A silver-blue falcon perches on the chair opposite of Charlie. He groans. This was supposed to be a much needed day off, but his boss wouldn't have sent a Patronus unless it was important. The fragrance of his waffles mocks him as he stands, leaving enough money to cover the uneaten food and Apparates away.
When he appears in his boss's office, woozy, he notices that there's other Tamers appearing. Clearly, whatever happened requires a lot of manpower. Among those there, Charlie zeroes in on his best friend—Zoelie. He maneuvers until he's standing next to her.
The room falls quiet when Damien starts to speak. "The Aurors have busted an identified safe house for illicit creature trafficking."
Charlie's clenches his hands into fists, white hot anger washing over him. This isn't the first time Damien has sent them out to bring back dragons that had been smuggled, bred, and sold illegally; still, it never fails to piss him off.
He blinks in surprise when Zoelie grabs his forearm. "Come on," she says, and he realizes that he was too focused on his anger to hear what else his boss said.
She fills him in after they've Apparated, while Charlie tries, and fails, not to puke after two Apparations in a short amount of time. Their task, she explains, was to inspect and determine the health and species of the dragons after they transported them the Reserve's Medical Wing. Zoelie pulls out protective gear and removes the shrinking charm, handing a set to him; he knows that she also has the brooms they'll use for the trip back shrank too. They somberly get dressed before entering.
The transport is easy enough; there's a total of seven dragons and fourteen Tamers. Most of the species are obvious—the green of a Common Welsh, the silvery-blue of Swedish Short-Snout. The age, however, is going to be a lot harder to pinpoint. The safe house isn't remotely designed for a dragon's need, much less seven, which means that the dragon growth would be stunted. Anger rises in his chest, but he inhales sharply, knowing that anger isn't going to help these dragons.
Charlie and Zoelie go for a small copper-scaled dragon in the back, mostly out of curiosity. Zoelie stays behind with her wand at the ready as Charlie gains its trust, ready to cast a shield if it shows signs of aggression. He makes eye contact. After a few minutes of unwavering eye contact, the dragon lowers its head. They spend the next half hour coaxing the dragon out of the room.
On the grass in front of the house, they encourage the dragon to fly. It takes the dragon several attempts before it understands how to fly; Charlie casts a cushioning spell each time the dragon's wings falters. They take to the sky next to it, casting distracting spells in front of the dragon to lead the way. The dragon seems to enjoy flying, even if it's a little unsteady, and Charlie wonders if it's the first time the dragon's really felt the wing against their wings. That thought is like a knife to his heart. No dragon should ever be tamed like that, where they aren't allow to fly.
When it comes time to land, the dragon is more than a little reluctant. Another two Tamers come to assist them in herding the dragon towards the Medical Wing. The dragon makes desperate hisses as they try to get it to land. His heart breaks as they work.
It's for the best, he tells himself. To make sure the dragon is healthy. But no matter what his task is making him do, he wants to just let the dragon continue to fly.
After nearly an hour of flying and somehow managing to evade their traps and spells, the dragon finally lands, exhausted. They thank the help as the other Tamers leave; other people, especially new ones, could overwhelm the dragon and cause it lash out, and that's something Charlie would like to avoid.
Zoelie casts a few spells to ensure the dragon can't fly away as a precaution. Charlie shrinks his broom and pockets it. He looks at Zoelie then at the dragon. The dragon looks like it's on the edge of sleep, blinking at them slowly, cautiously. They'll have an easier time moving the dragon and checking its health if they allow for it to fall asleep.
Charlie sits on the ground. It could be a long wait. Zoelie sits down next to him. Once the dragon notices them on the ground, it rests its head on its forearms and closes its eyes. Zoelie launches into a story involving her daughter's display of accidental magic while they wait for the dragon to fall asleep.
When they are sure it's asleep, they levitate the dragon as gently as possible into the first available room and shut the door. It's easy enough to check the gender—it's a female. Zoelie checks the scales, looking for loose, crooked, or missing, while he checks the hide for abrasions.
There's a loud crash right outside the room. Charlie doesn't have enough time to jump back as she startles awake. He's surprised when there isn't a shield blocking fire in between him and the creature. It quickly melts away when pain registers from his right forearm down to his hand. When he looks, he sees that the dragon has its teeth dug into his arm. Huh, he thinks. He's suffered a lot of injuries over the years, but he's never been bitten before.
