Word Count: 520
This is not good, not good at all. Draco takes a deep breath as the wind picks up, pulling limbs from the trees. He needs to take shelter. Preferably shelter that doesn't smell like dragon dung.
Unfortunately, he is trapped on the other side of the dragon reserve, and his mind is too clouded with fear to even think of Apparating. At this rate, he's going to be stuck here until this blows over.
If it blows over. Right now, Draco doesn't like his chances. There's too much thunder and lightning, and he feels so exposed. All it will take is one loud noise to scare the wrong dragon, and he might have a fire on his hand as well.
"Draco?"
"Weasley?"
Sure enough, that familiar freckled face and red hair come into view. Charlie Weasley grins at him as he brushes his fingers through his wild, windswept hair. "Hell of a storm, eh?"
"Shouldn't you be inside?" Draco asks incredulously.
Charlie shrugs. "You were missing."
Draco doesn't know how to react to that. If someone was missing, Draco knows he wouldn't be out there in this mess looking for them. Then again, Charlie is a foolish Gryffindor. Of course he would be just as obnoxiously daring as Ron. Why wouldn't he brave a bloody storm like this?
"Are you hurt?" Charlie asks. "I can carry you if you are."
Carry him? Draco scowls at the thought of it. He isn't some bloody damsel who needs to be rescued. Sure, he may be in distress, but he will not sacrifice his dignity.
He notices the way Charlie grins at him. It isn't just a teasing quirk of his lips. Draco almost laughs. "Are you actually flirting with me?"
"Have been for the past two months," Charlie says with a roll of his eyes. "Thanks for noticing. Now, come on. My place is closer."
…
Shattered glass litters the floor of Charlie's place. It takes only a moment to find the source, a broken window. Charlie mutters the repairing charm, fixing it in an instant. "Guess it's more windy than I thought. Want a drink?"
"Wine, please."
"Sorry. I'm a hard liquor sort of bloke," Charlie tells him.
"Firewhiskey then."
Charlie salutes before setting to work, retrieving a bottle and two glasses. Draco watches him, searching for the right words to say. His tongue seems to stick to the roof of his mouth, and his throat is suddenly strangely dry.
"Two months," Draco manages at last, accepting the glass as Charlie sets it in front of him. "You've been flirting for two months?"
Charlie chuckles. "Not very well, apparently."
"I'm not sure what to say."
"Say you'll let me take you to dinner this weekend," Charlie suggests.
Draco bites the inside of his cheek. Romania is supposed to be about starting over and being a better person. He isn't sure if he's there yet, if he's the sort of bloke who is worthy of someone like Charlie Weasley.
And yet Charlie looks at him like maybe he's the greatest thing in the world, and it makes Draco melt a little bit.
"How does Saturday sound?" Draco asks.
"Like a date."