Okay, so hi. I don't NEED another WIP but apparently I do. This is a pet project of mine that will be updated sporadically as time allows. I will shoot for once as week.
This will be a world building long fic, similar to The Potioneers but hopefully not as long. (i am shooting for 60k but I know that is a lie.)
The summary and title are subject to change. Enjoy.
Hermione spun as she landed, letting the momentum of the portkey swirl through her arms until she was steady enough to stand. Over the years she had gotten better at landing on her feet but they still made her sick as a dog if she kept her eyes open.
"Gracefully landing, Master Granger."
Hermione smiled even as the bright sun assaulted her vision. Charlie was leaning against the Main Office's porch with crossed arms and a casual smile. Hermione rolled her eyes placing a hand on her hip in an attempt to intimidate him.
"Dragon Tamer Weasley, I do believe I told you not to call me that." Hermione smiled broadly when the red-head scowled. Before he could respond a familiar face burst from the door.
"It's Dragon Master now, didn't he tell you? Or is the git just bad at writing letters as he is at dodging flames?" Hermione was quickly spun into a hug by one Marcy Sango. The Spanish witch was stronger than she looked from her years of working as Charlie's partner and Hermione quickly found herself gasping for breath.
"Marce… Lungs!" Hermione wheezed while trying to glare at a laughing Charlie.
"Oh right, right. Sorry I just hadn't seen you since my last visit to the Burrow. How are the boys? Is the research going okay? Are you getting enough-"
Hermione let the witch carry on. Marcy reminded her a lot of Tonks and Hermione was pretty sure that's why Charlie was such good friends with her. It did him good to be around someone with her energy. Still, Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to be staying in the woman's cabin or anything.
"Let the poor girl breathe Marce. You'll talk her to death before she can get anything sorted then where will we be,'' Charlie said, approaching for his hug just as Marcy released her. His arms were strong and gentle enough that when he lifted her up she didn't even squeak anymore, something that served as the greatest disappointment to him.
The two had grown close after the war when Hermione started her Healer's training. She became aware of the criminal shortage of cure-all potions (which was really just a cure some potion but still incredibly useful) due to the rarity of dragon's blood. It was that first Christmas when Charlie was visiting that the two had a massive screaming match over the roast duck about the usage of the potion and the ethics of dragon's blood supply. Hermione was horrified to discover that almost the entirety of dragon's blood in the market came from poacher's hunts where the dragon was killed and not the non-lethal, carefully monitored methods of retrieval used on the reserve. That explosive argument fueled Hermione's drive to shift away from healing and into Potions. Less than a year later she completed the development of a synthetic product that served as an effective replacement for the four medical uses of dragon's blood.
The letter Charlie sent her after her work was published was filled with apologies and an invitation for a visit. It took until that summer for her to take him up on it and she was instantly in love with the Romanian reserve.
Straight out of the gate she was loved for her creation. Most of the Handlers and Tamers had personally seen the aftermath of a black-market blood collection and were more than thrilled that her synthetic had all but decimated the wholesale slaughter of wild dragons. They were happy to show her around and provide further samples for her research when a dragon died of natural causes on the reserve.
It was only due to this special treatment that she was able to develop her next synthetic, dragon liver. The replacement synthetic used in a variety of potions had earned her Mastery certificate in the field and set up her career as a Potioneer. At that point she became an honorary member of the reserve and for every visit since she was treated as one of their own.
"A promotion then!" Hermione said as he set her back down on solid ground. "Congratulations Charlie!"
"Not a big deal." He waved off her praise but she could still see a small smile of pride pulling at his lips. "Titles and whatnots don't matter. It's the dragons that I care about."
"Right, right," Marcy said, nudging him out of the way so that she could face Hermione. "What are you working on next? Scales? Claw? Maybe-"
"The big one, Marce," Hermione smiled, resting her hand on the shorter witches shoulder softly. "Heart string."
Hermione had been turning over this particular battle for years in her mind and was only just now starting to move on it. Almost all of the dragon heart strings were harvested illegally and used as wand cores for wands that sat on shelves for decades waiting for 'the right wizard' to come along. Thousands of dragons that had died for no other purpose other than wait on the possibility that some eleven-year-old kid would appear to match with it and frequently never finding them.