"Stay still," Zoelie says. He can hear the worry in her voice.
Charlie bites back a response as she aims a spell at the dragon. It disorients the dragon just enough he can snatch his arm away; the pain is almost enough to stop him in his tracks, but he forces himself to move. Zoelie casts a second spell. He takes this opportunity to stumble toward her.
There's a third spell; he feels woozy as Zoelie pulls him out of the room and slams the door shut, panting. They can hear the dragon scratch at the door on the other side.
Charlie is about to say that he might need the Infirmary when he ends up puking. Zoelie vanishes it before she wraps her arm around his waist and leads him towards the Infirmary; she doesn't chance Apparating with him injured and, thankfully, the Infirmary isn't too far. His arm hurts with every step. He didn't know a dragon bite could hurt this badly.
The Infirmary seems to be just how it last looked when Charlie came here a few years ago—white walls, injured people, Healers—but everything is blurring together as his partner takes him to admissions. He's never been that fond of Healers; he'd rather tend to his own injuries than come to the Infirmary. But this is obviously something he isn't capable of healing.
Zoelie does all the talking because all he can hear his heart beating in his ears. She leads him to room and practically lifts him onto a bed. Charlie's chest is heavy with numbness and he feels too hot. His arm is swollen from the bite.
He's not sure how long they've been there when there's a knock on the door and blond man enters. "I'm Healer Draco Malfoy," he says, "and I'll be treating you today." He looks up and he must see the cringe Charlie's trying to hide because he adds on, "Unless that'll be a problem."
He shakes his head, and immediately regrets it. The rapid movement makes him gag. He treats the rising nausea as if it's Apparation-sickness, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth. Once that is avoided, he replies, "That fine. Honestly. I'm just not the biggest fan of Healers in general."
It takes a couple of moments for the Healer to approach him. Charlie finally processes the name—Malfoy—and realizes with sudden clarity why he thought Charlie wouldn't want to be treated by him. That realization doesn't change Charlie's answer; he won't let the past determine someone's present because he believes in second chances.
Draco asks him the usual questions—which Charlie tries to answer as coherently as possible but the words feel muddled in his mouth—as he takes off Charlie's right glove and cuts the entire sleeve of his shirt to inspect the bite wound. The wound is an angry red. He's mildly surprised to see that the dragon didn't bite completely through his wrist.
Draco summons a few items to himself. "It seems that you were bitten by a venomous dragon," he declares, walking around to the other side of the bed. He uses a spell to clean an area at the crook of his left elbow and ties a rubber band around Charlie's bicep. He uncaps a needle and works to set up an IV. When the needle's in, he hooks up a bag of yellowish liquid and releases the rubber band. "This is anti-venom, which will keep the venom from doing more damage."
"Nifty," Charlie slurs. He feels as delirious as he does when he takes pain potions, only with more pain and less relief.
"More damage?" Zoelie asks. Charlie's almost forgot that she was in the room with him. She looks between Charlie and Draco, waiting for an answer.
There's a long moment of silence as he moves back to Charlie's right side before she's answered. "The shattered bone can be vanished and regrown, but the venom in the muscles of the hand, wrist, and forearm have already caused irreversible damage. We won't know how extensive until the bone is regrown."
Draco has summoned a vial, a glass, and a bottle of Skele-Gro to himself, offering him the vial first. "Pain potion," he says. When Charlie takes the potion, grimacing at the taste, Draco points his wand at his arm and whispers a spell. When that's done, Draco pours him a generous amount of Skele-Gro.
Charlie drinks it. It's fouler than the pain potion, and he struggles to keep it down. Then, Draco starts to close the teeth shaped wounds. He has to maneuver Charlie's arm to get to all of the wounds, and it's a slow process. Charlie fights sleep the entire time by pure willpower.
"Sleep," Draco orders once he's done. "We'll assess your arm after the bones have regrown." He gives Zoelie a fleeting look. "You can stay if you'd like."
Then the Healer turns in his heels and exits the room. Zoelie comes up to the left side of his bed and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to let you get some rest. I'll be back in the morning, okay?"
Charlie nods. She flashes him a small smile before pulling out her wand and Apparates away with a 'pop'. Sleep claims him quickly after that.
