A/N: *Did not go into this planning on such whopper chapters*

*is having entirely too much fun writing this*

*is worried it's going to evolve into something bigger than planned*

*was wrong about it being almost completed in draft form*

*this chapter changes everything*

*why do I do this to myself?*

*Shakes head and hands over chapter, hoping for love in return*

xx-Kitten.

Home for the Holidays

By Kittenshift17

Chapter Three

Charlie looked over at the sound of the door closing, his cigarette held to his lips as he breathed in the toxic smoke greedily. Hermione hadn't been aware that he smoked, and she suspected it was a habit induced by stress. Not that it was a deal-breaker for her.

"It's too cold out here, Hermione," he protested when he saw the way she immediately began to shiver. "Go on back inside, yeah? I'll be just a minute."

Stubbornly, Hermione shook her head, shuffling closer to him. Charlie shook his head at her in return, grinning a little even if he did look somewhat exasperated. Before she could come any closer or worry about having her nose freeze off her face in the bitter wind and driving snow, Charlie dropped his cigarette, snapping his fingers and wandlessly vanishing the butt before he hurried toward her.

"Come on, love. Back inside where it's warm," he said, bundling her up into his arms and shuffling her back into the house. "You barmy, witch?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at the wizard when they were safely back inside the warm kitchen as he began trying to help her out of her cloak.

"No," she said.

Charlie shook his head, looking like he didn't believe her in the slightest, but he didn't say anything further or embarrass her by asking her why she would risk the blistering cold just to be in his company.

"Did everyone else go to bed?" he asked when they'd both removed their winter clothing.

"I think they were a bit squeamish after that cocktail," Hermione told him honestly, her own stomach feeling a bit funny after ingesting the drink he'd concocted.

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I'm pleased this place has more than one loo," he said. "They'll be a mess in the morning."

Hermione made a face at him for the mental image, but Charlie just laughed.

"You want a cup of tea before bed?" he offered, poking into the kitchen and tapping his wand against the kettle to bring it to boil.

"That would be lovely," she nodded. "Are you alright?"

Charlie looked over at her darkly as he poured them both a cup of tea and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to notice that he fixed hers just the way she liked it without prompting.

"I'm fine," he said after a few long minutes of silence when he brought her cup of tea to her before going back to collect his trunk from beside the door and carrying it into the living room and over to the heavily decorated Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace.

"And I'm an elephant," Hermione replied sarcastically as she rolled her eyes, followed him into the living room and settled herself down on the couch.

Charlie shot her a wry grin as he opened his trunk and began unloading a collection of Christmas gifts for everyone, stacking them under the tree alongside the mound of gifts already threatening to overwhelm the limited space.

"Just tired of the same old fight, Hermione," he confessed quietly. "Tired of being caught between the societal norms that Mum wants me to abide by and the incessant intrigue I endure for my dragons."

"You know, there is a way you could have both," Hermione told him, tipping her head to one side before sipping her tea.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked.

"Get the Ministry to open a dragon reserve here in Britain," she suggested. "With Kingsley as Minister at the moment, you'd need only to discuss it with him to get the ball rolling, and the benefits to the magical community, not to mention the boost it would provide to international trade would more than warrant it."

"I've tried in the past to get them to open one here," Charlie sighed, shaking his head.

"While Kingsley was Minister?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

Charlie's mouth twisted, and she could tell he hadn't.

"Unless… you don't want to come home?" Hermione asked. "There's nothing wrong with admitting it if that's the case, Charlie. You have a very large family and sometimes the distance of countries still isn't enough separation."

"Sometimes it's not," Charlie chuckled quietly, closing his trunk again and rising to his feet before he crossed the room to take up the empty seat on the other end of the two-seater couch where she sat. "And other times the next room seems too far."

Hermione smiled gently, completely understanding that feeling.

"Aside from your mother's solution to the problem, what have you considered doing about all this? Do you want a partner and a family?" Hermione asked quietly, supposing it might be too heavy a topic, but needing a straight answer from him on the matter before engaging her plans of seduction.

"Sometimes it's all I want," Charlie whispered, frowning into the teacup he held in his two large hands, making the mug seem small and dainty in comparison. "And other times it's the last thing I want. Half the time a wife and a few sprogs are still sitting in the someday box, you know? A far off goal that I'll put into motion when I've finished growing the hell up, and then another year slips by and all I've got to my name is a qualification in dragon magizoology, enough scars from the lizards to map out an entirely new skin, and a few mates who can say the same."

