Chapter one

There are only two kinds of people in this word. The dead and the dying.

Charles Weasley had become quite familiar with this phrase over the last twenty-five years. Being a dragon tamer was one of the riskiest jobs a wizard could be. You could be burnt, ripped or even eaten to death. It had become such a dangerous job that the ministry had taken over the recruitment of the business, just so that it could keep track of damages, deaths and near deaths. Charles often found himself saying good bye to numerous lads throughout the seasons.

But, regardless of how serious the job required Charles to be. He always managed to stir havoc with his colleagues based on his provocative and completely carefree way of life. His opinion was that people should enjoy their lives to the absolute fullest.

Otherwise they may as well be dead.

In honour of this morally driven life style, Charles woke abruptly, face down in the late afternoon. Completely unaware of his surroundings and a murderous migraine hammering its self into his head. His shoulder length hair clung to his sweaty, unwashed face, clumping together in broken strands of strawberry blonde dreadlocks. The bedspread was an unsettling shade of magenta, a colour he knew for certain was not his own.

What on earth have you been up to Charlie? He angrily questioned himself.

This had become a nasty habit of his and it always started in the same way. A mindless drunken party in an unknown town, which often ended with him waking the next morning in a stranger's bed.

As his head settled and the stench of tequila hit his lungs he remembered her. The muggle girl from the bar.

"Shit." He mumbled realising the position he was in.

Gathering the strength to push himself off the bed Charlie positioned his freckled arms under his numb torso and pushed up. Failing miserably as his arms collapsed and his face collided heavily into his former position.

"Hung over are we?" She giggled, "More of a light weight than your mate bragged about, I must say."

Her accent was uncommon for Romania, he must have apparated before drinking with muggles last night, although he couldn't remember doing so.

Charlie groaned in response. How am I going to get out of here? She's a muggle, I can't just apparate away.

His second and third attempts and pushing himself up failed miserably and he resorted to rolling onto his side and slowly manoeuvring himself into a sloppy sitting position, his head hung heavily in his grimy hands.

"God you're handsome." She purred, her hands finding his scarred shoulders, slowly tracing the deep lines on his upper body sending electric shivers down his spine.

Why am I so ticklish? He moaned, not even slightly aroused by her touch.

Her hands began venturing further along his tanned spine, slowly across and down his scars to where his pants should have been. Another aggravated moan escaped his mouth.

"Would have taken quite a lot to make these, did you get into a fight?" her fingers followed the lines to the lower of his back and onto his bare legs causing Charlie to become uncomfortable.

"Yeah you could say that." He finally spoke allowing his words to roll off his tongue in a deep purr.

He was making an extra effort to hold his composure and not mention anything magically related, if he let slip, again, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance with his job this time. "One chance too many." One of his employers had said. "I like you boy, but you need to be more careful. These dragons need you more than you need, or want, your Saturday nights."

At first she looked shocked at his words, "So you can speak?" she hummed into his left ear "What else have you got to say?"

Biting gently into his neck, she made her way lower and lower on his now aching body, leaving small marks as she went.

A small groan rumbled throughout his chest. Who's to know? He thought tackling her ungracefully back into the ruffled covers for a recreation of their adventures last night.

Messy kisses dampened the unknown girl's jawline, the act drawing girlish giggles from her lipstick clad lips. Charlie's kisses found their way to her already exposed chest. He formed slow circles across her breasts with his tongue and used his hands under her back to arch her body towards him. Her body fell into the rocking rhythm Charlie initiated, with her chest rising with each breath and her hips flicking up at him just at the right moment, Charlie moaned digging his fingers deeply into her back.

Dragging him up by his hair she began kissing him roughly, holding him in place with one hand and fondling him messily with the other, creating wild moans from her counterpart and an evil smirk she had never seen anyone harbour before. Lowering his weight onto her, he used his now free hands to pin her to the bed.

"Why do you smell so good?" Charlie groaned grazing his teeth along her freely exposed shoulder.

In an instant, he flipped her onto her stomach causing her to groan in displeasure.

"What are you doi.." she started but finished with a loud moan of pleasure.

His hands had positioned her so her rear faced him and her face gently pressed into the pillows, her pleasure had come however, from his dancing finger between her thighs. Using one hand to expertly stroke her and the other to firmly hold her head in place he entered her from behind.

A simultaneous whimper escaped the couple. A whimper of both pain and pleasure, for they both remained sensitive from their previous encounter.

" 'M sorry," he grumbled, gently lowering her body so that she lay flat on the bed. Releasing her hands he allowed her to get more comfortable, whilst remaining inside her. A smile broke out across her face and he took this as permission to continue.

Slow deep thrusts soon developed into shorter and quicker ones with her hair being grasped firmly in his left hand and his right resting on her rear.

