Tough As Dragon Skin

"Natty!" Sam came charging through her office door and she glared at him while he huffed and puffed for breath. "Did you see them?"

"All that fuss," she said in a clipped tone, "for pictures of a dragon?"

Sam missed the sarcasm. "Yes!" he enthused. "You should have seen this thing, Natty! It was huge and it actually ate someone! These guys were following it, like keepers or handlers or something. It was fantastic!"

"Yes, I'm sure it was," she said with an unappreciative sniff. Her look was scathing. "I sent you to find dinosaurs and you send me instead Puff the Magic Dragon."

Sam stared at her, realizing finally that she didn't believe him or the photos. "They're real, Natty," he said in a serious tone.

She stood up. "What? They had a still life statue and you thought it would be cute to take a picture and get all worked up about it?" She stalked around her desk and he swallowed. "I should have gone myself. Did you get pictures and sketches of the dig site? What did the seismographer say? I know what he said. He said, 'Doctor Greene, he wasn't here when we got here and he left a bill at the boarding house. They made us pay it.' That's what the seismographer said."

"Natty, please, did you get the photos proofed?" Sam begged, sensing he'd fumbled and wasn't sure how to extricate himself from the situation.

Nat turned on him. "Don't call me that. I hate being called that, and no, I didn't!" She threw her hands in the air. "I have better things to do with my time than fly all the way to Romania, ring up a tab on the University account that my girlfriend was written up for by the Board, taking pictures of fantasy creatures better suited to be in an Andre Norton book and hacking me off!" She jabbed her index finger in his chest hard, making him wince and back up more. "Get out! If I see you in the next three days, I will kill you and forget that I did it after I hide the body."

"Natty," he whined but her dagger look made him stop and leave the room in two strides. "Damn it," he swore as the door slammed shut behind him. "I'll prove they aren't fake!" For a moment, he saw the upped wedding date slipping away, among other things.

Charlie read the little plastic plaque, assuring himself that he was at the right office. The receptionist wasn't clear about where he would find Dr. N. Greene as she put fingernail polish on nails as long as stilettos. He tugged once at the tie of the nice Muggle suit he'd put on to look professional for the occasion. When he rapped on the door with his knuckles, it echoed down the deserted, uncarpeted corridor.

There was a mumble inside of which he couldn't distinguish. He had a hard time understanding Americans most of the time anyway. Thinking it would be better than just opening the door, he knocked again.

"Come. In." The response was clipped and angry. Charlie swallowed hard. And female. He hadn't bothered to see what the N in Dr. N. Greene stood for.

He gingerly opened the door and came face to face with a grinning, pointed head of some beast no doubt deceased for several thousand years. "Um, Dr. Greene?"

"Come in and shut the door behind you." The voice was distracted and he doubted she even realized who was in the room. Sure enough, behind a crowded desk, bent over papers, blonde hair haphazardly put up with several pencils, was a trim, petite woman, glasses on the tip of her nose and blue eyes narrowed on the script. She hadn't looked up to see who entered. "What can I help you with?" she asked, still not looking up.

"I need to talk to you about a recent project you were involved with in Romania," he began but stopped when she tossed the pen in her hand at him in agitation. He dodged the missile and blinked. He was staring into eyes as blue as the sky over the Burrow. "I - uh - " he faltered for words.

"Did Sam put you up to this?" she snapped at him.

Charlie's mind grabbed for a name that could be Sam. "Mr. Samuel Hill, you mean?" he stumbled.

"Yes," she snapped again. "Mr. Samuel 'Soon To Be Deceased' Hill. That would be him."

"Actually I'm looking for a Dr. N. Greene and a Mr. Samuel Hill, yes," Charlie began again. "I represent some people involved in an incident in Romania and would like to talk to you about it."

Her blue eyes widened, intensifying her natural startled deer look. "What did he do? Oh God," she groaned, sinking back into her chair and looking around in confusion. "I thought all his bills were covered by the University. You mean there are more? I can assure you that I'm good for the amount, Mr. - " Her expression went blank as her brain searched for his name, not realizing it had never been supplied.

"Weasley, ma'am," he supplied. "Charles Weasley for the Ministry of - " he faltered, "Creatures," in amendment.

"Creatures?" she said weakly. Then comprehension dawned. "The photos weren't of some statue? I'll kill him!" She bounced from her chair. "If he was taking pictures of some illegal goings-on and is now wanted by the law, you can have him. I swear, Mr. Weasley, I'll turn him over to you myself. I do not believe that people could be so cruel as to harm animals in such a way. I saw the pictures, they were just awful!"

Charlie blinked, not having the slightest idea what she was talking about. "I just need the photos, please, ma'am, it's extremely important. Do you know who else may have seen the photographs?"

The woman collapsed again, staring at him as if she'd only seen him for the first time, as if he'd been invisible. "The pictures?" she asked stupidly. She looked around her desk and frantically began to shuffle papers around, peering under them as if searching for something. "I think they might be here. Or at least copies of them. I’m sure Sam kept copies as well."

