A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter written. The muse was refusing to cooperate. Anyway, thanks ever so much to all of you who read and review. You're amazing.

Much love! xx-Kitten

Let it Burn

By Kittenshift17

Chapter 5: Smoulder

By lunchtime, Hermione was tired. She was relatively sure she'd never be able to wash herself clean of the myriad of new smells that seemed to cling to the insides of her nostrils, determined to make her throw up. She was certain she understood why many of the other rookies who turned up at the Dragon Sanctuary in Dragonsmeade had thrown in the towel and been on their way.

The sight of so many dragons up close – she'd had to climb all over more than half of them inside their enclosures in the sanctum already – was just barely outweighing the wretchedness of playing with all the dragons in the Sanctum. Charlie and the others had been right. Dealing with the dragons in the sanctum – those that were sick, injured, nesting, or too dangerous to be kept out in the wide expanse of the reserve – was much harder than she imagined it would be to play with the healthy dragons away in the mountains beyond the village dedicated to their care.

She was tired and cranky. She was sore from all the shovelling and from the fact that the last cage they'd cleaned before Charlie announced it was time for lunch, had resulted in her being bucked off the back of a grumpy Ridgeback with a nasty wound from a recent fight. Indeed, by the time lunch was suggested, the only thing keeping her from complaining and keeping her from deciding she only wanted to be a researcher, not a qualified Dragon Tamer – something she'd decided she wanted to do so that she would be taken more seriously in the field if she had firsthand knowledge and experience with the beasts, rather than just research notes – was Charlie.

The way he looked when he was sweet-talking a cranky, fire-breathing dragon into not roasting him alive while he treated their wounds. The way his arms looked in his sleeveless shirt while he wielded his shovel or wheeled his barrow or lifted parts of the dragon that he needed a better look at. The way he'd called her 'his girl' when she'd restrained the urge to vomit. All of it kept her going until he announced it was time to eat.

"You alright?" he asked, shooting her a smirk as though he knew how much her arms were aching and how her feet and her back were killing her.

"I'm good," Hermione nodded, rolling her neck to try and relieve some of the aches in her shoulders.

"You're going to be dead on your feet before we knock off," Charlie corrected, looking amused. "But you're doing really well with everything so far. The team will be devastated when they find out you haven't hurled, even once."

"I definitely would have if not for that hangover potion," Hermione assured him, chuckling to herself. "They have a suppressant in them that helps dull the urge to vomit. And it was close with Rhydian."

"It was," he agreed. "But only for a minute. Your hands hurting yet?"

Hermione winced at the mention of her hands. The number of things they were playing with meant she'd been wearing dragon-hide gloves to protect her skin all morning, but they were still stinging inside the gloves as sweat worked its way against the blisters that had formed and popped upon her skin.

"How bad are they?" Charlie asked, obviously catching her wince. He strode in front of her and blocked her path, holding both hands out to her in silent demand to let him see them.

Hermione didn't want to let him. She knew that in order to build up calluses to avoid having them hurt like this every day, she wouldn't be able to do anything to heal them. She also suspected they had bled a bit and that taking off the gloves was going to peel away with parts where the gloves were stuck in the scabs and she didn't want to do that either. But when she looked up and met Charlie's gaze, she felt her hands lifting of their own accord, waiting for him to take them off of her.

He peeled them from her hands carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly when Hermione winced and hissed between her teeth as the skin tore, leaving her palms bloody. She watched him eye them for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly.

"You're going to end up with rough calluses in this job, you know?" he asked her seriously, glancing up at her.

"I know," Hermione nodded, closing her fists to stem the flow of blood from the little tears in her skin.

Charlie brow furrowed a little more as he stared into her eyes for a minute. She could tell that he could see her determination and her resolve to not let the pain bother her. That he wanted her to be able to do the job without having to injure herself to achieve it. He opened his mouth like he might say something before frowning deeper and closing it again. Hermione watched him as he fought between the urge he undoubtedly had to treat her like she was someone he needed to look out for and protect, and like she was a newbie in a difficult job that needed to prove herself without being coddled.

