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The day Harry had broken up with Ginny, he didn't say I'm gay or I think I like blokes or even I need some time to figure out whether I like girls. No, he did an enormously stupid thing that Hermione would later call 'the emotional availability of a flubberworm'.

"Ginny, this isn't working."

He hadn't given an explanation - or at least not a fully truthful one. Hadn't said how whenever she kissed him, he felt as though he were kissing McGonagall. Hadn't said how there was a reason that they never even made it into the bedroom. Hadn't said how the image of Oliver Wood splattered upon the cover of Quidditch Today made his heart beat faster. 

No, instead he had given some tired excuse of having rushed into things. It hadn't even been a lie. Ginny and him had rushed into everything. The fear of death, paired with the sudden rush of endorphins at the realisation that they would survive - it had caused them to tumble head over heels into something neither had truly been ready for. 

Harry had explained that to her, coupled with other points: his career, his lack of direction, Teddy. It had been a jumbled mess of words, none of the the true reason for his decision.

Still, Ginny had accepted them. She had smiled that brilliant smile that had always reassured him, even when a war had been raging outside. And though there had been tears welling in her eyes, the anger he knew well from her hadn't come. 

"I guess I figured as much", she had sighed heavily, wiping at her cheek, "you never were as into me as I was into you."

"No, Ginny, I-"

It had been on the tip on his tongue then. I like men. I'm a fag. I'm a freak. 

"I'm not mad, Harry", she had interrupted him and the moment to speak had passed, "I understand, actually. I mean, all of us rushed into decisions because we thought we would die. Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Ron and Hermione. I think, if it hadn't been for the war, I probably wouldn't have pressed you either. Maybe both of us rushed it when we shouldn't have."

That had been that. 

Of course, now, as he visited the Burrow over five months later for Christmas, it was still somewhat tense, despite the fact that Ginny was notably absent.

"I have a holiday training camp in Slovakia with the Hollyhead Harpies", she had announced proudly, two months ago over a brief Flo call. "If all goes well, I will be part of their reserve team by the end of the year."

It was left unsaid that she would have had the day off to come home for boxing day. That there was no reason for her to miss a family holiday so close after the war, the second only since they had lost Fred. No reason, other than Harry's presence. Though they had tried to return to normalcy after their break-up, Ginny had told him in not-so-subtle words that she needed time without seeing him. 

Out of respect and guilt, he had attempted to honor her wish. The weekly family dinners with the Weasley's had turned into monthly, then bi-weekly events, when Ginny had assured him in no uncertain terms that Mum will hex me to Azkaban and back if her precious Harrykins feels like he has no family. It hadn't been a spite-filled resentment at her ex-boyfriend being included in family events. Rather, it had been the playful teasing she had plagued him with before their failed relationship. 

Then, Harry had almost dared to hope that things would return to normalcy. Over the Chirstmas period, however, the situation was off. 

Molly, for one, though she tried desperately to treat him the same way she always had, would stutter over words whenever the subject touched upon Ginny. Her budding Quidditch career, her excellent NEWT results, her Christmas gift. 

Bill and Fleur would quiet immediately whenever Harry entered the room, even if their subject of conversation hadn't been the breakup. 

Then there was Ron, who, though he had taken his time to come around to the idea of his best mate dating his little sister, found the idea of their breakup even worse. He would forget that they weren't dating anymore and would make little comments. Suggestions for double dates, and the likes. 

So, while Harry knew for a fact that none of their actions were born from malice, this Christmas was shaping up to be tense.

Nevertheless, he would cherish this time. Time away from his flat, where he was slowly going insane from loneliness and doubt. Time to spend with his godson, Teddy, and Andromeda.

"Pass the biscuits, will ya Harry?" Arthur asked absent-mindedly, while tinkering with a screwdriver and a computer of all things. 

Harry, well aware that magical housholds such as the Burrow tended to fry any electric devices, could do nothing but laugh when a current of static energy cause the thinning red hair atop Arthur's head to stand. 

"Arthur!"

Molly, who was maneuvering around knives, pans, and floating plates, paused in her ministration. Similar to an angry conductor, whose concert was interrupted by a particularly disgusting cough, she whirled around and pointed her finger at her husband. 

"You know exactly why I don't want you experimenting in the house! I won't spend the holidays cleaning up burnt curtains! Get that thing into the shed!"

"It's a compututer, Molly! Harry, you tell her why this is so incredibly-"

"Arthur!"

Harry refrained from correcting Mr Weasley's vocubalry. Instead, he surreptitiously ducked away from one of the carrots flying straight through the air onto Mrs Weasley's cutting board. In any case, any interference on his part so close to Christmas dinner would be met with nothing but the order to set the table or clean the dishes. And while in any other household, Harry would be nothing but happy to help, standing in the way of Molly Weasley during her extensive cooking periods was accompanied by the danger of being bludgeoned to death by a flying vegetable. In any case, they would undoubtedly all be herded into the kitchen for cooking purposes sooner rather than later. 

Thankfully, he was saved by George, who had chosen that exact moment to venture into the kitchen.

"Harry! Great to see you! I didn't hear arrive."

It was that too-jovial, too-happy tone that he always donned around the holidays. None of them mentioned it to him. 

"I got here about an hour ago", he smiled instead.

Of course, he had been invited for the entirety of the holidays, but he hadn't wanted to intrude. Only when Ginny had flooed him up herself, assuring him that it was her choice to miss Christmas, did he announce his arrival for the 20th of December, the day after Ginny's departure. 

"Charlie, Ron, and I were just about to go out and play a game of Quidditch. If you join, we can play two versus two."

That statement surprised him. Not the Quidditch part, of course - that was as ingrained in the family as ever. No, it was the fact that Charlie had come for the holidays. He had expected to see the older man last Christmas.

Without Fred, there had been a lethargic sort of sadness in the house. The usual cheerful, happy atmosphere had vanished, leaving behind a grieving family. Molly, who couldn't look at George without bursting into tears. George himself, who left sentences half-finished. Arthur, who would stumble over the letter F  whenever he adressed his son. 

Charlie should have been here, Ginny had raged, when it had been just the two of them, he should have been here and not forced to clean up the Ministry's messes! He's not even on their payroll!

Voldemort had left them in shambles. A broken Ministry slowly ridding itself of corrupt politicians and employees led to all-around understaffed departments. Mr Weasley had been promoted to the head of his department, tasked with tracking down remnants of the war within the Muggle world. Kingsly, recently elected Minister of Magic, had all but begged Charlie to help him. Trolls, dragons, and acromatulas were but some of the animals released of Voldemort's control, which now wrecked havock upon the wizarding population. 

Of course, Charlie had accepted to help as a volunteer. Over Christmas, he had tracked down and tamed - as far as that was possible - no less than three dragons. 

So, it came as a surprise that the second-oldest Weasley was here this year. Though, Harry mused, as he dodged a spatula attempting to whack Mr Weasley over the head, it shouldn't have been a surprise.

"What are the stakes?" Harry asked, as he was led out back by George.

In the past year they had taken to wager dares for their games. The winning team would design a punishment for the loosing one. Some were harmless, some fun, some horrifyingly embarassing. Harry still laughed at the image of Ron being forced to wander into the Muggle gas station down the road with nothing but his boxers and flaming-red ears.

"Let's make this a Christmas surprise for the losers, shall we?"

George laughed with what could only be described as malice. 

"So, what? A blank slate, the winning team can make the loosers do whatever they want?"

Usually, they settled the dared beforehand. It curbed the harshness of them, as nobody was quite as willing to risk doing them himself. George replied with a thumbs up and a wink. Harry shuddered. At least, he thought to console himself, whatever terrible punishment the older Weasley had devised would undoubtedly go against Ron, rather than Harry himself.

Outside, they were met by the image of Ron being held in a headlock by a shorter Charlie. On the ground beside them, two brooms were laid out.

"Yield, Ronald, and I shall grant you the right to use the Cleansweep Five."

He had a rather nice voice, Harry noted distractedly. A deep timber that reminded him of wood cracking in a fire. What an odd comparison. 

"No fair!" Ron chocked, fighting against the thick biceps blocking the air from his lungs. 

Charlie had always been more muscular than his siblings. It was a detail Harry couldn't help but notice every time he saw the older wizard. Where Ron was lanky and stretched tall, Charlie was shorter, more akin to the black-haired wizard's own height. His chest was broad, muscles always visible beneath the shirts the redhead preferred to wear. Legs that were proportionally long were packed with muscles in a similar fashion. 

"The Five is the slowest one we got!" 

The words were barely discernible through the suffocating grip.

"And the Eleven was my gift!"

That, of course, was true. The Cleansweep Eleven had been a gift for Ron's achievement of becoming Prefect. 

Harry wanted to laugh at Ron's vehemence concerning the brooms. Then again, he probably feared what George had undoubtedly in store for him. Righftully so, if the menacing smirk on the other's face was anything to go by. 

