A/N - I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update this. Life and all that. This chapter was also written for Ashleigh's Monthly Competitions on HPFC. This month's prompt was a parent/child relationship. All information about dragons in this piece came from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by JKR. And as far as I know, we aren't given Charlie's middle name, so I just gave him one. There are a couple of references to chapter 3 of this collection here, but you don't have to read it to understand this one. Of course if you want to, I'm not going to stop you. ;) Enjoy!

Dragons

Charlie Weasley had been in love with dragons since he was two years old. Molly Weasley blamed her brothers. For his second birthday, Gideon bought Charlie a children's picture book about dragons. Two weeks later, at Christmas, Fabian bought him a stuffed dragon to go with it. For months afterward, Charlie would toddle up to his mother with his book and dragon in hand.

"Dagon, Mumma," he said, holding up his book.

"Charlie," Molly said in exasperation. "Haven't we read that book enough? Why don't you pick out another one?"

"No," Charlie said stubbornly, holding up the dragon book and clutching the stuffed dragon to his chest.

"Look, here's one about hippogriffs," Molly replied, holding up a different book. "Oh, or how about this one about the brave knight?"

"No, dis one," Charlie said again. And then he would do something his mother had never been able to resist. "Pease?" he said with his lower lip stuck out in a pout. Molly would sigh and try and look stern, but in reality her heart would melt and she would pick up her little boy and settle him on her lap to begin the story.

She had read the book so many times, she had it memorized and didn't even need to look at the pages anymore. Apparently, so did Charlie for anytime she tried to skip a sentence or two Charlie would protest vehemently and Molly would be forced to go back and reread the page again. While he would grow to love all magical creatures, his love for dragons never faded or was replaced by something else.

Charlie Weasley had been in love with flying since he was not quite five years old. Molly Weasley blamed her husband. For Bill's seventh birthday, Arthur brought him a full-sized broom. Bill's old training broom was passed down to Charlie who promptly jumped on and took off, flying much higher than the child-sized broom should have been able to go. Molly, nearly frozen in terror, could do nothing but clutch tightly to baby Percy as Arthur took off on Bill's new broom after his second son. He caught up to him a few minutes later and plucked the boy from the air, flying slowly back to the ground, Arthur's heart pounding in fear. Charlie, for his part, was grinning widely as his father touched ground.

"Mummy, Mummy, did you see me? Did you see how high I flew?" Charlie asked as he ran towards his mother. Molly, finally regaining hold of herself now that her child was safe once more looked down at the little boy.

"Charles Septimus Weasley, don't you ever do that again!" Molly said sternly. Charlie's lip began to tremble.

"But, but, I was just flyin' Mummy," he said miserably. "Like Daddy and Bill." He burst into tears and Percy, whether from his mother's outburst or in sympathy with his brother, joined in. Molly handed the baby off to Arthur and squatted down in front of Charlie, gathering him into her arms.

"Sweetheart, you're much too little to be flying so high," Molly said soothingly. "Mummy just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Charlie," Arthur interjected, having calmed the crying Percy. "How did you get so high, son?" Charlie shrugged.

"I wanted to go higher, so I told the broom," he said with a sniffle. "I like to fly." Molly looked up at Arthur whose lips were twitching with suppressed laughter. She glared at him.

"You're too little to fly like that Charlie," Molly said. "You have to promise Mummy that you're not going to try and fly higher than the broom will let you."

"But," Charlie began to protest, but Molly interrupted him.

"Or I won't let you fly at all," she said. Charlie sighed.

"Fine," he said petulantly, his chubby arms crossed in front of him. He watched wistfully from two feet above the ground as Bill and his father flew higher and faster. Scowling, he got off his broom and put it in the shed, leaning against the door and scuffing the ground with his trainer. Molly's mouth twitched at the adorable pouting face her son wore.

Three weeks later Molly found him in the meadow soaring high in the sky, giggling as he did a loop and then a dive. When she finally got his attention and called him back to the ground, he walked up to her with a sly smile on his face.

"Charles Weasley, what did I tell you about flying so high on your broom?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Not to go higher than the broom would let me," Charlie answered solemnly.

"Then what on earth were you doing?" she asked in exasperation. Charlie usually didn't disobey so blatantly.

"I was flying on Bill's broom," her son said with a grin holding it out. "It lets me go as high as I want." Molly opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. It was rare that any of her children left her speechless, but technically he hadn't disobeyed her. And after watching him, she could see that he was already a good flyer, probably even better than his older brother.

