Word Count: 1754


Charlie hasn't even started back to Romania when it begins. One moment, he's saying goodbye to his family and promising to return for Christmas. The next, there are lights in the sky, unlike anything they've ever seen before.

"Arthur," his mother says. "Arthur, turn on the news."

Because they all feel it. This isn't just some sort of phenomenon that can be easily explained. There is something going, something so much bigger than any of them.

Gilderoy Lockhart is on the telly, reporting the lights seen around the world. "We have reason to believe that this is some sort of publicity stunt," the blond man explains. "As of now, no one is taking credit for it, but we will keep you updated as the story progresses."

Charlie has a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach, and he thinks that maybe he should stay a little longer.

The beings appear after three days. The Queen is in the middle of an address when there's a sudden crash. The camera pans to a… Well, Charlie isn't sure what it is, only that it looks like a giant metal snake.

A man steps out. No. Man isn't quite the right word. He is humanoid, but there is something about him that isn't quite right. Charlie can't seem to put his finger on it, but he knows.

The being announces his people as the Riddlians from some faraway planet called Marvolo. When he smiles, his teeth are just a little too sharp, and Charlie can't help but have his doubts when the being begins to talk about peace.

His suspicions are confirmed in moments. Armed guards surround them, only to get consumed by a brilliant burst of green light.

The leader's smile turns colder, and his shark-like teeth fit this expression more. Charlie shudders, disgusted, but he cannot look away. "We had hoped to do this peacefully," he says. "The transition can be quite painless, if you let it." His dark eyes narrow, lip curling in annoyance. "As it happens, there is another option."

"What's that mean?" Ginny whispers.

Before anyone can hazard a guess, the leader continues. "This planet is ours now. The inhabitants can serve us, or you can all perish."

Charlie feels his blood turn cold. He knows exactly what this means now. "We're going to war," he says, because he knows that they are not the type to just sit idly by and let everything they love be taken away.

The Burrow becomes one of the headquarters for the resistance. Albus Dumbledore says that there are countless others throughout the country, and he is in constant contact with the leaders of those.

He spends his days with his younger brothers, helping to build cabins, henhouses, gardens, and the like. They don't have a choice in this. They have to survive.

The news stations stop reporting after a month. Maybe they would have continued, but the world watched as Gilderoy Lockhart was mercilessly dragged onto a ship. No one knows what happened to him aboard that ship, only that his pupils have gone white, and he only speaks nonsense.

After that, the stations seem to realize how dangerous this really is. No more lives are risked.

Still, they get their news. Dumbledore has connections, and those connections bring him a never ending source of information.

It doesn't look good for humanity. France is in anarchy, having fought hard against the invaders. A resource named Olympe, a tall woman who had briefly taken refuge with a group of young women at the Burrow, says the city is on fire, that the blaze is unlike anything they've experienced before.

"Let it be known that the French did not surrender," says a pretty young woman with silver-blonde hair. "We fought until we could not fight any longer."

When Olympe's group leaves, the blonde stays behind. She says she wants to improve her English, but Charlie sees the way she and Bill exchange little smiles. It isn't her desire for education that makes her stay.

He's in the clearing near the Burrow, collecting firewood. It's been nearly two months since they've had electricity, but they make do with what they have. It's hard work, but he doesn't mind. It reminds him of the wildlife reserve in Romania; he has to get his hands dirty and break a sweat, or else it's all for nothing.

Charlie chops a fallen branch, dividing it into smaller, easier pieces that will fit in his bag. He doesn't know how he notices it at all, but the faintest hint of movement in the tall grass catches his attention. Charlie grips his hatchet and moves closer, ready to defend himself if necessary.

At first glance, the figure looks like a young man, maybe Ron's age. Then he sees it, really sees. The man's skin is just a little too pale, like the others who have become known as Death Eaters.

Still raising the hatchet, prepared to swing, Charlie kneels and pulls the man's bottom lip downward. Sure enough, he sees a row of razor-sharp teeth. The creature hisses and jumps to his feet, crouching defensively. He doesn't attack. Charlie waits, but it never happens.

"I'm not like them," the creature says, shaking his head. "Please…"

Charlie knows he should kill him. That's what they're supposed to do. This is war, and second guessing can get him killed.

