Chapter One
Harry spoons the last of the mushed peas into Teddy’s mouth, smiling tiredly as the baby happily coos up at him, hair flashing bright pink.
“There you go, bear,” he murmurs, wiping any remaining green smudges gently off of Ted’s plump chin. Teddy grips onto Harry’s finger with such intensity, as he stares up at Harry with his matching mini green eyes, it’s almost as if the baby can sense how desperately alone Harry feels.
Harry brushes the thought away as he tickles Teddy’s tummy, making him burst into giggles, and cradles the baby into his chest. “Who’s ready for a bath, huh?”
“Ba!” Teddy pronounces proudly.
“That’s right,” Harry says, ruffling his hair. “Bath. Who’s my smart bear?”
“Ba!” Teddy says again, beaming up at Harry.
Harry puts Teddy into his rocking glider that he had spelled to rock according to Teddy’s mood. He was probably a little big for it now, a little over a year and a half old, but Teddy could sit in that glider for hours, contentedly rocking while Harry worked on reports, so Harry just engorgio-ed it when it got too small. Muggles definitely had the best baby supplies, but there were some advantages to being a wizard, after all.
Harry also knew it was way past time to start bathing Teddy in the proper bathtub, instead of the sink. The first time Andromeda had been around for bathtime, she had teased him about it endlessly. It was just that… Teddy was so small… and the tub was so big… and Harry was always afraid he would drop him. He never wanted Teddy to be afraid of the water. Which is why, every other weekend, when the weather is nice – especially now, just at the beginning of July, the heat of summer in full bloom - he and Teddy go to the beach. Harry never got to go as a child, he never properly learned how to swim. Teddy, he promised himself, would learn how to swim. They spent hours at the beach, and Teddy loved the water, wearing little duck floaties and an inner tube Harry had spelled to make just his size. Harry found something so peaceful about watching Teddy in his little sunhat, playing in the sand…the other day, he just started to figure out how a sand castle mold worked, and demanded Harry build him a castle.
“Ho!” Teddy had shouted excitedly. “Ho!” Harry felt an unexpected ache in his chest. Home. Teddy knew, somehow, what home was.
So, for now, baths in the sink it was. Harry Scourgify-ed the sink to make sure it was clean, and charmed the water to remain a warm temperature, filling it up with bubbles of all different sizes and colors. Teddy squealed in excitement as Harry lifted him into the bath, splashing and gurling as Harry washed him gently and shampooed his hair. Each night, by the end, Harry was soaking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Harry pushed back his pounding headache as he dressed Teddy in his fuzzy footsie pajamas and brushed his teeth, turning on his night lamps and getting him ready for bed. They had recently moved him out of his crib and into a proper bed: Teddy hadn’t liked being contained, something Harry understood all too well. Teddy’s night lamp was Harry’s favorite: it was charmed to show the constellations, and it gave Harry comfort to know Sirius watched over Teddy while he slept.
Every night, he and Teddy play the following game: Harry tucks Teddy into bed, kisses him goodnight, says, “I love you my Teddy Bear”, and goes to turn off the lights. Harry isn’t really intending to leave, they still have to read their bedtime story, but nothing gives him more joy than the indignation in Teddy’s little voice each night, as if he couldn’t believe Harry would possibly forget. Harry turns to leave the room, and walks ever so slowly to the door, and without fail, hears behind him, “Boo!”
“Did I forget something?” Harry asks, turning around, feigning confusion.
“Boo!” Teddy says exasperatedly, sitting up on his pillows.
“You want your bedtime story?” Harry asks, a smile spreading over his lips.
“Boo!” Teddy says again, cheering this time.
“Well we can’t go to bed without a bedtime story, now can we,” Harry says, as he picks out a book from Teddy’s bookshelf, and goes to snuggle in Teddy’s bed, putting Teddy on his lap as the toddler’s hair turns bright pink with excitement. Teddy’s room is filled with toys and books, and Harry makes sure not to spoil him too much: he remembers what happened with Dudley, but he never wants Teddy to ever need anything. And just then, with the warm weight of Teddy’s head on his chest, he thinks, that just maybe, everything might be okay.