"I might be able to help", he interrupted the fighting brothers. 

He hadn't planned to reveal their Christmas gift so soon, but then again, now was the perfect time.

Upon hearing his voice, Charlie promptly released his brother, causing the younger redhead to fall face-first into the snow. However, as he attempted to turn to face the newcomers, he forgot that Ron had particularly gangly legs. In a flailing flurry of limbs, Charlie crashed onto Ron.

Harry laughed, as did George. 

It took the other two a moment to detangle themselves. When they did, Charlie's hair was a tangled mess of snow. A red hue tinged his cheeks, likely from the cold air around them and the sheepish smile upon his lips stole Harry's breath away. For a moment, he was mesmerised by the older wizard, caught in a trance of admiration and fascination. 

"Oh, our Saviour is here once more", George crooned beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders, "to save the Wizarding World from the threat of Charlie the great."

He had affected the same medieval tone that his older brother had, mere moments before. 

Harry's cheeks caught fire and he hoped that the brothers would attribute it to the cold, rather than his embarrassment of being caught oglig his ex-girlfriend's brother. And what a conundrum that was, wasn't it? He hadn't told any of them - not even Ron or Hermione - of the doubts he had been having concerning himself. Yet, here he was. Staring at a man who was significantly older than him, who was destinctively manly. No doubt, he would be disgusted at being stared at by a fag.

Real men don't let faggots stare at them, Vernon had taught Dudley with a puffed out chest, after Dudley had beaten up Jerry Higgins from down the road for looking just a second too long. And though neither Dudley nor Vernon had been real men, the words still haunted Harry.

He cleared his throat, forcing the memory aside. Charlie was just another Weasley - just another brother of his, even if not by blood. He wanted it to be true desperately.

"Yes-", he forced a laugh and hoped nobody had seen his hesitation, "-I have Christmas gifts for all of you. I don't think it will do any harm if you open them a couple of days early."

He pulled the shrunken backpack from his pocked. Then, he pulled out three identically wrapped packages in distinctive broom-like shapes. 

"You're bloody mad", Ron whispered as he accepted his package with snow-wet hands. 

"Nah", the raven haired wizard merely replied, while scratching the back of his head, "I figured this way nobody can accuse me of an unfair disadvantage when they don't want to do the dare."

He threw a pointed look at George, who merely shrugged. Six months ago - when the teams had been Harry and Ginny against George and Ron - George had been forced to marke Mrs Weasley believe that he had broken her favourite vase. When he lost the game, he had weathered for more than a couple of minutes that the game was rigged because of Harry's Firebolt. 

As he handed Charlie the last package, brown eyes met his own, filled with surprise and- Harry couldn't quite tell what else there was.

"You got me one, too?"

It was barely audible, meant to be spoken in private despite the other two men unwrapping their gifts directly beside them. 

"Of course", Harry nodded, though his throat was suddenly dry. 

"But-", he broke off, clearly contemplating his words, before finally settling on, "you barely know me."

He thought of long Christmases spent clutching a pair of old socks while Dudley unwrapped gift after gift. He thought of that first holiday at Hogwarts, in which Molly Weasley had given him a gift without knowing him, without expecting one in return. 

"Well, I think we will get to know each other better, no?"

It was said lightly, meant to diffuse Harry's own anxiety. Still, as he watched Charlie scramble to unwrap his own Comet 310, there was something else in those beautiful eyes. He didn't dare to think what it could be. 

A chorus of thank yous and exited shouts was accompanied by the crackling of paper being unwrapped. To Harry's delight, all three Weasley's bore identical, awe-struck expressions as they beheld their new brooms. He had thought long and hard as to what one would gift the people that one considered family, but which were also the family of one's ex.

Harry, ever since that first Christmas, had always loved gift giving. Finding that perfect little (or sometimes big) thing that would put a smile on his friends' faces was a feeling nothing else compared to. So, when he found himself before this year's shopping activities, he thought that he would go big this year. He wanted the Weasleys to know that he was so incredibly thankful that they kept inviting him, even after his breakup with Ginny. 

And, he thought, as he watched George smack Ron's hand away from his broom, he wanted them to think about something other than Fred's empty chair at the dinner table. 

He wanted to think about something other than the emptiness the war left behind. 

They played two against two: Charlie and George against Ron and him. They were fairly well matched at first, with Ron protecting the rings better than George and Harry being a somewhat worse chaser than Charlie. Attempting to wrestle the Quaffle from another player's arms and throw it into a hoop had never been his strongsuit. 

So, when Molly called them into the house, they were even in score.

"You should have seen Harry", Ron gushed to Bill later in the evening - once they were showered and dressed and piled around the table. "I threw him the Quaffle and he went from a twirl straight into a Finbourgh Flick!"

Harry, who had been helping himself from the plate of shepherds pie before him, blushed bright red.

"That's nothing", George interjected, while smacking Ron's head over the top of Harry's own, "Charlie did the Dionysus dive after like two minutes on the new broom. We would have totally won if Mum hadn't called us."

"Pah! When you tried to do the Starfish and Stick you almost fell of your broom", Ron retorted somehow through a mouthfull of chicken.

"Yeah? Well, at least I didn't have to cheat to get all the Quaffles out of my hoops. And you had an unfair advantage! You were the only one of us who played his actual position!"

Ron's face took the color of his hair, though Harry couldn't tell whether it was in anger or embarassement.

"If you had played your actual positions, none of you would have stood a chance against Charlie", Bill laughed.

Charlie, who had been engrossed in a conversation on Ministry affairs with Percy and Mr Weasley at the opposite end of the table, took this moment to give his two knuts.

"I don't think so. I saw Harry outmaneuver a dragon. A nesting Hungarian Horntail! She would have been able to-"

"No, Charlie", Bill interrupted with a groan, "this is not the moment to tell us about all the fascinating ways a dragon can kill you. And besides. We won the Quidditch cup five years in a row with you on the team. McGonagall still wists on and on about what an amazing Captain and Seeker you were, I heard her just last week!"

"Harry was the youngest seeker in over a century", Ron jumped to an involuntary Harry's defence.

"Only because McGonagall saw me break a bunch of school rules", he mumbled into his plate.

Somehow, he couldn't lift his eyes. Not when the intense gaze of Charlie, combined with his admiring words did something funny to his stomach.

"Only because you were flying like-"

"Why", Hermione, clearly tired of being interrupted from her conversation with Fleur through Quidditch talk mounting in volume, "don't you test out who the better Seeker is? You have a snitch and broom just out the back. That way nobody has to argue."

There was nothing much to answer to that - not when Ron, Bill, George, and even Arthur were nodding enthusiastically. Charlie appeared just as excited as his siblings, brown eyes shining with an intensitiy that almost made Harry's breath catch. He looked away quickly, eyes fixed on his plate, praying that nobody would see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Come on, let's go now and-"

"Ronald Weasley! Sit down immediately."

Mrs Weasley did not appreciate that her son wanted to cut their family dinner short in favour of playing Quidditch outside. Under her weathering stare, they all settled back into their seats, changing topics to something less polarising. It remained an unspoken agreement that they would settle the bet after dinner, whether Harry wanted to or not. 

Once everyone had eaten their fill - or more, as was custom in the Weasley household - Harry stood to help clean the dishes.

"Nonsense, Harry", Mrs Weasley insisted, as she came up behind him, balancing a stack of plates at the tip of her wand, "you are a guest here. Ron!"

Ron, who notably hadn't made an attempt to stand, fliched and scrambled to grab the dirty dises closest to him. In his haste, he seemed to forget that he had a wand and magic at his disposal. When Harry reached for his plate to at least bring it over to the sink, Mrs Weasley snatched it from him with a speed that put his Seeker reflexes to shame. He was pushed back into his seat, where he had no choice but to remain under her gaze.

"George, why don't you get the ornate tea set. And no magic! You already broke four cups last year!"

Said Weasley, mumbling under his breath that he could break them just as well without magic, stood to comply, leaving the younges wizard alone at his end of the table. 

"So, Harry-", he startled at the rich voice, "-what would you say the stakes are for this little competition of ours."

Charlie slid into the empty seat beside him. The sleeves of his button-up shirt had been rolled up, revealing sinuous muscle and a shining burn scar. His gaze gaught on the way the muscle strained when the other man adjusted his chair. Harry's mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry.

"S-sorry?" 

He hoped, at least, that whatever had come out of his mouth could not be considered a squeak. Brown eyes, the colour of rich chocolate, were filled with mirth when they looked at him.

"My brothers filled me in on the fact that you usually have some sort of bet running on these games."

"Yeah", Harry caught himself, forcing any nervousness from his system. It was unwarranted in any case. The other wizard was just being nice in coming over and talking to him.

