"[Y/N!] Have you seen Charlie?"
You look up from your sandwich and shake your head, mouth still half-full.
"I haven't. Is he okay?"
Bill runs his hand through his hair, and you realize he's sweating. "I'm worried he's not. I haven't seen him all day, and we were supposed to meet for lunch. It's unlike him to be this late."
You hear a scoff from behind you. Merula lilts her head.
"The second filthy Weasley?" She snorts. "He probably heard Barnaby going on about the dragon he saw in the forest today. Apparently Kettleburn let it loose or something."
Bill blanches. "Oh bloody hell."
You and Bill sprint to the forest with such speed and determination that you're both heaving by the time you get there. Bill is frantic.
"Where--where did Barnaby say he saw it again?" He pants.
You point in the general direction as you try and catch your breath.
Bill springs forward, and you follow closely. Greenery whips against your face as you push through branches. Leaves crack under your boots as you race through. Bowtruckles scatter above. Until finally, you emerge into a clearing--
--and see Charlie, alone, holding a steak out in front of him.
Bill sighs.
"Bill?" Charlie looks up. "Oh, crap. Did I lose track of time?"
"Yes!" He marches forward to his younger brother and inspects him. "You had me worried sick! I thought you were dragon bait."
Charlie shakes his head. "No, unfortunately not."
Bill spits. "Unfortunately?!"
"Well-- you know, Barnaby said that Kettleburn's dragon escaped, and so I was hoping to see it-- I didn't mean to worry anybody--"
Charlie continues, and Bill begins lecturing him, but you notice the Bowtruckles and the Fairies have suddenly begun to hide.
"Um, boys?"
They don't hear you.
"Why would you go looking for a dragon ALONE?"
"Well, Barnaby said it's green, so it's probably only a Welsh Green. They're mostly harmless--"
The leaves on the trees begin to shake.
"Boys," you say a bit louder. "I think--"
ROAARR!!
A huge dragon booms into the clearing, the force of its wings knocking everyone over as it lands.
Bill and Charlie scramble back.
"Oh crap," Charlie mutters.
"Charlies? You said Welsh Greens are harmless, right?"
Charlie shakes his head. "This isn't a Green. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback. And she seems hungry."
The dragon swishes its tail and cuts through a row of trees like they're made of butter. They groan as they fall to the forest floor.
You hurry and scramble to your feet.
"Charlie!" Bill cries. "Throw it the bloody steak at it so we can get away!"
Charlie tosses the steak forward, but the dragon screeches, uninterested. It takes a step forward.
Bill tries to draw his wand.
You leap forward, between the dragon and the boys. You hold both palms open towards the dragon.
"[Y/N]?!" Bill shouts. "Move! You'll get killed!"
You ignore him and keep your eyes solely on the dragon.
"We mean you no harm," you say in draconic.
The dragon swishes its tail, agitated. It snorts, and steam furls out of its nostrils.
"Why are you upset?" You try again.
"[Y/N]?" Charlie asks. You hear the two boys moving to their feet behind you. "What's going on?"
Finally, the dragon lowers its head to you. A low growl rumbles from its throat.
You swallow. "She--she's upset," you explain, "because some First Year let her out of Care for Creatures. She misses Kettleburn."
You briefly look behind you and see that Bill's jaw has dropped, dumbfounded, and Charlie's eyes are twinkling.
"Are you a dovahkiin-tongue, [Y/N]?! Why did you never tell me this before?!"
Bill punches him on the arm.
You turn your attention back to the dragon, and inch forward, your palms still open. "We can take you back to Kettleburn. He will probably feed you there, too. We just need you to stay calm."
The dragon narrows its eyes at you, its nostrils flaring again. But then, it nods.
You all sigh with relief.
~~~~
Under your guidance, the Weasley boys manage to heard the Norwegian Ridgeback back into Care for Magical Creatures. Kettleburn asked Bill, as the senior student, to help him feed the beast. Bill obeyed, but promised to give Charlie a stern talking-to later.
You and Charlie watch as they disappear behind the treeline.
Finally, Charlie turns to you and grabs your hands.
"[Y/N]!" He exclaims. "That was brilliant! Why didn't you tell me you could speak to dragons!?"
Your face turns hot. You blink, your mind going blank.
Charlie's hands are warm around yours. He's beaming.
"Um," you try, "I. I guess I always thought it's weird, so I don't talk about--"
"Weird?!" He interrupts. "Are you joking?! What I'd give to be a dovahkiin-tongue! That's incredible! You're incredible!"
His smile brightens, and you feel the blood rush into your ears.
"C'mon," he says, and begins pulling you off. "We've got to talk more about this. I have SO many questions!"
~~~
For the rest of the day, Charlie would not stop asking you questions about your unique skill. Not that you minded the extra time with him, of course.
You're both sitting in the courtyard together, the clear night sky twinkling overhead.
"Fus," you try explaining again.
"Fus," he says, but his pronunciation is... horribly off.
Your bite your cheek. "How can I explain it... less 'oo' like a cow mooing."
He laughs, then perks up. "Hey! Maybe it would help if I actually feel the shape of your facial muscles when you do it. Would you mind that?"
The sparkle in his eyes is so enthusiastic, so sincere, it makes your brain freeze.
"U-uhm, sure," you start, but before you even finish, he's reached his hand out to cup your cheek.
You hope the starlight above isn't enough to illuminate how intensely your face is burning.
"Now, let's try again," Charlie beams.
You gulp and feel your heart restart from where it was frozen.
"Fus," you manage to stutter.
Charlie blinks, then smiles his brilliant smile.
"Interesting," he muses. "I think that helped. I felt that you actually suck your cheek in, like in a whistle, for the vowel."
His hand is still on your cheek, soft and warm. All you can do is nod.
He holds your gaze and doesn't move. He doesn't say anything for the next moment-- only stares at you, his lips curled into a soft smile.
"You know," he finally says, gently. "You have really soft skin, [Y/N.]"
Your heart backflips.
And --for a second, under the moonlight-- you swear you see his freckled cheeks dusted pink, too.
After what feels like an eternity, he lowers his hand and clears his throat. "Well, ah," he says, "it's getting late, isn't it? We should probably head back to the dorms before the professors yell at us."
You nod hastily, your heart still pounding. "Yes, you're right."
"But! We'll definitely pick up where we left off tomorrow!"
He bids you goodnight, and later that night, in bed, you can't help but inch your hand up to the cheek he had held so intently.
Pick up where we left off...
You smile as you drift to sleep.