Charlie suppressed a groan. That was all he needed, multiple copies of a dragon parading around a Muggle town. "Dr. Greene, if you could give me Mr. Hill's address, it would be appreciated. This is a sensitive subject."

The woman's gaze jerked back to his and her mouth formed an O-shape. Dawning comprehension glistened in her eyes and then she swallowed. "Oh sure." She grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled some numbers on it. "This is his cellphone number, home number and address. One of those should reach him."

Charlie took the proffered paper, inwardly quaking. He had no idea what a 'cellphone' was and he'd only seen a telephone being used by Muggles; he had never operated one himself. "Thank you."

"No problem. Let me look for those photos. I might have thrown them at him when he left this afternoon." She gave him an apologetic look and began searching again.

For five minutes Charlie watched as the woman bustled around her office, grumbling to herself as she looked. She finally came up empty-handed and turned to shrug at him. "I guess I don’t have them after all. They'd be close to the surface of my," she grimaced at the mess on her desk and file cabinet, "organizational system."

Charlie coughed to cover a laugh. "Yes, well, thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Greene." He hesitated, hating to do what he knew he had to do next. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve where he had shoved it, having no other place to put it. He raised it, pointed in her direction. She stared at him and the wand with curious apprehension. "Obliviate!" he said and his wand sputtered, shooting out sparks.

Nat had watched as the handsome man had drawn a stick out of his sleeve and pointed it at her. Stunned at the ridiculous sight but alarmed nonetheless, Nat considered running or screaming when he spoke. Whatever was supposed to happen didn't happen, because when sparks shot from wand and left her unharmed, he had a crestfallen look on his face.

"Look, if you want me to forget that you were ever here," she said nervously, "that won't be a problem. I sometimes don't even remember my own cat's name. I'm the stereotypical absent-minded professor." Grasping at anything to convince him of this and not hurt her, Nat looked at her watch, grimacing that it was eight o'clock. "In fact, I forgot to eat today, well, if you don't count the bagel and yogurt I had for breakfast." She frowned, thinking hard. "Or was that yesterday's breakfast? See?" she babbled. "I can't even remember if I've eaten or not. I'm harmless, really, so you don't have to worry about me!"

Charlie gaped at her as she babbled at him and when she'd wound down he couldn't help it. He broke into laughter. She looked so adorably desperate that he was amused. As he laughed Nat became incensed, sputtering at him unintelligibly, which caused him to laugh harder.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "I was never very good at that and it's b-been a tense day."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," he said with a grin, mistaking her comment as an invitation to talk instead of a comment designed to tell him that she knew about tense days.

She blinked. "Look, if you want, let's go eat and then I'll take you to Sam's. There I will let you brow-beat him into forking over the photos and get a measure of revenge out of it."

Charlie had no idea what she said beyond food and going to Sam Hill's home, so he nodded. "Sure. That's fine."

"Mind if I call you Charles?" she asked, walking back to her desk and opening a desk drawer. She pulled out a bulky large purse.

"How about Charlie?" he said, still amused. Her handbag looked just like his mother's. "Should I call you Dr. Greene?"

Nat paused and then shrugged. "My name is Natalie. Call me Nat. Call me Natty and you die. I hate that."

Charlie nodded amiably. "That works for me, Nat." He followed her out of the office, watched her lock the door and they strolled down the corridor. "This is different than the school I went to," he said conversationally.

Nat gave him a surprised look. The University of Massachusetts was no different than any other university in her estimation. "Where did you go to school?" she asked.

Charlie could have slapped himself. "A small school in Britain," he said vaguely. "You've never heard of it."

"Are you sure? I did time in England you know. Worked with the British Museum as an intern. You'd be surprised the universities and schools they cooperate with."

Feeling slightly panicked Charlie blurted, "It's a small one in Scotland actually. Its more local."

"Oh!" Nat gave him a pitying look, making him wonder how she read his statement. "Don’t worry, I'm not an education snob. The size of your college makes no difference to me." She waved a hand dismissively and Charlie belatedly realized that she probably thought he was poorly educated.

He hurried to correct her assumption. "It's an excellent school, just small."

"I understand, Charlie, you don't have to assure me. My brother went to junior college and then a technical school." Nat dismissed the subject from her mind as settled and ignored the fact that Charlie looked still disgruntled.

They reached the parking lot and Nat hesitated. "Your car or mine?" she asked.

"Yours," he said instantly, grateful when she only smiled at him and took a set of keys from a side pocket of her purse. His stomach dropped when she walked over to a tiny vehicle of a baby blue color. She unlocked the left-side door, climbed in, reached over and unlocked the other side. Charlie stared at the vehicle, wondering how he was going to fit in there. Finally, he took a deep breath, pushed in the button on the handle and jerked the door open.