Hermione nodded slowly, watching him run a hand through his red hair and wondering how she ought to proceed.

"And you?" he asked, looking sideways at her. "You're in the same boat, being unattached, Hermione. What are your plans? Going to conform to society's demand for a husband and two point five children to meet the status quo?"

Hermione nibbled her lip.

"I was thinking at least four, actually," Hermione confessed quietly. "I never managed to undo the memory charms on my parents, and I was very lonely growing up an only-child. When the time comes for beginning a family of my own, I'd like it to be a big one."

Charlie turned his head to look at her more fully and Hermione met his gaze seriously. She'd known for a while that when she got around to children, she wanted a collection of them.

"Yeah?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "You got your eye on anyone, then?"

Hermione's cheeks warmed.

"Yes," she confessed. "It just so happens that I do."

"Oh," he frowned. "So… what are you waiting for?"

Hermione smiled.

"He's not ready," she shrugged her shoulders. "Half the time, a wife and children are still tucked away in his 'someday box'."

Charlie's eyes danced over her face for a long minute as she repeated his words back to him, wondering if he would click that she was referring to him.

"What if he's never ready?" Charlie asked in a low tone, his voice turning a little hoarse.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders again.

"I've got time," she said softly. "Wizards can live to one hundred and fifty or two hundred, you know? And I'm only twenty-seven. There's plenty of time left for him to finish growing up and begin collecting a few more things to his name than a qualification and some mates in the same field."

Charlie swallowed thickly, his mouth opening a little like he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure he should. Hermione smiled gently, sipping her tea once more and wondering if maybe Bill had been right, and it had been a silly thing to say that Charlie wasn't interested in her in the slightest.

The silence stretched between them, Charlie opening and closing his mouth several times like she'd actually managed to leave him speechless and Hermione began to wonder if she'd come on a little too strong. Her cheeks warmed the longer he looked at her without saying anything and she bit her lip, looking down at her lap and squinting against the urge to blurt out an apology for being too forward.

"I… got you something," Charlie said after the longest time and Hermione looked up frowning.

"A Christmas gift?" Hermione asked. "I'll open mine tomorrow with everyone else, Charlie."

"No, I mean… I do have one to give you tomorrow, but I got you something else. Something to give you tonight."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, the butterflies in her tummy beginning to riot at the very idea.

"Yeah… uh… In Iceland they have this tradition for Yule where, on Christmas Eve, everyone exchanges books before bed. There's another tradition some people have of exchanging a pair of Yule themed pajamas, and since I know you love days spent lazing about in pajamas, and you adore books… I thought… well… here."

He held out a roughly wrapped package to her and Hermione reached for it automatically, her cheeks glowing with a combination happiness and embarrassment.

"But… I don't have anything to give you in return," she protested, never having been all that good at the gift-giving practice.

Charlie chuckled.

"I saw a present under the tree with my name on it from you," he said, jerking his thumb toward the tree where she'd stashed all of his gifts.

"But that's for tomorrow," Hermione said, holding the gift he'd given her loosely in her hands.

"Just open it," he rolled his eyes. "You're the only person I know who'd enjoy a gift of a tradition like this. And I might've got myself a pair of Yuletide jammies to match."

He returned to his trunk to dig out a pair of flannel pyjamas with dragons in Christmas hats on them. Despite her nervousness, Hermione couldn't help but laugh when he held them up proudly to show them to her.

"Thank you, Charlie," she said sincerely as she began peeling open the paper to reveal the treasure hidden within. She hummed in amusement when she discovered that in addition to wrapping it in Christmas paper, he'd wrapped her book inside the neatly tied pyjamas.

"You didn't lie," she laughed as she untied the flannels. "They really do match. Won't we look a sight at breakfast in the morning?"

Charlie winked at her. "There are a few differences," he told her. "Yours are all girl dragons, and if you look closely, you might notice the festive painting on their claws."

Hermione squinted at the fabric before she began to laugh when she realized he was right.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. "I can't wait to wear them."

Charlie just smiled, waiting for her to look at the book he'd given her too.