"Well I'll be damned," Marcy said her eyes wide with awe. "Don't do anything by half-measure do you Granger?"
"She sure doesn't!" Charlie responded by throwing an arm around her shoulder. Hermione smiled indulgently as he guided her away. "Let's get you settled. Merago gave me the day off to get you settled and show you around."
"I've been here loads of times Charlie," she responded nudging him in his ribs.
"Yeah, but I wanted the day off." He boomed a laugh and Hermione shot an exasperated look over her shoulder at his waylaid partner. Marcy was smiling suspiciously at them and waved her off.
"Hold tight!" Charlie shouted, pulling her tight against his body. Hermione barely had a second to brace herself before the telltale pull of apparition spat them out on the hard wood of his porch. Hermione groaned, her body barely settled from the port key and braced herself against the railing of the cabin.
"I hate it when you do that."
"Which is why it's so fun!"
Hermione focused on the descending tree line until her vision stopped swimming and she felt like she could support herself without falling down the mountain. Charlie's cabin was beautiful, placed far away from camp.
He had built it himself and it served as a look out post over the most active part of the reserve. Even now she could see the circling forms of dragons in a variety of colors entering and exiting the Roost, the massive man-made mountain where most of the reserve's resident dragons called home. They were just the barest of specks against the brilliant blue of the sky but the slow drifting movements calmed her all the same.
"You've got to get out of that lab more," Charlie commented leaning against the railing beside her. "The fumes are making you ditzy."
"What do you think I'm here for?" she murmured, her eyes still locked on the serpentine form of a Chinese fireball as it raced across the sky like a ribbon.
"My charming personality and striking good looks?"
Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Charlie knew he was handsome in the rugged sort of way. The physically labored kept him fit, his muscles were always hinted at under whatever shirt he was wearing. The dragonhide pants clung to him in a criminal way that made the witches back home drool whenever they went out over the holidays.
As much as his mother hated his long hair, Hermione argued for him every time she wanted to cut it, loving the sentimentality of the single braid curled behind his ear. She knew it was woven with hand-carved beads made from the shells of eggs he had hatched. Tied to the very end of it under an imperturbable charm was a bright gold feather from a Kingfisher, denoting his rank. When she had last visited it had been a brilliant blue.
"So... Dragon Master," she hummed, lightly running her fingers over the soft, shining feather. The rest of his hair was tied back with a leather strap but he always left the braid down. His pride in his job outweighed any annoyance it caused. She wasn't supposed to touch it of course. It was a thing to all the workers on the reserve, essentially a taboo. Honestly the whole ritual behind the braids struck Hermione as a bit tribalist and cultish but it wasn't until Charlie drunkenly explained it one night that it finally hit her. It was more than just decoration, it was a mark of lives saved and nothing mattered more to anyone on the reserve other than that.
"So they say." Charlie smiled broadly, watching her from the corner of his eye. "Ready for yours yet?"
Hermione scoffed, dropping her hand.
"Master Potioneer is enough for me. I still have that damn certificate they gave me under a pile of coffee cups and rat kidneys."
Charlie laughed, grabbing a curl just under her ear and tugging at it lightly.
"Here. this one would be perfect for it."
Hermione shook her head gazing back out at the barely tamed land of the sanctuary. They had offered her a job after the first discovery, serving in the reserve's hospital. By the second they would have given her any title she wanted.
"Knock it off Charlie." Hermione smiled when he pouted dropping the curl. It looked ridiculous when paired with his overgrown scruff. She pushed off the railing to a stand, turning to walk back into the cabin. "Please tell me you have coffee."
"I knew you were coming, didn't I?" he responded, following her at a leisurely pace.
Charlie's cabin was a mostly simple construct, consisting of one large room plus a bathroom. The lounging area had serviceable, but basic furniture and the kitchen contained just enough to see him through the odd meal not taken at the mess hall. The upstairs loft created an open half of a second floor where he usually slept. He would give up his bed and crash on the couch for the rest of the week (in spite of her repeated insistence that she could stay down at the barracks with the trainees).