A steady stream of nurses kept waking him up to check on him and give him more pain potions throughout the night. Draco had been by already early in the morning, delivering grim news.
Zoelie and her husband, Jason, arrive just before noon. Charlie can hear Jason's sharp inhale, but he looks at his partner. Her blonde hair is tie up in a messy ponytail and her eyes look suspiciously red.
She immediately comes to his left side while Jason takes a seat in the chair provided. "What did the Healer say?"
"I have sensation loss on the right side of my chest and back, and my upper arm that is more than likely permanent, and paralysis from about my elbow down," he says hollowly. It still feels like this is happening to someone else. "It could be worse."
Charlie can see the guilt on her face as she looks at his propped up arm. The swelling has reduced significantly overnight, but it's noticeably swollen. He can see where the dragon's teeth had broken skin; they're now purple-red scars. There's no denying that they both know this is most likely a career ending injury.
"This isn't your fault," he assures her softly.
She chews on the inside of her cheek for a brief moment. "I wasn't quick enough with a shield."
He opens his mouth to reassure her, but she shakes her head and gives him a watery smile.
"When are you going to be released?" she asks.
"Tomorrow. They want to make sure the swelling is gone before I go," he answers.
She looks relieved to hear that. "Good," she says.
The conversation stills at the moment. He wants to assure her that everything is alright but he can't lie to her. And he knows from experience that there isn't anything he could say to take her guilt away. So he changes subjects instead.
"You can tell Damien that, between the venom and the scale coloring, we've determined ours is Peruvian Vipertooth. From what I remember reading about them, ours is about the size of a fully grown one," he says.
"Yes, Charlie, that's exactly what I want to talk about," she deadpans.
He rolls his eyes at her. "You should probably get checked for Dragon Pox while you're at it. I had them check me this morning and, thankfully, I didn't contract it. We'll need to quarantine her until we can determine whether or not she's a carrier."
She closes her eyes and inhales, knowing that the report to their boss is important. Then she looks at him. "Do you need anything?"
He shakes his head. "I'm good. Just tell Damien."
She Apparates away with a 'pop'. Jason stands, moving to take the space that his wife just left. "Is there anything the Healers can do?"
Charlie frowns. "They can't undo the damage. I was told that I can try to do physical therapy. It could, theoretically, help me get some movement back. If I'm lucky."
The other man frowns. "Damn. I—Fuck. That's awful. If you need anything—anything at all—you know where we live."
"I know," he says, nodding. "Don't let Zoe beat herself up about this, okay? It's not her fault."
Jason laughs. "That's easier said than done, mate."
Charlie gives him a smile. "I suppose so. Just try."
"Will do. Sorry, I can't stay longer. We left Nicolette with her parents. I should pick her up before Zoe finishes up with everything; her mother would just use this as a way to push Zoe into quitting. With how guilty she feels about this, she may agree," Jason says apologetically.
"Don't let her quit," he says earnestly. "Taming is what Zoe loves. She's a damn good one at that. I don't want to be the reason why she quits."
Jason gives him a small smile. "As long as I keep her away from her mother, I should be able to keep her from quitting."
"Good luck," Charlie says. Then, with a 'pop', he's left alone with his own thoughts.
He looks at his hand. He tries to move his fingers but they don't even twitch. He swallows back the disappointment. It's going to take time, he tells himself. He won't let this win; he'll overcome this. He has to.
When the nurse is discharging him, she starts to set him up an appointment for physical therapy. "You have your choice of Healers to do your physical therapy. Do you have a preference on which Healer or a specific day you would want?"
"Malfoy," he says before he can overthink it. There's something about the other man that piques his curiosity. "Please."
She hums, looking at her clipboard. "He has Mondays through Wednesdays available. Do you have preferences?"
"What times on Mondays?" he asks.
"Afternoons," the woman replies.
It doesn't take long for him to decide. "I'll take 3 pm."
She scribbles a note on her clipboard. "Excellent. I have you down for 3 p.m. on Monday, a week and a half for now, just to give you time to heal completely. Each session will be an hour, once a week. However, it's important to know, that depending on your progress, Healer Malfoy may decide to increase or decrease the amount of sessions."
Charlie nods his understanding.
She comes to stand on his left side. "I need you to sign this paperwork, verifying that I covered everything with you."
"I—uh, I'm right handed," he stammers.
