Everything was a bit of a blur. All Harry knew was that he was running, and the dragon was right behind him. He was running faster and faster and faster, up until the point where he practically flew into a hard body and was lying on his back as two paws about the size of him himself landed on either side of him.

A deep voice above him shouted "Confundus", and Harry squinted up at the flaming red hair above him.

"Charlie?" he asked. A rough hand pulled him to his feet, and propelled him forwards. He stumbled before he got the idea that he was supposed to run, and began sprinting again.

He heard the roar of flames, and as he turned around to look, he tripped on a slight rise in the ground and fell heavily.

That fall; it seemed to take forever. It was as though it happened in slow motion - his brain was working, and he knew what was happening, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. 'I'm dead,' he thought. He'd never make it to his feet in time. Norberta would roast him alive.

His body hit the ground with a thump. He went to scramble to get up, but it had caused all the wind to be knocked from his body. He couldn't move; after realising the futileness of it, he just shut his eyes.

The roar of dragon flames could be heard from above him, and the temperature suddenly went up about fifty degrees. Harry managed to lift his arms to shield his face - although what good he thought it would do, he'd never understand. He guessed it was just instinct.

"Protego!"

The heat was scorching, all around him, it was though the air had caught fire. He couldn't breathe properly, and this time it wasn't because he was winded. The air was too hot.

But he wasn't burning. Harry himself, although uncomfortably hot, was unharmed. Surprised at this unexpected turn of events, he looked up.

He caught a small glimpse of Charlie before a strong hand clamped tightly around his wrist and he felt, for the third time that night, the sensation of not being able to breathe as he was pulled into side-along apparation.

And then he was lying on a comfortable floor, looking up into Charlie's frowning face. The only thought that ran through his shocked mind was 'Oh dear, I think I'm in trouble'.

"What did you think you were doing?" Charlie hissed angrily at Harry. But despite his tone, and the glare he was giving Harry, his hands were surprisingly gentle as they helped Harry up into a sitting position. "You could have been killed!"

Harry hung his head, feeling suddenly ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

The excitement had left him tired and drained, and suddenly he felt miserable. He hadn't wanted this, when he'd decided to come here. He had wanted to do something exciting, and thought that being around dragons was bound to be that, but he hadn't wanted it to be just like fighting Voldemort - extremely dangerous and terrifying, and something he shouldn't really be able do and still be alive afterwards.

As if sensing Harry's change of mood, Charlie's face softened, and the supporting hand became a comforting one as it began to rub circles on Harry's back.

"It's alright," he murmured gently. "I was just scared that you'd get hurt."

Charlie's body was so close to him, and Harry wanted nothing more to lean into it and his head on that strong shoulder while Charlie told him that everything was okay. Then, realising what he was thinking, he sat up straighter so that he wasn't relying on Charlie to support him.

'What is with me at the moment?' he thought, annoyed at his weakness. 'I've handled way worse than this during the war, and I never wanted to give up and be coddled then."

Charlie, once again seeming to sense Harry's change of mood, took his hand away. His face darkened once more. "Longtooth took you?" He asked.

Harry nodded.

"I'll be having a word with him," Charlie said. Then he smiled at Harry. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, more softly.

Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach was doing flips. "I wouldn't be okay if it weren't for you," he said, struggling to his feet. "Thank you."

He realised he was in Charlie's cabin - well, they called them cabins. They were actually two rooms - a bathroom, and a multi-purpose room which had a table, a desk and a bed. Exactly like his own, Harry realised. Except a little bit neater.

"Don't mention it." Charlie crossed over to the table and gestured for Harry to take the other seat. Harry did so, wary of his newly-bruised body. He reckoned it would probably hurt in the morning.

"I didn't even know you were back yet," Harry commented, still a little shaken, although why he was acting like such a wimp now, he didn't know.

"That's because we only just finished giving our report," Charlie said. Harry knew that for tasks that required the dragon keepers to leave the reserve, the entire group had to report back to Dumitru Grey, the person who ran the reserve. Although technically it was a project of the Romanian Ministry, it still needed someone to oversee the day-to-day running of it, and Dumitru was the man for the job.

Harry had met him when he first was employed here. Harry's first thought was spent wondering what a man like this was doing running a dragon reserve, when clearly he looked like he would be better suited sitting in some stuffy ministry office, dealing with paperwork. He had reminded Harry a little of crouch, actually.