"We could always keep the initial agreement", Charlie mused, while playing with the leather bracelet adorning his wrist. 

For a short moment, Harry wondered if it was dragonhide. Then, he quirked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Should I be scared?"

Based on Harry's experience with Weasleys, they always searched for the best prank when it came to punishments. The only exception was Percy, though even he had admittedly loosened the figurative stick up his arse in the past two years.

Charlie smiled a crooked smile. It gave his face a rugged beauty.

"Only if you loose."

Harry's heart shouldn't be beating this fast. 

"I won't loose, then."

A moment passed in which neither spoke, in which their eyes met. The older man's eyes were so incredibly deep, filled with so much warmth that Harry almost lost himself. He wanted to-

Ron interrupted them. Clearly, he had been dismissed by Molly and was desperate to get the match started. 

"Let's move it! Bill, George, and I have a bet riding on this, now."

Harry caught Fleur's eyes rolling as they all stood from the table and began moving outside, leaving behind only Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Fleur, and Percy - those that were less Quidditch-enthusiastic. 

Neither Charlie, nor him were dressed particularly well for a match, though Harry's jeans and T-shirt gave him a marginally higher mobility than the older wizards attire. Both of them mounted a Comet 310 - for fairness' sake. While the sun had already set, magical ligths conjured by Bill lit the field enough that they could make out the snitch. Still, the lack of light would heighten the stakes the higher they flew. Mr Weasley was appointed referee and tasked with releasing the snitch and counting them down.

Then, they were off.

The match began fairly boring, with both wizards circling the designated 'pitch', which consisted of the open field behind the Burrow, and in which the snitch would be confined in. They stayed relatively close together, neither willing to let the other roam around unsupervised. 

When no sign of the snitch could be seen, Harry caught Mr Weasley leaving the game and returning with a bottle of amber liquid from the corner of his eye. 

Out of boredom, they began feigning one another. It started with Charlie, diving suddenly towards the ground. Even though Harry couldn't see the glimmer of golden wings, he gave chase. Willing his broom to speed up even more, he kept his gaze fixed on the redhead. This proved to be a reward, as he could discern from the tightening of muscle the exact moment when Charlie prepared to pull his broom up. He mimicked the action, seconds before the broom was due to crash into the uneven ground below.

Laughter was written in Charlie's face, when they were side by side again, circling the pitch. 

"Well played", Harry laughed, "but I'm a master of the Wronsky Faint."

"I know", Charlie shouted over the distance, "but it was worth a try."

His red hair, which usually reached his chin in thick strands, was swept back by the wind. It fell in perfectly tousled waves over the back of his head and was surely in contrast to the birdsnest atop Harry's head. He had to resist the sudden urge of letting go of his broom in favor of patting his hair down.

Stupid, he scolded himself.

The next feint was initiated by the younger wizard, in an attempt to distract himself from his pathetic thoughts. 

He flew upwards, higher and higher, faster and faster, until his breath came in icy puffs and his fingers seemed to freeze against the wood of the broom. Without looking, he knew that Charlie was giving chase. When his ears popped and the broom began to tremble beneath him, Harry let himself fall backwards. Like a stone, he plummeted from the sky, catching a glimpse of red hair on his way down.

It was only in the last moment that he caught himself, mere meters above the pitch. Usually, this tactic was one he applied when he knew that he couldn't allow either seeker to catch the snitch yet. It bought him time, as the other seeker would undoubtedly take longer for the descent than himself.

His opponent, however, did not. In a flurry of red, brown, and white, Charlie dropped from their ascent, righting his broom only seconds after Harry himself.

"I'm impressed", Harry laughed, out of breath and exhilerated.

It was the first time that an opposing seeker had matched his maneuver.

Charlie cocked his head and regarded him with an inscrutable look, as though Harry were a puzzle he couldn't solve. He seemed to come to a conclusion, though, as soon a wide grin took over his features. It made him look younger and reckless. 

"You know", he began off-handedly, as they resumed their treck aroud the make-shift pitch, "flying is an incredibly important part of communication between dragons."

Harry fumbled, confused. Of course, he knew that Charlie had an obsession with dragons that many in his family considered odd. Ginny had told him how Mrs Weasley had bemoaned the fact that she would never have any grandchildren from him because he would sooner bring home a Green Welsh, rather than a woman. Ron had laughed once that his brother would only come home if they all spontaneously turned into rare specimen of dragons. 

Still, this seemed an odd moment to conduct smalltalk about dragon customs and communication.

After another faint, iniciated once more by Harry, Charlie continued on that same vein.

"Male dragons will try to court females through intricat flying maneuvers. Loopings, twirls, speed, you name it."

Harry's confusion mounted, though he was interested in that particular topic. 

"Like birds?" 

Charlie's laugh almost caused Harry to fly into him.

"Kind of. There's a lot more fire involved, but yes."

This time, Charlie led him into a rapid downward spiral. They flew so closly by Ron that the young wizard was knocked back by the wind. The other Weasleys' laughter accompanied them as they ascended once more. 

"Sometimes", this time there was an edge of something in the older man's voice, "there will be two male dragons attempting to court one another."

Harry's entire body froze. For a second, he felt as though he couldn't breathe - as though he had fallen from his broom and all the air had been knocked from his lungs. He almost came to a halt mid-air. Charlie slowed his broom to match his speed. Their eyes met. Up where they were, the light barely reached, making it incredibly difficult for Harry do discern the other's facial expression.

Did he know? Had he guessed why the younger wizard had broken off his relationship with Ginny? Was this his way of implying it?

When Charlie continued, his voice was oddly soft. A whisper, barely audible across the roaring wind.

"It's instinct for them - the flying, the preening, the need to show their skills. But since their interest is not a female who wants to be courted, it often turns into something close to a rivalry. There was a pair of male dragons in the Reserve, I saw them fly together once. They were so majestic, so furious, so wild. Much more impressive and exciting than a male dragon simply courting a female one."

Harry couldn't breathe, couldn't understand why Charlie was telling him this. If he knew-

"What are you saying?" 

He was barely able to form the words, but he needed confirmation, needed to know if the other wizard knew. 

However, Charlie simply shrugged.

"No reason. I just find it fascinating how many moves used in Quidditch are inspired by dragons."

Before Harry could find it in himself to probe further, a flutter of wings caught his attention.

He caught the snitch barely before Charlie, no five minutes later. When they landed, neither of them brought up their skyward conversation again. Perhaps, Harry thought, as Ron poured him a glass of Firewhiskey with the proud declaration that he had won the bet, he had read to much into it.

Perhaps, the second son of the Weasly was simply as obsessed with dragons, as all of them had told him.

***

Harry had never truly spoken with Charlie. In truth, Charlie and Percy were the two siblings he knew the least. 

Bill, he had gotten to know, though it had been through terrible circumstances, at the seaside cottage. George - and Frend, although that thought brought heartache - had been in a Quidditch team, and the D.A. with him. Ron had been his best friend since the moment he stepped foot into the Wizarding World. Ginny... Well, while it was safe to say that they didn't have the best relationship now, he did know her very well.

So, that left Percy and Charlie, though he felt he did know the former through various school years and Hogwarts gossip.

The latter, however, was a somewhat intriguing mystery. Of course, they had seen one another on multiple occasions. There had been the Triwizard tournament for one, though Harry had been thoroughly preoccupied. Then, there had been Bill and Fleurs wedding, where he had seen the older wizard and, for the first time, had felt his heart beat out of his chest. Finally, there had been the Battle of Hogwarts and all that came after. There had been other reasons then, why they had never truly talked. An open casket, red hair and fading freckles, a sobbing family. 

These days, however, he found that he wanted to talk to the other man. He wanted to know more about him, discover his interests - other than dragons, of course - his likes, his dislikes, his life in general. He wanted to be close to Charlie, to hang on his lips and listen to that beautiful voice. Being together gave him that nervous energy he had been missing since the war.

That feeling of being alive.

So, when he caught a glimpse of Charlie sitting on a patch of snow-clear ground outside at four in the morning, he couldn't stop himself from opening the door and joining him.

A small fire, contained in a Mason jar, cast a ring of flickering light around the garden. It illuminated the red hair and made it shine like copper. Brown eyes, which flicked to Harry when he joined the circle of light, were tinged the colour of caramel.

"Hey, Harry. Couldn't sleep?" 

"No. Ron just snores too loudly, it feels like sharing the room with a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

It wasn't true. Not really. A nightmare had Harry shooting from his bed half an hour ago, drenched in sweat and with shaking limbs. After that, the idea of sleep had been discarded for the night. Still, the laughter his remark earned him from Charlie made him forget all about that.

"I know, right? I swear, he's louder than the dragons at the Reserve. I'm surprised there's no smoke coming out of his nose when he sleeps."

They shared a calm moment of laughter and it was so incredibly easy. Lately, things hadn't been easy with most people.