"I'll talk to you father about the charms," she said. "But no flying on your own. You've always got to have someone with you. Now go and put your brother's broom away."

"Okay, Mummy," he agreed happily, skipping off toward the shed. Molly shook her head as he went, but her eyes shone with pride.

Charlie Weasley had been in love with quidditch since he was seven years old. Molly Weasley blamed Henry Perkins. Perkins had given Arthur tickets to a Falmouth Falcons match that he wasn't going to be able to use and Arthur had taken Bill and Charlie. The boys had been interested in quidditch before of course, but once Charlie had been to an actual match, he could talk of nothing else. Dragons even took a back seat for a time.

"Mum?" Charlie said one night about a week later, when Molly was tucking him into bed.

"Yes, dear," she replied.

"Do you think I could play quidditch when I get to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"I think you can do anything you want to, Charlie, if you put your mind to it," Molly answered with a smile. "You're a wonderful flyer."

"Not as good as at the match," Charlie said. Molly chuckled.

"Charlie, you're seven years old," she said. "And those men and women are professionals. By the time you get to Hogwarts, I'm sure you'll do just fine. Now, go to sleep," she said and then kissed his forehead.

"Night Mum," Charlie said with a yawn.

"Good night sweetheart," she returned, standing in his doorway for a moment and watching him settle into sleep.

When Charlie Weasley was eleven years old, he fell in love with Hogwarts. Molly Weasley couldn't really blame anyone this time, nor did she want to, for she remembered exactly how he felt. His letters were full of excitement and enthusiasm for his classes, his new friends and quidditch of course. Charlie was happy to find out that the seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team was a seventh year. It was the position Charlie really wanted and he hoped to make the team the following year. There was no doubt in Molly's mind that he would. Charlie truly was the best flyer in the family, although Fred and George might possibly give him a run for his money in a few years.

It pained her that Charlie didn't seem to miss them much. In fact, when he returned home for Christmas that year, it almost seemed as if he wished he had stayed.

"Is everything all right dear?" Molly asked him when she found him sitting at the kitchen table with his chin in his hand, staring morosely outside.

"Yes, Mum," he replied. Molly sat down next to him and put a cup of hot cocoa in front of him.

"It doesn't look like it," she said.

"Just missing school is all," Charlie explained, wrapping his hands around his mug.

"Well, I'm glad to have you home for a bit," she said, taking a sip of her tea.

"I don't mean that I don't like to come home," Charlie said quickly. "It's just…different at school."

"Yes, I suppose it would be," Molly agreed. The two sat in companionable silence as they each sipped at their cups. When Molly finished, she studied her son's profile for a few moments before standing and patting his arm. Charlie gave her a smile and turned back to the window, deep in thought. Molly let him be, she was quite sure she wouldn't get any more information from him. Perhaps Bill would know something.

When Charlie Weasley was thirteen years old, he reaffirmed his love for all magical creatures, dragons in particular. Molly Weasley blamed Silvanus Kettleburn. Well, she couldn't say she blamed him, exactly. Charlie had been in love with dragons since he was two and Molly was glad that the Professor could instill such interest in his class. Although, privately, Molly didn't really think the professor had much to do with it in Charlie's case.

"It's amazing, Mum," Charlie said at Christmas that year, his eyes shining with excitement. "All those creatures that you read me books about, we're actually seeing some of them and taking care of them now. Did you know that we're studying Unicorns next year?"

"Yes, dear," Molly said with a chuckle. "Your father and I did take that class as well, you know." Charlie grinned and went back to helping his mother with the chickens. It was the only time she got a chance to speak to him alone with as noisy and busy as the house was. Charlie preferred to be outside, always had, and so Molly had tried to give him mostly outdoor chores when she could. He was the best garden degnomer of all of his brothers, simply for the fact that he didn't mind spending hours outside and would be sure he checked the garden thoroughly before he came back in.

Molly was not surprised when Charlie received an O on his O.W.L. and went on to N.E.W.T. level Care of Magical Creatures. The class was small, as not many chose to pursue the subject past O.W.L. level and Charlie was able to pick an independent project. Molly was not surprised at all when he chose dragons.

Molly Weasley knew she would lose her son when he was seventeen years old. She did not mean in an accident or from illness or war, but she would lose him all the same. Charlie Weasley came home for Christmas in his sixth year, full to bursting with enthusiasm for his new project. Professor Kettleburn had given Charlie quite a few of his own books to borrow over the holidays and Charlie could barely eat fast enough to get back to his room and continue reading through them. She rarely saw him at all that holiday as he spent most of his time closeted in his room or flying around the meadow.

