Chapter Text
Charlie yawned as he waited for the boat to be properly secured before going and greeting the guest that he would have to play host to for the next several months. The morning air was crisp with a chill and a hint of the winter that refused to leave the northern isles. He pulled his red flannel tighter around his chest, stuffing his hands under his armpits to keep them warm. The spray of the water that surrounded the docks didn’t help, and he so wished the guest had taken the floo or used a port key to travel, but here they were.
The boat, big enough to hold ten crew members, was finally secured to the dock and a plank was lifted over its side and lowered to the dock below. A few people moved off the boat quickly, levitating boxes of cargo that they had been hauling down to the dock. The sails were lowered and bound to their mast with rope with the swing of a wand. Buckets, Charlie had no desire knowing the contents of, were dumped over the side and into the water with a splash.
He felt the measly piece of toast he had shoved into his mouth on his way out of his quarters stir in his stomach. Bile rose into his throat and he had to take a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm the raging storm inside his stomach. It was a combination of the alcohol he had indulged in the night before, the toast that never sat right with him, and the nerves of having to meet someone new.
He had never done well with introductions. He had nightmares of the first time he had met Albus Dumbledore. The memories of throwing up on the man’s silver robes and freshly shined shoes was a torturous horror that his brain never seemed to want to let him forget. So, when the Head of Dragon Care asked him to come down at the crack of dawn to meet a Muggle man who had somehow gotten his hands on three dragon eggs, his stomach would not settle.
He was curious, though, how the man got the eggs. Dragon eggs were rare in the sanctuaries he had been working at since he was sixteen. In the years since he started, he had only seen the number of eggs being laid dwindle. And being among the few that worked in the nursery, he knew none of them had gone missing. It wasn’t impossible that they could have come from wild dragons, but no dragon that hadn't been tamed by humans would allow their eggs to be taken.
Pouched, then.
It made him sick. If this Muggle had killed the mother to steal her eggs, he didn’t care what his superiors told him. He would put the man through hell while he stayed there.
He wasn’t sure how long the man would be staying there, the owl delivering the letter that explained the situation had apparently arrived late last night and the Heads of the sanctuary had to put together a makeshift plan that they could adhere to until they could assess the situation themselves.
Charlie pulled his wand from the holster on his arm and flicked it in front of him, casting a Tempus charm. He tapped the toe of his boot against the dock when he realized he had been standing there for nearly thirty minutes waiting for this man. He slid his wand back into its holster and walked over to the small group of men with sailor hats. “‘Scuse me,” he waved at them, “was there a man with dragons on this boat?”
One of the men, skin leathered from his time at sea, turned to him first. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, ash clinging to the stick not yet ready to be washed away to sea. “‘Em dragons were a right pain in the arse,” he grumbled, plucking his cigarette from his mouth to take a sip from a stein. “I almost netted them, I did.”
The other three men grunted in agreement with him. “The little red one stole my beef!” one man shouted. “The green one wouldn’t let me sleep, always wanted to play,” another said, and the last man just looked shell shocked from his experience with the dragons.
“They’ll be coming,” the first man answered Charlie's question. “The kid is fumbly.”
“Fumbly?” Charlie repeated, not sure he knew what the word meant but he wasn’t going to get an explanation. The man turned back around, ignoring his questioning expression. He sighed and moved down the dock to wait at the end of where the plank rested.
Thankfully, he didn’t wait for much longer. The man, bundled with every winter coat he owned it seemed, emerged from the depths of the boat and stood at the top of the plank. Dark circles hung under his light blue eyes; scratches, healing and new, speckled his cheeks and what was visible of his neck; and his thick, blonde hair was disheveled and just long enough to slide fingers through. Not that Charlie would know what that length was.
He narrowed his eyes at Charlie when he spotted him, shrugged a duffle bag higher up his shoulder and began his trek down the plank. His footsteps were heavy and his weight made the plank groan. When he stopped in front of Charlie he had to crane his neck to look up at him. “Are you my escort or something?”
His voice was rough, guarded, and it scratched at something in the back of Charlie’s mind. “Or something,” he echoed, then looked behind the man. “Where are the dragons?”
“They’ll catch up. Lead the way, I hear it’s a hike to get back to the sanctuary from here and I barely slept a wink on the boat.” He waved his hand down the deck.
“I was just going to apparate us…” he paused when the man scrunched his face in disgust, “um, alright, it’s this way.” He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck before turning on his heel to lead the way. “My name is Charlie, by the way, Charlie Weasley.” He held his hand out to the man but dropped it when he didn’t take it.