"Can I offer you a nightcap?"

Charlie grinned, as he revealed a surprisingly Muggle Thermos can.

"Thermos?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

He was met with a shrug. 

"A habit, I guess. In Romania, stasis charms would only last you so long and it was better to double up. A thermos with a stasis charm will keep your tea warm for hours during a snowstorm." He shuddred, as though remembering a horrific event, then: "Or your mulled Firewhiskey."

Harry laughed. Only Charlie would dare to heat a beverage that already left you throat and insides scorched. 

"You don't mind sharing a cup, do you?"

It was an off-handed question, not really meant for an answer. It threw the younger wizard for a loop nonetheless. Imagining his lips touching the cup in the same spot where Charlie's own, full-

"No", he croaked out, before clearing his throat and trying again. "No, of course not."

Charlie gave him that indescribable look again, accompanied by a smile. Then, he filled a chipped mug with steaming firewhiskey and passed it over. The liquid burned in Harry's throat, and he couldn't help but cough after his first sip.

"What about you", he spoke, attempting to distract from his inexperience with alcohol, "You couldn't sleep either?"

"Nah-", a shrug, a sheepish grin, "-I get a bit restless whenever I'm home. No dragons, no creatures, you know?"

"I wouldn't say that. The gnomes have become really feisty this year."

Again, Harry was stunned by the sheer, breathtaking beauty of Charlies laugh. His heart stuttered a beat.

"True, true. But I got used to sleeping little. Taming dragons is a full-time job."

"Are you going to go back to Romania?" It was meant to be an innocent question, though Harry's stomach did a funny little thing at the thought of the man leaving. "I heard from Arthur that most of the remnants of the war were rounded up."

"I don't know, to be completely honest. Long term, I want have my own Dragon Sanctuary, here in Britain. There aren't any, even though we have two native breeds. But for that, I need money, and that is hard to come by in this business. For now, Kingsley offered me a position in the Ministry for all that is Magical Creatures. Apparently I did a good enough job tracking down all the Dragons and Acromantulas controlled by You-Know-Who. But that position would be a lot of bureaucracy and most of the creatures I would deal with would be boring."

Boring, Harry gathered, meant not dragons. In that sense, Charlie was incredibly similar to Hagrid. 

"Your mother would be happy to have you close, at least", Harry offered.

"Don't scare me", Charlie laughed, "Even hopping across the country, tracking creatures, she sent me Errol with food every night. Imagine how she would smother me if I worked at the Ministry year-round. And anyways, I never wanted a desk job."

They shared another round of drinks, revelling in the burn of the liquor. At least it protected them from the cold night air. Harry really should have grabbed another coat before coming outside. 

"I really loved Romania", Charlie continued, absent-mindedly. "I was always busy, always on the move. Of course, I got to work with dragons! Let me tell you, I learned so much more there than I ever would have, if I had stayed in Britain. Did you know that the Romanian Longhorn has a singular scale on his left that makes it's leg kick like a puppy? Not just one of them either, they all have it."

Charlie's enthusiasm and passion were contagious. Harry couldn't help but want to know more. He wanted to know about all of Charlie's experiences, about his work.

"How did you find out about that?"

The redhead laughed, before telling the tale of a dangerous Tuesday afternoon, in which a young hatchling had tried to burn him to the ground. It pulled Harry in, let him imagine Charlie - happy and uncaring - cradling one burnt arm while tickling a dragon with the other.

They talked about dragons for a long time. About Charlie's work, about his favourite dragon, the Antipodean Opaleye, about his funniest experience with a dragon. Norbert, or rather Norberta, came up and with a laugh, Harry recounted the tale of how they had found Hagrid with the dragon egg. They also talked about the Triwizard tournament, about all the weaknesses of the Horntail that Harry hadn't known about, but could have used to his advantage.

"What about you", Charlie asked finally, when they had circled back to his work ambitions, "what do you have planned for the next year? Am I looking at the youngest Minister for Magic?"

Harry laughed at that ridiculous idea.

"No, thanks. I would leave that up to Kingsley any time."

"Ron started his Auror training this year. I thought for sure that you would have joined him. At least that way I would have had something to look forward to when I visit the Ministry building."

Look forward to. The words repeated themselves over and over in Harry's head, until he realised that he was taking too long to answer.

"I-", he broke off, cleared his throat, started anew, "-I really wanted to be an Auror at one point. I mean, I took all of my NEWTs because of it. After- Well, after everything that happened I just don't know anymore."

Charlie placed a warm hand on Harry's knee. It was flecked with freckles, tanned, and visibly calloused - marked by many days beneath the sun. Though this was meant to be a comforting gesture, the younger wizard's mind went into overdrive. With a single touch, Charlie had chaced the cold from his body and had left him terribly hot.

"It must be hard for you, after so much having been expected from you before you were even an adult."

Harry couldn't think, not when Charlie's thumb was gently swiping across his kneecap. He meant to calm Harry, to reasure him, but the younger wizard had a horribly different reaction to the touch.

"I can't imagine having to be meant for a war before you are even born. Having it end and be expected to simply live your life after must be difficult."

Wasn't that the truth? Ever since Voldemort died, and after the biggest repair of the Ministry and Hogwarts had been finished, Harry had felt adrift. Lost. Witches and Wizards hailed him as a Saviour, as a man with incredible magical power. In truth, he hadn't even completed his NEWTs.

Charlie's had withdrew and Harry was able to breathe a little easier. 

"I just- I think it was the only career path I ever considered. My parents were Aurors. Sirius was an Auror. I was always so good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, I just assumed that this was what I was supposed to do. Now..."

He trailed off, letting the words hang between them. This had been the first time he had confessed this to anyone. The first time that anyone had been willing to truly listen. Of course, Hermione and Ron had always listened when he hedged onto his hesitation, but with Charlie, he felt understood.

"I feel a bit lost, I s'ppose", he finally mumbled into the mug of firewhiskey.

"You will find your way", Charlie offered, a smile on his face.

They sat in silence for a moment, neither of them bothered by it. A cold wind had picked up, blowing snow into their faces. It made harry shiver and he drew his coat tighter to protect himself.

"Are you cold?" 

Charlie had noticed his discomfort, it seemed.

"Yeah", Harry answered, sheepishly, "a little bit."

From the back pocket of his trousers, the redhead pulled a wand and before the younger man could unpack why he wasn't bothered by the fact that a wand was pointed directly at his chest, he was hit with a warming charm. It chased the cold from his bones and left him feeling as though he were tucked into a warm embrace.

"I should have thought of that", he mumbled, flushed with embarassment.

"Happens to the best of us."

Harry rubbed his arms with wonder. Charlie's spell was heaps better than his own, which usually left him in a state of hot-and-cold with his torso burning up and his extremities freezing off.

"You know", the older wizard began, "The Norwegian Short Snout adults are very cold resistant. They are used to cold and harsh mountains, snow and ice. But, when mating season comes, the males will often surround their partners with a ring of fire to show their ability of providing for them. Then, warmed by the heat of dragon flame, they will make love to one another."

This was the second time that Charlie had told him about dragon mating habits without any promting and Harry was thoroughly confused. Then again, they had strayed off the topic of dragons towards more gloomy things, and perhaps the older wizards simply wanted to return to lighter conversation. Perhaps, he wanted to cheer him up with some random information about dragons. 

"That sounds much easier than having to ask a girl out for the Yule Ball", Harry laughed.

A surprised expression, coupled with something indescernable crossed the other man's face. Still, he indulged Harry and promptly questioned him about the Yule Ball.

***

Molly Weasley's favourite topic, when it came to her children, was grandchildren. 

Now that Bill and Fleur were married, Ron was engaged to Hermione, Percy had moved in with Penelope Clearwater, and George had brought by Angelina for some family dinners, she kept pestering all of them about when there would be an addition to the Weasley family.

If one were to ask Harry, this was incredibly hypocritical, as she did not allow any of her unmarried sons to sleep in the same room as their girlfriends when they came to the Burrow. Not even Hermione was allowed to share with Ron, despite their engagement status, though that might have stemmed from the fact that they took pity on Harry and didn't want him to feel left out by displacing him from his usual sleeping situation.

Still, on the 23rd of December, the night before Christmas Eve, she brought up the topic of grandkids once more.

"Bill, I'm just saying. You have been married for almost three years! I want to have grandchildren while I can still walk and before you manage to turn me grey with that earring of yours!"

Fleur, sitting next to her husband, pointedly elbowed him in the side. 

It was then, that Charlie, who had taken to sitting next to Harry during these dinners, leaned over to whisper into his ear: "She's gonna flip at her Christmas gift."

"What do you mean?"

He whispered as well, though he didn't dare to lean as closely to Charlie as the other had to him. 

"Well, let's just say that they asked me to be the godfather yesterday."

