own.

"Come on," she'd said, grinning at him, "before your food gets cold."

She was something else, that Hermione Granger.

"So," Hermione's father said, finally drawing Charlie back to the present, which was, frankly, not where he wanted to be. "Who are you, anyway?" he demanded, forcing Charlie to meet his eyes.

Charlie and Hermione both opened their mouths to answer, but, to their surprise, Mrs. Granger beat them to it. "He's clearly one of the Weasleys, dear," she said calmly, smiling at Charlie affectionately.

Charlie looked back at his plate, too confused to even make a guess as to why she was smiling at him like that. Hermione, on the other hand, was losing the fight against holding back hysterical giggles. She was a sharp girl, and she didn't miss the way her mother's eyes kept wandering to Charlie's bare, rather impressive chest. Her father wasn't missing it either.

"Well that still doesn't explain what he's doing here half-naked at this time of the morning," Mr. Granger said stiffly, casting a disapproving glance at his wife. She was still a bit busy ogling the embarrassed redhead across the table from her, though, so she missed it.

"His brothers played a nasty prank on him," Hermione explained, purposefully not looking anywhere near Charlie as she spoke. "They surprise-portkeyed him here late last night, and he didn't have his wand, so he couldn't get back to the Burrow. I was going to apparate him back after you left."

Charlie blinked rapidly, trying to figure out if all of that equaled a lie. It was technically true, just minus a few important bits. Very important bits, if Charlie did say so himself.

Mr. Granger didn't look entirely convinced, but Charlie got the distinct impression that he decided he didn't want to know more.

"So what is it you do for a living, Weasley?" he demanded, turning his attention back to Charlie.

"His name is Charlie, Dad," Hermione interjected quickly, giving her father the same disapproving gaze that he'd given her mother only moments before. "There's no need to be rude."

Before Mr. Granger had a chance to retort, Charlie cleared his throat, glad to finally have a question he had the mental capacity to answer. "I'm a dragon keeper on a reserve in Romania," Charlie explained quickly, feeling as if, for the first time since his disastrous(somewhat) welcome home party, he was finally in his element.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked startled, their jaws hanging wide open in surprise. Charlie backtracked, immediately regretting his flippant answer.

"I-i-it's not as bad as it sounds, of course," he hastened to explain. "They're really misunderstood- dragons, I mean. As long as you've got fast reflexes and a firm hand they're- they're almost harmless…" he faltered, letting his words die off. He was intensely aware of both Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and even Hermione, staring pointedly at the burn marks and claw scars that covered his arms and chest.

"It just takes a bit of practice, is all," he finished in a small voice, very much wanting to crawl under the table and die.

Mr. Granger could think of nothing else to say after that, so he finished his meal in silence. Charlie thought that was a good idea as well, so he never let his eyes leave the nearly untouched mass of eggs on his plate.

Mrs. Granger caught Hermione's eye, and they broke into identical secret smiles, unbeknownst to their male counterparts at the breakfast table.

"Practice, indeed," mouthed Mrs. Granger, waggling her eyebrows in the direction of the perpetually red-faced Charlie.

Hermione had to fight very hard not to break into another indecent fit of giggles.

A/N: This chapter did not want to be written. I fought with it for what felt like forever! But finally, against all odds, here it is. Thanks for the reviews! You're all wonderful!