That was until Dumitru got onto the topic of the reserve, and then onto talking about dragons. Harry had sat there for almost an hour doing nothing but nodding as the man talked and talked and talked about how things worked, what it was like at the reserve and, of course, about the dragons residing here.

From that moment on, it became obvious that, although Dumitru looked like nothing more than a ministry lackey, he was actually a very passionate dragon lover.

And Harry supposed that's what made him the ideal person to run the place. He loved the reserve, and always had it's best interests at heart, but, unlike most of the other people working here, he didn't look like he came straight from the field. He was someone the Ministry would respect enough to let him run things as he pleased.

"I'd only just got out when I ran into Grigore." Charlie continued, oblivious to the fact that Harry had zoned out for a moment. "I asked about you and he told me that you were probably with Longtooth, and that Longtooth had said something about visiting Norberta. I had meant to greet you and maybe catch a bite to eat together in the mess hall, not get in a tussle with a viciously-maternal dragon."

Charlie grinned, showing that his jest meant no harm. Harry smiled weakly back.

"Do you want to grab that bite now?" Harry asked, although he didn't feel particularly hungry. His stomach was still recovering from that somersault it had done when Charlie had smiled at him.

Charlie grinned. "You don't have to ask me twice," he said.

xXx

"So did you keep yourself busy while I was gone?" Charlie asked, as he shovelled yet another huge spoonful of stew into his mouth. Harry eyed the man suspiciously; where did he put it all? Charlie wasn't very tall (although still taller than Harry), and although he could be described as stocky, it was definitely mostly muscle. Yet here he was, gulping down enough to feed a small dragon.

'Mind you,' Harry thought, 'we're lucky we didn't feed a small dragon today. Or a not-so-small one."

"Sort of. I got a lot of the easy jobs to do, because I'm a beginner," Harry said, picking at the unappetizing lumps of meat in his bowl. There was nothing wrong with them, really; he just didn't feel hungry.

"Yeah, I remember those tasks," Charlie said, gazing off into the distance as though lost in a memory. Then he shivered dramatically. "Wouldn't go back there for all the galleons in England, neither," he added with a grin.

Harry was about to say something witty in response (although he wasn't sure what it was yet), when a familiar figure sat himself down next to Harry.

"Evenin', Potter," Longtooth said. Harry noticed a new bandage on his arm that hadn't been there an hour ago, and looked down guiltily. He'd got away completely unscathed, thanks to Charlie.

"Evening Longtooth," Charlie said, before Harry could answer, and his voice was surprisingly cold.

Longtooth looked up. "What's with you, Weasley?" he growled.

Charlie took a deep breath, as though he was attempting not to shout. "You could have got Harry killed, tonight," he said evenly.

Longtooth shrugged. "I gave the kid a choice, didn't I? Being anywhere near here could get him killed. He signed up for this job; if he had a problem with danger, he would have stayed well away."

"There's a difference," Charlie ground out, "between signing up for a dangerous job, which, may I remind you, has protocols and safety steps to ensure that accidents don't happen, and taking a boy, whose still dusting soot off his robes from flooing here, out to go face to face with one of the most vicious mother dragons we keep here." The sentence was said in one breath, and Harry got the idea that Charlie had been mulling over that one for a while.

Harry wondered whether he should point out that he travelled here by portkey rather then the floo network. He took one look at the serious expression on both men's faces and decided against it.

"He can handle himself," Longtooth retorted. "He don' need you to be mothering him."

"He's done more than enough 'handling himself' than anyone should have to do," Charlie responded angrily. "You keep him out of dangerous situations that you have no right to put him in."

"Well, if he's done so much of it, he must be an expert. And it was his choice," Longtooth replied.

"Charlie," Harry tried to interrupt. "It really was my choi-"

"You shouldn't have made the offer!" Charlie exclaimed. Both of their voices were getting louder and louder, and more than a few people were looking at them. Harry would have liked to sink back into his seat, but he decided that attempting to stop the argument would probably would be a better thing to do.

"Charlie, it re-"

This time it was Longtooth who interrupted Harry.

"Have you asked Potter what he wanted?" Longtooth asked Charlie venomously.

