Summary: Oliver Wood to Harry Potter: "I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
So how exactly did Charlie decide between Quidditch and dragon-keeping, after all?
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2131
Read: 1296
Published: 07/20/12
Updated: 07/30/12
1. Chapter 1 by epiphany212
A/N: This was originally supposed to be a drabble in the Summer Dreams/Nightmare challenge on the forums, but Charlie got a little out of hand with me, haha.
Charlie collapsed into the squishy loveseat, wincing as he sat. –All right, Jenners?â€
The brunette tilted her head at the stiff set of his shoulders. –Better than you, at least. Your muscles are cramping, aren’t they?â€
Charlie ran a hand through his hair. The melting ice glistened on his fingertips in the firelight. –Bloody winter,†he grumbled.
She laughed. –Don’t blame the weather for this, Charlie; you chose to fly. Pity you weren’t born a Yeti,†she teased lightly.
Charlie wrinkled his nose; it was beginning to itch. –Oh, is that what you saw in Davies? He’s certainly hairy enough.â€
–Rudolph’s not a very good look either,†she informed him as his ears reddened to match his nose. –But I’m not thinking about Robert,†she added, gesturing at the pile of parchment in front of her. The Wimbourne Wasps logo glimmered on one of the rolls. –Have you made your decision?†she asked quietly. –We don’t have exams, so that must be what you were were thinking about tonight.â€
–Yeah,†Charlie admitted, –but flying didn’t help. One of these days, I think I’ll just wake up and know.â€
Ellen jabbed an elbow into his ribs, proving her reflexes were still a hair faster than his. –You can’t rely completely on intuition, Charlie!†She stared at her offer letters as if they were the Mirror of Erised. –There are practical considerations--money, safety, location...â€
–El, comparing Puddlemere to Romana, it’d be like comparing Nifflers to goblins, they’re too different,†he explained patiently. –I just have to go for what feels right.â€
She rolled her eyes. –Why am I even trying to stop you? Seeking’s worked well enough for you so far.â€
Except the one thing I never caught, he mused wistfully.
Without further comment, Ellen stood, tossing the sheaf of letters on the table. Charlie’s grin quickly faded when he realized she still held a single letter, its bold type visible through the translucent parchment.
–You’ve chosen, then?â€
She nodded, staring past him at the fireplace. –Harpies.†Flames flickered in her eyes, obscuring her emotions. –It would have been brilliant to fly with you,†she murmured, gripping his forearm with the warm, dry clasp of comrades.
He swallowed hard. –No, this is... Good for you. After a few months learning from Hastings and Kressler, you might even be a match for me.â€
She grinned. –Even fighting off dragons won’t prepare you to fly against my Bludgers. Careful, Weasley, or I’ll have you wearing pink robes yet!â€
His throat closed a little at the thought. Even if he decided for Quidditch, they’d never make any bets like that again, playing on different teams. –In your dreams, Jenners,†he said, voice rough.
Ellen’s sharp gaze didn’t miss his mixed reaction. –Charlie, life doesn’t end after school, you know. We’ll all go on being friends. Sure, we’ll be busy with our own lives and careers, but we’ll make time for each other; you’ve got to know that.â€
Charlie sighed. –I know. I was just thinking, even if I choose to play for Pudd next year, we won’t be making bets over pink robes anymore; we’ll be playing for opposing teams.â€
–I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Weasley. Who said there was anything wrong with a little bit of friendly competition? ‘Cept in the professional league, the stakes will have to be higher than a set of pink robes,†she said firmly, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Charlie grinned. –You’re on.†Then, he frowned. –If I choose Quidditch, that is.â€
Ellen smiled at him. –Don’t worry about it too much, Char. Like I said, Seeking’s worked well for you so far. You’ll figure things out.â€
As she made her way out of the library, Charlie shut his eyes against the glow of the fire. How was everyone finding it so easy to make their plans for the future, to move on and leave Hogwarts behind?
~.~.~
From above, the Quidditch field looked like a leprechaun den, each player an glittering mass of gold int he blinding sunlight. Charlie frowned--seeing the Snitch fluttering in a sparkling mess like this would be nearly impossible. But they were flying against the Harpies today, so there was no room for excuses.
He swooped down, the broom effortlessly responding to the twisting of his thighs, lighter than any model he’d ever flown before. Merlin, how he loved the perks of the professional league! As he spiraled lower and lower, he yanked off his goggles to get a better look at the opposing team. Purely to observe their formation, of course, but as he saw past the golden haze, his eyes widened.
Ellen Jenners was the sole human playing for the Harpies. Around her were 6 dragons, beautiful specimens--a Welsh Devon, a Hungarian Horntail, and he didn’t even recognize the silver species with green spikes, though he’d bet his best broom polish that it was Robert Davies’ favorite. Each scale held a golden drop of sunlight trapped in its sheen; all together, the creatures glowed, their light simply illuminating the passion sparkling in Ellen’s eyes as she dipped and danced between the Puddlemere Chasers, wreaking havoc in her wake.