When he finally finishes the story and gets Teddy bundled off to sleep, door left open just a crack and wand monitor set to alert him to any movement or noise, Harry trundles downstairs. It’s then, as he takes in the kitchen, with the remnants of Teddy’s dinner and bath, that he realizes just how exhausted he is. His headache comes back full force, and he sways on his feet. His nightmares have eased a bit, going back to finish his NEWTS had certainly helped him regain some normalcy but – Harry never really slept. When he did, it was always fitfully, and he woke always feeling more anxious than when he fell asleep.
Andromeda had generously looked after Teddy while Harry finished his schooling, but once he was out, they had agreed to split the time, her and Molly looking after him in the day while Harry had Auror training, and Harry taking him in the evenings after work and on weekends. Harry could tell it was starting to wear on her though…as much as she tried to hide it. Andromeda had lost so much, and right now, she deserved time to rest. Just this past week, Harry had brought up the idea of taking full guardianship. Harry didn’t deny it scared the shit out of him but – Lupin and Tonks trusted him to look after and love Teddy. It was his responsibility. He just needed to find someone to look after him during the day…
Harry sighed, collapsing onto the couch. It wasn’t that he had to work. Merlin knows financially he didn’t need it. But there was something in him, this nervous, anxious, consuming pressure – always telling him to do something – and working helped. It wasn’t as if the Aurors was his dream job, really, but – it made him better with Teddy. He knew it did. Easier to be around at the end of the day. Less irritable, less likely to be constantly on edge, looking for danger. He didn’t want Teddy’s childhood to be like his.
He rubbed his head, trying to cut through the sickening pounding ramming into his skull. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten, but for the life of him, couldn’t summon the energy to get off the couch. This is when the invasive thoughts start creeping in. You’re failing, Harry. You were never cut out to be a parent. Who would want to be raised by a freak like you –
He disrupts the train of thought with a harsh wave of his wand, spelling the mess in the kitchen to begin cleaning itself. To everyone’s surprise, he had put a lot of effort in refurbishing Grimmauld after the war, banishing all the darkness, instead making each room cheery and homey. The house itself was always immaculate. Hermione liked to joke that if she only knew it took a kid to make Harry this organized… Harry needed this to be a place Teddy felt safe and loved in. He needed everything to be perfect. For Teddy.
He knew everyone worried about him. He knew they thought he wasn’t taking care of himself, pitching all of his effort into work and looking after Teddy – he could hear it in the whispers at Sunday dinners and the sidelong anxious glances from Hermione, the way Hermione and Ron often randomly popped by to visit. But he didn’t need – he had spent his whole life taking care of others. This wasn’t any different.
Harry takes several deep breaths, trying to calm the roiling in his stomach. He spells a fire into the fireplace and summons a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass, settling himself under the blanket. The warmth of the Firewhiskey cuts through some of the noise in his head, and he allows himself to relax, just a little. He isn’t sure how long he sits there, staring into the fire, trying to soak in some sense of numbness, when he hears the rush of his Floo, as if from far away.
“You look like shite, mate.”
Harry looks up to see Charlie Weasley standing in his living room, all broad muscles and tattoos, barely contained by his thin cotton t-shirt. Despite the hardness of Charlie’s exterior, Harry knows him to be kind, caring, solid. It warms Harry more than the Firewhiskey to se Charlie standing there, smiling at him.
Charlie had stayed after the war for Fred’s funeral and never left. Harry asked him once why he hadn’t gone back to Romania and he had simply shrugged and said, “I’m needed here”. He was the first one to notice Harry’s nightmares; his overwhelming guilt at being at the Burrow; the first one to say, ‘you’re still part of the family’ when Harry and Ginny realized they didn’t fit anymore; Charlie seemed to understand Harry’s constant need to help, to do something. His feeling sometimes that just being in a room was suffocating and Harry couldn’t breathe. Charlie saw, and Charlie helped him breathe. Charlie was there, sitting by his bed with a glass of water when Harry woke up screaming from nightmares he couldn’t bear to describe. No questions, no pressing. Just present.
