AU! No Voldemort.
THC
Slytherin, DADA
Drabble
Prompt: (dialogue) We didn't know you could do that! That's so cool!
WC: 997/1000
Beta: Charlotte, Dhrish, Bea, Aya, VanillaAshes, Hope
Charlie roared with approval when Fred and George climbed onto the table and began swivelling their hips. All around them, people laughed and hooted, cheering for the twins as they danced to the beat of the Macarena.
"This is the best bachelor party ever!" Bill howled, slamming his beer mug down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and yelled over the loud music, "Beers all around!"
Charlie gestured at a skimpily dressed waitress to get them another round of drinks and she walked away with a quick nod. Charlie turned back to Bill and clapped his shoulder. "How you feelin'?"
Bill looked like a mess: his eyes were red, his hair stood on its ends, and both his collar and tie were wrinkled. But his lips were stretched in the biggest grin Charlie had ever seen. Bill yelled, "I'm great!"
"Want to get up and dance?" Charlie asked, amused by the goofy look on Bill's face.
"Yes!" Bill almost squealed as Charlie helped him up and dragged him towards the dance floor.
Bill began to dance energetically, yet badly, to the music, twisting and twirling, waving his arms over his head, shaking his hips. Charlie leant back and laughed at Bill's drunken flailing as Bill was usually the more aware one during their nights out.
Charlie's stomach hurt and he bent over double, tears streaming down his face. "Oh, Merlin!"
"Yeaaaah, Bill!" Fred and George cheered as they hopped off the table and danced their way through the crowd towards Bill and Charlie. And then, they placed their hands on Bill's shoulders and waist and began thrusting against him.
Charlie threw his head back and cackled so hard that he swore he could feel something inside him rupture. He shook his head and cried, "Please, stop! I can't take this anymore!"
"But we're just getting started!" George whined, clinging to Bill from behind. Bill giggled and dropped his head onto Fred's shoulder before the trio began to slow-dance to the aggressively fast music Charlie recognised as the Macarena.
Charlie wished he had a camera. Fred and George passed Bill between them, slowly increasing the pace of their dance until all three of them were jumping up and down, still spinning a green-looking Bill in between. They twirled him, dipped him, spun him, and then…
They let him go.
It was the oldest trick in the book. Bill used to spin Charlie and Percy; Charlie had done the same to the twins until they were unable to see straight; the twins had amused Ron and Ginny like that for hours.
But Charlie had never expected the twins to spin Bill when he was this drunk—which was why he should have seen it coming.
Bill swayed from side to side, trying to steady himself, his eyes unfocused and hazy. Before Charlie could step forward to help him, Bill muttered something under his breath before he ducked his head and vomited all over the floor.
Charlie's nose scrunched as the smell hit him, and a burning sensation, the likes of which he had never felt before, formed in his throat. It itched and scratched him from the inside, climbing up towards the back of his mouth. He gagged at the strange taste and let out a loud belch.
Flames erupted from his mouth in thick spurts, red-hot and just as bright in the pulsing lights of the club. When he smelt the fire burning his glorious thick beard, Charlie panicked. He clapped his hands over his mouth to stop spewing flames but ended up screaming as the heat burnt his hands. "Ow, ow, ow! Fuck! That hurts!"
He furiously wrung his hands to get rid of the stinging pain, but the damage was done. He cautiously pressed his fingers together and grimaced at the pain rushing up his arms. He turned to Fred and George and found them gawking at him, their eyes wide and jaws hanging.
Charlie snapped, "Help me out, you dolts!"
Fred and George quickly began patting their pockets to find something. Fred pulled out a small container of Burn-Healing Paste from his robes and opened it. "Here," he said, offering the bright-orange paste to Charlie.
Charlie swiped some onto his fingers and awkwardly massaged it onto his hands. Bill was sprawled out on the ground nearby, clutching onto his head and muttering curses. Once Charlie healed his hands, he bent down and hauled Bill up and onto his shoulders in a fireman's hold. "Alright, time to go," he announced.
The moment the boys were outside, Fred and George exclaimed, "We didn't know you could do that! That was so cool! That fire was awesome!"
"How's tha' ev'n poss'ble?" Bill mumbled, annoyed, his head lolling on Charlie's elbow.
Charlie chuckled at his brother's irritation and explained, "It's just a little perk of being a dragon tamer for so many years."
"But how?" Fred and George cried, trailing behind him excitedly. "Tell us!"
Charlie smirked. "You know how I get injured by dragons?" When they nodded, he explained, "Sometimes, when a dragon sticks their claws in you, you get their traits, but some remain latent until something triggers them and then…"
"An' th'n you start flamin' a' th' mouth?" Bill tried to lift himself off, his words still slurring, but Charlie had his right hand in a tight hold, along with his thigh.
Charlie nodded and sensed the twins planning on doing something stupid, so he added, "The traits don't always show up. Sometimes, it takes years for something to happen—like you could grow sharper nails, or a sharper sense of smell, maybe a hint of dragon hearing—and sometimes, nothing happens."
"Damn it!" Fred grumbled, but then he perked up. "Hey, how about we go—"
"—And blow things up?" George finished for him, rubbing his hands deviously.
Bill giggled and nodded. "Good idea!"
Charlie grinned. He had never been one to hold back from showing off, so why the hell would he start now?
