The Dragon Keeper and the Secret Keeper

THE DRAGON KEEPER

and

THE SECRET KEEPER

~CHAPTER ONE~

~The Romanian Dragon Reservation~

Some time between his first and second burns of the day, Charlie Weasley managed to pull a rather large thorn from the young Hungarian Horntail's front foot. His pulling it out was probably the cause of the second burn, as the dragon was not particularly pleased.

"Looks like a nasty one Charlie, better get up teh the infirmary," Lizzie Adelwood told him, taking hold of Charlie's part of the harness.

Charlie swore and staggered out of the pen, his right arm drooping, black and blistered.

"Hold on a sec, I'll go with yeh," she called after him, guiding the small dragon back to its post with some difficulty, and attaching the harness there. She dodged a swing from its spiked tail and made her way out after Charlie.

"That one's given me more trouble than any of the adults so far," Charlie said, looking annoyed. "She's not even four months. Wait till she gets to her full range with the fire breathing."

"Yeh don' think she's there yet? That last one was near twen'y feet." Lizzie raised an eyebrow worriedly.

"They don't get to full range until they're six months at least," Charlie shook his head. "That one's trouble, I can tell you right now. Not worth trying to tame. They should just let her back out into the wild."

"Not up teh the challenge, Weasley?" she asked him, with a wry, sideways grin.

"Oh, its not that, I just hate having to go to the infirmary."

"Ah, I get it. Don' like bein' taken care of, Mister Tough Dragon Keeper?" Lizzie was walking backward in front of him, still grinning crookedly.

"I could take care of this myself. Why do you always make me go to Madam Calluster?" Charlie still looked rather irritated.

"Because I've seen what yeh do when yeh 'take care of it yerself'."

"Yes, well, its a long walk to the infirmary, and it always takes so long. I just hate wasting the time." He was trying not to snap at her, but this was his third visit to Madam Calluster this week, and it was only Wednesday.

"When yeh work with dragons, Charlie," Lizzie said in a slow, patient voice. "Yeh're gonna need teh stay in top form. Jus' like Quidditch."

"The only thing 'just like Quidditch' here is you telling me what to do." Charlie couldn't keep back a smirk.

She stopped in front of him and leaned in very close. "Yeh love it," she said, with a big lopsided smile.

He shook his head and smiled, and put his uninjured arm around her as they continued walking. "You know, Lizzie, I just might leave you locked in with the Horntails one of these days."

"Good, I like 'em better'n you anyway," she told him, keeping a straight face.

It took several minutes for them to reach the infirmary, and when they got there they had to wait. Madam Calluster was treating Jack Pole, whose arm had been bitten off above the elbow.

"See, now that's worth coming all the way up here," Charlie told Lizzie.

"She should leave it like it is. Teach 'im not teh taunt the dragons," Lizzie said without a touch of sympathy. Jack Pole was what Charlie called a Dung Shoveller -- his job was basically to clean the dragons' pens. No one knew why he still worked there, because he was constantly getting the dragons riled up. Once he had "accidentally" kicked a rock at a Romanian Longhorn while Lizzie was trying to help it feed its babies. Charlie and four other Keepers a had taken good twenty minutes to pull the dragon off her. Lizzie had been in the infirmary for a week.

Madam Calluster finished reattaching Jack's arm and sent him on his way, with a warning about staying away from the pregnant Ridgebacks. Then she called Charlie over.

"Oh, Mr. Weasley. Gotten another of these burns have you? What did you do this time, break up another pair of fighting males?" She was shaking her head and stirring a cauldron full of something orange and rather unpleasant-smelling. "Always trying to protect them from themselves, when will you learn?"

"It was that dratted Horntail again; she had a thorn in her foot."

Calluster started applying the orange paste to his arm, still shaking her head. "You haven't even healed from when she bit you yesterday." Charlie looked down at his reattached pinky, which hadn't regrown a fingernail yet.

"He didn' want teh come up here. I had teh drag him," Lizzie told Madam Calluster.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, you should be glad this one's got a good head on her shoulders. She'll get you out of trouble someday, I'd bet my broom." She finished applying the sick-smelling substance and began to wrap gauze over it. "Lizzie's only been up here twice in five years. And its not because she only comes up when she's missing limbs. Now, leave that wrapped until after dinner."

Lizzie led Charlie back out of the building.

"I can't do anything with this on," Charlie grumbled.

"Quit whining. Yeh can help me with the orphaned Welsh Green." She nodded to a pen further down the path they were on. "She's not eatin' anything I bring 'er."

They worked on the tiny green dragon, whom Lizzie had named Esmeralda, for the rest of the afternoon. Just before they had to go to dinner, Charlie managed to get it to eat a lamb chop.