“You’re a Weasley?” His eyes went down Charlie’s body then back up to the red hair on top of his head. “Should’ve guessed by the hair.” He sighed. “My name is Dudley; you may know me as Harry Potter’s Muggle cousin.”
The way he said Muggle dripped with something Charlie couldn’t quite name. Though he had heard the tone before, from his own mouth of being one of seven children. Jealousy.
“Yeah,” he finally chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood, “I know Harry. He’s my kid brother’s best friend.”
“I know.” Dudley’s eyes were cold.
Charlie had seen the look before, having lived through the war where children had to become adults in the blink of an eye. Dudley had walls built around him. Ones he had no intentions of bringing down. That was fine. Charlie had no plans of befriending the man who suspiciously came to own three dragons.
They were nearly at the end of the dock when three blurs of color flew past them, circled in front of them, then flew back towards Dudley. Two landed on either shoulder and the third landed atop his head, its long nails adding a new scratch across his forehead. The dragons were little, putting them at around eight weeks old, but Charlie would have to give them a wellness exam to be certain though. “Have you named them?”
Dudley’s expression softened and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he pointed to the red one on his head, “this is Turbo, he’s the fastest of the three. Jet,” he pointed out the green one on his left shoulder, “he likes salmon the best. And this one is Rebel, she is the youngest and likes to cuddle.” He pointed to the blue dragon on his right shoulder.
Charlie couldn’t imagine Dudley cuddling with the baby dragons, but maybe there was a softer side to the man that he only showed to the babies. “How did you get their eggs?” He tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting Dudley to think he was accusing him of anything.
“I was told not to talk about it.” What little softness was in his face as he spoke about the dragons vanished and was replaced with the walls.
“‘Course.” Charlie didn’t say anything else, nor did Dudley, as they walked up the side of the Isle. It wasn’t that long of a hike, maybe an hour with a couple breaks. At the midpoint of it, he took the luggage that Dudley had been struggling to drag across the uneven land. Placing it atop his shoulder after struggling to get the handle to go back down into it, they continued on in silence.
The dragons flew around them, Turbo and Jet flying off ahead of them as if they were racing and Rebel curled up in Dudley’s arms. She watched as her brother’s played, sometimes coming back to bother her, but with a snap out her jaw and a low rumble from her throat, they left her alone.
When they reached the top of the small mountain that the sanctuary sat on, Dudley was out of breath. The elevation the mountain peaked at was higher than what a normal human being was used to. Even for wizards, they had to spend roughly three months adjusting to it. Dudley didn’t get that luxury–being thrust into the center of a dragon’s den essentially and told to survive would make the next few rough for him.
Maybe Charlie could owl Hermione and ask her if there are any wards that he could cast on Dudley’s room to at least make living here more comfortable for him.
Not that he cared if the guy was comfortable.
“It’s not as big as I was expecting.” Dudley pulled Charlie from his thoughts.
“Hm?” He lowered the suitcase to the stone ground in front of him.
Dudley waved his hand towards the building they were standing in front of. “It’s kind of small. I thought dragons lived here.”
Charlie chuckled, “Oh, they live inside the mountain.” He bent over to try and lift the handle from the suitcase. He thought all he had to do was pull it up, seeing as how he pushed it down earlier, surely just pulling it up would be the answer.
After a few moments of him struggling, Dudley smacked his hand away, wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it up. Charlie gasped softly, “You can use magic?”
“What?” He scrunched his face at him. “Of course not.”
“How did you pull the handle up then?”
Dudley sighed the way one would with an overexcited child and moved his hand to point at a button on the handle. “You have to press this first to release the handle.”
“Fascinating,” Charlie mumbled, grabbing his chin as he examined the muggle luggage. “My father loves Muggle things, he has a whole collection of suitcases, but I’m not sure I’ve seen one like this.”
“I know.”
Charlie chuckled nervously, taken aback by Dudley’s response. “Come on, let’s get your dragons examined before you crash from elevation exhaustion.”
☆.𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓅛 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆
Dudley sat in the small wooden chair against the wall, the seat digging into his thighs, as Charlie examined Rebel. The accommodations they were providing him were adequate enough that he felt like he could live there for the next few months while the dragons grew bigger and stronger. He had concerns, though, about his and Charlie’s rooms being connected via a bathroom, raising an eyebrow when he looked into Charlie’s seemingly put together room.
It hadn't taken him long to unpack, only bringing the necessities–a few pairs of pajamas, lounging clothes, pants, his very expensive shampoo and conditioner, and other hygiene related items. And packed between all that was his favorite Playboy magazine that he stuck under his pillow when Charlie wasn’t looking.