Wide-eyed, Harry shot around to the man. He was about to shout something, when-

A hand on his leg almost made him swallow his own tongue. Beet-red, he glanced down to see a glimpse of freckled skin contrasting against the dark fabric of his jeans. 

"Shh. This is a surprise, Harry", Charlie laughed into his ear.

Warm breath, smelling of spear-mint and the fire-whiskey the redhead preferred, ghosted over his cheek. It short-circuited his brain.

"I don't want Mum to know ahead of time. Once she knows that Bill's line is secured, I will be the next one she keeps pestering-"

"And Charlie!" Mrs Weasley appeared to smell any negative thing notion from a mile away. "When will I have your kids running around the house? When we were your age we already had the twins!"

"How old do you think I am?" Charlie exclaimed in mock-amusement. 

"Don't you be smart with me, young man! You have never even brought home a lovely girl. It's high time you start taking your life seriously."

Perhaps it was because their nightly meetings had become a regular occurence, that Harry caught the muscle ticking in that strong jaw. Even though Charlie answered in a jovial tone, Harry knew that he was annoyed. 

"Careful what you wish for. Norberta has become quite a lovely girl."

Ron spat out his pumpkin juice in laughter. Even Harry had to suppress a grin, even though the notion of Charlie with a woman made unwanted jealousy stir in his chest. 

Mrs Weasley thinned her lips at the two of them, who had dared to laugh at her expense.

"Ron, you are no better. If Hermione weren't so engrossed in her studies, I would be bothering you as well! And Harry, just because you are not a son of mine by blood, that doesn't mean I don't want to see little black-haired menaces run around here."

"Why would they be menaces", Harry grumbled, at the same time as Ron said: "I don't know what you're bothering us for. They are older than us and should have kids first."

"Maybe-", Charlie had that dangerous twinkle in his eyes as he swung an arm around Harry, "-I will bring home Harry for the next family dinner. What do you say, Mum? Little redheads with knobbly knees and green eyes."

Frozen in fear, Harry could do nothing but stare at the man, as he was pulled flush against a broad chest. His body reacted in ways he didn't want, heating and molding into the muscled expanse of Charlie's body. He felt breathless and panicked at once.

"Oh, come off it, Charlie", Mrs Weasley scolded, "I just want all of you to be happy."

It was only later, when Harry could think clearly once more, that he noted that she hadn't seemed to be disgusted by the idea of them. She hadn't reacted the way Petunia would have at the mention of homosexuality - hadn't pursed her lips in quiet disgust. Nor had she, or anyone else at the table, spat insults and slurs, as Dudley or Vernon would have. 

Of course, he should have known that none of them would be as biggoted as the Dursley's. Still, as he lay in bed, blushing at the memory of Charlie's embrace, he couldn't help but feel that a weight had been lifted off his chest, no matter how small.

***

Christmas was a wonderful affair.

Teddy and Andromeda joined them for Christmas Day. Even though Harry had tried multiple times to get her to come for the entirety of the holidays, she had kindly refused. Instead, she had visited her sister, Narcissa Malfoy, for the first time in decades. 

"It was good", she confided in him upon her arrival, while ushering a ball of energy called Teddy into the kitchen of the Burrow. "There are a lot of things we have to work through, a lot of things that are still between us, but I think we will get along again. Maybe. Hopefully. And she was great with Teddy."

Teddy, who returned from their visit with the white-blond hair characteristic of the Malfoy family, promptly switched it to black as he trew himself into Harry's arms. He had recently learned to walk and now refused to be carried. It made Harry smile.

Later, once everybody at the Burrow was awake, Celestina Warbeck serenaded them out of a radio as they gathered in front of the tree to exchange and open presents. Molly Weasley was distributing cups of hot cocoa and tea to everyone. A tray of biscuits floated around behind her, nudging every one of the young witches and wizards until they took at least two.

Even though Harry had already given his main gifts to Charlie, Ron, and George, he still had some smaller trinkets he had chosen specifically to put beneath the tree. 

For Mrs Weasley, he had gotten a new knitting set, knowing full well that she had been complaining about the used state of her current one.

For Mr Weasley, he had bought a BlackBerry - a new, muggle invention meant to combine pager and telephone in one. Even though the device would not work in the Burrow, Arthur thanked him profusely before setting to dismantling it to better understand its workings.

Percy and Hermione received an identical set of quills, meant to correct spelling, grammar, optic, and overall fluidity of a text. He knew that Percy in the Ministry, and Hermione in her aprenticeship would have a lot of use for it. On top of that, he had gotten them a bag of sweets meant to improve the memory and concentration.

For Ron, he had found a wandholster made from dragonskin, which he would surely have use of during his Auror training. 

He had struggled with George. What could he gift a prankster, who already owned his own prank shop. In the end, however, he had chosen to get him a broom polishing kit to go along with the Comet 310.

Even though his relationship with Ginny was ambiguous at best, he had opted to get her a broom as well, which he left in the care of Mrs Weasley. He also included a bag of her favourite sweets, meant to say: I still know you very well and I hope we can put this behind us and become better friends. He knew she would understand it, even if he didn't know how she would take it. 

Fleur and Bill received tickets to a concert of the Moonlight Witches from him - the only British band Fleur seemed to like. 

With a proud smile, he presented Teddy his first toy wand and toy broom, even though it exhasperated Andromeda. 

"You know I will be the one to clean up after him while he breaks everything in my house", she groaned, despite the content smile on her face. 

With Charlie, however, he had struggled. Sure, he had paid for a yearly subscription of Dragons Today, the weekly newsletter containing all new information concerning dragons, but it did not feel personal enough. Especially after spending a heightened amout of time with the older man these past days, he wanted his gift to mean something, even though he didn't dare to closer examine his motivations for that. 

Still, he had asked Kreacher yesterday to pop into Diagon Alley and fetch a pair of goggles Charlie had mentioned wisfully two days ago. They were enchanted to be anti-glare and smoke resistant. Harry also asked Kreacher to request a custom made design, which included the use of runes to improve eyesight and nightvision.

However, as he saw Charlie picking up the neatly wrapped gift from the stack of his presents, he worried that it would be too much. The broom, the subscription, and the goggles were a lot to gift somebody he hadn't known very well until about five days ago. What if Charlie divined then, that Harry had been having horrible thoughts and feelings about him? He felt sick to his stomach and had to resist the urge to jump over the coffee table and rip the gift out of those big, calloused hands.

Harry busied himself with his own gifts and tried vehemently not to look at the older wizard. He didn't want to see those beautiful eyes gleam in delight as he examined the goggles, Harry told himself.

The gift he opened was undoubtedly from George, as it contain an assortment of prank materials.

Had Charlie opened the gift yet? He didn't dare to look.

With undoubtedly too much intensity, he began rifling through the prank materials. A smoke bomb, nosebleed candy, an enchanted firecracker-

"Harry", he almost had a heart attack then, when Charlie appeared next to him, goggles in hand, "these are absolutely incredible. Thank you so much. I didn't think that-"

His eyes were almost watery, shining with thankfulness. It made Harry's heart skip a couple of beats. 

Suddenly, he was wrapped in a tight embrace. The smell of wood and leather, accompanied by smoke envelopped him. Almost out of reflex, Harry's eyes slid shut as he basked in the smell. Hard muscles pressed against him and he felt himself hardening-

"I'm glad you liked them", he spoke, half an octave too high, as he quickly seperated their bodies.

"Like? This is the most amazing thing ever. I can't wait to try them out!"

So, maybe Harry's fear had been unwarranted. Charlie didn't appear perturbed by the amout of gifts, nor by their precise match to his interests. Instead, he spent the next five minutes gushing about the goggles, the subscription, and even the broom. It cause a warm, bubbly feeling in the younger man's stomach.

"You have to open yours now", Charlie finally instructed, once he deemed his appreciation expressed well enough.

Promptly, a package was thrust into his hands. It was wrapped in red paper with little golden snitchen adorning the top. When Harry peeled back the paper, a Mason jar came into view, identical to the one they had been using for their nightly talks. The flame inside, however, was dimmer, more akin to a nightlight, rather than the bright flames used to light the garden. When Harry touched the jar, it filled his entire body with heat. He felt as thouch Charlie was hugging him once more.

"I know it's not as flashy as your gifts", Charlie began, tone suddenly nervous, as though he were only now doubting his gift, "but-"

"I love it", Harry whispered.

And he did. The gift was so personal, so thoughtful, that he couldn't help but feel incredibly loved.

"It has an anti-nightmare charm", the older man explained, "so that you can always have me with you to war off bad dreams. And a heating charm so that I can keep you warm, even if I'm not there. Even though I hope to not be too far away from you."

Harry couldn't speak, his voice trapped in his throat.

Ron's exicted shout of his name, which broke the moment, felt like both an invasion and salvation at the same time. 

***

Boxing day brought with it a lunch with the dimensions of the Hogwarts feast.