The subject of her staying with Charlie was a hotly debated one on the reserve. Every time she visited she was treated with envy and scorn by any new recruits to the sanctuary for staying with him. Eventually they were all informed by their mentors of what was what and the heat died back. Over the years the story had morphed to the tale that she stayed up all night having hotly debated arguments (true) and wild sex (not true) that resulted in her previous discoveries.
Only the oldest of Tamers like Marcy knew that the very first time she visited she had stayed in the barracks and woke up screaming and hexing half of her cabinmates. It was only when Charlie took her back to his place and kept her awake talking about the war until the sun came up that she was able to sleep. Over the years the nightmares had died down but the arrangement stuck, partially because Hermione was a major fan of his private bathroom.
Hermione summoned the coffee from the cabinet along with her mug. The bright red cup was the only spot of color in his house and she insisted on it after cutting her lip on one of the chipped mugs he refused to get rid of. She opened the cooling box and pulled out the milk to sniff at it.
"I take milk in my tea you know. It's fresh." Charlie laughed, settling on a wooden stool on the other side of the counter. Hermione had insisted he build something he could sit at while she cooked after the second visit. Otherwise he fluttered around her in the kitchen until she got distracted and burned herself.
"I never know with you," she responded, primly adding it to her mug. "How've you been Charlie?"
"Eh, good. Old Orpheus is as temperamental as he had ever been but we had a new batch of Herbrian Black hatchlings come in last week. Young little tikes we think we're being hatched for pit fighting." A dangerous look flashed across Charlie's face and he snarled.
It was something that always made the rest of the Weasley family uncomfortable. They had only ever known Charlie as a kind, gentle soul. Seeing his anger when he talked about the injustices committed against dragons concerned them. It just reminded Hermione what she was fighting for; which was why she made time to sneak off for a week at least a few times a year to center herself.
"How are they faring?" Hermione smiled into her cup when his look of feral rage was replaced by a soft, loving grin.
"Doing alright. We have an opaleye who's clutch had been crushed and she took them under her wing. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if she thinks anything of the color difference. She certainly seems to think she can lick them white."
They caught up while Hermione sipped on her caffeine. Her portkey had triggered at the crack of dawn and even though it was a few hours later on the reserve Charlie was still halfway through the work day. He politely waited until she had finished her second cup before leaning across the island and swiping at her wrist. She barely had the time to put her mug down with a swear before he was porting them back down to the camp.
She landed in a stumble, Charlie's large hand catching her hip to steady her.
"Charles Cassius Wealsey!" she shouted, smacking her palm against his chest. "You absolute prat! Stop porting me around like lost luggage!"
The veterans of the camp chuckled at the interaction, barely sparing them a glance as they went about their task. Hermione rolled her eyes at the new female Dragon Handlers frowning deeply at her and whispered to those around them. She knew that Charlie was widely considered the reserve heart throb and was the subject of no small number of crushes mostly due to his 'kind to everyone' disposition but really it was getting old.
"If you don't let go of me your fan club is going to maul me before the dragons get a chance to," she said flatly, glaring up at him. He boomed a laugh and slowly unlaced his arm from around her waist, only to move it to her shoulder and pull them towards the infirmary.
"Would that be such a crime?" he asked. "I could do with less of them and I am pretty sure you could take the lot!"
Hermione broke away as soon as they entered the infirmary, insisting on seeing the worst cases. The Dragon Healers just smiled indulgently at her, happy to withstand her trodding all over their space in exchange for the specially formulated healing potions that they never seemed able to replicate, even with her recipe.
Charlie followed along, helping calm the ailing beasts and offering his opinion as she worked. When she truly got going on an issue even the healers couldn't keep up with her and left her Charlie to be her sounding board. Before she knew it the sunset was creeping through the windows and she was exhausted.
"If you're done stepping on everyone toes, we can go see Orpheus," Charlie said, sliding his navy cloak back on before holding a hand out to her.
