Chapter Text
“Hey, Des, we need to talk.”
Charlie took a deep breath and prepared himself for said talk. He’d known it was coming, but hoped it would happen after a decent night’s sleep.
“You know, Nav, it’s not fair when you corner me like this,” he warmed his hands over the fire. The night arrived with a chill he wasn’t accustomed to. The sanctuary was a roast compared to the open night air with nothing but mountain range to surround their small campfire.
“Come on, Des,” the tall, raven-haired man motioned all around them as if to showcase it just for him. “We’re outdoors, there are no corners.”
His smile was infectious, dimples and all, the man carried joy like an old companion. It was the single trait Charlie admired most about his best friend. His tenacity, however, was unmatched. That was, until he met Hermione Granger.
Charlie glanced over the flames at the huddled mass on the floor. The witch slept more than a Welsh green in the winter, but he didn’t object. It was the only time he wasn’t bombarded with questions or doubts of his skills and ability.
Nav stood in his line of sight and Charlie huffed, ready to finally hear the inevitable.
“You know why everyone calls me Nav, right?”
“Everyone?”
“What do you mean? You and Breaker call me Nav all the time.”
“That’s hardly everyone,” Charlie argued, losing patience with this particular conversation. Nav waved him off.
“ Anyway , I am so cleverly named Nav because I navigate . All kinds of navigation skills up in this brilliant head of mine.” Nav pointed to his temple with a stupid smirk. “She,” he pointed towards the sleeping witch, “is not called Nav. In fact, I vote that we give her a little nickname of her own. You’re Des, for Desperado, pretty self-explanatory, there. Breaker is Breaker, for–breaking stuff?”
Nav should have been called ‘Tic for Drama tic . Or Luna tic . Charlie gripped the log beneath him to stop himself from tackling the wizard.
“ Nav , what’s your point?” Charlie asked through gritted teeth.
“Since she insists on participating, all the time , Granger should have a name too. She can be ‘Miss Knows Alot’, or, oh ! ‘Miss Knows it All’, ‘Miss Knows all the stuff’!”
Nav was circling the campfire, his waving arms casting shadows that danced over them as he listed one ridiculous nickname after another until Charlie finally stood on his feet, putting an end to it.
“Alright, dipshit! Well done, you’ve arrived at a point!” Charlie whispered harshly at his animated friend. Nav put his hands down and his features returned to their default setting, his smile gone.
“You need to talk to her. I can’t deal with another day of being told how to do my job, I don’t care who’s sponsoring this expedition.”
They both stared at each other and Charlie knew he wasn’t winning this one. He took a deep breath.
“I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
⋇⊶⊰❃⊱⊷⋇
“He used those exact words?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand, what did he say exactly ,” Hermione demanded, a few paces behind Charlie.
They had started the day early, the bright morning sun just now peeking out in the distance over a sea of conifers was proof of that. Hues of green painted the mountains and hills surrounding the wide valley of the Rodnei Region. They walked in single file through tall grass and fields of white daffodils.
Charlie, Nav, Breaker, and Hermione were on an expedition across the northern mountains of Romania to find the lost city of the Istrians, a small wizarding population said to have migrated from the Southeast Coast of Romania.
It had only been a week since they started tracking the ruins of the supposed magical city. About two days ago they discovered an outpost that had been abandoned at the end of the 7th century, around the same time that the city was reported to have existed.
All of this was according to an old scroll in the dungeons of an ancient library that had only been visited once in the last century. Of course, that one visit was by a witch that had somehow managed to finish reading every book above ground, or at least that’s how Charlie imagined it.
At first Charlie was excited. In earnest, a part of him still was. When Hermione pitched the idea to him, she had started off with a piece of cited text that made reference to a breed of Longhorn Dragon he had never seen or heard of.
According to the texts, this ancient relative of the Longhorn is said to have golden scales. The modern day Longhorn was predominantly green with a golden horn and talons. Both of which were highly sought after for their magical properties. Poachers had nearly decimated the population down to a few dozen, all of which Charlie knew by name.
If they could somehow find one with golden scales, the need to poach them would become non-existent. Dragons shed scales naturally, and more often than they could be collected.
His own desire to learn more, and the fact that Hermione offered to fund the expedition made the choice to lead it easy. Of course, that was before he had gotten a taste of the witch's true form.
“You hired us to get you there, didn’t you?” Charlie asked over his shoulder.
“Well, of course. You know these mountains much better than I do,” Hermione replied, her lips twisted into an unbecoming pout.
“Agreed. So give us the chance to get it done.” Charlie turned to face her, keeping up his pace by walking backward. “Nav just takes his job seriously. It’s a point of pride,” Charlie offered, hoping Nav was far enough ahead that he couldn’t hear them.
“I didn’t think that man took anything seriously,” Hermione grumbled, avoiding direct eye contact.
“I know you want to find it, and we will, but you’ll have to loosen the reins if you want our help.” Charlie stopped and she nearly ran into him.
Hermione squinted her eyes up at him as if to find a weakness somewhere. Up until now they had been cordial and friendly, but having spent more time with each other, he was starting to learn that the witch was nothing like his littlest brother had led him to believe over the years.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, Charlie didn’t really stick around for long, but he remembered her. How could he forget? She was like catching fire. A force that everyone around them seemed to revere.
While she now still certainly exhibited the characteristics of a swot sprinkled with overbearance , to quote his prat brother, she was missing all the fire he’d been drawn to all those years ago.
“Fine,” she relinquished, further confirming his theory. Hermione had gotten soft, and he wondered what his youngest brother had to do with it.