When he reached out and snagged hold of the back of her neck before pulling her towards him, Hermione held her breath. She was positive she smelled wretched and that she was probably offending his nose. She was pretty sure that his hand would now be soggy from touching her there, the back of her neck damp with sweat from the hard morning in the hot sun. If Charlie minded, however, he didn't let on and Hermione felt her stomach riot with butterflies when he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead.

"Hang in there," he murmured.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione asked, fighting the urge she had to lean against him

"Shoot," he nodded, releasing his hold on her and stepping back to maintain an appropriate distance between co-workers.

"Why do we actually have to shovel?" Hermione asked him. "Wouldn't it make more sense and save time to simply levitate the piles of dungs into the barrels?"

Charlie blinked at her for a moment.

"I mean, I know that actually shovelling is good for building the strength needed to play with ten tonne beasts," Hermione rushed on to say when he eyed her in silence. "And I know that using the shovel means you're up close and personal with the dung, meaning you're more likely to notice any anomalies that shouldn't be there. But with the right levitation charm, it could be funnelled into the barrels without the need for actually wielding a shovel. Any of those anomalies would still be caught – would even be more easily spotted, because the dung would be separating and sliding past your eyes, rather than having the shoveller go into autopilot thanks to the repetitive nature of the activity."

Charlie held up a hand to cease her words before Hermione could continue to justify her idea to him. Hermione bit her lip, feeling torn between falling silent like he wanted and the need to explain her idea properly.

"More than a hundred years this place has been running," Charlie began quietly, "and it takes you turning up to find a simple solution to the most time-consuming part of the bloody day."

"Um... Did no one think of a levitation charm before now?" Hermione asked. Her brow furrowed at the way he looked rather liked he'd been slapped across the face.

"Plenty of us thought it, I imagine," Charlie shrugged. "But no one has asked if it's not a decent idea. Hell, when I did my training I remember thinking things would be faster with charms to do the job. But my mentor would've eaten me alive for making a peep, let alone suggesting a way to - as he would've put it - 'slack off'."

"I don't want you to think I'm looking to slack off, Charlie," Hermione rushed to say.

"No. I don't think that. I think you've spotted an easy solution to the problem. I imagine that, like I did, most blokes bite their tongue on the idea of charms to handle the dung as a matter of pride, or a result fear of whoever is training them. And I'm pretty sure the girls who come through this place don't suggest it because they don't want anyone to think they can't do whatever the men can do, you know? Point of pride and all that? So we all put it out of our heads after the first week or so and get used to the shovelling. But you're right. It's faster, it's more effective for checking the content of the dung and it's a hell of a lot easier."

"It does have the drawback of preventing me from using the shovelling as a strength building exercise to make sure I don't get eaten alive by a dragon," Hermione said.

"Well, yeah," Charlie shrugged his shoulder once more. "But a tiny little thing like you isn't going to ever have enough strength to wrestle a fully grown dragon, no matter how much shovelling you do."

"So… should we try it?" Hermione asked when Charlie looked pensive for several long minutes.

"Sure. After lunch. I'll get you something for those blisters too, come on." Charlie gave her that wild-eyed look of his before sauntering off down the walkway that led towards the exit of the Sanctum where the sick, injured and pregnant dragons were kept.

Hermione followed after him, a little smile on her face as she appreciated the view as he went.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

"Alright, Granger. Truth time," Caroline said when she and Charlie joined the rest of the Tamers at what was apparently their usual lunch spot – the same café where Hermione had purchased her breakfast.

"Oh?" Hermione raised one eyebrow at the other woman before taking a big bite out of her sandwich.

"How many times have you barfed this morning?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Not even once," Hermione said proudly, lifting her chin as she met the gazes of the others.

"Bullshit!" Jason said. "No way haven't you barfed. You were headed in to work on Rhydian when I left you two. Scale rot gets the best of even the most iron-stomached newbies."

"It almost did," Hermione shrugged. "Then I pulled it together. Ask Charlie. I haven't vomited all day."

Everyone looked over at Charlie, who happened to be wolfing down his own sandwiches as though he hadn't eaten in a week. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Yes!" Caroline fist-pumped the air. "Sid, you owe me five Galleons!"

"Blast it all, Granger! I was counting on you to have a weak stomach!" Sid grumbled, fishing a few coins out of his pocket and tossing them to Caroline.