Charlie didn’t bat an eye when Harry had first asked him how he’d known he was interested in men, and instead helped Harry get dressed, and brought him to a Muggle club. Helped Harry get his first pull. Didn’t ask questions when suddenly the touching got too much, too much - Harry and Ginny never had time for much, really - and sent Harry spiraling into a panic attack. Instead, brought Harry back to Grimmauld Place, and waited with him until it was over. Harry remembered Charlie sitting down on the floor with him, leaning against the bathroom cabinet. Charlie had looked beautiful that night, in a fit white t-shirt and black jeans. They sat there for a long time in silence, as Harry’s breathing gradually slowed. Charlie gently took his hand, rubbing slow circles with his thumb up and down Harry’s palm. It was something Harry had never felt before. An electric shock. Charlie looked at Harry intently with those deep blue eyes, so bottomless Harry felt like he could drown in them.
“Harry”, he had said. His voice low, warm, rough. Safe. Harry felt safe. Charlie smelt of cigarette smoke and sandalwood and something with a hint of musk to it, and it made Harry want to lean in closer, to envelop himself in it, to bury his face in the crook of Charlie’s neck where the inky black tip of the Hungarian Horntail tattoo that traced all the way down Charlie’s spine peeked out ever so slightly. But Harry mustn’t. This was – Charlie. Ron’s brother. And Charlie was… Charlie was…. Charlie was something Harry didn’t deserve. So he looked away and closed his eyes, but let Charlie keep running his thumb in gentle circles up and down his palm.
“Harry, look at me,” Charlie said gently.
Harry couldn’t, couldn’t look into those eyes and see the pity that would be there.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, instead, feeling tears press hot beneath his eyelids.
Charlie’s calloused fingers reached up and turned Harry’s face towards his, Harry flinching back at first but then relaxing into the soft touch that stayed there, gentle but firm.
“Look at me, Harry.” Serious now.
Harry reluctantly opens his eyes to see Charlie facing him, surprised to find no pity there … something else, maybe… sadness? Harry couldn’t tell.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry.” Harry begins to interrupt but Charlie places a finger on his lips, quieting him.
“It is okay to ask for what you need. No one should ever – you should always ask for what you need. Okay?”
Harry can’t explain the sudden rush of tears down his cheeks, but he doesn’t need to. Charlie doesn’t press. They just sit there together, for a long time, Charlie rubbing circles into Harry’s palm. Harry begins to appreciate Charlie’s steady, dependable, kind presence.
They start writing to each other throughout Harry’s year at Hogwarts, Charlie even coming up to Hogsmeade a few times. Charlie is the only one Harry tells about going out with Lee Jordan, about his first time, how Lee made him feel safe, how it was good. Charlie had told him he was glad. “You deserve it, Harry.”
Most of all, Charlie understood Harry’s need to look after Teddy. And he’s good with Teddy too, always coming by to visit, keeping Teddy occupied for an hour when Harry finally runs himself so ragged he can barely keep his eyes open. Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel like a burden. Someone else Charlie has to look after.
Harry tips the bottle of Firewhiskey at Charlie. “Yeah, well, not all of us can afford to go chasing around dragons for a living, now can we?
Charlie’s grin broadens. “I brought takeout.”
“Cheeky Nandos?”
“It’s Thursday, isn’t it? Shove over.” Charlie sprawls on the couch, pulling out the takeout as he does so.
“Well, what are we watching?” Charlie’s eyes gleam with excitement. Harry laughs. He’d introduced Charlie to Muggle cinema on accident, but Charlie was more obsessed than Mr. Weasley, he couldn’t believe how action packed the films could be. It’s somehow…refreshing to watch something that’s so removed from their world, that takes Harry out of the images of violence constantly playing inside his own head.
Harry grins as he pops in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. “I think you’re gonna like this one.”
He would never admit it, but sometimes he liked watching Charlie watch the films more than the films themselves… The way his eyes lit up when he laughed…
Harry didn’t even realize how hungry he was until he takes his first bite of the Nandos Charlie passed him. His body aches in relief, he instantly feels his headache lessen. He looks over to see Charlie watching him closely.
“First thing you’ve eaten today?”
Harry shifts in his seat. “Charlie…” he warns.
Charlie holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll leave it. I’m just saying, it doesn’t do Teddy much good if you run yourself into the ground, does it?”
But true to his word, Charlie doesn’t pester him any more after that, and they talk about Harry’s training, Charlie helping George get back on his feet… Harry doesn’t even notice his eyes getting heavier and heavier, as Charlie gently strokes back Harry’s curls, and the last thing Harry remembers is the scent of sandalwood right up against his cheek.