"No way," Hermione scoffed pushing past him. "We can walk. If I take your hand-"
Hermione was cut off as he stepped into her, his arm wrapping around her waist as they apparated. They landed on the very top platform of the Roost, Charlie laughing and her swearing. To be quite honest she played the whole bit up a little. By the end of her first visit she had grown used to his sudden side-alongs and trusted him enough to know that he would never fail in porting them anywhere. But his eyes always seemed to sparkle in humor every time he swiped at a body part to transport her with. So she let him believe she hated it.
"You're such a-"
"Please, not in front of Orpheus Granger," Charlie responded walking forward. "I know you have a filthy mouth but think of his innocent virgin ears."
"Pardon?" Hermione scoffed. "That dragon has been here longer than the reserve itself. I'm fairly certain he has heard worse."
Which was true. Orpheus was the oldest dragon on the reserve and as far as anyone could tell had been there since it's conception. Charlie had been trying for years to identify his breed but the other experts of the world had never seen anything like the crystal blue dragon. Charlie had suspected he was some sort of cross-breed but he never took a mate so they were unable to figure it out.
His cave was at the peak of the Roost and was by far the largest and most richly appointed with the assorted treasures he had hoarded throughout his years. Most of it was gold or silver but in the very back where he only let her and Charlie enter was some old patina copper that always drew her eye. She couldn't help but imagine that under the pile of riches he had some sort of ancient statute he had dragged out of the Grecian sea. It was unlikely that she would ever know, he didn't tolerate many people at all let alone anyone rooting around in his hoard.
Hermione was unsure why Orpheus liked her so much. For Charlie it made sense, if given enough time he could soothe just about any dragon. But Orpheus was a nasty blighter who merely tolerated the existence of other Handlers and (in spite of the restraining wards around the reserve) came and went as he pleased.
The first time Charlie showed her around the Roost, Orpheus came bursting out his cave in an instant, eyes locking on hers and charged to a skidding stop just short of her person. Charlie talked her through it, telling her to remain calm even as he was shaking like a leaf beside her. Hermione did as directed and cautiously held up her hand while the massive dragon watched her place it on his snout. From then on he would greet her at the Roost and occasionally find her out in the field.
As if called, Orpheus stuck his head out of the cave, his brilliant blue scales catching the fading light to flash in the colors of the sunset. When he was in the sky you could barely pick him out the cottage-sized dragon all. His nostrils flared and Hermione heard the assorted keepers drawing attention to the act and turning to watch.
Sure enough as soon as Orpheus's brilliant yellow eyes found hers he charged out of the cave, bridging the short distance between them with a flying leap until he came to a dramatic stop in front of her, kicking up dirt. Her hand was already up and he shoved his nose under it eagerly,
She laughed scratching the massive drake's snout and up his jaw to get at the spot just behind his spiraling transparent horn. They had tried for years to identify the substance, but the damn stuff either never chipped or the chips were too hard to find. It looked like glass but was harder than diamond, not even breaking when Charlie tried to scrape off a sample with one of their charmed grooming knives.
"There's my big sweet boy," she cooed, smiling at the answering rumble.
"Oi, I thought that was me!" Charlie responded ambling up to Orpheus' other side. The dragon barely took note which seemed unfair until she remembered that he saw Charlie near every day.
"You could never fill this beautiful creature's place in my heart," Hermione scoffed, looking meaningfully into the glowing silted eye, it was the size of her head. "Could he?"
Orpheus blew a puff of smoke that had some of the newer workers backing up rapidly. Which made sense, Orpheus, like all dragons, had fire and he wasn't afraid to use it if displeased. However, in all the years with Charlie he had never once so much as flamed near the redhead or Hermione.
"I've been replaced!" Charlie agreed solemnly patting the dragon on his cheek. "Take care of her for me would you old boy?"
"Oh shut up you shameless flirt," she quipped.
Orpheus seemed to agree, shifting back and forth to give them warning before he took a running leap, flinging his massive body over the edge of the platform and into the air. Hermione and Charlie watched him seemingly fade into the sky, off to hunt his dinner and likely remind a few younger males of their place. No one had ever seen him fight but all of the drakes gave him plenty of deference.
"Never gets old does it?" Charlie asked, still gazing in wonder as the last of the work for the night continued around them.
"I am convinced I will never see anything more beautiful than that dragon in the sky," she responded with a smile. They watched long past when even his movement was invisible and night fell softly.