"Oh, Charlie…" Hermione whispered when she saw he'd given her an encyclopedia of magical creatures that she'd mentioned months ago to Ginny but hadn't gotten around to buying for herself because of the price. "You shouldn't have."

"Traditionally, I should've gotten you a novel you could read into the wee small hours, but I wasn't sure what you'd think of me if I picked you up some bodice ripper about a handsome Dragon Tamer."

Hermione began to laugh, clutching the book to her chest adoringly before setting aside the gifts and the wrappings and reaching for Charlie, shuffling down the length of the couch to curl her arms around his waist. She cuddled into him delightedly, burrowing into his strong chest and enjoying the way he curled those powerfully muscled arms around her in return.

"Thank you so much," Hermione said, her cheek against his chest. "I love the book, and the pyjamas. I've been wanting a copy of this one for months."

"I know," Charlie chuckled. "I might've conned Ginny into doing a little investigating into which book to get you."

Hermione laughed.

"For the record, though," she murmured, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and breathing in the scent of him as he held her snugly in his arms. "I most certainly would not have thought ill of you for a bodice-ripper novel about a Dragon Tamer."

Charlie's low chuckle was wicked and sinful.

"I'll keep that in mind for next year," he said softly, still holding her cuddled into him and seeming uninterested in letting her go any time soon.

Wriggling slightly, Hermione shuffled around until she was better stretched out along the length of the couch without letting him go. Merlin, it'd been a long time since any man had held her in his arms like this. Her stomach was performing a complicated gymnastics routine as the butterflies all fluttered and her heart was racing inside her chest.

"Hey, earlier you were saying something about needing my help at the clinic?" Charlie said after a little while.

He shuffled his shoulders slightly on the couch, making himself more comfortable and seeming perfectly content to hold her cuddled into his arms like they were already lovers, rather than just friends.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "I need your help if you've got some time. We… had an unexpected delivery at the clinic last night right when I was about to lock up. A wizard in a hood ran up to me clutching a crate. I couldn't see inside it at the time, but I thought it might be someone in need of my veterinary service. He never said a word to me though, just shoved the crate into my arms and disapparated before I could ask his name."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Charlie frowned at her. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? What was in the box?"

"He didn't hurt me," Hermione assured him. "But that's where I need your help… Charlie, the crate was full of dragon eggs…"

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, apparently not having expected that.

"Shit," he said. "How many? Do you know what kind of dragon they're from?"

"There are twelve of them," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But I don't know what breed they are. I've never seen a dragon egg like them before."

"Fuck. Where are they now? What did you do with them?" Charlie asked.

"They're at the clinic," Hermione admitted. "I'm not equipped for treating dragons in the middle of London. I've only ever been called on once by the Ministry to treat a wounded adult dragon, and in that instance, I was summoned to the location where the beast was injured. I did have a woman bring in a dragon egg she'd won in a poker game last year, but it was cracked and the baby inside had already perished before I could save it. When that happened, I did get a special chamber that replicates a dragon nest with heat lights to keep them warm; one of those ones that lets you adjust the temperature based on the breed of dragon and the number of eggs. Not knowing what breed they are, I've had to set it to the average, but I was hoping you'd be able to take a look and see if there is anything extra I need to do to care for them until they can be shipped to a reserve like yours."

Charlie nodded, his face pulled into a serious frown.

"Do you mind if we take a look now?" he asked. "I won't be able to sleep without knowing what breed they are and whether the temperature is set right."

Hermione could tell from the look in his eyes that Charlie was worried about the dragons and she realized in that moment that what he said about his love of them and his obsession with the lizards was true. They really did rule his life and she realized that if she wanted to try things on for size with him, she would have to accept that there would be times when the dragons would come before her on his list of priorities. Right then she wanted nothing more than to stay there on that sofa with his arms curled around her and the heat and strength of his powerful body pressed against her own. But from the way he began to squirm in his seat before rising when she'd moved off him far enough, she could tell he wanted to see the dragon eggs.

"Sure," Hermione said, standing quickly and hurrying for the door. She quickly donned her hat, scarf, gloves and cloak once more and watched Charlie do to same. "Are you ok if we apparate?"

"Might not be too safe in this weather, Hermione," Charlie said, squinting out the window as snow continued to batter against it. "Is your clinic hooked up to the Floo network?"

"No," Hermione confessed. "It would be too easy for people to break into my office and mess with my patients in the clinic if I did that. But my flat above the clinic is connected. We can go there and then take the stairs."