"You caught the fire yet, Granger?" Jason wanted to know.

"Not yet," Hermione shook her head. "They must like me, for now. Or they're on their best behaviour while Charlie's showing me what to do and are going to turn into demons the minute I have to go it alone."

"Bet on the second one," Greg spoke up, also handing some coins to Caroline.

"Well, that's… comforting," Hermione gulped when the rest of the Tamers nodded in agreement with Greg's words.

"Nah, you learn to watch 'em pretty easy. Ten tonne balls of unpredictability and enough crank to melt the flesh right off your bones? Hard not to, really," Sid attempted to comfort her. "You'll get the hang of it. So, you haven't hurled, but I reckon those dust stains have a story behind them?"

Hermine glanced down at her jeans which did, indeed, have stains on them from when she'd taken the tumble from a dragon's back.

"I got bucked off the Ridgeback with the infected battle wound when we were trying to clean it up and patch it over," Hermione admitted sheepishly, brushing at the dirt as though to hide the evidence of her fall. "Seems the disinfectant stings a bit."

"Bet you're feeling partially deaf from being roared at, too?" Caroline smirked at her.

Hermione nodded.

"You got to watch them Ridgeback's. Cranky bastards at the best of times," Sid nodded wisely.

"What happened to you anyway?" Charlie asked, eyeing Sid – who was baring even more bandages today than he'd sported last night at the pub.

"Freya got a bit cross with me when I was trying to dig her expired tracker out of her back," Sid shrugged before wincing at the movement.

"Freya?" Hermione raised one eyebrow.

"One of my Ironbellies," Sid nodded. "Usually she's sweet as pie. My best breeder, in fact. But she was stroppy today thanks to the migration instinct taking over as of last night. They were all stroppy, of course, but I got too comfortable on her back digging the tracker out and she caught me with her claws."

"Ouch," Hermione winced.

"And you?" Caroline asked. "Have you had any trouble with the Sanctum dragons thanks to the migration urge?"

Hermione looked at Charlie. Being her first day, she couldn't rightly say what was or wasn't unusual for the dragons when it came to behaviour. Especially for sick dragons.

Charlie tipped his head to one side, thinking about it for a few long minutes.

"They're a bit off," he said finally. "More than usual. Not really cranky, though. Just a bit out of sorts. The sickness they're in the sanctum for might be making them a bit edgy with migration urges happening. It's not uncommon for the sick ones to hole up in a cave to heal, in the wild, so they might just be wanting to lay low. The Ridgebacks were downright docile, actually, all things considered."

Hermione frowned at the idea. The Ridgebacks had given her the most trouble all morning because they'd been cranky. They'd all been in for wounds sustained from fighting with each other or fighting with other dragons and so they'd all been stroppy when they'd needed bandages changed and disinfectant applied to their bites and cuts. That Charlie was describing them as docile made her nervous at the idea of soon needing to look after them on her own.

"Probably focusing their energy on healing so they can get back out there and begin breeding," Sid commented.

Charlie nodded thoughtfully before spearing Hermione with a look that made her insides clench with need. Merlin, no one had a right to look so enticing whilst munching on a half-eaten sandwich. He didn't say anything, he just observed her carefully, as though she were an intriguing puzzle. Hermione tried not to squirm under the smouldering weight of his gaze, reminding herself that he was currently her boss and that she could not, under any circumstance, risk her position at the Sanctuary just because Charlie was hotter than sin.

"You got much more to handle in the sanctum today?" Greg asked of Charlie.

"Few more. I've got to get my dragons in the field sorted before they even think about starting to fight or to migrate," Charlie nodded.

Hermione noted that he looked slightly worried, as though he were concerned for the dragons under his care. She resolved to get the job done faster; to work harder to make sure he didn't feel any more pressure than he had to. Polishing off her lunch hungrily, Hermione ordered a pot of tea from Suzy at the counter and slurped it down when it was brought to her.

She was going to need her strength and her wits about her, it seemed. They still had a few cages in the Sanctuary to clean and she suspected all the caged dragons would eventually need their trackers changed and a number of injections to ensure they'd heal faster and be ready for breeding season. Being that they were locked in, they could probably wait for the trackers, but nonetheless, such things would need doing.