"Touch me." She demanded seeming quite irritated, pulling his hand from her backside and sliding it under her hips. Charlie groaned knowingly and allowed his fingers to slowly work out the rhythm that she liked and continued thrusting deeper and deeper into her depths.

About an hour later Charlie re-awoke in an even more confused and tired state than before. His arm ached and he felt a little more sensitive than he remembered. Looking at his arm he remembered her weight being atop of it for a little more than an hour.

Merlin, that hurts. All in the name of pleasure right? He asked himself remembering the difficulties of pleasing her as well as himself at the same time.

A slight tapping pulled him from his thoughts. It could be heard echoing throughout the building, a constant and uniform tapping. Someone was within the building, or possibly just outside.

A door? Window maybe? He thought.

"What's that noise?" the girl groaned covering her head with her bed covers, her hangover only just settling in.

Silently Charlie clothed himself and went in search of the mysterious tapping. His hand rested firmly on the inside pocket of his suit jacket, his wand ready to attack anyone who could have followed him here. As he groggily moved closer toward the noise it became clear to him what it would be. And as he rounded the corner he came face to face with his own personal owl, Ace, which proved his original assumption to be correct. There appeared to be two scrolls attached to Ace's dark legs. Opening the window and carefully untying the bird, Charlie inspected the letters and deemed them safe for muggle ears.

He had once received a howler from his mother and accidently opened it within the ears of a muggle. He carefully tricked them into believing it was a phone call he had rudely hung up on. He couldn't imagine the lawsuit if he hadn't been able to convince the girl it was just a phone call and she began spreading the story of a letter yelling at him within her apartment.

As Charlie inspected the letters he found that the first letter was from his eldest niece, Victoire, Bill's daughter.

Hey U. Charlie,

Just wanted to let you know that school is great this year, even though the two siblings are following me around like lost puppies I'm sure they'll get tired of me soon (well here's hoping). It'll be great to see you for Dad's birthday in a few weeks! Please tell me you'll be there? I want to talk to you about something, get your advice on a topic… or something like that.

Anyways,

Love always your favourite Niece, Vic.

P.S You better bloody be there for dad's thing, I really don't want to hang around all the 'boring' adults.

Charlie smiled, Victoire had made it a habit to check-up on her eldest uncle. She often deemed him 'the oldest yet somehow still the youngest' of the motley crew. Their tradition stretched from the time she could write, starting with small squiggles and Bill's translations on two separate pages. Recently though, they consisted of Victoire quizzing her uncle on the happenings of his life and whether he was going to attend promised events. Charlie could also remember following Bill around for almost all of first year in a desperate attempt to be 'cool'. He, however, had joined the Quidditch team and soon surpassed his brother's 'coolness'. On the back of the note he wrote a messy reply informing her that he would be at the dinner party and he missed her also.

The second letter included a newspaper cut out from Romania and a small posted note from his co-owner.

Charles I don't know where you are but we need to talk. Read this!

-Grahan.

As instructed he pulled the newspaper cutting out and read it slowly in broken Romanian. His speech had improved to that of a local during his time there, however his reading and writing skills remained that of an eight year old.

You could be Next. Supporters of the Dragon Riders Beware!

Trainer Charles Weasley (42) has caused disaster in Romania. At 11pm last night his monster dragon broke from her cage and destroyed an entire suburb in Deva. Three whole families have been murdered and another seven children have been orphaned with the rest of the suburb in ruins. The muggle Minister has been notified and all muggles affected have been 'dealt' with. When will this madness end? When will the laws for dragon containment finally be approved? In times like this it's a wonder these lunatics still have their jobs. More to come in next week's edition….

Charlie froze. The new law meant the extinction of dragons and thus the extinction of his job. He reread the article a dozen times before really comprehending the seriousness of it. He could lose his job, his whole life's work gone to waste. He could lose his dragons. That's when it really hit him. He would lose his dragons. He would, not might, would lose them. He had spent the last twenty-five years working his way up the corporate ladder. He had started at the bottom, like all employees, sweeping dragon pens and fetching higher-ups coffees. Now he sat at the top of that chain. Charlie owned more than half of the reserve, he had joint control of hiring, distributions and management of the reserve. To give that all up was to waste twenty three years of his life.

Without thinking he apparated to his apartment on the Dragon Reserve in Romania.

The silver air pierced his half naked form. Sending ice cold shivers up and down his spine like an electric current. The sudden change from the arid heat to the bitter Romanian winter set charlie's body into hyper drive. A thin layer of sweat still covered his tan body, but as each droplet was exposed to the freezing breeze it froze to his exposed skin.

Just over the hill Charlie could see his apartment. He raced as fast as humanly possible to the warming shelter he knew was inside. He sprinted around his apartment showering and dressing in record time.