Charlie watches Harry sleep for several long minutes, Harry’s head buried into the crook of Charlie’s shoulder. Harry had slowly drooped onto him without even realizing it, so his entire slight frame was now cuddled against Charlie’s. Charlie loves how much younger Harry looks like this, when he’s first dropped off to sleep, before the nightmares come. Harry liked to talk himself out of sleep – quite literally talking to Charlie even as he can’t keep his eyes open – Charlie casts a tempus and realizes it’s already two in the morning. Harry won’t be getting enough sleep even if he can sleep through the night. Charlie looks at the exhaustion lined all over Harry’s face, and his heart aches. He wishes he could take him up to bed and wrap his arms around him and keep him safe from everything that had ever hurt him. There was so much about Harry Charlie still did not know. But even though Harry had never explicitly told him, Charlie knows he feels safer sleeping down here on the couch, like he can keep an eye on everything, protect Teddy, in spite of the reinstated Fidelius charm around the place. Charlie wishes he knew how to tell Harry it was okay to let go, just for a minute. It would be so easy to fall asleep here, like this, arm around Harry but… Harry told him once he didn’t like to share beds, not with anyone he didn’t really know. He never even spent the night with Lee. It was one of the reasons… Anyways, Charlie didn’t know if he counted as one of those people for Harry, and even if he did… he wanted it to be something Harry wanted.
With a deep sigh, Charlie leans forward and inhales the scent of those curls he loves so much. Harry smells of lemon, and honey, and a little bit of lavender. Charlie could almost taste it. Ever so gently, so as not to wake Harry, he presses a soft kiss into his hair, and he swears he can feel the younger man lean into his touch. Charlie shakes himself out of it, and extracts his arm from around Harry, taking off Harry’s shoes and placing Harry’s head onto a pillow, before draping a blanket over him and setting his wand and glasses near his head on the coffee table. He transfigures the armchair into a camp bed, sets his own alarm for when Harry needs to be up for work – even though he know Harry won’t sleep that long – and checks the monitor for Teddy. Goodnight, Harry, he whispers. It’s time for him, too, to sleep.
Harry isn’t sure which nightmare comes first. He sees Cedric, and the flash of green light, and Cedric lying dead on the ground. Wormtail cutting his arm open. Voldemort casting Crucio as Harry just wanted to black out, wanted it to end, wanted to die – the ghosts of his parents. Sirius, falling through the veil. Harry’s fault. Because Voldemort was inside of him. Because Harry was a Horcrux. The Inferi. The lake. The potion. Dumbledore falling off the Astronomy tower. His mother screaming. Nagini, in Godric’s Hollow. Fred, dead on the floor. Lupin and Tonks, dead, because of him. The Forest. The Resurrection Stone. His parents – oh god, he just wanted to touch them, they were so close – King’s Cross. The train. How Harry had died, and he still felt like Voldemort took a piece of him that he’ll never get back. Hermione, screaming. His mother, screaming. And Harry couldn’t save them –
Charlie woke to Harry’s screams almost immediately. Harry insisted on casting a Silencing Charm so as not to wake Ted, but Charlie always stayed within range. Tears pour down Harry’s face as he writhes in the sheets, face contorted in complete agony. Charlie knows everyone has nightmares. They all do. But none of theirs are as bad as Harry’s. Harry is screaming but Charlie couldn’t make out what he’s saying, and he knows from experience not to touch Harry when he was like this. He casts a Tempus. Only 6:00. Dammit. He tries shouting his name, pleading with him to wake up, but Harry won’t wake, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He points his wand at Harry. Enervate.
Blind panic seizes Harry as he wakes, screaming, thrashing, unsure where he is, all he knows is he has to save them, he has to make sure they were safe –
“Harry! It’s me, it’s Charlie. You’re home. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. I promise.”
The images flash through Harry’s mind over and over – Sirius. Cedric. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Colin. Dumbledore. His parents. Harry is sobbing now, he can’t breathe, he can’t get in enough air – but – Teddy – he needs to get to Teddy.
“Teddy’s fine, Harry. He’s sleeping. He’s just upstairs. You’re okay.” Charlie sits on the edge of the couch now, careful still not to touch. “Breathe, Harry. Just breathe with me. I promise you’re safe.”