She gives him a sympathetic look that makes his stomach drop. "I'm so sorry. You can try signing magically with your left hand or I can grab a quill and ink for you."
Charlie hesitates for a moment. He's never actually used his left hand for writing or magic. There's no better time than present to try. "I'd like to try with my wand."
She glances around the room before finding his wand on the counter. She hands it to him. It's an awkward weight in his left hand. He tries to sign the paperwork with the flick of his wand. Nothing happens. He tries again and again, getting more and more frustrated each time. Why can't he perform the spell?
She puts a hand over his, forcing him to stop. "It's okay." She summons a quill and ink before helping him sit up all the way.
He grabs the quill. It feels just as awkward as his wand did. He pushes the thought out his mind, dipping the quill in the ink unsteadily. He presses it to the parchment and nearly breaks the quill with too much pressure. Easing up, he moves on to the next letter and the next.
He pulls his hand away from the parchment. What he thought he wrote and what he really wrote are complete polar opposites. How is he ever going to overcome this?
The woman takes the paperwork from him with a pitying look. She smiles sadly. "We'll see you in a week and a half for your first session."
Charlie is then left to get dressed. Zoelie had been considerate enough to bring him some sweatpants that don't require buttons and a loose fitting t-shirt. It's still awkward getting into his clothes one handed. He grabs his wand from where he abandoned it while trying to sign the paperwork.
Then he starts his walk to his flat.
Charlie spends the next week and a half trying to adjust. It's far tougher than he could imagine. He realizes how often he uses his right hand for things—showering, cooking, brushing his teeth. It's disheartening at best, and a nightmare at worse. Most days, he doesn't even want to try.
Zoelie Apparates into his bedroom the morning of his first appointment. She prods him until he gets out of bed, pushes him to the bathroom for a shower, and cooks lunch as she waits for him to get done. When he's dressed and ready to go, she walks with him to the Infirmary.
"I'll be waiting when you're done," she tells him, kissing his cheek when his name is called.
He takes a deep breath and follows the nurse back to the room where his physical therapy will be taking place. It doesn't take long before he's joined by the Healer.
Draco motions for Charlie to take a seat at the table in the middle of the room. "Have you felt sensations on your chest and upper arm?" he asks as he takes the seat opposite.
Charlie shakes his head. It's awkward to know that he's touching his body and yet he can't feel it. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.
The other man taps the back of Charlie's hand. "Do you feel this?"
He shakes his head again mutely.
"Have you tried moving your hand?"
"Yes," he answers. He sounds defeated when he adds on, "I just can't do it."
Draco pulls his hand back. "These sessions will have two aims—to see if there is any chance of have movement in your right hand, and to strengthen your left hand. If you do gain mobility, however limited, with your right hand, great. If you can't, strengthening your left hand will help you be able to continue using magic."
"What are the odds that I get some mobility with my hand?" he asks. "Honestly."
"Given the fact that not too much time had passed before the anti-venom was administered and that the bite was more towards your wrist and forearm, there's a good possibility you will be able to at least move your fingers," Draco answers.
Charlie nods. "Will I be able to hold a wand with my right hand again?"
Draco meets his eyes. He can't look away from the piercing slate eyes. "I don't know. Anything is possible. If you were really lucky."
He snorts at that. "If it's luck I need, there's really no point in these session. I'm not particularly lucky these days."
"I would've never thought Weasley would turn down a challenge," Draco says.
Annoyance and determination fill him almost immediately. "I didn't say I was going to quit," he grits out. When he looks at the other man, he's smirking. Draco obviously knew exactly what would happen when he said that. He can't believe he actually fell into his trap.
Charlie spends the hour diligently following Draco's exercises. They spend half the time trying to test the limits of his hand. Draco is careful not to push it took far as he moves Charlie's fingers a little bit. The other half, Charlie works through endurance exercises for his left hand.
By the time he's released, with a stress ball and instructions to keep working his left hand as much as possible, he's exhausted. Zoelie walks with him home. She doesn't ask, but Charlie describes how his session went anyways.
His story takes the entire trip to his flat. When he gets there, Zoelie leads him towards couch. She comes to sit next to him after she's made them both a cup of coffee; unfortunately it's a diluted version of the coffee house's brew, but it's still drinkable.