"Is there a problem?" Nat asked, having noticed his hesitation.

"Just wondering if I was going to fit," Charlie answered, folding himself into the passenger seat. American cars were setup differently he noted. The driver was on the left, passenger on the right. He'd have to tell his father this interesting little tidbit.

Nat gave a short laugh and started the engine, which roared to life, startling Charlie. "Little car, big mouth," he said with a grin. She laughed again.

"So where to? Fancy dinner or hamburgers?" She raised a fine blonde eyebrow at him.

"Uh-"

"Ooo, my favorite restaurant." Nat chuckled when he looked at her strangely. "Sorry, that's what I always say when Sam asks me that same question."

"Oh." Charlie smiled in relief. "Whatever is fine with me." Then he kicked himself. He didn't have any Muggle money!

"Tell you what, I'll treat you to the local bistro. They have great sandwiches and a nice atmosphere," Nat suggested, oblivious to the fact that Charlie's face was a portrait of relief and horror. He had no idea what a bistro was or what it served. "Are you from London then?"

"That's where my agency has a division, yes," he hedged carefully.

"I loved London. So busy and alive. Could have done without the pollution though." Nat laughed. "Says the girl who was raised in Los Angeles."

"California girl, eh?" Charlie ran a hand nervously through his red-hair. "Is that where you met Mr. Hill?"

"Oh no," said Nat airily. "We met in college. I mean as students. We both went to Harvard." Charlie vaguely recognized that Harvard was a prestigious Muggle American college. "He's from a poor family but he's an okay guy, I guess. My mother says I'm marrying him because he's a habit more than anything else."

Charlie stared at her a moment. "Are you saying you're engaged to him, but you don't love him?"

Nat shrugged. "Love isn't required in marriage," she told him. "It would be nice, but not required. Sam takes care of those everyday details I'm horrible at. I can't even register and tag a new car," she confessed sheepishly. "I broke the microwave by putting an aluminum bowl in it. I didn't know you couldn't do that!" Charlie was grateful for the information and stored it away. He hadn't known that either, but then he wasn't exactly sure what a microwave was. He thought it might be like an oven but wasn't positive. "Sam does the day to day stuff, leaving me to my studies." Nat shrugged. "It's a livable arrangement, I suppose."

"Sounds depressing to me," Charlie muttered, staring out the window as they passed various closed shops and street lights.

"Why?" asked Nat. "It worked for my parents, not being in love I mean. They were happy enough. Raised me and my brother. Are your parents still married?"

Charlie thought to his plump mother and absent-minded father and smiled. "Yeah, they're still married. In fact, I don't think anyone would have my father other than my mother. He's the eldest of her children, that's the family joke."

Nat smiled, sensing his fondness for his family. "Brothers? Sisters?" she prompted curiously, wanting to know more about this red-haired stranger in her car for some reason.

"One sister, Ginny, she's the youngest. The rest of us are boys. Six boys, all with red hair. There's Bill, me, Percy, the twins Fred and George, and lastly Ron." Charlie checked his siblings off on his fingers.

"Seven of you?" Nat asked in disbelief and when he nodded she whistled. "Wow. I thought my brother was a handful."

"What does he do?" Charlie asked.

"Oh he's an archaeologist. I dig up dead animals. He digs up dead humans. Right now he's in Peru hunting down mummies." Nat snickered. "I keep telling him that he's got the boring job, but he enjoys it. Too bad it doesn't keep him out of trouble."

Charlie relaxed. "My brother Bill is in Egypt." He mentally added, 'looking for gold and jewels not mummies'. "Percy works for the government, as does my father. The others are still in school, though I doubt Fred and George will do much more than open a practical joke shop."

"You always need laughter, Charlie," Nat informed him loftily. "Sam is family I suppose, getting back to the original subject. He majored in business and accounting but spends most of his time badgering me about this or that piddly detail."

She gave an unhappy sigh.

"You don't sound happy," Charlie commented blandly.

Nat shrugged. "I'm content. That's all I can expect."

Charlie still thought it sounded downright depressing but didn't make any further comments.

Dinner was enjoyable enough. The bistro served fancy sandwiches and a half-way decent ale. Nat insisted on paying, to Charlie’s relief. Once finished the two of them climbed back into the tiny car and Nat drove to Sam's condominium.

He wasn't there. Nat didn't seem surprised. "Well, now you know where it is," she told him. "I'll take you back to the university and get your car. Have you got a card? If I see him tomorrow, I can give it to him."

Brought back to the task at hand, Charlie decided to give the Obliviate spell one more shot. Nat parked the car in the college parking lot and he opened the door. He climbed out. "No, I don't have a card. I'll find him. Thanks for dinner and your help, Nat." She smiled at him. He grasped the tip of his wand, which had been pushed back up his sleeve, and hesitated. Instead of pulling it out and trying the charm again, he merely shut the car door firmly and waved as she drove off.

"Damn it," he groused. "I shouldn't have done that."