But Harry can’t breathe. It’s too much. His skin is on fire and his head is splitting open and what if Voldemort is still inside of him, causing this, right now? He tries to close his eyes to stop the images but they just flash faster and faster, mocking him, and Harry begins to tear at his hair, rocking back and forth. It takes all of Charlie’s self control not to grab his wrists and stop him from hurting himself.
The two men are so focused on what’s in front of them that neither of them have noticed Draco Malfoy standing in front of the floo, mouth hanging slightly ajar.
When Draco left Andromeda’s this morning after agreeing to watch Teddy for the day, the last thing he expected when he stepped through the Floo to Grimmauld Place was to see Charlie Weasley coaxing Potter out of one of the worst nightmares he had ever seen. Draco has his fair share of nightmares, but none like this. None that left him so crippled by fear, he couldn’t move. And for the first time, Draco realized he likely knew but a fraction of the horrors stored inside Potter’s head. And looking at those haunted green eyes, Draco’s heart broke for this man who had suffered so much, and should now be able live in peace.
They had found an unlikely friendship, after the War. Nothing close to what Draco would have really desired, of course, but – a bond forged out of having both gone through some pretty horrible shit. They found camaraderie in each other’s hatred of loud crowds and big spaces. And then there was Teddy, and well…Draco hadn’t expected to like kids, but Teddy wasn’t just any kid. And Harry was the biggest natural Draco had ever seen. He looked at Teddy like he held the answer to all the world’s problems, and Draco didn’t even know it was possible to be looked at like that, by anyone.
“Couldn’t save them”, Harry was saying now, over and over, as he rocked back and forth. “All my fault. Couldn’t save them.” He didn’t seem to know where he was, lost in a haze of memories and pain so deep Draco couldn’t see a way out.
Draco must have made a noise then, because green eyes flashed to his, and Draco saw the panic in Potter’s face heighten.
“Dromeda –“ Potter managed, breathing faster still. Oh god, Potter thought he was here because something had happened to –
“No, Potter,” Draco cuts in smoothly. “Andromeda’s fine, just has a cold. Asked if I would look after Teddy for the day.”
Draco wasn’t sure if Potter even heard him, as he got dragged back down into whatever deluge of memories was currently assaulting him.
“Harry –“, Charlie pleads, with a tinge of desperation. He looks up at Draco. “Teddy usually doesn’t wake up until 7:30 or so. You can help yourself to tea or coffee in the kitchen.”
Draco nods, realizing belatedly his intrusion on the intimacy before him. He wonders why Charlie knows Teddy’s morning schedule so well…and then wonders why that bothers him. Why is Charlie Weasley in Harry Potter’s sitting room at six in the morning? He had seen the second bed but…they looked awfully…cozy… but Potter wasn’t gay… surely he would know…
He’s interrupted in his musings by Charlie’s voice heading towards the kitchen. “Harry, I’m just going to try and find you a Calming Draught.”
With relief, Draco realizes he can help; he carries his own brew with him for these exact occasions. Potter isn’t the only one the war left traumatized, a lot of his friends use it too.
Draco intercepts Charlie in the doorway. “Here,” he says, pressing a vial into his hand. Charlie looks at it with suspicion. “Calming Draught. It’s mine, I brewed it.”
Charlie doesn’t waste any more time, and Draco is hot on his heels. Charlie is on his knees beside Harry in any instant. “Harry,” Charlie murmurs gently, touching his arm. Harry sees the vial and turns white as a sheet. Something about it terrifies him, it doesn’t make sense to Draco.
“Charlie, please, no,” Harry pleads. He’s scrabbling backwards on the couch, trying to get away from Charlie. “You know I don’t take Dreamless Sleep, you know I can’t, please don’t make me - “
“Harry it’s just a Calming Draught,” Charlie soothes. “Just something to help.”
“I made it,” Draco adds. ”It’s not Dreamless Sleep, Potter. I promise.”
Harry takes a shaky breath, eyes flitting wildly between Draco and Charlie. Then, he holds out his hand, and Charlie helps him tip the vial down his throat. The potion takes effect almost instantly, and Draco can see some of the blinding, crushing panic leave Potter’s body. Potter crumples in on himself, looking horrified.