Charlie had also promised that he would take her by the Nursery, where all the newly hatched babies were reared. She was looking forward to seeing the pint-sized versions of the massive beasts she'd been climbing all over all morning. Knowing Charlie was anxious to handle his own dragons, and that he was likely stressed with the number of extra responsibilities that had landed on his plate, she wanted to make sure she did everything to make things easier for him.

"Rearing to go?" Caroline smiled when Hermione finished her tea and looked around, wondering if she was meant to wait for everyone to finish before getting back to work.

"Honestly, I think if I sit for too long, my legs might give out when I stand back up," Hermione laughed, causing the other Tamers to grin knowingly.

"Probably true. You'll fall into bed tonight and sleep like the dead," the other witch chuckled. "I recommend a hot shower to bathe the stink off, followed by wallowing in an ice bath for an hour if you can spare it. Be careful, mind. If you sit there too long, you might doze off and get frostbite. I'll check on you, to make sure you're all right."

"Really?" Hermione smiled at the other girl, thinking that she seemed friendly and open to the idea of a newbie joining their ranks. The others had all been friendly, except Amy, but it was nice to know someone other than Charlie would be willing to look out for her.

"Of course," Caroline nodded. "Can't have you losing one of those dainty little feet to the cold, no can we?"

"I'd make a terrible whingy cripple," Hermione agreed, making the other witch laugh again.

"Oi, Charlie, you want us to start inoculations today, or handle the trackers first?" Greg asked. "I've been doing trackers all morning, and their bloody feisty with the change in seasons. Figured I'd do them first so that if they take off for migration, we can locate them and dose them later."

"Probably for the best. Don't think we've got enough product to dose them all at the moment anyway. Not until we get the next shipment," Charlie said.

"I'm going to need help later, whenever you lot are free," Jace spoke up. "Jezabell's gearing up to nest. I caught her this morning trying to begin building one. I reckon if we can get her moved into the Sanctum before she lays, everything will be a lot calmer."

"No worries, mate," Charlie nodded. "You can't just fly her in?"

"Don't reckon she'll let me, but I'll give it a go. She's stroppy with me today," Jace shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you tell her she was fat?" Sid asked. "Cindy gets right cranky when I tell her how fat she's getting with those eggs building inside her."

"When you say things like that, I understand all over again why you get injured so often, you bloody fool," Caroline laughed.

Hermione smiled softly as she peered around the lunch table, watching the friends and colleagues bicker and taunt each other, offering advice and casual fun to pass the time and ensure that everyone knew what was going on and how things were fairing for them. She liked the camaraderie, she realised. It felt almost like being back at Hogwarts when Fred and George had still been there, telling jokes, making plots, sharing wild tales and otherwise entertaining the lot of them at Gryffindor table.

Sitting there with the Tamers right then felt a bit like that, the way her friends had been before the war had ripped their lives apart. She felt a pang of sadness over what they'd all lost, and a tingle of hope that she might find some of that happiness again with the Tamers, her new colleagues and friends in a job she was actually rather enjoying.

"Alright," Charlie said when he polished off his fourth sandwich. "Let's get back to it, you lot. Keep your radios on in case any calls come in. I reckon we'll start seeing them soon with the migration on. Jace, let us know if you need a hand with Jezabell, or if you can fly her on in, give a shout so we can open the roof in one of the nesting chambers."

The group packed up their lunches and set off again, Hermione following Charlie and laughing when the others ribbed her, saying she was going to hurl after lunch and that she'd be passed out well before pints that night at the pub.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

"Shoot!" Charlie Weasley cursed. "Come on, Azrael, don't be like that. It's just a couple of seconds of sting and then you'll be in bliss for hours, I swear. Dang it, you great shiny brute, I need that foot to walk!"

Hermione climbed the cranky Opal-Eye dragon and peeled the bandages off his shoulder while Charlie was unceremoniously grabbed up in sharp claws and dangled by his right leg while the dragon roared in his face.

"Oi, not so loud, yeah?" Charlie kept sweet-talking. "I know you've got a great singing voice, but up this close you can croon to me real soft and I'll love you all the more. No, don't look at her, she's just a pretty little thing who's going to make you all better, Az. Come on now."

