Dragon Tamer

"So Ron tells me that Harry intended for you to move on and you haven't? That you were supposed to have a wife and kids by now," said Charlie, eyeing his new arrival who was wolfing down his home made spaghetti. Clearly it was a wise choice to make Malfoy a home-cooked meal. It actually shut down the snarking that had started from the moment he'd ported in.

Great. Had everyone been duly informed of The Boy Who Lived's Plan for Draco Malfoy's Life Post-Harry? Probably not. Harry probably just told Ron and Hermione, but that was obviously more than enough to land him in this uncomfortable situation with a Weasley leering at him like a veal cutlet. Living in Romania amongst dragons must've gotten lonely.

"Yes well Harry, like my father, seemed to have rather lofty notions about my sexuality. As if one day I was going to snap into thinking that girls were keen and that I wanted some sticky mass of fish bits to deal with in bed," Malfoy said as he shoved the food away.

"Charming," was all Charlie could come up with to say to that for a moment as the evocative visual turned his stomach. "Visceral too. You have a way with words. Perhaps you should write."

"Not even I care what I have to say. I refuse to subject other people to my odes to the dank deep darkness that is my soul," he quipped. Nearly every teenager had a dark angst poetry past. Even Wizards.

Charlie snorted and set the dish into the sink, he'd magic it clean later when there were more. No real point it flashing his wand around. "Maybe not that. Perhaps a story about your life? Memoirs. I bet people would be interested in what it's like to be you."

"They'd be interested in Harry and that's all. I don't blame them. I'm not terribly interesting on my own," said Draco, believing it more than he wanted to.

"I think you're interesting," admitted Charlie as he sat back down.

"You would. You're a lack-wit. Come to think of it, most people are lack-wits. Perhaps they would enjoy reading my memoirs. Call Ron and Hermione and tell them I've quit. I'm going to be a writer," exclaimed Draco with caustic glee as he pushed back up from the table in obvious irritation at Charlie's compliment.

"Well, now we know why you're still single. Sit down and take a compliment," said Charlie in an attempt to smooth things over. While he liked Malfoy well enough, and perhaps he was being a bit flirty, he didn't think what he'd said was that egregious. He gestured to the chair in front of the round table.

"I'd rather not. I'm tired. Show me to my room," insisted Malfoy. Whatever Charlie thought he was doing, Draco was not impressed. He was extremely uncomfortable now and he wanted out of the situation.

Charlie laughed, "There's only one bed."

"Show me to my sofa, then," insisted Draco. His hand moved to his mark, not because it was fussing at him, but because the whole situation was sending him into a mild panic.

"I'll take the sofa, you take the bed," said Charlie in resignation. It wasn't as if he were going to jump Malfoy. "You know, I've shared beds with my brothers for most of my life. I know how to keep to my own side."

"Sharing a bed with those tossers is probably why you're a fag. In any case, I do not want to hear any incest-riddled bedtime stories. Show me to my room," snapped Draco.

It was tempting to point out that Draco likely had an entire wing of the Manor to himself and was also a homosexual, but frankly, he was pretty sure Malfoy would have an retort for that as well. It would only open the situation up for more verbal sparring, which Charlie just didn't do. Charlie nodded to Draco and stood to lead the way to his room. "As you wish."

Draco spent most of the night awake. It wasn't only that he was unsettled by the unwanted attention from Charlie, although that was vexing him. Mostly he was attempting to research the main uses of dragon viscera in old magic. Using the Wizarnet he downloaded data by way of his wand into a pane of information to disseminate. Murmuring further incantations, he started to cross reference the information he had about the cannibalistic Romanian Longhorn with any known obscurities of spells or potions that would demand this particular dragon be slain. He further indexed information to find if there was any special magic involving the age of the dragon, as it was a smaller one, culled purposely and cunningly from its mother. There didn't appear to be.

The age of the dragon related to its size and ability to defend itself and that, Draco surmised, meant that it was likely a person acting alone who wanted to take the least amount of risk with slaying a dragon. The person would have to be at least somewhat brave to take on a dragon alone, but not so foolhardy as to attack one of the adults. He did note that the horns had been sawed off and that the body was reportedly exsanguinated. This would normally point to poachers, except that according to Charlie, the valuable skin was left more or less in tact.

