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Ship Battles (CharlieDraco, reputation)

Writing Club-

Showtime, "Best of Wives and Best of Women" (a letter)

Word Count: 1076

Draco leans against the barrier of the dragon nursery, watching as Pippin, the newest Ridgeback, flops along, coughing out small sparks. The nursery usually brings him comfort. Since coming to Romania and working at the dragon reserve, it's been like his own personal sanctuary, the one place where he feels at peace and connected with everything.

But today, his mind is too cluttered to find any enjoyment in the baby dragon's awkward stumbling.

Coming to Romania had been impulsive. He'd wanted nothing more than to escape Britain after the war, to distance himself from the glares and whispers that seemed to follow him everywhere. Even after Potter spoke on his family's behalf and cleared their names, people treated Draco like something foul and disgusting.

Romania brought him a peace of mind he never thought possible. There's something about the fresh air and constant busyness that makes him feel grounded, like he won't just float away.

But Romania brought him more than just a sense of belonging. It brought the most beautiful trouble he'd ever seen- a red-haired young man covered in scars and burns who wears a smile that promises nothing but excitement.

Draco never meant to get close to Charlie Weasley. Whatever clarity Romania brought him didn't magically silence years of learned prejudice. He tried to keep his distance from the older man, even when Charlie was assigned as his mentor.

Life had other plans, however, and Draco grew closer to him. He enjoyed the way Charlie made him feel, the little thrill of rebellion that came with their whirlwind romance. He had expected it to be brief, just a bit of fun to pass the time while he's away from home.

Pippin lets out a small growl, pouncing on his toy. Draco smiles as the stuffing goes flying through the air.

"Draco?"

His heart flutters at the familiar voice. Draco hates his body's small betrayal. Jaw clenched, he turns to find Charlie there, that familiar warm grin on his lips. "Charlie," he says, mentally scolding himself for the way his voice quivers.

Charlie moves closer, resting a shoulder against the barrier, head turned to watch Pippin. Draco doesn't understand how he can look so glorious just standing there, not doing anything special. "What did you want to talk about?" the redhead asks, his gaze still resting upon the toddling dragon.

Draco swallows dryly. He reaches into his robe pocket, retrieving the envelope. He doesn't understand how something so small can feel so heavy, but its removal seems to lift a great weight from him. "Father sent a letter," he says.

Charlie nods, his face pulled into a mask of confusion. Letters from home are rather commonplace on the reserve. Of course he doesn't understand the significance, doesn't understand that the Malfoys have been quiet since Draco came to Romania, only sending a single letter in the early days to beg him to reconsider his choice of occupation.

"They've been speaking to Edmund Greengrass," Draco continues. "Father wants me to marry their youngest daughter and come home to begin courtship."

Charlie snorts, eyes rolling. Draco supposes it must sound strange to him. After all, the Weasley family is free to fall in love with whomever they chose. They do not observe the old traditions. "And what do you want?" he asks gently, meeting Draco's gaze.

Draco turns his attention back to Pippin. He doesn't think he can take the look in Charlie's eyes right now. "I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, Draco," Charlie says quietly.

Draco swallows, taking a trembling breath. A choice. It's an amusing fallacy, one that he's come to entertain in his time at the reserve. In the end, the control he's believed he had is just an illusion. He can run as much as he wants, but he'll never escape his family or the expectations that come with being a Malfoy.

"I can't keep this up," he says. "My family's reputation is still hanging by a fine thread. If I don't- Charlie, this isn't going to work out. I have to let go."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Yes."

Silence hangs between them. Draco's heart feels heavy in his chest. He's practiced what he would say countless times in front of the mirror, and yet it still hurts him. He can only imagine what's going through Charlie's head.

The older man laughs suddenly. Draco frowns, glancing over at him. Charlie doubles over, his cheeks red, tears clinging to his lashes. Given how loudly he laughs, Draco guesses the tears aren't from sadness.

"What's so funny?" Draco asks with a scowl.

He's never had to break off a meaningful relationship. Pansy had meant nothing to him, but even she had cried when he'd ended things with her. Charlie's laughter actually offends him.

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?" Charlie asks, straightening his posture and shaking his head. He wipes the hint of tears from his eyes, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "You really think you don't have a choice? Draco, you chose to come to Romania and study here. Your parents can't have been happy with that."

"They weren't," he admits.

"You've already proven to yourself that you're in control of your life. It would have been easier to stay in London and intern at the Ministry. At least interns don't end up in the infirmary several times a week."

Draco frowns. Charlie has a point. He could have stayed in London and been the perfect son his parents wanted him to be. Even though his father was disgraced, the Malfoy influence could have opened doors to luxurious offices. But he'd chosen to reinvent himself. He'd chosen to come to Romania and figure out what he wants from life.

"What do you want?" Charlie asks again, a hint of urgency in his voice this time.

Draco drops his gaze to the letter in his hand. Until this moment, he never considered the fact that he could say no to his father. He looks at Charlie again, a smile on his lips. As he tears the letter to shreds, he doesn't break eye contact. "You," he says. "I want you."

Charlie pulls him close, and Draco drops the strips of parchment carelessly. "Then stay," Charlie whispers, his lips pressing against Draco's.

If there was any doubt in his mind, it melts away in the kiss. Charlie's arms feel more like home than London ever could.