"Well, my rather esteemed guest. Mess hall? Or will you be gracing me with your cooking?" Hermione normally had no issues with the mess hall, even with it's bland food. She liked catching up with rarely seen faces and meeting new ones. But right now, she had had a long day and was in no mood to replay the same old conversations and questions she always had to answer.
"You're a disgrace to your mother Charlie Weasley," she hummed setting off at a trot. She was sure he thought he was being sneaky when he crept silently behind her, his hand reaching out slowly. "How do you eat when I am not around?"
"The same way I do everything," he grabbed her hand and pulled her tight against his chest. She only had a second to brace herself, his cocky smile aimed down at her. "Perfectly."
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"You have got to get a wife… or a husband. I'm not particularly chuffed either way," Hermione said remaking the bed up in the loft.
"But if I had someone to remake my bed for me why would you ever come to visit?" Charlie asked, tossing a few blankets and pillows over the railing to land on the couch.
"You know most men don't flaunt their lack of domestic skills as a positive trait."
"Don't need to flaunt anything," Charlie responded, helping her straighten the quilt. "You're already cooking my dinner and making my bed."
"Down!" Hermione commanded, trying to sound bossy but just sounding amused.
Charlie shrugged, grabbing a pair of sleep pants before making his way down the ladder. Hermione slipped into his bed easily, stretching out over the wide berth of the mattress. She always told Charlie that she would take the couch or transfigure something but he insisted she take his bed. After the first time he suggested that if she kept arguing that they would be sharing she kept her mouth shut.
"All set for the night?" Charlie called up.
"Hmm, cozy!" was her response. "Such a large soft bed all to myself. And so nicely made too!"
"Don't tempt me Granger," was the grumbled reply.
"What was that?"
"I'll port you to Orpheus's and you can snuggle up on his bed you ungrateful wench."
"Says the man who needed his bed straightened and his dinner cooked."
Charlie laughed before the lights shut off, soaking them in the kind of all encompassing darkness she could never get used to. Above the bed, Charlie's ceiling had been transfigured into a massive glass skylight. In the pitch black of the reserve she could make out hundreds of thousands of stars on any clear night. It was almost enough to make her not want to ever close her eyes. Still she was tired, the stress of travelling and overexcitement of the day wearing down her energy until her eyes were shutting of her own accord.
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"Hermione!"
Hermione woke with a bolt of bone rattling-fear and confusion. Something tight was grasping at her shoulders and someone was screaming. It took her a moment to realize it was her. The second she did she stopped, her now-waking brain familiar with the practice. Charlie was hovering over her cautiously against the gray background of a cloudy dawn.
"Sorry," she croaked. Images of lifeless eyes and a cackling laugh fading from her mind.
"It's been a while yeah?" Charlie hummed pulling her tight against his bare chest. Her heart was still racing but listening to his forced it to slow, as if it wanted to beat in time with it. "You were due for one."
"You make it sound like a healer's appointment," Hermione said with a shaky voice. She traced down a particularly nasty gash across his chest from when he was thrown into a cliff face by a rampaging Welsh Green by the name of Popcorn. (Honestly Hermione couldn't blame the female considering Charlie was the one who had given her that name.)
"You okay? Anything that I should know about?" he asked. When he tried to pull away she tensed and settled next to her over the covers instead. He and Harry were the only ones that could calm her down this way. By the time Ginny moved into Grimmauld Place, Hermione ended up moving into a flat where she could soundproof the walls. She was mostly over the nightmares but sometimes she would see or hear something that kick started them again.
"I was just thinking about it earlier is all," she said, trying to steady her breathing based off of his.
Slowly but surely as the sky brightened she got a hold of herself, the tension leaking from her body until all that was left was the slightly disturbed morning exhaustion.
"What time is it?" she asked, finally shaking loose from Charlie's arms. He yawned and cast a quick tempus charm.
"Too early to be up but early enough to start the day... Mess hall is still closed though," Charlie said with a grin.
"Oh, really?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer as she folded back the blankets. "Do you happen to have eggs and bacon?"
"You know, I think I do."