Charlie nodded, and Hermione supposed they wouldn't need their winter clothes. She pinched up some Floo powder and dropped it into the flames, crying out the destination of her living room. When she stepped through the house was dark, but Hermione quickly lit her wand and lighted the lamps she had scattered about the place. She barely had time to flick a quick tidying charm before Charlie followed her through and she would be lying if she said her stomach didn't backflip at the sight of her infatuation dusting the soot from his robes as he straightened to his full and impressive height inside her home.

He looked strange against the backdrop of books, Hermione noted idly.

"You really were made for wide open spaces in foreign countries, rather than cramped London flats, weren't you?" she said without thinking, her tone just a little wistful.

Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise, clearly focused solely on investigating the dragons, rather than on her flat or her crush.

"City life wouldn't be for me, no," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione didn't say anything else before leading him over to a door that led to stairs to the lower level. They provided direct access to her clinic, rather than them having to bother with going to street level and entering through the public entrance. Charlie followed behind her and Hermione bit her lip as they entered her lab, still wondering what she should do about her feelings for him. She might've told him she'd be willing to wait until he was ready to consider settling down – though whether he understood that she meant him or not remained to be seen. The trouble was, that while she could certainly wait, she didn't want to give him, or herself, any kind of false hope that something between them could work. Her job kept her here in the heart of London where Beings and Creatures could gain access to her clinic via Diagon and Nocturn Allies. His kept him in the mountain of Romania.

They were from different worlds, and it was clear that he would never comfortably fit into hers in the city.

"Over here," Hermione said, leading him into her private office where she'd had a Dragon Egg Incubator installed. She'd locked it when she'd left, knowing that, technically, she wasn't supposed to keep eggs on the premises without notifying the DRCMC and without getting in touch with a sanctuary to take them.

Charlie clearly knew his way around an incubator because as soon as she'd showed him where it was, he went straight to it and began pushing the buttons that would allow him to view the eggs.

"Can we get a little extra light in here?" he asked in a low voice, squinting through the protective glass at the eggs.

Hermione flicked her wand, lighting up the clinic even though doing so upset the owls she'd been nursing back to health. The four of them hooted and ruffled their feather in annoyance, but Hermione shushed them soothingly, offering them each a treat while Charlie examined the eggs.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Charlie hissed.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, turning toward him in surprise when he began to cuss and started pressing several buttons on the Incubator.

"You said some bloke dropped these off?" he asked, and Hermione frowned when he turned the temperature dial on the incubator all the way down from keeping them warm to freezing.

"Yes. He just appeared. I don't know if he'd been waiting for me to close – though it seems likely, since being in possession of dragon eggs is illegal without a license – and he chose that time because there was no one else around, and because it meant I had to juggle my keys and the crate when he pushed it on me, giving him time to get away. Why?"

"Did you get a look at him?" Charlie asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "He had his hood pulled up on his cloak. He was tall, though. Maybe just an inch shorter than you… Dressed in a long black cloak that hid his figure well enough. To be honest, when he stepped out of the shadows, I was caught somewhere between fear of a Dementor attack, and a Death Eater ambush. I nearly hexed him, he startled me so badly."

"I wish you had," Charlie said darkly.

"Why? What's wrong, Charlie? Is it the eggs? Why did you lower the temperature?"

"Because these are Artic Frostfang eggs," Charlie said. "It's lucky you told me about them and we came straight here. They'd have cooked overnight if you'd left them for too long on that temperature."

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Aren't Frostfangs endangered?" she whispered.

"Critically so," Charlie said quietly. "Poaching and the melting ice-caps has threatened their existence to near extinction."

"Oh, Merlin! Charlie, I'm sorry. I didn't know. The blue pattern on the eggs made me think of the Swedish Shortsnout, and I set the temperature gauge for them."

"It's fine," Charlie waved away her apology. "You weren't to know. It's an easy mistake to make if you haven't seen a Frostfang egg before, and very few people in the world have."

"How on earth did someone get hold of twelve of them?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "And what were they doing dumping them here?"

"I'd wager these eggs were pilfered from one of the Highland colonies. Way up North in the Isle of Skye there's a wizard with a license to protect the nesting Frostfangs that have begun migrating there in the summers when the ice melts. Bloody hell, this is bad, Hermione. Frostfangs were the original reason for the last Ice Age, from what we can figure. This blizzard… I knew there was something off about it."

