The Midnight Watch

The kiss was more incredible than he'd imagined, and Charlie had spent a lot of time thinking about what kissing Nadia would feel like. Her lips were cool and soft, moving against his in slow, drugging kisses. When she ran the tip of her tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, every muscle tensed. He'd never realised how sensitive nerve endings were inside the mouth. His body grew heavy as her tongue teased and stroked.

He cupped her cheek and then slid his fingers into her hair. It took a moment for his passion-fogged brain to register an unexpected sensation. "It's wet," he said.

"Kisses usually are."

Charlie smiled as he rubbed dark strands between his fingers. "I meant your hair."

Nadia froze for a split-second, and then eased away to cast a spell. "I forgot to dry it," she said.

He sat up and looked toward the window. Wet snow mounded on the sill and left frosty tracks on the panes. Something was wrong for her to have stood outside long enough to soak her hair. He murmured a charm to brighten the illumination orbs in the room and see her face clearly. "Why didn't you come inside right away?"

The corners of her mouth turned down. "My news is not good."

He wanted to put his arms around her, but settled for placing his hand on her shoulder. "Tell me what happened."

"I changed my dress in the hope I would impress the Council." Nadia toyed with the end of a ruffled sleeve.

It took a lot of willpower not to stare at the creamy skin displayed by the low neckline. "It's a beautiful dress," he said, "but I'd think what you had to say was more important than what you wore."

"I never got to speak. Although the Council regards dragons highly, they decided Marko's threats warranted no action."

Charlie could tell by the way she stressed certain phrases that Nadia was quoting--and bitterly upset. He rubbed her shoulder in light circles, trying to comfort. "What did you do?"

"I confronted Marko." She placed a hand over his. "I told him Yoska and the others are my people now, not his, and if he returns, I will defend them--and the dragons--and bring him to justice before the Council."

She spoke forcefully, but avoided looking at him directly. It gave Charlie a sinking feeling. He asked, "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Her lips twisted. "He laughed. They all did, and then...carried on...as if I had never spoken."

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes met his. They were shiny with tears. "Those strigoi care only for power, for selfish pleasure," she whispered. "I am nothing like them. Believe me--"

"I do." Charlie kissed Nadia in case she needed convincing. He kept kissing her because her arms curled around his neck and her body melted into his and he was lost. Heat poured through his veins as the sensuality of the kiss escalated. His hands traced the arc of her back.

Her lips grazed his cheek. "Not that pleasure is a bad thing," she murmured, "when there is give and take."

Charlie's body was ready to give anything and everything. His brain held desire in check. Their relationship was too new.

That didn't stop his fingers from itching to discover if Nadia's dress had a zipper.

Her mouth brushed his. "It is a great pleasure to kiss you."

He bit back a groan. It was hard to cool off when even her voice was sexy."It's my pleasure, too," he said, and then had to ask, "The way you talk. Is that part of vampire glamour?"

"Nu, glamour is a wives' tale, I think."

"That's not what I learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Nadia smiled a little. "Are you asking me to bewitch you?"

"You don't need glamour for that," Charlie said. "I'm just curious. You don't have to--"

"I will try." She stood and walked over to the window. "You are asleep," she said, "and I am outside. The window is locked, and I want you to let me in."

He closed his eyes to go along with the pretence.

"I have not used glamour before." Nadia's tone was softer now, trance-like. "I do not know a spell to summon it. I can only listen to the beat of your heart and long to feel your warmth. I am so cold; I cannot speak. I can only yearn."

Come to me, Charlie...come to me...

He heard her voice in his mind, alluring as a siren's song. He climbed out of bed.

Charlie, I need you...

He was so wrapped up in the beauty of her voice, Charlie didn't realise he had crossed the room until he was staring down into eyes that glowed like rubies.

Rubies?

Charlie didn't know if the thought was his or Nadia's. Wherever it came from, it broke the spell and left him feeling embarrassed for sleeping in underwear instead of pyjama bottoms. He said, "I guess Professor Kessler knew what he was talking about."

"Da, and I have not used glamour before." Her eyes travelled over him. "If you forget to unlatch the window, I might be...tempted...to use it again."

Charlie, make love to me...

The scene was temptingly easy to imagine. "I won't forget," he said. And I'll keep away from the window to make sure I don't lock it "accidentally."

She kissed his cheek. "Then I will see you tonight."