Hermione glanced up at the dragon's head to see his arched neck had curved around and his iridescent purple and blue opal-eyes were fixed on her. She cringed as she poured the disinfectant on the wound, earning a hiss for the sting and almost choking on a puff of smoke blown in her face.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione asked the dragon softly, smoothing a comforting hand over the scales at the wing joint next to where she sat to tend the wound. "I'm just going to wipe off some of this excess…. Oh, no."

"What?" Charlie asked. "Az, buddy? Could you put me down? The pretty lady needs help and you're hurting my leg with your impressively sharp talons."

"It's…" Hermione's stomach heaved and she looked up at Charlie where he still dangled, upside-down, from the dragon's claw.

"Scale-rot?" Charlie guessed, recognising the expression.

"It's starting to set in," she nodded.

"Damn it!" he growled. "I told you, Azrael! I told you that if you kept licking the damn wound and peeling your bandage off, it would get infected."

Azrael roared at him again before dropping him on his head. Charlie was expecting it and he rolled on impact, springing back to his feet and hurrying forward. Hermione summoned the metal brush and the bucket of scale-rot treatment from the gate of the enclosure.

"Don't," Charlie warned just a moment too late when Hermione poured the wash over the wound and began to scrub.

Dragon fire, Hermione learned, felt like plunging into a tub-full of ice right before the burn kicked up. She caught the fire Azrael breathed at her and she didn't even register the pain enough to scream until well after she'd been bucked off the back of the dragon to land in a heap on the enclosure floor. When the pain did register, Hermione understood, with alarming clarity, why all the Tamer kept their jobs and why Charlie was so obsessed with dragon-fire.

It hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before, in such a way that she couldn't even begin to describe it. It burned. It froze. It stung and it ached. It seared and it melted and it somehow felt like everything good and bad in the world, all at once. Indeed, it reminded her of that sweet, pulsing throb of energy that shot through her body just before an orgasm would crash over her during sex.

It felt good. It felt weird. It also hurt like all buggery when she landed on the ground and scraped the blistering skin of her right hip on the rough dirt. She screamed at the feel of the raw skin dragging over foreign matter and she had to roll and keep rolling despite the pain because Azrael was on his feet and trying to stomp her into the ground, like Hermione might've with a cockroach.

"Hermione, get out of there!" Charlie shouted, running up Azrael's back – somehow keeping his balance as the dragon bucked and stomped about on a rampage – and leaping towards the dragon's mouth. He latched his arms tight around Azrael's narrow snout, swinging from his face and preventing the dragon from spewing more fire over Hermione.

Adrenaline kicked Hermione in the teeth and watching Charlie swing from the beast's snout sparked her own reckless courage. Twirling her wand, she Summoned the dropped tools for treating scale rot, Apparated onto Azrael's back and straddled his wing joint.

"Are you mad!? He's rampaging, Hermione. We need to get out of here before he kills us both!" Charlie shouted, still dangling from the beast's nose, his arms locked tight to prevent more fire from escaping.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and scrubbed hard at the small section of scale-rot where it had just begun to infect a small patch. She dragged the metal brush over it until the rotted skin was gone and then she poured more of the wash over the wound, using her wand to wind bandages around the beast's belly, holding them in place with Sticking charms and putting a hex on them for good measure, designed to zap Azrael if he tried to burn, bite or claw the bandage off. When she was done, she Disapparated to the gate, calling out to Charlie to do the same.

She landed just in time to watch Charlie bravely let go of the snout, almost catching the fire himself when it exploded out of the now rampaging dragon. He Disapparated in mid-air, arriving next to her and hauling on her arm to pull her through the door. He slammed it behind them just as Azrael spewed fire all over his entire enclosure, roars of rage and fury escaping him. Charlie gripped her shoulders tight, pinning her to the wall outside the gate and staring, wide-eyed, into her face.

He was breathing hard and he looked torn between screaming at her for being a fool, and shouting with glee over what she'd done. Hermione stared back, breathing hard herself and wincing against the pain in her hip that grated over her senses, overruling the dissipating adrenaline in her system.

Before she could make a sound, arguing in her defence should he yell at her, or screaming in agony before he'd get the chance, Charlie pinned her to the wall, leaned down and snogged her hard on the mouth.