He can't do it. He can't bring himself to land the killing blow. "I'm Charlie," he says.

"Draco," the other answers. "Have you any food?"

Charlie slides his bag from his shoulders and reaches in. He tosses a bit of bread and some dried fruit out. Draco eats it so quickly that Charlie barely even sees him move.

"Thank you."

Charlie knows that it's a dangerous secret to keep. The Death Eaters want them dead. Keeping one of them so close to the base…

"Germany has fallen," Remus Lupin reports, his expression grim. "It's estimated that seventy percent of the population perished. The other thirty have been enslaved."

Dumbledore looks troubled as he makes adjustments to the board. France, Germany, Croatia, Argentina, Mexico, Jamaica, and so many more are gone now. Even more are constant war zones.

And Charlie has one of their enemies outside. He'd rigged up a makeshift shelter for Draco, and the alien hadn't seemed in any hurry to leave it. Charlie has the feeling Draco wants to get away from the Death Eaters as much as the others do.

Draco talks to him. He is hesitant at first, and Charlie feels the same. But they speak, and maybe they understand one another.

Draco's planet is dead, its resources stripped away. That's what the Death Eaters do. They take and take, and they leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

"I like your planet," Draco says. "It is very green." As if to emphasize this, he plucks a blade of grass from the ground. "I don't want to see it destroyed."

"So you ran," Charlie says.

The alien nods, smiling nervously. "They will kill me if they find me," he explains.

"Looks like we're in the same boat."

Draco looks around, pale eyes blinking slowly, clearly confused. "This is land," he says. "Not water. Where is your boat?"

Charlie chuckles and shakes his head. "It's just an expression."

"Do your people like expressions?"

Charlie considers for a moment. He's never really thought much about it. "I suppose we do," he answers, shrugging.

"Can you teach me?" Draco asks. "Can you teach me to be human?"

Charlie brings books after that. Draco tears through them, so entranced by the written word. He learns fast, and Charlie has to admit that he's impressed. He would have killed to have that sort of memory retention in school.

"There has to be a way to defeat them," Albus says.

Charlie's mind races. Maybe there is. Maybe they have a weapon. Maybe…

He forces the thoughts from his head, carefully slipping a bit of chicken into his jacket pocket. He will have to talk to Draco.

Draco kisses him, and Charlie pulls away, eyes wide with confusion. Draco's pale cheeks flush a deep red.

"Is that not what I was supposed to do?" Draco asks, gesturing toward a book. It's some silly romance novel, and he doesn't know how it's gotten mixed in with everything else.

"Only if you fancy someone," Charlie answers. "You don't just kiss your friends on the lips like that."

"But I do." Draco moves closer. "Judging by that book, I do fancy you."

Charlie would be lying if he said he didn't notice that Draco is attractive. He had seen it that first day in the clearing. In the weeks that have followed, he's gotten to know Draco more. Deep down, he hadn't minded that kiss at all. Deep down, there's some faint, flickering part of him that has considered making a move too.

Charlie grips his wrist and pulls him close. Their lips meet again, and Charlie feels a surge of excitement through his body. There is no doubt in his mind that he has fallen.

"Can you help us?" Charlie asks as he pulls away.

Draco sighs heavily. "I am not a warrior," he says. "It is why I ran from my people."

"You don't have to fight," Charlie assures him. "But you know them better than any of us. If you helped us, we could have a chance. This planet could live, and we could…" He swallows. "We could enjoy it together."

There are names and insults thrown around when Charlie brings Draco home. He thinks the only reason no one manages to harm Draco is because Charlie stands in front of them, silently making it known that they will have to go through him first.

"He wants to help us," Charlie says. "I need you all to sit down and have an open mind."

He thinks they might actually turn on him, but Dumbledore speaks before anyone has the chance. "We know Charlie," he says, "and we know he would never do anything to bring us harm. I trust his judgment."

Charlie gets the feeling that not many others trust his judgment, but no one ever dares to contradict Dumbledore. The old man has earned a strange level of respect from the others.

Draco steps forward, his hand sliding into Charlie's. "I am Draco, of the Malfoy clan from the planet Marvolo," he says, "and I am your only hope."