His hand shakes with effort as he tries to take a drink. It's just so exhausted from the physical training. He manages to take a sip before setting it on his coffee table.
She looks at him with her kaleidoscopic eyes. "I—what if you never get motion back? What are you going to do?"
"I can't afford to think about that," he answers, swallowing thickly.
"We both know there's a time and a place for everything. What if this is the time to think about what you're going to do if this is the end of your career?"
He shakes his head. "If I let myself think about that, it would be over before I could even try." She looks like she's about to disagree with him. He sighs. "Look, I have enough money to hold me over for a while. We can revisit this topic in a few months, okay?"
She bites the inside of her cheek, frowning. Then she nods. "Okay."
"As much as I appreciate this, I think I'm going sleep. That session took a lot out of me," he tells her. It wasn't just physically taxing, but mentally too.
She gives him a small, sad smile. She stands and takes his cup from the coffee table and leans down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Get some rest. I'll clean up before I go."
He doesn't argue as he sits there for a moment, watching as she disappears into his kitchen. He wants to be jealous of her, jealous of the fact that she didn't get bitten and he did, but he can't bring himself to resent her ever-present good luck. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy.
He hears her doing the dishes by hand in the kitchen and wonders what he would do without her. Probably would've wallowed in self-pity by now. He heads to his bedroom, not even bothering to change out of his clothes as he crawls into bed.
He falls asleep almost instantly.
Three weeks later, Zoelie returns to work. Charlie knew it was coming, but knowing doesn't change the fact that he's frustrated with his lack of progress in general. He tries to push himself further, harder, desperate to just be better already through most of the session.
Draco grabs ahold of Charlie's left hand, preventing him from squeezing the stress ball harder when he shows no signs of only doing the ten reps. "Stop. You're going to hurt yourself."
"Like you care," he growls. Draco withdraws his hand quickly, as if he had been burned. The ball falls out of his hand as his frustration fades to shame when he realizes he crossed a line he never meant to. "I'm sorry. That was petty and uncalled for. My best friend returned to work today and I'm—I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you."
There's a long moment of silence before Draco says, "Despite what you think, you are making progress."
"You have an uncanny ability to see the heart of the matter," he tells Draco, impressed.
"Pull out your wand," the Healer instructs.
When Charlie does as he's told, he finds the wand doesn't feel as awkward in his hand as it did the first time. It feels almost like an extension of himself, much like holding his wand right handed. For the first time since the incident, Charlie actually grins.
"I told you: you're making progress."
His grin follows him home that night. He's actually doing this. He's going to be okay.
The nice thing about the therapy sessions he comes to find out is that Draco doesn't keep to the same schedule. After Charlie's gained more strength in his left hand, the tasks he's given vary, as does the time limit and repetitions.
Charlie's left hand is aching by the time they shift focus to his right hand. Draco carefully tests his reactions. His heart is racing as the other man's hand touches his skin, despite the fact that he can't feel it.
"Why'd you become a Healer?" he asks to keep his mind from wandering. "I mean you don't have to answer, if you don't want to. I'm just curious."
The other man pauses with his fingers still against his skin. Charlie wants to feel the touch so badly.
"I'm assuming you know about my role in the war," he says, continuing on as if he never stopped. "After all of that, I wanted to help instead of destroy."
"How'd you end up here?"
Draco glances up and shrugs. "You'll find that people in England didn't want to let me try to make amends."
"That's fucking ridiculous," he growls. "You were a kid, for Merlin's sake."
"One that tried to kill Dumbledore, and found a way for Death Eaters to get into the castle, and —"
"You were still a kid," Charlie cuts across him sharply, "who was trying to protect your parents and yourself. The question is: who wouldn't in your position?"
Charlie shifts nervously, when Draco doesn't immediately speak. His attention is fixed on Charlie's hand.
"Draco?"
The blond snaps his attention to Charlie. There's excitement lining his face. "Your fingers started to twitch."
It can't be. He looks at his own hand. He focuses, concentrating on willing his fingers to move. There's a long moment of disbelief when his pinky and ring finger twitch.
He can't even describe the relief the floods his body. He's getting better.
Charlie's all but forgotten that he didn't tell any of his family about his injury because he didn't want them to worry. He remembers it with sudden clarity when he Floos into the Burrow's living room. While his left handed casting has gotten better, he's still unable to Apparate, which is fine by him but it means that he needs to use alternative means of transportation.
