A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I've had a sexy Australian staying with me... and distracting me. *ahem*

Charlie arrived home just as Harry was trying to persuade Hermione to stay for dinner.

"Ron can pick the kids up, come on - oh," he said, then broke into a grin. "Hi."

"Hi," Charlie said back, crossing from where he'd paused at the doorway to kiss Harry lightly on the lips. "Hey, Hermione. How are you?"

"Good," she said. "And leaving."

"Can't you stay for dinner?" Charlie asked, making her laugh.

"No. I have to go and pick the kids up then feed my family. However much I might like to stay and play..."

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Another time, then? Get Mum to take the kids for the night and bring Ron over. Harry can cook."

"Oi," Harry scolded him, good naturedly. "It was good to see you, Hermione."

"You too," she said and hugged him tightly. "I'll get some books sent over to you."

"Thanks."

She let herself out through the Floo, throwing a sassy smile at them over her shoulder before declaring 'Granger- Weasley Household' and disappearing in a rush of green flames. As the fire ebbed back to its normal state, Harry wrapped his hand around the back of Charlie's neck and tugged him down into another, slower kiss.

"Were we expecting company?" Charlie asked as they broke and Harry huffed.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"I'm not!"

"She just wanted to talk to me. She wants me to do research into the curse and figure out if we can reverse it."

"That sounds good."

Harry pushed his chair back from the kitchen table and hauled himself onto the Firebolt.

"Tea?" he asked.

"Please. How are the pressure cuffs working for you?"

"Good," Harry said. He made the two mugs of tea but only carried his own back to the table. He'd learned his lesson there. "It aches sometimes but it's better than the cramps."

In bed that night, Harry wasn't sure why he didn't mention the possibility of an Animagus to Charlie. His partner would undoubtedly be supportive, just as he was supportive of everything that Harry had done over the years. Including all of the stupid and reckless stuff.

Wizards just didn't want to hear that bungee jumping was safe.

Ironically, Luna was the only one with balls enough to try it with him.

Harry wondered with a sleepy mind if they let crippled people bungee jump and fell asleep with the memory of the wind roaring in his ears.

xXx

A pile of books was delivered through the Floo the next morning. Harry knew this because Charlie stumbled over them on his way to the kitchen to make coffee for them both and swore as he stubbed his toe on a larger volume.

Harry would never, ever admit it but he was itching to get started on the research that Hermione had proposed. It was something proactive that he could do to help himself... the first few months of living in this new body had been consumed with relearning his day to day routine, how to do the things he'd taken for granted over the years. The things everyone takes for granted until they're taken away.

Those were things he needed to learn to be able to survive, though. This was different... it was hard to put his finger on how, but the chance that he could find the cure to his condition himself was something that was giving him the faintest glimmers of something that could maybe be called hope.

He waited until Charlie had left for work before transferring the books over to the library area of the house. There was a large bureau in the corner that neither he or Charlie seemed to use; after looking through a few of the drawers he concluded that this was where his partner must sit to do boring things like pay his bills and file his paperwork.

The roll- top desk was in a horrible corner for working, though. Harry frowned at it and flew back a few feet, then pulled his wand from his pocket.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

It was only moved a few feet, but in its new position Harry could see out over the top to look at the mountains where Charlie worked. With a mug of tea, half a packet of biscuits and a grim sense of determination, Harry sat down at the extraordinarily comfortable desk chair and cracked open the first tome.

To give himself credit, it was at least half an hour before he started thumping his head against the edge of the desk. There was a reason why he hated homework in school, and why, when the chance was offered to him, he went straight to work for Kingsley's new Ministry rather than returning to Hogwarts to sit his NEWTs.

All the good intentions in the world didn't change the fact that he was horrible at studying and that this topic in particular - the origins of curses - was incredibly dull. His eyes flickered over the other titles that were piled on the desk, not that they looked any more appetising. His inner Hermione - the one who often surfaced when he had assignments to hand in to the Head of Magical Law enforcement or a paper to submit to the Minister - was frowning at him.

Harry understood that the practical could not be achieved unless his understanding of the theory was solid. And yet... he was bored to death.

By lunchtime he had one hell of a headache and turned the radio on as he made a sandwich and a large glass of cold juice in an attempt to quell it. He was making notes as he battled through the chapters to make sure he was understanding everything and it pained him to admit that certain facts were starting to stick to the outside of his brain.

The wards around the house signalled that Charlie was on his way back as Harry took a sip of juice. Maybe he was going to take his lunch break at home - it wasn't unusual, but most of the time Charlie worked too far away to make it practical for him to Apparate or fly home.

"Hi," Harry called out as Charlie opened the door. "I'm in the kitchen."

"Be there in a minute," Charlie replied and headed straight for the bedroom. Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Naturally, Harry followed him.

Charlie was standing at the window, his shirt and outer robes burnt and smoking; the damage seemed to be focused on his left shoulder.

"Jesus, Charlie, what the hell happened?"

"It's stupid," Charlie muttered. "One of my breeding females hatched overnight. I just got too close trying to count how many live births she had. Not the first time."

Harry watched, trying not to worry too much as Charlie carefully removed the charred shirt from his chest. The burn extended from his elbow to his neck and across most of his chest, red in places, blistered or black in others.

"Can I do anything?" Harry offered, feeling helpless.

"There's some ointment in the bathroom. Blue stuff. And I'll need to brew something later so I can sleep tonight."

"I can do that for you."

Charlie nodded and winced in pain as he pulled the skin on his neck tight with the motion.

Although Harry knew that this type of injury was par for the course with Charlie's job, and over the years he'd seen plenty of burns marking the freckled skin, he still found his heart beating in his throat as he dug through the bathroom cabinet for the blue burn ointment. When he returned to the bedroom Charlie was shirtless in front of the mirror and casting another charm to ease the pain.

His job was too - had been - he corrected himself... Being an Auror was dangerous work too. He'd had plenty of scrapes over the years; broken bones, minor curses and hexes, constant back problems that had plagued him since he took a nasty fall in his early twenties.

Still, this was different. He didn't like seeing Charlie in pain.

"Here," Harry said, holding out the bottle.

"Thanks."

"Do you need help with your shoes?"

Charlie swallowed and nodded again, a short, jerky motion. "That would be good."

After being the person in need of help for so many weeks now, this simple act of helping someone else was strangely empowering. Harry nudged Charlie back to sit on the edge of the bed as he dabbed the ointment over his skin, a faint blue smoke rising from the edge of the wound. The dragon- hide boots were laced tightly over Charlie's ankles and Harry was forced to lower the Firebolt all the way to the floor to be able to take the first booted foot in his lap to work the laces loose.

"Do you need anything else?" Harry asked as he set the boots down at the end of the bed.

"No. Thanks. Might just lie down for a while."

Harry purposefully joined him on the wrong side of the bed so he could get a closer look at the burn. It would heal just fine, but would probably hurt like a bitch in the meantime.

"So. Did you count all of them?"

Charlie snorted with laughter. "Yes. Four. That's a good hatch."

"Good."

"How about you? How was your studying?"

"Don't ask."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Charlie turned his head on the pillow. Harry was on his side, his arm propping up his chin, studying his partner for signs of excessive discomfort. He smiled a little at the eye contact.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry."

"Me too."