Penelope and Angelina joined them for the celebrations, as well as Fleur's best friend Margarite and sister Gabrielle. On top of that, Minerva McGonagall brought along a very jovial Professor Flitwick. Kingsley had also hung his title of Minister on the mantle for the day and joined for what he called 'a reunion of the Order of the Phoenix'.

The house was comfortably full and Harry delighted in the conversation flowing freely.

In a festive spirit, they all found themselves piled around the table with barely enough space to move an elbow. Harry, who had tried to sit between Charlie and Ron - the way it had been for the past days - found himself gaping when Molly instructed him, kindly but firmly, to move down a seat so that Margarite could sit next to her son. So, he suddenly found himself between Margarite and Ron, with Mrs Weasley, Fleur, and Gabrielle opposite of him.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he almost imagined having seen a scowl on Charlie's face as he found his place between Margarite and McGonagall. 

Throughout lunch, it became obvious what Mrs Weasley's intentions were. 

"Charlie", Fleur announced while pouring more eggnog into her friend's cup, "did you know that Margarite iz 'ze french duelling champion?"

"Oh", Charlie remarked, "that's impressive." 

"Yez. She iz also 'ze winner of - what do you call it here? Witch's Weekly most beautiful woman."

Of course, Margarite was beautiful. She had cascading blond hair and slanted eyes, which gave her a sultry expression. Pouty lips revealed a perfectly straight row of paper-white teeth whenever she smiled winningly at the redhead beside her. Long lashes cast slight shadows upon her high cheekbones. Her hands were dainty and perfectly manicured, which became evident whenever she layed them onto Charlie's arm in laughter.

Harry stabbed a brussel sprout with his fork, mood souring with every passing moment.

Gabrielle, however, appeared oblivious to his temper, as she attempted to talk to him. She had the same sultry accent as Fleur did, though her voice was heigher and her accent less obvious.

"You know, Harry, I never really got to thank you for rescuing me during the Triwizard tournament. That was really brave of you."

"Don't mention it", he mumbled, though it was said rather to his plate than to the french girl.

"-and I was so horrible with 'ze creatures-", he caught Margarite telling some sort of funny story to Charlie.

When the redhead laughed, something twisted in his stomach. Something ugly and green. 

Harry stood aprubtly, his chair screeching against the tiles. When Mrs Weasley threw him a concerned glance, he forced a smile and gestured in the direction of the bathroom. He didn't want to watch Margarite flirting shamelessly with Charlie. Worse, he didn't want to be consumed by unwarranted jealousy. He had no right to be jealous, nor did he have a right to the older man's attention.

Worse, if somebody found the reason for his foul mood, he would surely not be welcomed back the way he had been.

Once in the bathroom, he straightened his shirt and attempted to flatten his hair. It was even more unruly than usual. Critically, he regarded himself in the mirror. Why would Charlie - or anyone, for that matter - waste a single glance on him when Margarite was in the room. Beautiful, ethereal Margarite. 

Frustrated, he tugged at his hair, before abandoning that as well. All this was of no use. He would go back to the table, sit down, smile, laugh, and pretend nothing was bothering him. He was set to leave the Burrow and return to Grimmauld place in three days anyways. Until then, he could pretend, as he always did. 

Upon opening the door he crashed face first into Charlie. 

For a moment, they stood too close, their noses almost touching. He could count every single one of those freckles without tiring, he thought distractedly. There were laugh lines forming along the corners of Charlie's mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Early signs of ageing that were only visible from proximity. 

"Are you alright?"

Charlie broke the spell with his concern. His damned, honest concern for Harry's wellbeing. It made him feel all the worse for having these inappropriate feelings towards the older man. 

"I'm fine", he muttered, before running a hand over his face, "just a little bit tired, is all."

"Well, you have the nightlight for tonight. To help you sleep."

A firm hand grasped his shoulder, pulled him closer. Again, he was surrounded by that heavenly smell. His treaterous heart sped up and he hated himself for it. Beautiful eyes looked into his own and he really could get lost in that gaze, if he only allowed himself to do so.

Then, Charlie leaned even closer.

"You know-", words whispered conspirationally into his ear, soft lips brushing the shell of it, "-I really do prefer sitting next to you."

A wink, a smile. Charlie's hand let go of his shoulder and slid down his arm, before falling away completely. Harry was breathless from the touch.

Then, the older wizard side-stepped him in order to step into the bathroom. 

***

That night, they found one another outside once more.

Harry brought the Mason jar with his nightlight, relishing the warmth it gave him - the way it felt as though Charlie was hugging him once more. 

Charlie, as always whenever Harry woke from his nightmares, was already sitting on a patch of cleared ground, the typical Mason jar in front of him and the by-now-customary firewhiskey thermos in his lap.

"I wasn't sure you would be outside today", Harry stated, before he could help himself.

The redhead watched with a cocked brow him as he took a seat beside him. Further away than the other nights. 

"Why?"

"I thought maybe you would be with Margarite."

Even while speaking, Harry realised how absurd his words were. How little right he had to sound this accusing.

"Sorry", he muttered quickly, hoping that the other wouldn't take offence.

"Why would I be with her, when I can be out here with you?"

That, indeed, knocked the wind straight out of Harry's sails. 

"What- what do you mean?"

Charlie merely shrugged: "Exactly what I said. Why would I want to be with her when you are out here?"

Quiet befell them as the younger wizard desperately attempted to grapple with that statement. What did that mean? Was Charlie, in his own, odd way, trying to say that friendship mattered more to him than romantic interests? Or-

"You know", Charlie began, and instinctively Harry knew that he would be privy to an obscure and confusing fact about dragons, "dragons mate for life. Once they court or accept the advances of another, they do not change partners. They do not even look at other dragons. A lot of dragons came to the Sanctuary after loosing their partner - it leads to incredible grief."

"I didn't know that", Harry said, lacking a better answer.

"Besides", Charlie reitered, after another moment of silence, "I wouldn't be with Margarite because I have the distinct feeling she is looking for something that I can't give."

"Marriage?" The sarcastic tone was unwarranted, even though Harry knew from Mrs Weasley and Ginny that he was not the marrying kind.. Charlie was the same as always and the fault was not with him. 

"Marriage, a relationship, even just a quick shag in the broom closet."

The older man winked at him at that last part. 

"Why not? She's pretty for a shag." Harry winced, knowing full well how terrible that sounded. "I mean-"

He was interrupted by Charlie laughing: "I guess, but I prefer someone with a little a little more between the legs."

Harry's brain had officially short circuited. Died. Turned to a flubberworm.

"What?" 

This time, Charlie did look at him with a surprised expression, as though he were confused at Harry's confusion.

"You know. I'm- ah- playing for the other team? Is that what the kids say nowadays?" A joke, meant to loosen the building tension.

"You're-", he was stammering, his voice too high,"You're gay?"

"I thought you would have known by now. I wasn't exactly trying to hide it."

"But Mrs Weasley-"

"She knows I'm into men", Charlie sighed, though not in an angry fashion, "she just doesn't know I'm only into men. I just never had the need to correct her. And I reckon until she has at least one grandchild, she won't stop bringing up the topic anyways." He thought for a brief moment, then laughed. "She also tried to set me up with Oliver Wood some years ago. I think her main goal is just that I leave Romania behind and settle down here."

Charlie was bent and wasn't trying to hide it. Harry couldn't wrap his head around it. Should he have known? Had there been signs?

Words exchanged over a game of Quidditch, spoken too casually. Much more impressive and exciting than a male dragon simply courting a female one.

Harry wanted to smack himself over the head. How could he have been this stupid?

"I should have guessed", he mumbled, though admittedly it slipped out without him wanting to say it. 

"To be honest", Charlie confessed, "I wasn't sure if I wasn't being obvious enough or so much that you were shutting me down. I guess I have my answer now."

A twinkle of amusement. 

Then, Harry's brain caught up to what the redhaid had said. Shutting me down. Shutting me down. Shutting-

"Shutting you down?" Even though I hope to not be too far away from you. That was what the older wizard had said to him, back during Christmas Day. "You were coming onto me?"

"Well, yeah."

Even though the light was not bright enough to fully discern it, Harry thought to catch a tinge of red upon freckled cheeks. 

"Why?"

Even if he was bent, why would Charlie - beautiful, strong, handsome, brave, funny, comforting - Charlie be interested in Harry. Harry, with his knobbly knees and glasses. Harry, with that unruly hair that could never fall in the effortles waves the redhead's did. Harry, who was lost in his life, while the older wizard already had his ambition clearly laid out before him. 

"I mean", this time, Harry was sure that the other had blushed, "I might have jumped to conclusions. It's just- Well, I saw the way you looked at Diggory during the Triwizard Tournament. And- Let me put it this way: My entire family was suprised that you broke up with Ginny, while I was surprised that you even dated in the first place."