Pointedly ignoring another of Charlie's books, "Men Who Love Dragons Too Much," Draco gave a quiet "Finite Incantatem" followed by an even quieter "Nox," and slipped under the covers of Charlie's bed. Perhaps it was just poachers, Draco hoped so. It would be far less sinister to capture some desperate renegade gamers than to take down a dark witch or wizard. Still, he had a nagging feeling, as if there were something that hadn't sat well with him at the time that had been shoved back to the quiet recesses of his brain after he dealt with Harry's death. Something on the tip of his brain and yet...

Green eyes resolved to glinting frames and that cocksure smile. "You were supposed to move on."

"I am."

"Right. Look at you, an attractive red head trying to get into your bed and you don't even have the decency to flirt back."

"He's a Weasley, Harry. He's..."

"A blood-traitor? So were you. He's even a pure blood."

"Not you."

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around Draco. "I'm not coming back. I can't."

"You won't." said Draco, sulking at him even as his hands roamed over the still-boyish body of his lost love.

"Draco..."

"I have your mark. It's a manifestation of you. I can get blood and bone and...."

"You saw how He came back. I wouldn't be the same. I'm waiting for you here," said Harry. Concern sparkled in his green eyes. God how green they were, Draco had almost forgotten.

"Then I'll jump from one of these cliffs," vowed Draco.

"No. No you will not. I won't have you if you do something stupid like that. Live, Draco. Live for me. Move on. I'll always be with you, guarding you. I want you to be happy, I love you," he said sincerely, trying to penetrate that thick Malfoy skull. Draco was so stubborn. Harry had almost forgotten.

"I love you. And I am moving on." said Draco, frowning at Harry's shaking head. "I will. Wizards live over a hundred years. I have plenty of time." Draco knew in his heart he never would. Not really.

His heart...

His heart was removed. Along with everything else inside of him. Gutted. Raw. Eviscerated. Charlie was standing over Draco's body. He peered around in shock. Freckled hand dipped down, down, down inside of Draco's body, and was pulled up dabbed with blood.

"You have no heart. It's been removed." Charlie said to Draco.

Draco wanted to tell Charlie that even in his dreams he was an insipid idiot. That hearts were metaphorical and that he certainly had a literal heart or he wouldn't be alive. Which he wished he weren't, because if he weren't he wouldn't be laying here with some dullard's hand in his entrails, but likely on a fluffy cloud taunting Potter testing Cherub ass. Although being dead-- dream-dead anyway-- made it impossible for him to say anything at all.

Just then, something moved just inside Draco's peripheral vision and his quicksilver eyes fixed on a rat. Rat. An odd, podgy limping rat was scampering away beyond notice.

"Pettigrew!"

The name was still on his lips and lodged into his psyche from the moment he awoke. Peter Pettigrew. That was it. Whether that had anything to do with this situation, he wasn't entirely sure. The dream seemed to indicate such, and Draco did, on occasion, have the sort of dreams that put together disparate pieces of a puzzle. He was just pulling himself groggily out of bed when the dripping wet form of Charlie in a towel greeted him.

"Oh good, you're up. You were moaning in your sleep. I thought I heard my name," he said, putting on his most charming smile. Draco was a bit of a puzzle to Charlie. The second eldest Weasley had never had a problem charming anyone, man or beast. Sure, he was stockier than his brothers and had a few patches of burn scars; he wasn't gorgeous. However, he was still considered attractive enough by most. Those who weren't overly impressed with his looks were always charmed by his easygoing manner. He had a keen sense of humor, although he was likely too kind-hearted to really banter with Malfoy.

"Yes, I was telling you to put on some clothes before I woke up. I thought to save myself the nausea of seeing you...wet," he grumbled at the man in the towel who appeared suddenly self-conscious. Draco stopped for a moment, looking at Charlie's tanned torso almost curiously. He'd forgotten that Charlie had once been a Gryffindor Seeker. His lithe body held the basic shape, if not the skin of his lover. His dead lover. Draco shook his head free from his thoughts. "I'm having a shower. You'd best not have used all of the hot water."

