A/N: This chapter is quite dialogue heavy. And very important. I hope you enjoy it.
To my lovely, wonderful reviewers - you are lovely and wonderful. This one's for you.

When Charlie got home, Apparating onto the doorstep, he interrupted the flight path of one tawny owl who shrieked in protest and circled upwards out of sight. He was late home and hoping Harry would forgive him... and hoping his partner would have started dinner because he was bloody hungry. Checking that baby dragons were feeding well was not an easy task.

Thankfully the smell of cottage pie was wafting from the kitchen as he unlaced his boots and left them at the door.

"Was that Lady?" he called into the house, heading instinctively for the kitchen.

Harry was sat on the kitchen table, directing the preparation of the food from a distance.

"Yeah," Harry said and accepted Charlie's cold kiss. "Just sent her back with a letter for Ron."

Lady was the owl that Charlie had bought Harry when they went on to Diagon Alley the weekend of his twenty first birthday. He'd brought other presents with him, of course, but he'd decided it was high time that Harry had another bird, and he got the impression Harry was too stubborn to accept one as a gift from anyone except him.

It was almost four years since Harry had lost Hedwig, plenty of time, Charlie had thought, to have grieved for his pet. That was true - to a certain extent. Lady was never quite the pet that Hedwig had been; she was a working owl and although the two had an affectionate relationship, it was never quite the same.

Charlie had named her. She was, quite literally, the Lady of the house. And she made sure everyone knew it.

"If I were an Animagus," Harry said slowly, "Do you think I'd be able to fly?"

"Wow," Charlie said. He leaned over the pots of vegetables on the stove and gave each one a poke. "Maybe. What do you think?"

"Hermione thinks it's a possibility."

"Then I'm sure it is. She's something of an expert on the subject."

"Hmm."

"This looks nearly ready. Do you want me to serve up?"

"Please."

They sat opposite each other as they ate. Charlie complimented the food. And thought.

It wasn't until later that night when he pulled the covers up enough so that Harry could arrange them over his body that Charlie felt like he'd put his thoughts into a coherent enough order to be able to vocalise them.

He knew his question was harsh, but he asked it anyway: "What do you miss the most?"

Harry sighed and fiddled with the edge of the comforter.

"Really truly?"

"Yeah, Harry. Really bloody truly."

"Having someone on their knees in front of me sucking me off."

Charlie snorted with laughter.

"Bullshit."

"I'm deadly serious."

"I blow you all the time."

"I know that," Harry said. "But I can't stand up."

"I know," Charlie echoed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Will you tell me what's wrong?"

It took a few more minutes, but they arranged their bodies so Harry could wrap himself around Charlie's, his knee pressed between the other man's thighs. The wide moon was hanging low in the sky, barely skimming the tops of the trees. Its white/blue light seeped into the room and gently illuminated their surroundings.

"I'm afraid."

"Me too. What are you afraid of?"

"The same thing as always." Charlie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Losing you."

"Me too."

"If... if someone from St Mungo's turned up tomorrow and said that they've found the counter curse and fixed your legs, just like that, what would you do?"

For Harry, it all clicked into place.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I don't think about things like that. At least, I try not to."

"Why?"

"Because it's not going to happen and there's no point in getting my hopes up."

Charlie sighed and found Harry's hand, tugging it around himself. "You know what I'm asking you."

"Yeah. Do you really think that after all this-" he lifted their joined hands and gestured around the room- "I could ever, ever leave you?"

"I don't know. I've never been the biggest thing in your life before."

Harry smiled into Charlie's shoulder. "Do you really believe that?" he mumbled.

"Shouldn't I?"

"You've been my whole world for a long time. My moon and stars."

Charlie snorted. "Sap."

They were quiet for a few long minutes, watching Puff pad into the room, look around for somewhere to sleep, and settle himself in a pile of unwashed clothes on the floor.

"You should think about what you want to do next," Charlie said as Puff tucked his head under his paw. "I know you're working on finding a counter curse, or even a work around, but you should have other goals."

"I don't need to work for money," Harry said simply. "Being an Auror was fulfilling a childhood fantasy, not a strategic career move."

"How about teaching?"

"No thanks."

"Dragon training?" Charlie said with a smirk in his voice.

Harry groaned and threaded his fingers through rust coloured hair, smiling with a warmth in his eyes.

"Is there anything else to do in this godforsaken country other than working with bloody dragons?"

"We don't have to stay here. There are dragons in Britain too. And France, and Ireland... we don't have to stay here."

"You said that twice."

"Then it's doubly important."

Conversation was abandoned for soft, slow kisses and a rough, calloused palm that curved around a pale hip.

Harry broke away first, his breathing slightly laboured and more than a little aroused.

"I love this house."

Charlie shrugged and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, spreading the dampness there. "Well, I own it, or near enough. We can keep it and live elsewhere."

"You don't have to leave your home for me, Charlie. You've made your life here, your whole career."

"Things change. People change, Harry, circumstances change. You miss London, I can tell, and I don't want to keep you captive in this house."

"I'm not captive," Harry said, shaking his head.

"You still have a life, is all I'm saying," Charlie argued. "It's not over. We should make decisions on what's best for the both of us now."

"No, listen to me," Harry said. "If it weren't for you, I would have ended all this. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself being this vulnerable. I owe you my life."

"You owe yourself," Charlie argued. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"All I'm saying, is that I can't live without you. I can't be, without you. And I know I'm shit at saying it, Charlie, but I've been in love with you since I was sixteen fucking years old and wanking off to fantasies of your forearms..."

Charlie laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth, hoping to shut him up. It didn't work.

"And I can't imagine ever being with anyone else. I don't want anyone else. Just you."

He took a deep breath and frowned and Charlie was suddenly nervous for what he was going to say next.

"I'm sorry about before. And that's why," Harry said slowly, "I want you to ask me to marry you. Because if I do it then I'm bound to fuck it up. But before you do," he added in a rush, "you should know I'm going to say yes. So you don't need to worry or anything."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. And then Charlie wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry. He managed a bit of both. He wanted to ask if Harry was sure, but Harry never did anything he wasn't sure of and rarely said something he didn't mean.

Carefully, Charlie extracted himself from Harry's limbs and swung himself off the edge of the bed. Taking both Harry's hands in his own, he pulled the other man around until he was kneeling on the floor in front of him, the moon framing him in the background.

Harry laughed. "You don't need to get down there."

Charlie ignored him.

"Harry Potter, I promise to love you a little bit more every day for the rest of your life. Will you marry me?"

Smiling like something had lit him up from the inside, Harry leaned down for a kiss.

"Yes," he mumbled against Charlie's lips. "Yes."