"You've got it pretty easy," Charlie teased Lizzie on their way up to the dining hall. "Working with babies all day."

"And their mothers," Lizzie reminded him. "Nothin' worse'n a female with eggs."

"Except maybe that Horntail," Charlie made a sour face.

"I thought yeh jus' said babies were easy," Lizzie smirked.

The dining hall was fairly crowded by the time they got there. They sat down at a table with two other keepers about their age, Tristan Turan and Patrick Parker, both of whom worked specifically with adult male dragons.

"Nice wrap-up you've got there Charlie," said Tristan cheerily. "Which one did it?"

"It was Lizzie," Charlie joked, tearing into a chicken leg hungrily. "I told her purebloods are superior, and she pulled out her wand and nearly burnt me to a crisp."

"Don' joke about that," Lizzie grinned mischievously. "If yeh really said that, yeh'd be a pile of ash right now."

"So what are you two doing for Christmas?" Patrick asked, completely unconcerned by Lizzie's threat.

"My parents are coming down to stay for a while," Charlie replied.

"What about you, Lizzie? Going to see your sister?"

"Nah, I'm stayin," Lizzie said nonchalantly.

It was common knowledge around the Romanian Dragon Reservation that Lizzie's sister was a muggle, and that her whereabouts were known only to a handful of people. She had been hidden away shortly after Lizzie's parents had been killed. The Adelwoods' story was as little known as Clara's location. All that most people knew was that Ronald Adelwood and his muggle wife Sara had been killed by Death Eaters, and a group of Aurors had arrived just as the two daughters were being tortured.

Charlie knew the whole story though. He had even played a small part in it himself.

"Mum and Dad are looking forward to seeing Lizzie," he said. "Sometimes I think they like her better than they like me."

"Can yeh blame 'em?" Lizzie's signature sideways-smile showed itself again.

"Hear about the Quidditch World Cup?" Tristan asked, looking at Charlie in particular. "The next cup's being held in Britain."

"Yeah, I heard that," Charlie looked down at his food, his expression blank. He kept fairly quiet through the rest of the meal.

When they had left the dining hall, Lizzie gave Charlie a concerned look. "Yeh know, Charlie, if yeh want teh go back and play Quidditch-"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving her off. "I don't want to. It would be nice to go see the cup, but I don't want to play."

"Yeah," she replied, looking unconvinced. "But if yeh did want teh play, I'd be fine with it. Yeh know that right?"

"Oh yeah, of course." He smiled vaguely. "I like it here though. I don't really want to play Quidditch anymore." He was only half-lying; he did like it here in Romania.

"Alrigh', if yeh're sure." She sighed and changed the subject. "What're yeh gettin yer parents fer Christmas?"

"Well, I thought I'd go down to a Muggle store and get another of those 'video' things for Dad. He just loves that television contraption of his. And I already got that hat for Mum."

"Yeh're goin teh a Muggle store a week before Christmas?"

"It can't possibly be as bad as Diagon Alley this time of year."

Lizzie snorted and shook her head.

"You'll have to come with me though; I still don't understand Muggle money."

"Alrigh'."

They reached their building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. They had a two-bedroom flat, with a small living room and kitchenette. Charlie went to the post basket, and saw that an owl had in fact delivered a letter there today. It was for Lizzie. Lizzie opened it and read it through, and then read it aloud for Charlie as he settled down with his copy of the Daily Prophet.

The letter read:

Dear Lizzie,

How are you? How is Charlie?

I'm enjoying my lessons. Dumbledore says I shall soon be fluent in Mermish! And Professor Trelawney says I am a brilliant palm reader!

Dumbledore took the Invisibility Cloak back. He said that it was time it was returned to its owner, whoever that is. So I am stuck in this tower now. I feel like Rapunzel.

Tell Charlie Happy Twenty-Fourth Birthday from me!

I shall send your Christmas present along next week.

Love,

Clara

"Trelawney called 'er brilliant," Lizzie said after she'd read it all, making a face. "Poor Clara."

"Yeah," Charlie chuckled. Then he added, "that was nice of her to remember my birthday."

"I think she's rather taken with yeh Charlie," Lizzie said with one eyebrow raised amusedly. "Though I can't see why."

"Oh, I think she must take after you in that, Liz." He turned the page of the newspaper.

"What makes yeh think that? I only live with yeh cause I like yer flat."

"That so?"

"Sure is."

"Then why is it there are two bedrooms, but you sleep in mine?"

She didn't reply.

He went back to his paper, victorious.

"Charlie?" she said quietly after a while.

"Yes?"

Her eyes twinkled and she smiled warmly. "I love yeh."