"Wait!" he said. "I forgot. A few of the keepers are putting on a French versus Romanian wine tasting at the centre."

"You have plans. Very well. Another night, perhaps."

"No! I want to see you." Charlie made a face. "I like to drink wine, not spit it out, but if I don't go, Emil said he'd tell the Healer I'm suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder--whatever the Hades that is--and I'll be taken off the patrol roster until I prove I'm not."

"I could visit after midnight."

"Ace!" he said, before she changed her mind.

The kiss she gave him--on the lips--sent Charlie out of his room and into a cold shower. He came back to find a note on the bed.

I returned to ask about the night patrol, but you were unavailable. I will trust that all was well and document the log accordingly.

Noapte buna,

Nadia

She had elegant handwriting. He placed the note in a desk drawer and cast a ward. Unavailable...does that mean she heard me singing in the shower? At least it was the Cannons' running out tune and not something embarrassing.

There were loads of wizard rock songs about girls. Charlie had always cared for music over words, but over the last few weeks, he'd begun to appreciate lyrics more. He identified with them.

In the morning, after a heated dream and one of the quickest, coldest showers his teeth had ever chattered through, Charlie dressed and headed for the kitchen. There was a cup of tea on the table, freshly poured by the amount of steam. "Thanks, Emil."

His friend turned from the cooker, spatula in hand. "That was mine." He pointed to an enormous omelette in its pan. "This I was going to share."

"I'll make you another cup." Charlie carried his pilfered drink with him to the counter, where the kettle and a tin sat ready. He whistled the Cannons' tune in between sips of hot, sugary tea.

Emil divided the omelette and brought the plates to the table along with a couple of forks. He accepted a mug with a speculative look. "Two cups of tea for you this morning--the water must have been freezing."

"I had to towel off icicles." Charlie used the side of his fork to cut into the omleta cu sunca si cascaval, as Emil called it. The ham and cheese omelette was delicious. "I'm glad you cook breakfast, mate," he said. "The dining hall's alright, but the cuisine isn't up to Hogwarts' standard."

"It reminds me of Durmstrang food," Emil said. "Plain and filling, except for the sweets."

Charlie thought of Nadia. She must have gone to Durmstrang. He pictured her sitting at a table at school. In front of her was an empty plate. "What kind of sweets?" he asked.

"Biscuits, cakes, puddings, baklava..."

"Baklava--the pastry with honey?"

"Da."

The plate in Charlie's imagination piled with triangles of baklava. Nadia licked golden honey off her fingers.

"Why the frown? You don't like baklava?"

Charlie didn't like the idea of blokes watching Nadia lick her fingers, which was completely mental. If such a thing had happened, it was over fifty years ago. He couldn't be jealous of a bunch of old wizards. "No, it's fine, I was thinking of something else."

"The wine tasting?"

"Seasonal Affective Disorder. What is it?"

"A winter depression. One of the symptoms is the desire to avoid social contact."

"I'm not depressed."

"I know." Emil smirked. "Another symptom is a decreased interest in sex. With all your cold showers, I would say loss of libido is not a problem."

"That's funny," Charlie said. "You should be laughing." He reached for his wand. "Rictusempra!"

"Protego!" Emil cried, a second too late. Silver light hit him before he finished casting the Shield Charm. He doubled over with laughter. "M--Merlin, my ribs hurt. Use a c--counter-jinx, y--y--you bastard!"

"Sounds like you need an Anti-Stuttering Charm." Charlie finished his tea and cleared the dishes with a flick of his wand.

Between bursts of uncontrolled laughter, Emil said, "If I piss myself...I'm telling...Jane...that you fancy her!"

Charlie immediately cast the counter-jinx.

"Afraid of Vain Jane? You should be," Emil said darkly. "She would hound you from the highest peak to the lowest gorge if I but said the word."

That was true. The blonde haired, blue-eyed Jane Whatley, personal assistant to the Head Keeper, considered herself the epitome of an English rose and displayed the tenacity of an English bulldog. She thought every man she came across would fall under the spell of her beauty if she tried hard enough. So far, most of the unfortunates afflicted by her leech-like attentions had been summer volunteers. The two keepers linked with Jane since Charlie's arrival at the centre had both transferred: one to Wales and the other to Sweden.

"You wouldn't," Charlie said.

"Nu, but admit it. I had you scared."

"Shitless."