The meeting with the Head of Dragon Care had gone smoothly. The letter Harry had sent ahead of him explained the situation as much as it could. Dudley only had to fill in a few missing details. Such as when the dragons hatched; were they being fed a proper diet; were they getting enough exercise? All questions Charlie jotted the answers down on a clipboard.
Outside of what he has already known from his few visits to the Burrow, he had heard plenty about the Weasley family from Harry, especially the few days prior to Dudley being shipped off to the arctic. Okay, he wasn’t in the arctic, but he might as well have been with how cold it was. Faroe Islands they were called, according to the map he had looked at. Harry had called it something else, something magical sounding like Føroyar.
It was two of three locations they had dragon sanctuaries. One of them was in Romania and the other was in Hawaii. He thought that it would’ve been nice to have gone to that one, but apparently the breed of dragons his were would not survive in the warmer climate.
His heart twisted when Rebel whined from the thermometer that was placed in her butt. He thought this little exam was very reminiscent of when he had to take his friend's gerbil to the vet after it ate a piece of string.
Charlie weighed Rebel next after nodding to the number the thermometer showed, pleased with it. “Can you tell me what you’ve been feeding them?” he asked as he jotted down her weight with a quill.
Dudley bit his tongue, pulling it free from his teeth slowly as he watched the muscles in Charlie’s arms ripple from picking Rebel up. She curled up against his chest instantly, sighing when he allowed her to stay there. Charlie looked up, cobalt eyes meeting his baby blue ones. He flicked his away, towards Turbo and Jet who were playing with a basket of toys. Jet had upturned the basket and was trapped underneath it.
“They get fed three times a day,” he started as he moved to free Jet, who was beginning to cry. “In the morning, I give them their biggest meal. I start with a pouch of wet cat food, salmon for Jet, chicken for the other two. Then they get rabbit hearts, duck heads, freeze-dried duck eggs, a scoop of pumpkin, spinach, lean beef -ground of course- and topped off with liver.”
Charlie blinked at him. “That’s just for breakfast?”
“Correct,” Dudley nodded, returning to his seat. “For their midday meal, they get roughly the same, minus the spinach and pumpkin but add in turkey necks as an extra protein. Then their dinner is a bit lighter. I cut up steaks for Turbo and Rebel, fish for Jet, then cover it in a protein and vitamin mix Harry found at a magical creature store. Then I cover it in bone broth to make sure they are staying hydrated. When they finish that they get meat pudding for dessert.”
Charlie’s lips were pressed into a line as he listened. “That’s really impressive. Where did you learn those recipes?”
Dudley shrugged, trying not to seem pleased by the compliment. “I followed the diet rich folks feed their kittens.”
“I might have to take note of that, their weight is right where we would want it to be at this age.” He moved around the exam table and set Rebel on the floor with her brothers. She bopped Turbo on the head and ran over to Dudley, who scooped her up and brought her to his lap. “According to their teeth, and the length of their bodies, they seem to be going on nine weeks old, does that sound right?” He leaned against the table, crossing one ankle over the other, and picked up his clipboard to jot down a few more notes.
“Yes, that does. Harry thinks they hatched because of how warm my flat was. We had a bad bout of weather blow through. It was nearly a blizzard by the time they started to hatch.” He scratched underneath Rebel’s chin, making her growl contentedly.
“Dragon eggs are normally kept warm in their nest from their mother’s body heat, so that isn't too absurd of him to think. It's hard to say if they hatched prematurely, with their diet, I’m sure they bulked up rather quickly.” Charlie lowered his clipboard, resting it against his thighs, and watched as Dudley ran his hand down Rebel’s back. “I’m surprised they took to you though.”
Dudley was about to explain how Harry thought they were attracted to the little bit of magic he must have been born with, but when he looked back up at Charlie, his walls involuntarily went back up. His expression was too soft, too welcoming, and he wouldn’t allow himself to be swept away by it. “They imprinted, like most baby animals do.”
Charlie scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “Sure, that’s part of it. But dragons, even baby ones, don’t cuddle with humans.” He flashed his eyebrows at Dudley when Rebel turned over, begging for her belly to be rubbed. “There must be something else about you that drew them in.”
Dudley shrugged, “Dunno.” He stood abruptly, causing Rebel to squawk when he lifted her from his lap. “Is that it, then? The exams are over?”
“Oh, sure, yeah. We’ll do a blood test in a couple days, after they have relaxed some.” He waved his wand and the door opened. “Would you like me to escort you back to your room?”
“No,” Dudley spat, “I think I can manage."