"You think the Frostfangs are causing it?" Hermione said.

"They're extremely territorial about their nests, Hermione," Charlie said. "There's a reason that even though there's an entire colony of Frostfangs calling Skye home, only one bloke is in charge of it. They don't like people, and they can cause international incidents if they lose their tempers. Whatever nest was robbed, the mated pair guarding it are on the hunt. We need to get these eggs back North as soon as possible."

"We can't go now," Hermione said. "It's blowing a gale out there."

"It will only get worse," Charlie told her. "If we don't get these guys back to their parents safely, Britain will be buried in snow and plunged into temperatures so cold, the Frostfangs won't have to worry about the melting polar icecaps anymore. They'll turn the whole bloody world into their playground."

"Well, then what to we do?" Hermione asked. "Why would someone steal them only to bring them to me here at the clinic?"

Charlie frowned fiercely for a moment, looking through the frosting-up glass at the eggs one more time.

"Shit," he muttered. "Tell me you've got forms here somewhere for the application of permits to temporarily host dragons, Hermione?"

"Of course, I do," Hermione said. "Why…? You think someone is trying to set me up to get me closed down?"

"I guarantee it. Grab me one of those forms. I've got all my licenses and registrations. I can sign off on using your clinic as a temporary holding facility for the eggs until we can arrange to get them safely north."

"But… who would want to set me up in this manner?" Hermione asked.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's one of the folks angry with you for running this foundation. There are a lot of people in the wizarding world who would sooner eradicate the creatures you're trying to save, love."

"But… dragons?"

"Well, going after the Frsotfangs could be two pronged. Some twit probably thought it's be a good way to ensure a white Christmas, this year," he explained. "And someone bloody bastard thought they'd take you down by dumping the eggs on you. Whoever did this knows enough to know that too long away from the nest will plunge us into another ice age. Whoever did this wants you out of the way and has a knowledge of dragons. Probably a trader in dragon parts. There're a few blokes in Britain who're partially responsible for the decline in Frostfang numbers thanks to poaching for the sake of trade. Frostfang teeth and heartstrings are incredibly potent for potion making and wand-making, the scales and hides make some of the most beautiful fashion-items you've ever seen, and the blood of a Frostfang when applied directly to the skin after proper preparation can prevent aging in wizards."

"But why would someone want to pin it on me?" Hermione asked. "I'm well known for my stance against the Bill of Harvest."

"Yeah, but you're also well-known for helping vampires and werewolves, Hermione. That rubs a lot of people the wrong way. Most would prefer to see those souls slaughtered without mercy and hunted to extinction than help them. And you're luring them in droves to the very heart of the city."

"Well, yes, but how would planting twelve illegal dragons eggs in my clinic prevent that?" Hermione frowned.

Charlie paused in the process of filling out the forms she'd fished out of her desk with all his registration information to lift his eyes to her.

"Hermione, anyone caught in illegal possession of Frostfang eggs can be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Stealing the eggs is considered an act of terrorism because of the consequences to the entire continent. Without this permit I'm filling out, if you'd been raided by the Ministry, they'd have closed you down, raked through every record you've got, pinned everything they could on you and sent you off to Azkaban pending trial before you'd have been found guilty, no matter that this was a setup."

Hermione gulped.

"Oh," she said in a small voice, feeling stupid now for not being more aware of the identifying markers for each species of dragon, and for not being aware of the legal repercussions of such an instance as this. "I didn't know."

Charlie's mouth twisted and his eyes filled with sympathy, seeing how concerned she was when her hands began to shake.

"I know you didn't," he said. "But you told me, and we can get it sorted, yeah? You're alright, koroleva, come here."

He stepped around the desk in her office and pulled her into his arms, smoothing his hands up and down her back comfortingly.

"We'll get to the bottom of who gave them to you, alright? We'll get them returned to their proper nest in the morning, and we'll get Harry and his team to look into who might be targeting your foundation, alright?"

Hermione nodded.

"Gods, I almost cooked them," she muttered, horrified.

Charlie snorted.