"I know," he smirked.

She seemed satisfied with this reply, and went back to writing to Clara.

* * *

The first thing Charlie was aware of the next morning, before he'd even opened his eyes, was the warm object his arm was draped over, and the soft, sweet-smelling stuff that his face was partially buried in. He smiled and opened his eyes to a head of wavy strawberry-blonde hair, and tightened his arm around Lizzie's waist. She moved a little without waking up. Then he picked his hand up to push her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. Her cheeks had a constant flush, like she'd just been outside on a cold day. Just now her mouth twitched, and she took in a deep breath through her nose and stretched her arms and legs out straight. She scrunched her eyes up and moved a hand up to rub them. Finally they opened, at first looking straight ahead, but then noticing Charlie leaning over her.

"Morning," Charlie said.

"Mmmorning," she replied lazily, blinking heavily.

"We'd better get up, my parents will be here in about an hour."

"Yeah," she said, not looking like she was planning on moving any time soon.

Charlie got up and found his favorite pair of jeans and the navy blue pullover his mother had knitted him last Christmas. He pulled them on over the t-shirt and boxers he already had on. Lizzie was yawning and climbing slowly out of the bed.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Charlie asked her.

"Anything," she replied. "Coffee."

He ran a comb through his short red hair and then headed to the kitchen. He put the coffee on and was just levitating some eggs to the stove when Lizzie came out and sat on a stool. She had changed into a long lavender dress, over which she was wearing the violet button-up sweater that Charlie's mother had made her for her 23rd birthday. Usually she just threw on jeans and a shirt and pulled her hair out of the way, but then again, usually she'd be handling dragons all day.

"Coffee ready?" she asked eagerly. Charlie pointed his wand at a cabinet, and a mug found its way to the counter and filled itself, then floated over to Lizzie. "Thanks," she said, and took a long sip.

Charlie flicked his wand at the eggs, and they flipped over on the pan. They sat quietly with their coffee for a few minutes, then he levitated a couple of plates down, serving up their omelets.

They ate their breakfast in peace. An owl flew in through the bedroom window (as there were no windows in the living room or kitchen), and dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet next to Charlie's plate. He unrolled it and looked at the moving pictures as he ate, and skimmed over the headlines. Lizzie was staring into space and picking at her food. The coffee was slowly working, though, and by the time the dishes were washing themselves in the sink, she was bright and cheery.

"I'm going teh make sure the guest room's ready," she told Charlie, who was still immersed in his newspaper. Just when she had gone into the back bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apparated in the living room.

"Hullo, Mum, Dad," Charlie said with a big smile, getting up to greet them.

"Oh, it is so good to see you my boy," his mother said, hugging him tight.

"How are you, Charlie?" his father hugged him as well.

Charlie called, "Lizzie, they're here." Then he turned back to his parents. "So how is everything back at the Burrow?"

"Oh, its fine. Awfully quiet with just Ginny now though," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "And next year she'll be off to Hogwarts as well."

"'Ello, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley," Lizzie entered with her pleasantly lopsided grin. "How are yeh? Its been ages!"

Mrs. Weasley had a hug for Lizzie too, and then Mr. Weasley put an arm around her. "When are you finally going to marry this one, Charlie?" he winked at his second-oldest son.

"Oh, as soon as I'm convinced she likes me better than the dragons."

"Well, I changed my mind about the Horntails. I like yeh better than than them," Lizzie said encouragingly.

"Yes, well they've got spikes and they breathe fire up to forty feet," Charlie chuckled. "Not exactly a breed of sweethearts."

They all sat down in the living room, and Lizzie served Mr. and Mrs. Weasley some tea without getting up from her chair.

"How's your sister, Lizzie?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly.

"Oh, she's fine. Learnin' Mermish. Still playin' piano."

"Oh how wonderful, she plays piano?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Dumbledore fancies a bit of chamber music himself as I understand."

"How are all the boys, and Ginny?" Lizzie asked.

"Oh, they're fine. Ron just started at Hogwarts this year you know. And Percy's a prefect."

"How about Fred and George? Still Beaters fer Gryffindor?"

"Yes. But those two, honestly! I've had more grief from them than the rest put together." Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"They must be quite the troublemakers," Lizzie replied, looking over at Charlie meaningfully.

"Don't look at me, I never even got detention the entire seven years," Charlie smirked.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "Not fer lack of tryin'."

"You'd know better than me," Charlie kept smirking.

Lizzie's smile crept back, but she returned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "Why don't we give yeh a tour of the reservation?"

"Oh, we'd love that," Mrs. Weasley nodded.

So the four of them finished their tea and headed out onto the grounds.