“Oh gods,” he chokes. “I’m so s-s-sorry Charlie.” And Harry is weeping now, grief and anguish and shame pouring off of him, and Draco can’t hear everything he’s muttering to himself, but he catches “freak” and “fault” and “Teddy”. Potter. This man saved everyone, and he –
Charlie doesn’t hesitate this time, he wraps his arms around Harry and Harry buries his face in Charlie’s chest. “Shhh Harry shhh…it’s alright, darling…I’m not going to let anything happen to you…I’m right here…I’ve got you…”
The way Charlie calls Harry ‘darling’ makes Draco’s chest catch. It’s as if Charlie didn’t even realize it, as if the endearment just slipped off his tongue in the heat of the moment… and once again, Draco is watching something he’d rather not see.
Just then, the monitor on Harry’s wand buzzes, signifying Teddy’s awake. Harry bolts upright, almost frantically, desperate to get to Teddy.
“I need to – “ Harry protests, as Charlie pushes him back to sitting.
“I’ll get Teddy,” says Draco quietly. Harry looks at him for a long moment, then nods, shoulders slumping almost as if in defeat.
Draco climbs the stairs quickly, wanting to leave the sight of Charlie getting Harry up to bed far behind him.
In the living room, Charlie’s tone brooks no argument. “You need to go back to bed.” He lifts Harry up in his arms and carries him up to his bedroom, laying him gently into bed. Harry is too tired to do anything except lean into Charlie’s warm chest, tears sliding down his cheeks.
Draco finds Teddy barely awake, squirming unhappily in the covers. “Hey, Teds,” he says, but the little boy’s hair turns a shade of grey and he just pouts.
“You don’t want to be awake either, huh?” As Draco lifts Teddy up from his bed, he realizes his mistake. Harry’s bedroom is right next to Teddy’s and he can hear everything happening on the other side of the wall. Charlie quietly comforting Harry, shushing away Harry’s apologies… Draco imagines being the one to soothe Harry, gently petting his hair…. He pushes it aside, focusing on Teddy. The boy squirms out of Draco’s grasp, giving a tired cry, fat tears beginning to run down his cheeks.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Da!”, says Teddy miserably.
“You want your Da?” Draco asks, bouncing him on his knee. “What about a story instead?”
“Da!” Teddy insists, more tears running down his cheeks.
“Alright,” Draco sighs, kissing Teddy’s head. “I’ll take you to Harry. But let’s change your diaper first.” He hears, from the other side of the wall,
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Charlie?” Harry whispers, on the edge of sleep, clearly battling with himself over something.
“What is it?” Charlie asks gently.
“I – nothing.”
“Harry. You know I’ll – just tell me.”
“Can you – can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
Something in Charlie’s throat catches. “Always.”
Draco feels something inside him burn hot and angry, but he couldn’t be…he wasn’t… he couldn’t be jealous. He didn’t have…feelings…for Potter. Not anymore anyway. Teddy whines about being left on the changing table too long, and Draco snaps back to the present, soothing him.
As Draco brings Teddy into Potter’s room, he finds Charlie sitting on the edge of Potter’s bed, looking softer than Draco had ever seen him. Charlie was looking at Potter as if Potter was the sun, and – if they weren’t in a relationship already, Draco was certain it wasn’t for a lack of feelings on Charlie’s part. Harry still looked tormented, even in his sleep, and Draco couldn’t help another rush of feelings towards the man. Teddy whined softly, and the spell was broken, Charlie standing up suddenly and staring at Draco.
“Sorry,” Draco says softly. “Teddy won’t stop asking for him.”
“S’alright,” Charlie says, “Harry will probably sleep better with him anyways.” Charlie scoops Teddy out of Draco’s arms and nestles him into Harry’s chest, Teddy cooing happily, as if this is what he had wanted all along. Potter instinctively curves in around Teddy, head tucking around his and arms holding the toddler in a loose embrace. It isn’t long before Teddy is fast asleep. The two men watch the sleeping figures for a moment, then Charlie casts a silencing charm on Harry, and a shield charm on Teddy.
Draco looks at him oddly. “Harry insists on it,” Charlie explains softly. Draco adds it to the growing list of things he doesn’t know about Potter. Suddenly, the dragon tamer also looks exhausted.
“Well, since you’re here, you want that cup of tea?”
A cup of tea with Charlie Weasley? This morning couldn’t get any weirder.