"Almost," he nodded, his cheek resting against the top of her head as he held her. "Maybe you'd better look into getting your Dragonologist license, koroleva. It was an easy mistake to make, but it's no secret that this neck of the woods could use a few more people interested in dragons and in the know on how to handle them, yeah? Especially if you're already in the magical creature business. There are a stack of registrations and licenses you can get to protect yourself legally in people keep dropping magical creatures in your lap."

"I've got a fair few of them," Hermione told him. "I just didn't look into the more exotic creatures like dragons or the others not native to Britain – manticores and the like – because I didn't think I'd ever have cause to need them."

"Suggesting that whoever is behind this knew you didn't have a license to keep dragons on the premises."

"But I do have a license for that," Hermione said. "I had to get a permit to have the incubator installed."

"Probably a breeders' permit for local species only. Believe me, you've got to be very well qualified to certify having species like the Frostfangs or Razorscales or even the Fireballs in your possession. The circumstances of your application and your request for the incubator would've been processed based on your registration as a local veterinary clinic. They've have allowed it probably only because of who you are, if I'm being honest, love. If you weren't Hermione Granger, even with the magizoologist qualifications for treating magical creatures, you'd have been denied on one of these incubators."

"Kingsley did have to sign off on letting me have it," Hermione nodded slowly. "He called me into his office and made it very official and warned me that even though he knew I wanted it to help the creatures, I would be under scrutiny pertaining to it's use. A chap comes by once a month to inspect the incubator and ascertain if it's been used, and what for."

"Yeah, regulations surrounding dragons are pretty tight, these days," Charlie said, releasing her and holding her at arms-length, his hands resting on the tops of her shoulders as he peered into her face.

"In no small part thanks to you," Hermione said. "To get my permit, I had to sit an exam and the statutes decreeing breeding sanctions frequently cited your name as one of the researchers behind it all."

Charlie's ears turned red as he chuckled. "Yeah, well. I remember how badly I wanted a dragon as a kid," he said. "Even got my hands on a dragon egg from a backyard breeder when I was fifteen… it didn't end so well."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"No?" she asked.

Charlie laughed, stepping back and rubbing the back on his neck.

"You know that section of the Burrow where my bedroom is and the surrounding areas?" he asked. "How they look newer than the rest?"

Hermione nodded, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth despite the threat of being set up for illegal dragon possession. It was hard not to smile when Charlie was looking so sheepish right in that moment.

"I got hold of my egg in Hogsmeade right before getting on the train home," he told her. "I squirrelled it away in my trunk until I got home, and one night after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck downstairs and hatched it. I was hand rearing that little drake in my bedroom all summer – it wasn't too hard. He was an African Chura dragon. Not too big, not real bright, and prone to sleeping most of the time. It was pretty easy to hide him from Mum, most of the time, and I already had so many pets and creatures living in my room that she didn't bat an eye at the extra meat for feeding him."

He laughed, and Hermione shook her head, her smile wide.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He sneezed one afternoon when Mum was doing the dusting," Charlie admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nearly burned the whole house down, the bugger. Blew the wall out of my room with the explosion of it and damaged the rest of the rooms surrounding mine. Bill almost lost a leg when his room – which was the one above mine, back then – suddenly lost it's floor and he came plummeting down into the wreckage with old Borris."

"Borris?" Hermione laughed.

"He had to have a name, Hermione," Charlie said, like it was ludicrous to imagine otherwise. "Anyway, as you can imagine, Mum went ballistic. Me and Bill spent the rest of the summer sleeping on the floor in the living room while the repairs were done. Even Dad was right cross with me. Insisted that I had to be the one who fixed up the house. That's why it's a hodge-podge of woodwork, and a bit on the piss. I had no idea what I was doing, but once I got the hang of it, they couldn't stop me. Before that incident, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny were all squeeze into one bedroom on matching bunk-beds because Mum and Dad went into it planning on four kids, rather than seven and they just didn't have the space, the time, or the money to expand."

"You built those new sections?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yep," Charlie grinned. "Poor old Borris was shipped off to a colony in Africa to be with his own kind and I might have been called on by a specialist in the field who sat me down and explained the dangers of what I'd been doing, keeping him in my bedroom like that. I already loved dragons, of course, but I did start to realize why not everyone should be allowed around them. After I graduated, I threw myself into the study to get all my permits and licenses, and then into learn everything I could about the beasts. Since then, I've been helping regulate the rest of the world to make sure idiot kids like me don't kill their family members with some backyard breeding experiment."