The living room is full of his siblings and their significant others. His mother is, no doubt, in the kitchen. It looks like Hermione and his father may be out in the shed, where his dad tinkers with his Muggle stuff.
Victoire, who has gotten so much bigger since Charlie seen her at Christmas last year, squeals in delight and throws herself into his arms. He drops his bag as he pulls her up. He's found that he can still support a fair bit of weight with his right arm. At three, Victoire is barely within the range. Still, he uses his left arm to support most of the weight.
"Hey Tory," he whispers against her head, dropping a kiss to her strawberry blonde hair. He puts her down and grins as he sees his youngest niece walking unsteadily towards him. Dominique could pass as Victoire's twin if it wasn't for the obvious size difference and that Dominique's eyes are brown whereas Victoire's are crystal blue.
He manages to sweep her up into his arms. But he knows he can't hold her as long as he wants. When he's putting Dominique down, he notices Bill is staring at him, concerned. He shakes his head, which causes his brother to frown, but he doesn't pursue it which Charlie is thankful for. He counts his stars that he decided to wear his jumper.
Everything, however, goes downhill at dinner when Charlie snags a corner where he can eat without bumping elbows with anyone. He's gotten better with using his left hand to eat. His mum looks at him. "What's going on?"
Well, he's never really been able to lie to his mum so he goes for the truth. "I got injured at work. I'm fine, I swear. It's just a bit difficult to use my right hand currently."
It's technically not a lie; it's been five months since he was bitten and he's been able to do simple spells and other general things, like eating, with his left hand and he's able to wiggle his fingers with a decent amount of motion. Draco thinks at the rate he's been progressing, he'll be able to hold his wand in his right hand within a year. The thought of Draco makes him want to smile, but it's not the time or place.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Molly demands.
All of the conversations halt as they look in between him and his mother. "I didn't want to worry you. I'm fine, Mum. Honest."
She looks like she wants to say something but she shakes her head. "As long as you're okay."
"I am," he assures her, giving her a smile. "My hand's growing stronger every day."
"What happened?" Ginny asks, looking at him from the other end of the table.
He shrugs rolling up his sleeve to show his scars. "The Reserve was sent out to bring back and evaluate dragons that were being illegally detained and bred. The dragon I was looking at was a Peruvian Vipertooth, which is venomous. She bit me when something startled her. It caused a bit of paralysis, but I'm getting movement back in my fingers."
His mum looks at his arm, frowning. "Charlie, that's—"
"I'm fine, Mum. See?" he asks, wiggling his fingers at her. "I've been doing physical therapy. I'm getting more and more movement back."
Molly looks like she's going to protest when Arthur asks about Charlie's work. He launches into an explanation of not working until he's completed physical therapy. With how much progress he's made, he's planning to talk to Damien when he gets back about his options; he's not ready to give up working with dragons just yet.
Sensing that his mother still isn't happy, Charlie diverts the conversation, asking Percy how working for Kingsley has been. His brother looks happy as he talks about his job. When Ron starts to tease Percy about the Muggle girl from the Prime Minister's staff, all thoughts about Charlie's injury is lost as they start demanding answers about Percy's interest.
Charlie watches as his family laughs. For a brief moment, he wonders what Draco's doing at home, with his mother.
Charlie heads to the coffee shop after his appointment. He's meeting Zoelie there for a drink to talk about their holidays; Zoelie spend the last month between France and America, visiting her parents and Jason's. This is the first time since the last week of December that he's seen her.
The shop is busier than he expects for 4 p.m., as he navigates through the tables to join her. He flashes her a grin as he grabs the cup on the table. He takes a long drink from it. It's so better than the coffee he has at home.
"How'd therapy go?" she asks.
"It's been good. I can almost make a fist, and spells are getting easier to do with my left," he answers. "It doesn't feel as awkward anymore."
She smiles brightly. "Good. Any word on when you'll be done?"
He shrugs. "Draco says it shouldn't be more than another two months. He's increasing them to two times a week now."
"Are you practicing spells around your house?"
He nods, grinning. "I've just got down the dish cleaning spell so you no longer need to do that."
"Har har," she says, "that's just hilarious."