Charlie's brows rose as he watched those frosty eyes scanning over his body critically. He smirked a bit as Malfoy stretched cat-like under the covers then stumbled out of his bed towards the bathroom. He watched the younger man until the door slammed closed. Interesting. Malfoy had definitely checked him out. Challenges had always intrigued Charlie; all of the truly feral dragons had become his sole domain. They'd started to call him "The Dragon Tamer" around the preserve. Draco Malfoy was definitely a challenge. As big an asshole as the man was, Charlie found him oddly amusing. He had to admit, he liked the arrogant prat.

Being able to walk out of the shower, into clothes and out onto the grounds of the reservation with nothing to stop for but to grab a hot mug of tea definitely made Charlie's coarse sheets worth bearing, Draco decided as he squinted out into the bright day.

"Draco! Merlin! Wait!" called out Charlie as he struggled to smooth out the t-shirt he'd hastily yanked on to chase after the Auror who was headed obliviously out towards the dragons.

"What?" he asked as he stopped and glared back at Charlie. He brought the mug to his lips and took another sip. "Wearing Muggle clothes backwards doesn't improve them, you know," he spat as he stared derisively at the inside out t-shirt. "And do feel free to call me Malfoy."

A lesser man would've told Malfoy to go on out there without knowing about the burn lines. He probably should've let Malfoy's perfect skin sizzle under a dragon's fire, but no. Charlie wasn't like that. Although Draco's haughty glare made it tempting. Charlie pointed at the ground, explaining that the white marks were the severe burn flame marks and the purple indicated where the range of the flame would still be painful, but wouldn't cause any permanent damage.

Draco's eyes widened and he paled, "There are dragons roaming about?"

"Malfoy, it is a dragon reserve. A dragon was slain here..." Charlie said in a measured cadence as if speaking to a slow child.

Visibly shaken, Draco's eyes went wild and he hunched down and glared up at the sky as his hand moved into his robe pocket for his wand.

"They're magically bound behind this portal, Malfoy," said Charlie as he indicated the tall almost Stonehenge-appearing grey pillars of stone that appeared every few meters with runic carvings that kept the dragons at least somewhat contained to their side of the wall. "They're not just going to fly up and eat you. This is just the area where we observe them. See?" He reached out and pulled Draco's sleeve to position him to peer between the large rocks at the small family of territorial Romanian Longhorns that were kept in this particular space through wizard space, similar to the sort that his father had used for their tent at the Quidditch World Cup.

For a moment, Draco just stared, mesmerized at the beauty of the flying dragons and the high bluffs. He could run through, brush past the dragons and the desiccated carcasses of the cows and horses out to the ledge and jump. Fly through the air for a few moments before his bones shattered at the end of a dramatic fall. The nagging press of Harry's antlers disrupted his morbid train of thought.

"I see, so... this is warded? Only you and the other handlers know how to get in or out?" he asked as he stepped back again, moving as far away from the burn zone as he could, only to step into another behind him. Charlie deftly reached behind Malfoy and scooted him forward by his lower back.

"Watch your step. It's complicated out here," he warned Draco, giving his waist a reassuring little squeeze.

Artfully, Draco stepped out of the light embrace, putting as much distance between himself and Charlie as he had the burn zone. Charlie recoiled as he would from a frightened animal and explained, "I was just trying to get you out of danger."

"You can warn me of peril verbally, there is no need to touch me. Honestly. I can't seem to keep you away from me. Is Romania that lonely, Weasley?" he spat as he brushed off his robes, as if the simple act of touch had sullied them.

"Actually, Malfoy, it is not. I pull easily here," defended Charlie.

"Yes, well, Romanians clearly have no taste, ow!" he shrieked as he squeezed back at the stag who stabbed him for that remark.

Charlie smirked figuring that had to be a jab from Harry's mark. Ron had mentioned it before he sent Draco to Romania. "You were really Harry's lover?"

"What gave that away? The Daily Prophet's clever 'Boy Who Was Gay' supplement? Or was it The Quibbler's curious and frightening speculation that one of us was pregnant with some magical ass-baby?" snapped Draco as his hand fell back down to his side.

"Harry put up with this?" asked Charlie as his hand waved in an indication of Malfoy's caustic manner.