Hermione smiled.

"You've done a good job of it, even if someone is now trying to use that research and the laws it's sparked to close me down," she sighed, shaking her head. "What do we need to do with these eggs?"

Charlie patted her shoulder reassuring.

"For tonight, nothing more. They need to be kept in this chamber until morning, at the very least, to make sure they won't die in transit. The temperature you had them at might very well have killed them if they'd been exposed to it much longer. These guys thrive in the cold. When it's time for them to hatch, their parents rip apart their nest on the cliffsides and send them all rolling down into the freezing artic seas below. They sink and the cold pushes the babies into hatching – the rolling and the fall helps to crack the eggs open, too. Those that surface, go on to join the colony. Those that don't…"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and it couldn't clearer to her that he had accepted the laws of nature when it came to survival of the fittest.

"I'm so sorry I almost cooked them," Hermione apologized again.

"You didn't know, love. Don't worry about it," Charlie said. "I'll make a Floo call when we get back to the Burrow to let my contact who minds the colony know that we've got the eggs, and that we'll bring them home to him tomorrow, once they're cool enough."

"Won't he be asleep by now? It's almost midnight, Charlie."

Charlie chuckled.

"With a pair of rampaging Frostfangs on the loose in his colony and causing this blizzard? Not a chance, love. And anyway, he's getting on a bit, so he doesn't sleep as much as he used to. We'll get the last of this paperwork in order for you, so that when the Ministry chap comes by and sees what's been going on with your incubator, you'll be covered; and we'll have the eggs out of here before we've got to worry about them poking their noses in."

"Won't you be in trouble if your name is on all these documents?" Hermione asked.

Charlie shook his head.

"Nah. I'm fully licensed. They can't touch me. And it might be that my Frostfang minding friend has been attempting to woo me into taking over from him minding the colony here in Britain for a while now. He'll go on record to keep the dragons safe and keep the heat off you."

"He doesn't even know me," Hermione protested.

"He doesn't need to," Charlie chuckled. "He trusts me. And anyway, when I tell him what you're up to saving the magical creatures of our world, he's going to be very interested in meeting you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued about this man that Charlie spoke of with such respect and her mind latching onto the idea that he might be able to take a position here in Britain and still keep his dragons even without approaching Kingsley about opening a reserve in British soil.

"Come on, koroleva," he said when he was finished with all the papers and had neatly tucked away the quill he'd used once more.

He held his hand out to her, moving toward the stairs back up to her apartment above the clinic, waiting expectantly for her to take it.

"Do you want to use my Floo to call your friend, so we don't disturb the others at the Burrow?" Hermione offered, turning off the lights and taking his hand in the dark.

"Nah," Charlie said. "It won't go through from your place. He's very selective about which fireplaces he allows through to contact him, these days."

Hermione nodded.

"Grab anything you might've forgotten to stay overnight at the Burrow, yeah?" Charlie said. "You were planning on staying the night, right?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well… no, not really," Hermione admitted, looking up at him in confusion. "There's no room for me. Everyone has their spouse staying the night since the rest of your siblings are all loved up, so their rooms are all occupied, and Teddy and Victoire are in the guest room. Unless I camp on the floor in the living room, there's nowhere for me to sleep."

Charlie's lips twitched.

"You could bunk in with me," he offered quietly, and when she met his gaze, the heat in his eyes drenched her knickers all over again.

She gulped audibly.

"You… won't mind?" she asked.

"Mind having a beautiful witch curled up beside me in matching jammies and reading the book I got her into the wee small hours?" he chuckled. "You don't know me that well if you think that's something I'll object to, koroleva."

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes searching his face and it occurred to her that this might be the perfect moment to make a move. Sliding her feet a little closer until she was well inside his personal space, Hermione tipped her head up, holding his gaze and wondering if he wanted her as much as she wanted him right in that moment.

"If you keep looking at me like that, Hermione Granger," Charlie said, his voice going low and husky as he brought his hand up to smooth his calloused palm over her cheek affectionately. "You might not get much reading done, and might not stay in those jammies, after all."

Hermione licked her lips, her heart racing inside her chest.

"I prefer to sleep naked with company, anyway," she confessed softly, and Charlie's answering grin was pure wickedness before he leaned down and claimed her lips hungrily.