He's grinning like a fool, before becoming serious. "I'm just ready for these sessions to be over. I talked to Damien and, once they're over and I'm deem fit enough with my spell casting, I can work with the baby dragons. It's not as much as Taming, but I'll still be working with dragons."
Her face lights up. "Really? That's amazing, Charlie! Are they going to test you?"
"Yeah, but Draco's pretty confident that I'll pass," he replies. "I've mastered Aguamenti but the summoning spell is still giving me issues."
"You've referred to him as Draco twice now," Zoelie points out. "You only refer to Healers as Healers."
He looks at her, surprised. "Have I?"
Her eyes flicker across his face, searching for something. He's not sure what she finds but she groans, dropping her head into her hand. "Please tell me you're not trying to find a way to ask him out."
Charlie chokes on his drink. There's no way she could know. "What gave you that idea?"
"You are," she accuses.
"What if I am?" he questions. He thinks about how he likes the way Draco's hands feel against his skin when he's doing exercises with his left hand. The way the corners of Draco's mouth turn up ever so slightly when Charlie's fingers move more than the session before. The way that the sessions are taxing, but he always grins on his way home.
Zoelie scrubs at her eyes. "Are you sure that you're not only interested in him because he's helping?"
Her question throws him. "What?"
"Look, I'm just trying to look out for you here. Besides me, the only person you see on a regular basis anymore is him. Are you sure you're not just kind of projecting feelings because of close proximity?" she asks.
He opens and closes his mouth, his answer getting stuck in the back of his throat. This was the last thing he thought she would ask.
Zoelie seems not to notice his struggle to reply. She continues on, "I mean he's pretty much everything you don't like—you know, a Healer, a Malfoy."
"When have I ever held stuff like that against people?" he asks flatly. "His name and job doesn't define him."
"But doesn't his name?" she counters. "Everyone's heard what the Malfoys did during the war."
"Everyone deserves a second chance. Why should he be any different?"
She holds her hands up in mock defense. "I just want to make sure that you're interested because of him, not because he's the only other person you have contact with."
When she puts it that way, he really can't be upset about the questions. He shrugs. "I want to know him outside of what his name and job implies."
"Okay," she says, patting his left hand. Then she switches subject. "My mother tried again to get me to quit. Jason ended up getting into a screaming match with her about it."
Charlie snorts. One of the first things he learned about Zoelie is that her parents, particularly her mother, loathes the idea of her Taming the untamable so he's really not surprised. He settles in for the rest of her story as he downs his coffee.
Charlie's wand is in his right hand. Draco watches as he urges his fingers to close around the wood. It takes a lot of effort, but eventually, he's holding his wand like he used to. He doesn't feel it though; he only knows it's in his hand because he can see it.
Nevertheless, he grins. He glances up at Draco, who looks pleased.
"Again," Draco orders.
He lets go of his wand. Then he focuses on closing his hand around his wand again. Most of his sessions recently have been more focused on getting to the point of making a fist with his right hand. He practices his dexterity and spellwork of his left hand on his own time.
Closing his hand around the wand takes less time the second time around. The third time takes less. By the time the hour is up, he can wrap his fingers around his wand within minutes.
"This is the last session," Draco says. "You've accomplished both goals. If you practice holding your wand on your own for a week, maybe two, it will take even less time than it does now. But given your capabilities with your left hand, you don't have to be proficient in casting with your right to work with the baby dragons."
Charlie freezes. He's been waiting for the all clear, or well as close as he's going to get to it, for ten months. Ten months of frustration and determination. There were days that he thought he'd never get here.
"I can get tested to see if I can work with the baby dragons?" he asks in disbelief.
"As soon as tomorrow, if you like," Draco confirms. "I don't see any reason why you couldn't. You're just as comfortable casting spells with your left as you were with your right. Having mobility in your hand was only meant to be extra."
Charlie grins brightly. "Thank you."
Draco's obviously uncomfortable with the thanks, because he shifts slightly when he says, "It's my job."
"I should—I want to talk to Damien. About the job," he says, gesturing towards the door. "But thank you."
He disappears through the door, excitement rushing through his veins. He's halfway to Damien's office when he realizes that he didn't ask Draco out. He halts and considers going back. In the end, he decides that maybe it's for the best after all.
Charlie swears he's done this before. His coworker, a man by the name of Michael, is leading him through the Infirmary. Only this time, he's not as delirious as he was a year ago and definitely isn't in any amount of pain.