His slightly greying red hair swept heavily off his face, falling just below his shoulders, a clean Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and a pair of muggle jeans refreshed his previous half-frozen state. With a quick glance at the numerous clocks on his wall he realised he hadn't been in England the previous night like he thought, it would have been more likely he'd been to Australia given the time and weather difference. It was eight am here in Romania, but he'd left the girl mid-afternoon.

What the hell did you do last night? Charlie scolded himself. Remembering his drunken antics would be an interesting effort for later.

He was rudely interrupted from his thoughts by an elder man barging into his room.

"Charles, where the bloody hell have you been?" It was Grahan, his co-owner, who spoke in fluent Romanian. "Have you seen this?" he was holding the article.

"This is the end Charles I hope you know that. This cannot be good for our sanctuary."

The older man stood with an aura of strength, yet the lines on his face and the dark circles encasing his eyes betrayed him. Charlie had noticed this the instant he met Grahan. Their quick friendship was based solely on miniscule details that others often missed. Charlie was unaware of what Grahan thought of him, but Charlie could relate to the strength, both emotional and physical, that Grahan possessed. Charlie often wondered about the horrors he must have endured to create such age lines and sleeplessness on his face.

"I know Gray, but is there really anything I can do now? I'll make sure her enclosure is doubled in security and somehow make it up to the public." Charlie's British accent hung heavily over the Romanian words.

Grahan's face fell, "You haven't heard have you?" his calloused hand came to rest heavily on Charlie's shoulder, "I'm so sorry Charles."

Charlie was thoroughly confused, his Romanian was usually good enough for him to understand Grahan and he rarely missed anything within their conversations but he hoped he had misinterpreted something.

"What do you mean Sorry? I'll make an appeal to the public by lunch and spend the rest of the day reinforcing Norberta's cage."

The elder man just shook his head and sighed. "Charles, she's been killed." Gray rummaged through his pocket and found another note addressed to Charlie.

"Here" he sighed "you need to read this."

In the time they'd known each other Grahan and Charlie had become like disjointed brothers. They had even bunked together in the early days of Charlie's career. Since then Grahan had always been the man to 'break the news' to the 'easily enraged Charles Weasley'.

Dear Mr. Charles Weasley,

You are from this day onwards suspended from your duties in The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, and thus you are given 24 hours to find suitable accommodation off the reserve. Your return date will be announced in a trial commencing on the 12th of September 2016. In accordance with law #786. Norberta had been terminated for the safety of all in Romania, all other dragons under your care will be spread between the other more capable dragon dealers on sight.

Hoping you are well,

N. Castlenott

Ministry of Magic.

"More capable?" he smiled evilly at the parchment in his hands "More Capable?" his voice slowly increased and sounded horrifying menacing, like an evil villain who was about to complete a dastardly plan. His hands slammed on the desk separating the two men. "What does he mean more capable? I'm the most qualified on sight." He was shouting now, loud enough for his neighbouring housemates to inquire into what all the commotion was about. "Are you kidding me?" Gray shook his head, knowing how hard this must have been for the man who had nothing if he didn't have his dragons.

Grahan attempted "Charles I would suggest..."

"NO" Charlie cut the elder man off. "NO, you do not get to suggest anything. They've killed her." His rage became evident through the reddening of his face and the numerous broken mugs now lying on the tiled floor.

Grahan silently admitted to himself that he wished someone else could have broken the news to Charlie. His rage was something to be fearful of, even for a man in his early sixties.

"Charles, I know, and I know how hard this is for you.."

"No you don't," Charlie paused and calmed himself.

"She was pregnant." He whispered.

Grahan stared at him in disbelief. "She'd laid an egg just yesterday morning. Of course she was dangerous, she had a baby to protect"

Charlie was openly sobbing now, his rage no longer able to be contained within him. You're a man in your forties and you're crying in front of your co-owner, great job. He thought harshly to himself wiping hot tears from his red face.

"We didn't know that Charles. I can see if that will work in your favour in the trials, but for now I would suggest you leave the sanctuary if you wish to stay out of the media. I'll get someone to contact you with your new job assignments in a few days." Charlie nodded his understanding.

"What does this mean for my job?" Charlie asked cautiously. "I technically own half this place, they can't possibly reposes it can they?"

Grahan shook his head. "No they can't 'fire' you per se, but they will just make your life uncomfortable. Maybe I can set you up with some paid missionary work?"

Charlie's curt nod exhibited his acceptance, however, this didn't calm Charlie's rage. His hands remained indented into the table in tight fists. His knuckles had turned white from the pressure.

Slowly Charlie composed himself enough to stand straight.

"Fine. You must hold up the fort while I'm gone."

His eyes dug silent holes into the brick wall behind Grahan, his menacing look dared anything or anyone to get in his way today. For if they did they would wish they were the other kind of person. Dead.

~ I'll admit this story starts off quite slowly!

But, if you like slice of life stories this one's for you!

Leave me a review to let me know what you think.

Thank you for reading!

Love, just another AnnonymousAmature. ~