Harry hadn't looked at Cedrid the way he now looked at Charlie. He hadn't had a crush on the man, had merely been jealous of him. Had he?

Yes, Cedric had been hansome in that boyish, effortless way that had captivated him. And yes, his smile had made Harry's heart skip a beat whenever it had been directed at him.

Okay, so maybe Harry hadn't been jealous at Cedric, when him and Cho had danced at the Yule Ball. At least, that explained why his crush on Cho had ended so utterly spectacularly. 

"I- I'm- I don't-"

He was stuttering in that terrible, pathetic way. Even now, after years of being part of the Wizarding World - years spent away from the Dursleys and Privet Drive - he couldn't admit his preferences. Couldn't admit that he liked the older man in all the wrong ways. Not even after he had confessed the very same to him mere minutes prior. 

Those disgusting faggots with their AIDS, Vernon had grumbled over a newspaper, when Harry hadn't been old enough to understad what faggot or AIDs was. Infecting us normal people. So perverse. They go get it up the arse and then expect us taxpayers to put our hard-earned money down to find a cure for their perversity.

Don't touch him, Dudders, Petunia had said to her son, when Mr Graham from down the road had been seen kissing a man, he's sick. And don't you take any more candy from him. Who knows what he did with it. 

Who is Cedric? Is he your boyfriend, Potter? Moaning in your sleep for him, you little fag? Dudley had mocked him.

Of course, Harry knew that things were different in the Wizarding world. He knew that witches and wizards couldn't care less about who you shagged or who you kissed. They had their own brand of bigotry, so different from what Harry had grown up with. 

Still, he couldn't say the words to Charlie. Couldn't say I fancy you. 

"You're straight?" The older man finally asked.

There was bitterness in his voice, a metaphorical distance between them that hadn't been there before. It made Harry shrink in on himself. He hugged his knees in search for comfort. 

"No", he confessed quietly.

The word - one syllable, two letters, no louder than a breath - was the hardest he had ever spoken. In the end, he confessed not because he wanted to, but because he could not bear that hurt expression on the other's face. If Charlie withdrew, became cold and distant... Well, he didn't know if he would be able to deal with that.

"But you are not into me."

It wasn't a question.

"I-", Harry began, searching for words.

He felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a precipice. As though whatever he said had the power to either plunge him into the abyss or ascend him to pure heaven.

"In the Muggle world, it's not as accepted as here", he finally said. "My aunt and uncle- I'm sure you heard from your family that they weren't the most loving relatives. They weren't the most accepting either. Not of many things."

His gaze remained fixed on the Mason jar as he spoke. He didn't know what he would find if he met Charlie's eyes. He wasn't sure if he could handle it.

"I never really questioned my-", Harry struggled to find the word, "-attraction, at least not until I was dating Ginny and it was just wrong."

A hand brushed his side, fingers curling around his ribs and thumb stroking his skin through the thick material of his sweater. A gesture meant to give comfort and- He didn't dare to think what else. 

"I haven't told Ginny. Or anyone else for that matter. I just didn't want anyone to think that I was wrong, somehow."

"Harry", softly spoken words, calm and reassuring, "you could not be further from wrong."

He did look up then, only to find Charlie had moved closer to him. They now sat mere inches apart. Beautiful eyes, coloured caramel by the light, gazed into his own. The older man looked ethereal then, against the backlit landscape of a  snow-adorned burrow. Like an angel plucked from heaven and set into Harry's path. 

He didn't know how it happened - which one of them was the first to lean in.

All he knew, when Charlie's soft, warm lips met his own, was that he felt right for the first time. 

Warm skin brushed his own, fingers trailed his jawline, before taking hold of the back of his head as Charlie deepend the kiss. A scorching tongue met his own, inticing him further relinquish control.

Charlie was experienced. That much became obvious when he expertly began trailing his hands along Harry's chest, ribs, and legs, touching spots that made the younger wizard gasp into their kiss. With persistent movements, Charlie slid Harry's legs apart, until he was keeling between them. Not once did he seperate their lips, not once did he let go of him.

Harry felt overwhelmed - felt too much and not enought at the same time. He wanted everything and was scared of that. 

Still, he could not stop himself from kissing the older man. 

"Tell me to stop and I will", Charlie whispered against his lips, breath coming in pants.

It was an out. A chance for Harry to change his mind, to put space between them. He didn't.

"Don't stop."

"What do you want?"

Digits, brushing his inner thigh through the thick jeans material, questioning. Daring. Inviting.

"Everything."

It was the truth. In this very moment, Harry wanted everything Charlie could give him. Whether it would be a quick shag, a night of unimaginable pleasure, or more, he would take whatever he was offered. Because Charlie, in his rugged beauty and incredibe kindness was a flame and Harry the moth that was drawn in. 

A soft touch inched inward, brushing the bulge clearly visible through Harry's faded jeans. He caught a glimpse of brilliant, white teeth bared in a grin, before Charlie leaned in again, kissing his throat this time. Those very same teeth nipped at his skin, slighlty biting the skin, before kissing it in apology.

A moan escaped Harry and he was almost embarassed of it. Would have been, if it weren't for the satisfied smirk he felt against his sensitive neck.

"Charlie."

The word escaped his lips like a prayer, a plea for more. The older man obliged him, applying pressure to Harry's cock straining against his jeans. He felt too hard, too hot, too sensitive. He relished against the rough friction of fabric between him and Charlie's scorching palm just as much as he wished the barrier gone. The younger wizard grabbed at strands of red hair, pulling the other closer to his skin. In response, teeth sank into the felsh of his throat.

"I need more." 

He didn't realise that he had spoken his thought aloud, until the redhead withdrew. He looked beautiful in that moment, Harry thought. Hair shining copper coloured in their little light, lips glistening and swollen to a mesmerizing red. 

"You're beautiful", Harry voiced his thoughts quietly.

"Not like you - not in that perfect, effortless way. From the moment I saw you last year: Dirty, beaten, and still so beautifully brave. Your eyes- they were so incredibly determined, so full of hope and fire. I couldn't look away."

That took Harry's breath away - the idea that Charlie had noticed him, then, when he had looked like a man on the run. Had wanted him, even.

He drew the older wizard in, binding him in a searing kiss. It felt feverish, urgent, as though they tried to make up for lost time. This time, Harry dared to explore. He let his hands trail along a muscled body, revelled in the way the body above him felt strong and alive.  

"Wait."

Charlie broke their kiss and drew back once more. With hasty, clumsy movements he pulled his wand from his back pocket. He muttered a variety of incantations beneath his breath, one of which Harry recognized to be a cushioning charm and the other a warming spell. Then, he threw the wand some distance away.

It was that show of utter trust, that made Harry melt. With greedy hands, he reached for the man, pulled him closer, closer, closer.

They fell, Harry's back touching the softened ground beneath. Above him, the redhead leaned in, pressing searing kisses to his lips. His strong legs slotted themselves between the younger man's and for a moment, it felt like coming home. As if this was exactly where Harry was meant to be.

With a smooth, quick movement, Charlie bucked his hips, cock pressing against Harry's own. It felt so incredibly good, so heavenly. 

"I want to take you here", a whisper into the younger man's ear, "under the stars."

"Take me, Charlie, please. I need it - need you."

Hands found their way beneath the knitted jumper, exploring the expanse of Harry's chest. Slowly, they slid the material up and up, until he assisted in pulling it over his head.

"Beautiful", Charlie appraised, before kissing his way down.

He stopped to take one of Harry's nipples into his mouth, toying with it, rolling it between his teeth, caressing it with his tongue. It made Harry see stars in a way he had never thought possible from a simple touch to his chest. He had never believed his nipples to be particulartly sensitive, but this- 

His cock was weeping, begging to be released from the tightening confines of his pants.

"Please, Charlie", he all but sobbed, "I need you. Now."

There was a wicked grin upon those features, when the man straightened. Then, in a torturous speed, he pulled his own jumper up. Harry sucked in a breath. A littany of scars adorned the broad chest. Some were small, barely the size of a pebble. Others were bigger, one of the almost spanning the entirety of Charlie's left ribs. Most of them were burn scars.

"The downside of working with dragons."

"I love them."

Charlie brushed his hands over Harry's thighs, trailing them upwards slowly. He halted at the button fastening the jeans, asking silently for permission.

Harry's heart was beating out of his chest with nerves. Was he really about to do this? Shag his ex-girlfriend's brother in the snow before a house that offered barely any privacy? No, he thought. No, he was about to let a wonderful, brave, beautiful man make love to him beneath the stars. 

He pushed Charlie's hands away, hastily opening the button and awkwardly shimmying down his pants and underpants at once. 

There was a pause as Charlie appraised him, eyes trailing down the skinnier body before him. Where the redhead was broad and strong muscles, honed by manual labour and a strenuous occupation, Harry had the lithe physique of a Seeker. The intense look in those marroon eyes made him nervous, just as it made all the blood in his body rush south. 