On the night before he was to return to school, Molly knocked softly on his door, a pile of clean laundry in her arms. At his call to come in, she entered the room and set his clothes on his bed.

"I've finally finished all of your clothes," she said.

"Thanks, Mum," Charlie said absently, brow furrowed as he read a passage in one of the books.

"All packed up then?" she asked, hoping to get more than a few words out of him.

"Yeah," he replied, not even turning his head to look at her. Molly held in a sigh and walked around the bed to his desk. She stood next to him and glanced over all the books that he had open.

"So, what are you working on?" she asked, not seeing much rhyme or reason to his organizational system. "You haven't really told me much about it."

"Right now I'm looking at the different breeds and comparing them based on their diet and appearance, what their parts are used for, things like that," Charlie said, as he scribbled something down on the parchment in front of him. "For example, the horns of the Romanian Longhorn are the ones we use for potions ingredients, but the skin of the Swedish Short-Snout is what we use to make dragonhide gloves."

"I didn't realize there was a difference," Molly said in interest. Charlie was nodding.

"Most people don't, but they've all got their own thing that's special about them," Charlie went on. "It's pretty fascinating."

"Sounds like it," Molly said with a forced smile. "Don't stay up too late, all right? You've got to be up early tomorrow to catch the train."

"I won't Mum," Charlie said, going back to his books.

She stepped back out into the corridor and closed the door behind her. Leaning back against it for a moment, Molly closed her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Another one of her boys was going to leave. She had learned her lesson with Bill last spring though. She couldn't outright tell him he couldn't go and Arthur was right, it was what children were supposed to do. She still didn't like it.

When Charlie Weasley was eighteen years old, he fell in love with the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. When Molly saw the excitement on his face, she couldn't find it in her heart to blame anyone. The Sanctuary had sent a portkey along with their job offer so that Charlie could see the place firsthand before he made a decision. After Molly watched him disappear, she stepped into Arthur's shed and allowed the tears to come. She knew his mind was already made up and his visit would only solidify his decision. He had said as much during their conversation after dinner last night.

"They've sent a portkey for tomorrow, so I can visit before I decide whether I want to work there or not," Charlie had explained excitedly to his parents.

"That's wonderful son," Arthur replied with a smile, ever supportive of anything his children wanted to do.

"You know, there's a preserve in Wales," Molly said conversationally. "And the Hebrides."

"Yes, but they both only deal with one species," Charlie reminded her. "The Welsh Green and the Hebridean Black, respectively. And the one in Hebrides is run by the MacFusty family. They rarely hire anyone outside their clan. The Romanian Sanctuary has seven different breeds, including the Chinese Fireball, which I'm most interested in." Arthur nodded.

"What about quidditch Charlie?" Molly asked. "I know there have been scouts interested in you."

"Mum, I love quidditch, you know that," Charlie said. "But I love dragons more."

"All right dear," Molly said, knowing with certainty that she had lost.

Finally composing herself, Molly wiped her tears and took a deep breath. She left the shed and continued on with her day, waiting for her second son to return.

When he did, Molly could only smile and nod along with his continual commentary on his day at the sanctuary. When he finally paused to take a breath, Molly pulled him into a hug. She clung to him tightly for a few moments before Charlie pulled back a bit.

"Mum?" he said in question, clearly confused by her behavior.

"I'm just going to miss you," she said. Charlie blinked, once, then twice as he stared at his mother.

"Just like that?" he finally asked.

"Just like what?" she questioned.

"You're going to let me go, just like that?" he elaborated. "No refusing to let me, threatening me with bodily harm if I leave?" Molly chuckled.

"I see you've been talking to your brother," she said. Charlie smirked. "No dear, I think I learned my lesson about that two years ago. I know you're all going to leave me someday. That doesn't mean I have to like it." Charlie hugged her again and Molly sighed.

"When do you leave?" she asked when they had broken apart.

"Two weeks," Charlie said. Molly's breath caught. So soon.

"Well then sit down and I'll fix you something to eat," she said, impressed that her voice barely even shook. "Maybe having to cook for yourself will make you want to visit home more often." Charlie grasped her arm as she walked by and she turned to face him.

"Thanks Mum," he said and Molly was a bit surprised to see that his eyes were suspiciously bright. She took a step back towards him and put a hand to his cheek.

"You're welcome dear," she replied.