Draco didn't have an answer for that. No. Harry wouldn't have put up with his attitude. In fact, he wasn't containing his irritation with Draco's behavior very well right now as the pointy antlers stabbed into his abdomen a few more times. The Auror's jaw set and his muscles flexed a few times. "Where's the body?"

The dragon handler looked remorseful for the jibe, but at least it slowed Draco's vitriol down. "We had to move it, the other dragons would've eaten it. I can show you the site if you wish," Charlie offered.

Looking at the burn zone and then at the way that Charlie appeared tanned except for the fine lines where the scars met, Draco decided that he could put thoroughness on the shelf for the moment. His grasp on living was tenuous at best; he didn't need to add disfigurement to his list of reasons why he didn't care to go on. "I don't know that it's necessary. I want to determine how the exsanguination and dissection took place, if more information is needed, I will want to see where you found the body."

"Right then, this way," Charlie said as he gestured to Draco to head to the main building across the campus of strange rock formations that walled the dragons into their territories. Each one had the name of the dragons etched in stone along the top. The reservation was truly astounding, and the work that Charlie did took incredible courage. Courage Harry had that Draco never did or would. He looked at the back of the other man's bright red head that glimmered even brighter in the morning sunlight. Absently, Draco wondered if he'd dye it black.

The harsh rays of light gave way to the softer tones of being inside, and it took Draco's eyes a moment to adjust to his new surroundings. He followed Charlie wordlessly down halls and stairs until they were in an antiseptic room. All around were presumably dragon parts floating in vials large and small. Several posters tacked to the walls indicated each and every part of a dragon. Know thy beast from the inside out. Draco sighed and looked at the young, but still large monster stretched out on a shiny metal table.

The animal's scales, once regal, were dulled, some blood stained, many crumpled and singed. "Conventional magic doesn't work on magical beasts," pointed out Draco to Charlie's nod of approval.

"There was no one potion or spell that required all of the missing organs. However, put together they would make an already dark and wizened wizard or witch even stronger," observed Draco as he pulled his wand. He took in a deep breath and then continued with his theorizing. "I have a hunch that Pettigrew isn't as dead as he would seem. Further, I think he's amassed significant power to have accomplished this," he revealed as he gestured towards the dead youthful Romanian Longhorn.

"But they found his body--"

"They found a rat body. A rat body in London, I ask you, how hard is that?" asked Draco as he slid his fingers nervously over his wand. He was going to have to use a priori incantation on the dragon to see what was used to kill and open it. Knowing what spells were used would assist in knowing what manner of wizard he was dealing with. Poachers used very simple spells and charms to subdue an animal enough to slaughter it by hand. Anyone else would, well... he'd find out.

"Sure, but it was the right breed of rat and had a silver hand," Charlie pointed out.

"That's not a big trick for a proper wizard, one as wily as Pettigrew was would have accomplished it easily," observed Draco. "This may go poorly. You might want to go into another room."

"Poorly how?" asked Charlie as he looked over Draco's too-thin frame and shaky hand. How much could the other man really take? Something about Draco screamed "save me" and strangely Charlie felt the need to respond to it.

"Well," responded Draco with a tight, nervous and ironic laugh. "At least you'll know I always wanted death."

"Oh," said Charlie as he looked at the slaughtered adolescent dragon and then at Draco. "Wait, what?"

"If it's a truly powerful dark wizard, and he doesn't want to be found... he could put trapdoor curses--"

"Then don't do it. It doesn't matter that much. It's not worth your life. You can report it as suspicious and have more Aurors come out," said Charlie as he stepped forward with his arm out to take the wand from Draco from across the table. The man appeared clearly willing, if not determined, to endanger himself now.

"My life has almost always been overrated," stated Draco through his teeth, irritated with Charlie's concern. He should call others in. There was enough evidence lend his hunch plausibility. It might take a few days, but they'd send someone. However, Draco didn't want to be stuck here for a few days. This spell was risky and he knew that. Maybe that's why he wanted to do it. Harry couldn't claim a death resulting from this spell cast in the line of duty as suicide, really. Backing away from Charlie's outstretched hand, he swished his wand and belted out his incantation. Part of him hoped and prayed that it would backfire that dramatically.

"Draco! Don't--" shouted Charlie as he tried to dive across the table to stop the perilous hex.

A flash of green, and Draco's world went dark.