Word count: 509
Charlie eyes the grey skies anxiously. He doesn't mind bad weather, not really. But Connor, the latest Ironbelly on the reserve, gets cranky whenever even a single raindrop dares to fall anywhere near him.
"Don't even think about it," Draco says, his tone low enough to be a warning, but soft enough for Charlie to know his boyfriend is just being playful. "You've worked all weekend. It's about time you had a day off, Weasley."
Charlie snorts, eyes rolling at the use of his surname. It's a habit Draco falls into whenever he means business and is worried Charlie might protest against whatever he has to say. "Oh, is that how it is, Malfoy?" he counters, delighted by the flicker of annoyance in the younger man's eyes. He's always been the type who dishes it out but can't take it. Charlie finds it more endearing than he'll ever admit. "I was just thinking about Connor. You know the poor fellow hates the rain."
As if summoned by his words, the first raindrops fall, pelting against the kitchen window. Charlie frowns. All he has to do is make a quick run, pop in, check on Connor and keep him calm.
He shakes his head. There are others on the reserve who are perfectly capable of handling it. Just because Charlie is dying to go, doesn't mean he needs to.
Draco lets out a soft laugh. "You know what I love about you?"
"My cooking?"
"No." Draco scowls. "Well, I mean, yes. We both know I'm a nightmare in the kitchen."
Nightmare is an understatement, but Charlie is kind enough to leave it at that. He doesn't know how long Draco's cheerful mood will hold if he starts giving him a hard time.
"I love how passionate you are about your job."
Charlie raises his brows. "Really?"
Draco nods. "You know how some people are. They go to work, and it's all about the gold they'll get out of it," he explains, shaking his head. "But you… I think this job could pay a Galleon a month, and you'd still be just as wild about it. You love what you do, and you really care about the dragons here."
"Look at you, getting all sentimental," Charlie teases, but really, his stomach feels like a thousand butterflies have been unleashed in his stomach.
"Shut it, Weasley," Draco snaps, but the corners of his lips twitch like he wants to smile.
"Whatever you say, Malfoy."
Draco closes the distance between them, capturing Charlie in a soft hug. "Connor will be fine," he says as thunder rolls, loud enough to shake the house. "Well… He might need a calming draught, but other than that…"
It's not the most reassuring thing in the world, but Charlie thinks it will have to do. Besides, Draco is right: it's about time he takes a day off. Really, as much as he loves his job and is worried about Connor, he can't help but think he'd rather spend a rainy day cuddled up with the one he loves.