Emil's evil grin displayed teeth that were slightly crooked.

Charlie did a double take. Hooked nose, lank hair, dry, sarcastic humour, and crooked teeth: why had it taken him all this time to notice the resemblance? "Do you have any relatives in England?" he asked uneasily.

"Distant. Some family named Prince. Why?"

It was a relief to hear they weren't Snapes. "No reason."

"Besides changing the subject."

"Yeah."

Emil tapped his watch. "No more time to rub it in, anyway. The morning meeting begins in six minutes."

They made it to the conference room with a minute to spare.

"We should have Apparated." Emil slumped in his chair, breathing heavily.

"More fun to run for it," Charlie said. "Gets the adrenaline going."

"I'd rather read a thriller."

I'd rather snog Nadia. Charlie hid a grin and turned to face the Head Keeper, who had started talking about the day's agenda. It was routine. Dragons weren't active in winter. Aside from an occasional flight, they preferred to spend most of the day curled up on warm sands or stretched out on rocks to bask in the sun, if weather permitted.

After the short meeting, those on morning patrol headed for the broom shed. Charlie and the two other trainees waited for the keepers to precede them.

"I wonder if we'll ever be like that, swanning around while the little people trail in our wake," Oliver Thompson, a former Chaser for Ravenclaw, said in a rhetorical tone.

Maia Yovchev, a literal-minded Bulgarian, shrugged. "I vill not care if ve valk ahead as long as ve haff the best brooms."

"Hear, hear," said Charlie. At Maia's questioning look, he said, "Too right--I agree."

"Vhy did you not say so?" Her expression was mildly curious.

"He's English," Oliver said with a cheeky smile. "We never speak plainly if there's a way to pronounce words trippingly on the tongue."

If Maia realised her fellow trainee was trying to get on with her, she didn't show it. "Shakespeare. Yes. I haff read his plays. Romeo and Juliet I did not like. The lovers vere stupid."

They had almost reached the shed. Oliver asked, "What about Mercutio? He was a charming fellow. Witty. You liked him, didn't you?"

"He talked too much. Chao." She strode ahead.

Oliver elbowed Charlie. "Did you see? She almost smiled. I'm wearing her down, Weasley. After the wine tasting, she'll finally give in."

"She won't actually drink the wine."

"Doesn't matter. Wine is absorbed through the skin inside the mouth. Ten or so samplings and Maia will mellow." Oliver chuckled. "Last one to the shed flies the Shooting Star." He Apparated.

Charlie continued walking. He'd learned to fly on a Shooting Star racing broom. They were outdated and slow, yet far better than the ancient Oakstaffs and Swiftsticks Nadia had flown as a trainee. Let Oliver snatch the last Nimbus. He'd have to wait for his patrol partner to catch up, anyway.

Later that night, after seeing, swirling, sniffing, sipping, and savouring wines that ranged from light whites to heavy reds, Charlie was in a great mood. The wood-beamed dining hall resonated with conversation and laughter. A fire crackled in the open stone fireplace, adding to air of warmth and cheer. Across the room, Vain Jane attempted to chat up Etienne Guichard, the keeper and co-sponsor of the event. The Frenchman kept his arm around his partner, Aristita Cuza.

"He's using her as a shield against the harpy." Emil drank his wine without going through the process of tasting and set his egg-shaped glass down with a thump. "Smart man."

His friend sounded bitter. Charlie asked, "Do you have a thing for Aristita?" She was Romanian, one of the head trainers, and extremely fit.

"If you were sober, I would hex you for stupidity." Emil picked up another glass and downed it. "Nu. If I were sober, I would hex you." He redirected his sneer. "Right after I hexed another idiot."

At the far end of the table, Oliver entertained a group of trainees with one of his stories. Everyone was smiling except the girl who returned Emil's stare, and then pointedly turned away. Charlie blinked. "You'd hex Oliver? Or Maia?"

"Both."

"Wine isn't going to make things better."

Emil paused in reaching for a glass. "True. This requires brandy." He stalked towards the door.

Charlie glanced around the room. He didn't want to listen to keeper stories, or chat up any of the girls. There was no reason to stay.

He caught up to his friend outside.

-

A/N: I can almost hear Ringo Starr sing, "Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends." Oh, I had fun writing this chapter, and sneaking in a Snape reference. Anyone wondering how I'm going to start the next chap should sing the Beatles song (or look up the lyrics :D).