He's pressing a shirt to his right arm when the Healer comes in. "You didn't get bitten again, did you?"
Charlie snaps his attention to the doorway, where a familiar blond stands. The two months since he's seen Draco have done nothing to decrease his attraction to the man. Maybe not asking him out after his final appointment was the wrong thing to do. He lifts the shirt sheepishly. "Not this time."
Draco inhales sharply. There's three deep cuts on Charlie's forearm from where one of the dragons had scratched down his arm trying to hold on. "I'm assuming you didn't feel it."
"Didn't notice it until Michael asked where the blood was coming from," he answers, motioning towards his coworker.
Michael observes them for a moment. Then he clearly decides that his job is complete because he says, "I'm going to go. I'll see you at work when you're healed. Feel better soon."
Draco summons a vial to him, offering it to Charlie. "Have you gotten any further mobility in your hand?"
"No, but I've been practicing using my wand. I'm still favoring my left for spell casting," he answers. Then he takes the red potion. He barely keeps it down. "I swear those potions get more foul each time. But at least I don't have to take a pain potion as well."
Draco chuckles as he starts to close Charlie's wound.
He's not even watching what Draco's doing; he's watching the concentration on his face as he works. It's a familiar face, one that the blond wore often during physical therapy. He wonders how he ever considered that maybe Zoelie was right, that he was projecting feelings from close proximity.
"Be a little more diligent around the dragons in the future," Draco orders as he finishes up.
There's three purple-red scars now running down the inside of his forearm, adding to the light pink scars from Widow's teeth. Charlie looks at him and nods.
Draco turns on his heels to head to his next patient when Charlie blurts out, "When does your shift end?"
"Technically not for another four hours, but I could get held up for at least an hour or more. Why?" he asks.
"Would you like to grab dinner afterwards?"
He feels like he's diving off a cliff, head first into the fire. His heart is racing when Draco answers, "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yes," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, it doesn't have to be. I mean, it would be nice if it was. But I'm totally cool with it not. It's fine if you don't want to, especially since you were my Healer and all—"
"You're cute when you ramble," Draco says, cutting him off.
He can't fight the blush creeping up his cheeks. "Was that a yes or a no?"
Draco laughs. "How do you feel about waffles?"
"I would actually love to get to eat them this time. Last time I tried to have waffles...well, I got bit by Widow," Charlie answers.
"If you want, I can send a Patronus when i'm done here," he offers.
"That'll be perfect," he answers. He stands before crossing the room to stand in front of the blond. He's taller than Charlie is; how did he never realize that before? Draco's slate eyes are watching him carefully as he approaches. "Can I kiss you now?"
There's a hint of a smirk on Draco's face before he leans down and kisses Charlie lightly. "I'll see you after."
"After," he repeats softly.
Then Draco is out of the door. Maybe the luckiest thing to happen to him was getting bitten by Widow. He would've never spent as much time with Draco if he hadn't been bitten.
He realizes that he's been standing there for too long and heads home to wait for Draco's Patronus.
Hogwarts assignment 6: History of Magic Task 3: Write about someone who doesn't care about stereotypes
Cooking club: starter pack - CharlieDraco
Library: Six of Crows - (object) Knife, (food) Waffles, (object) Gloves
Jewel: Diamond - Ring: Write about something difficult, Bracelet: Write about someone with good fortune, Necklace: Write about a strong character
Caffeine: Vienna Coffee - (word) Diluted
Saint Patrick's Day: The three-leaved shamrock - (colour) green
Scavenger: Write a fanon pairing
Lent: character name 40 times
Character Appreciation: Patronus charm
Book club: Celia Hendricks: (character) Draco Malfoy, (word) petty, (color) green
Showtime: I Can't Do It Alone - (word) Nifty
Days: World Wildlife Day - Write about someone who works with animals or creatures
Buttons: (word) Kill
Lyrics: Feel the wind in your hair
Tv: Song: "Can't Stop Lovin' You" by Van Halen - (dialogue) "There's a time and place for everything."
Liza Loves: Princess Fragrance - Write about someone who isn't well
Sophie's Shelf: fragrance, edge, inhale, swell, delirious, untamed
Insane: 747. Job - Healer
365. 169. Job - Healer
OTP: Into the fire