"Your turn", he whispered with all his Gryffindor courage. 

Charlie barked a laugh before complying with the order. 

His legs were long and muscled, the burnmarks present even there. There was a tattoo of a Dragon wrapping around his left calf and thigh. It's maw was opened, spitting fire in hues of red and gold onto the freckled skin. It was a masculine tattoo, a testament to everything that made up Charlie. 

Harry's gaze slid up, finding Charlie's cock standing straight between his legs. The weeping tip, coloured the same red as the soft trail of hair trailing upwards towards his abdomen, was a testament to his arousal. The arousal caused by Harry.

Before he could do anything - before he could reveal the extent of his inexperience - Charlie pressed him back onto the softened ground and kneeled between his legs. 

"Let me do this, Harry. I want to see your limbs shake. I want those pretty eyes of yours roll back into your head while you come."

The last words were spoken against the sensitive skin of Harry's cock. The warm breath made Harry whimper, his breathing ragged. Desperately, he reached for Charlie's hair and sunk his fingers into the thick strands. 

Soft lips, scorching and wet, closed around the tip of his cock and he almost came right then and there. 

"Charlie", he whimpered, begging for more and less at once.

Fingers closed around the base of his length, stroking once, twice. 

"Shh, Harry. I haven't even started."

He wanted to cry when Charlie sucked the entire length of his cock into that heavenly mouth of his. Harry bucked his hips involuntarily, searching for more. 

The older wizard was unrelenting, beginning a torturous rythm of up-and-down. His tongue moved within his mouth, sliding along Harry's length. Over and over and over, never quite enough. Harry was sure he would cry. All he could do was hold onto Charlie's hair and letting go of all control. 

He didn't know how long this lasted - didn't know how long his body was lost to pleasure.

"I want you to come in my mouth", Charlie ordered, voice unyielding yet seductive.

His hand replaced the place of his mouth upon Harry's cock, strocking the length of him in a quick, unrelenting rythm. He twisted his grip ever so slightly on his way up and down, resulting in a delicious friction. His lips closed around the head and sucked and-

Harry saw stars. The world exploded into a million, brilliant pieces around him as he came. White-hot pleasure rocked his body until he was a trembling mess. Charlie still sucked, still swallowed.

This was nothing like the quick, quiet jerkoffs in the Gryffindor Tower, or the lonely nights at Grimmault Place. No, this was a whole new world of pleasure, one he knew to be centered around Charlie. 

When the world pieced itself together once more, he saw the man. 

Beautiful red hair. Swollen, red lips twisted into a satisfied smile. Freckled, tanned skin shining broze in the light. A body made of magic itself. A night sky filled with stars upon stars. 

He wanted to commit that image to memory, wanted to burn it into his eyelids so that he would see it always when closing his eyes. 

"You are breathtaking when you come."

Red tinged Harry's cheeks. 

He caught a glimpse of Charlie's cock - still hard between thick thighs. 

With terribly shaky limbs, Harry rose to his knees as well. Trembling fingers slowly reached for those strong thighs. Testing, probing, only to be caught by calloused hands.

"You don't have."

Charlie's smile never vanished, was just as brilliant as always.

"I want to."

It was the simple truth. He wanted to know what the man felt like, what he tasted like. What would he look like, when he came? 

When his fingers were released, Harry trailed them over the dragon, feeling the smooth skin beneath. Slowly, he inched up and up, until he finally dared to close his hand around Charlie's cock and give it an experimental tug.

It was different than touching himself. The angle was odd and he didn't quite know whether he could support his elbow on Charlie's thigh. Still, when the redhead groaned above him, he could not help but smile vindictively.

He revelled in the sounds Charlie made. The way he would gasp when Harry twisted his fist on the way up. The groan when he tightenend his grip. Even better was when he experimentally took the tip into his mouth and sucked, attempting to recreate the sensation he had felt from Charlie. 

The man gripped his hair, fists tugging almost too harshly at black strands. Still, in satisfied Harry to no end. Had he not come mere minutes ago, he would surely be hard once more. 

He sucked, attempting to use only his mouth, though he found that he could not take more than half of Charlie's cock into his mouth. So, instead, he replicated what he had felt before. A maddening rythm between his hand and his mouth, eliciting pleasure. 

"I'm gonna come", Charlie gasped, hands tightening impossibly aroune Harry's head. 

The younger wizard took that as his sign to quicken his strokes. Over and over, until he felt hot liquid in his mouth. 

Charlie tasted of earth and fire. Of a fire burning in the forest. Or a dragon roaring in the wild. Harry thought then, that he would never tire of this.

*

"What now?" 

Harry had thought almost too long whether or not to ask the question. They had laid naked side by side for almost an hour now. His back was pressed against Charlie's chest, the other man's arm encircling him and tracing odd patterns onto his skin. The sun was slowly chasing the night away and he knew that they would have to go inside soon. So, it was then that he sought for the courage to ask.

"What do you mean?"

Charlie sounded sleepy behind him. 

"You know. What happens now."

A yawn.

"I don't know about you, but I might just miss breakfast in favour of a couple of hours of sleep. You really knackered me."

How could he be so unbothered by this?

"I mean between us", Harry clarified, worrying his lips.

Had this been nothing but a quick shag to Charlie? If yes, Harry would have to brace himself for heartache in the next months. He liked the man. He liked the way he listened to whatever nonsense came ot his head. Liked the way the older man made him laugh. The way he always made sure that Harry was comfortable - that he ate enough, that he slept enought, that he didn't have to talk about uncomfortable topics with anyone.

He didn't want this to be it. An ending before anything even began. Still, he would accept it, if that was what Charlie wanted.

Lips pressed against his neck, interrupting the spiral of thoughts.

"Harry, I know that you haven't been in a relationship with anyone other than my sister. Which, by the way, opens a whole different can of flubberworms. I don't want to pressure you. If what you need right now is a shag to experiment, I will understand."

Harry licked his lips, uncertain.

"If- If that's not what I want?"

The hand tracing patterns along his abdomen stopped.

"You would have to tell me what you want." Carfully worded, dancing around the topic both of them were cautious of touching.

It was Harry, in Gryffindor fashion, who finally ripped the bandaid off and jumped from the figurative moving vehicle. 

"I like you. Like like you. Really like you. I- If you wanted to, I would not be against getting to know one another better."

"Dating?"

"Dating", Harry confirmed, heart beating out of his chest.

There was a pause, which stretched too long, until finally, Charlie blew out a breath.

"Well, that has a number of issues. For one, I'm eight years older than you. Two, you are my sister's ex. Three, I have virtually no savings to speak of and no career ambitions that will bring in Galleons. Four, you are the saviour of the wizarding world. Five-"

Harry sat up. He knew where this would go, knew a rejection when he saw one. After all, he had practiced them enough times in the mirror when he had still been with Ginny. He pushed the older wizard's arm from him and blindly reached for his jeans. Tears were burning in his eyes and he hated the weakness. Of course, Charlie would not want-

Fingers closed around his arm, forcefully turning him to face the man.

"Harry-"

"No. I'm sorry for even suggesting it. Obviously, I'm too much effort to-"

"Harry." A single word, cutting through the oncoming, tear-filled rant. "That is not what I meant. I want you to be sure about this. I'm not nineteen anymore. I'm not at a point in my life where I throw myself into a relationship without thinking. You're young; you have so many options. Merlin, you're the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. Witches and wizards will be throwing themselves at you. You will have so many options, so many possibilities. People your age, rich people, people with influence. You could have them all. You could-"

"I don't want that!" Harry shouted, angry and hurt, and alltogether unhappy with this turn of the night. "I have money, I have fame, I have influence - and it's horrible! Why would I want somebody for that! I want this! I want somebody who knows me, somebody who wants to talk to me in the middle of the night. Somebody, who make really bad dragon-themed com-ons. Somebody who thought to get me a nightlight against nightmares. I want you, Charlie. I-"

This time, it was Charlie, who cut him off. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close. Fingers sank into Harry's hair, gripping and guiding him into a bruising kiss full of passion and desperation.

"I don't care about your age", Harry whispered, once they seperated once more, "and I will talk to Ginny. Explain all of this to her. I want you, Charlie."

There were other things, of course. Things unsaid between them, like the fact that Harry would need to stand before the entire Weasley family and explain that he was bent. The fact that there would surely be an article in the Daily Prophet about their relationship once it became known. Or the fact that Harry still did not feel fully comfortable with the way he was.

But with Charlie, he knew, he would be able to do all of this and more.

"I want you too, Harry. All of you. Everything with you."

They would find their way, somehow. Harry knew that much. 

And maybe, he thought, as he pulled Charlie in for another kiss, they would even be able to build the first Dragon Sanctuary in Britain.