Both of them turned expectantly to Harry, their expressions still angry from their fighting. He began to wish that he hadn't attracted their attention.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, aware that he was now talking to the entire mess hall, who were watching the three of them unashamedly. All he wanted was to be a quiet trainee and not get noticed. Was that too much to ask?

"I am glad Longtooth offered," Harry said evenly. "Although I think I shouldn't have accepted it. But all the same," Harry continued, as Charlie opened his mouth to say something sharp to Longtooth. "It was still me who said I'd go with him. It was my choice, and it's my fault. Not Longtooth's."

Charlie opened his mouth to say something, and then seemed to change his mind as he closed it again. He gave Longtooth a hard look, and then turned to Harry.

"Fine then," he said, and Harry couldn't tell whether his expression was hurt or angry, or some other emotion that he couldn't place. "I can see I'm not needed. I'll be off. Goodnight Harry."

He pushed himself up from the table and headed towards the door.

"Charlie, wait!" Harry called, but it was too late. He'd already left.

Pushing away his mostly-uneaten stew, Harry followed.

xXx

It wasn't until Harry reached Charlie's cabin that he caught up with the red-head. The other man was fumbling with his keys in a rush, as though he had anticipated Harry coming, and had hoped that if he got into his apartment fast enough he could avoid him. He swore as he dropped the keys, and bent down to pick them up.

"Charlie," Harry said, as he approached the other man. Charlie didn't even glance at him as he tried the lock again, more slowly this time.

"Charlie, don't be mad," Harry pleaded. "I'm sorry I said all that. But I didn't know that you were going to have a go at Longtooth like you did."

"It's his fault," Charlie said stubbornly, but he didn't sound angry any more. Harry was relieved.

"Maybe a little," Harry admitted. "But I agreed to go with him. I'm not a kid any more - I can't keep blaming others for what I've done wrong. It was my fault more than it was his. And it would have been churlish to say it was his fault. "

Charlie seemed to give up with the lock, and he let his hands drop back down to his sides as he looked at Harry fondly. "You're determined to always blame yourself, aren't you?" he asked.

"I've done worse things that I've had to take responsibility for," Harry said quietly, as images of Sirius falling back through the veil invaded his mind. "Things I can't pin on someone else."

He looked down, unable to meet Charlie's eyes. To his surprise, a warm, calloused hand rested itself on his arm. When he still didn't look up, Charlie brought his hand to underneath Harry's chin and tilted his face up so that they were looking at each other.

"The fact that you accept the blame is just yet another reason why you should forgive yourself," Charlie said softly, and Harry knew that neither of them were talking about the dragon encounter any more. "But don't take all the blame. There are some parts of it that aren't - and never will be - your fault."

Harry gazed up into that freckled face, and all thoughts of blame left him. How could he blame anyone for anything when Charlie was looking at him so tenderly, and when that rough, but warm and gentle, hand was touching him like it was? It was like a soppy part in a romance novel.

And then, just like all the best romance stories, something had to spoil the moment. Charlie dropped his hand and let out a small laugh.

"Do you know what I've just remembered?" he asked, his voice amused. He didn't wait for Harry's answer.

"I left the door unlocked." And with that, he turned the handle and walked in, leaving it open for Harry to follow.

It's a good thing Charlie didn't wait for him though. Harry was too breathless to move for a while.

xXx

He was tired. He really was. The day's encounter with Nortberta had exhausted him utterly.

Then why couldn't he get to sleep?

He lay awake in his bed, his mind going over and over what had happened today. Or more the point, what had happened with Charlie today.

Why did he feel funny every time Charlie looked at him a certain way? Why couldn't he get the read head's smile out of his mind?

And why did he want to share more of those tender moments with him, like the one outside Charlie's cabin?

Harry had never considered the idea that he might have feelings towards guys. After all, his plan had been very simple: marry Ginny, get a good job, have kids. Lead a normal life. There had never been any room in there for questioning his sexuality.

But now, he really did have to wonder. Because this sure felt like a crush, and if it wasn't, what were all these tumultuous feelings that he couldn't get rid of?

When he finally dropped off, it was to memories of Charlie. Charlie smiling, Charlie laughing, and Charlie… tilting Harry's chin up so that they were looking into Harry's eyes.

Although, as he fell off to sleep, Harry slipped into a dream where that action ended the way it usually does in romance novels.