They were--she was--breathtaking. Beautiful.
He heard the hiss of a Bludger coming nearer and spun upside down on his broom, hanging on with both arms and legs as it sped by before swinging himself upright to stare into Ellen’s eyes as she laughed.
Beautiful, and dangerous.
Then, he saw it hovering just beyond Ellen’s shoulder, its wings fluttering at pace with his pounding heartbeat. Ellen dropped out of his way as he zoomed toward her, her face suddenly grim. He knew that she was searching for a Bludger behind him, but he couldn’t give any thought to that since the Snitch was so close. The crowd roared dimly in his ears as he reached out over his broom, fingers straining an extra centimeter to...
Dragon fire erupted in front of his hand; he snatched it back, the tips of his fingers stinging hotly with pain. Looking quickly all around him, he could see the mass of dragons above, behind and below him, and he realized that what he had imagined was the roaring of the crowd was in fact 6 very angry Harpies players. Smoke unfurled from each of their nostrils and their wings beat in wide circles as they frantically pushed their hefty masses closer to him. He could see some of their mouths begin to open as spurts of fire spewed into the summer air; it seemed as though he’d be flying for his life, not just for the Snitch.
Ellen was right. The stakes are much higher in the professional league.
Without another moment to spare, he dropped like a stone. Heat streaked by his left ear, and he swerved to his right, urging his broom into spins and spirals until he felt dizzy. Dragon fire chased his every turn; he wouldn’t get by much longer without being incinerated unless he tried something new.
He charged his opponents. Zipping underneath their wings, around their tails, up behind their necks, and between their clawed feet--though that last bit of daring cost him the tip of his ear--he was finally safe. The dragons were unable to touch him without burning themselves. Sparkling scales obscured his vision completely, and their roars of fury filled his ears.
Like a benediction, the Snitch appeared right in front of him. For a second time, he reached out, this time victory surely in his hands--
Blinding pain obliterated every nerve ending in his body. Only trained reflexes kept him upright on his broom as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. Slowly, the pain receded until it resided only in his hand, which hung limply at an awkward angle from his forearm.
He gazed blearily around the field. The scoreboard showed Harpies - 320, Puddlemere - 190. One of the dragons must have gobbled the Snitch, but he couldn’t tell which because all of them had turned pink.
Pink. Ellen hit me with a Bludger before I could catch the Snitch. I should be wearing... Charlie looked down at his robes, which remained a solid shade of blue, before looking again at the dragons, who were still a shocking shade of pink. What the hell?
–Sorry, Weasley,†Ellen murmured in his ear. –All’s fair in love and war, right?â€
Charlie turned to face his former teammate. –And which one was this?â€
Ellen blushed. –Both.†His heart lurched in his chest. –You love the dragons,†she continued determinedly, –and you fought them, so it’s both.â€
Charlie felt as though he’d just taken the world’s scariest magic carpet ride. He forced his breath to remain even. –R-Right in one, El,†he said shakily. –Did you really just insist on slamming my comeback down right after you broke my hand and won the match? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?â€
She grinned, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes; perceptive as ever, she hadn’t missed his initial reaction to her retort. –Hm, looks like a few months away from Hogwarts has dulled your nerve, Weasley,†she teased. –But I’m not finished yet. According to our agreement, you should be wearing different colors.†She waved her wand at him.
Charlie stared at his chest. –Have some mercy, El! Merlin knows Charlie Weasley never goes back on a bet, but couldn’t you have picked a better shade of pink? Now I blend in with the dragons,†he complained.
Ellen winked. –Maybe you belong with them, anyway, Charlie.â€
~.~.~
Charlie opened his eyes to the sight of tiny flames, flickering stubbornly from the embers piled in the fireplace. The sore ache in his thighs and shoulders had evaporated, overcome by the urge to grab his broomstick and fly for miles and miles until he was past the edge of the school grounds, past the clouds... until he was flying with dragons.
That was it. He had lost the game. Hell, Ellen had even won their bet! After any other Quidditch dream like this, he would have woken up gasping, shaken at the possibility of letting his team down, but now... He couldn’t stop smiling. Thinking about their sparkling scales, the adrenalin rush of swooping underneath their magnificent wings, those spiked tails--breathless, he touched the tip of his ear, remembering.
Scrabbling for a piece of spare parchment off the table, Charlie tore it in two, snatched a quill off the table and began to write. He knew what he wanted to do.
~.~.~
To:
The Marcus Magnus Reserve for Magical Monsters
Mt. Moldoveanu, the Carpathian Mountains, Romania
Dear Keeper Stimson,
I would like to accept your offer of the position of Keeper starting next September. I look forward to discussing my transition to Romania with you further in the coming months.
Sincerely,
Charlie Weasley
To:
Puddlemere United
Queerditch Marsh, Puddletown, UK
Dear Coach Thorton,
I very much appreciate the opportunity to be the reserve Seeker for Puddlemere United. Unfortunately, I must decline in order to pursue my interest in magical creatures. I look forward to supporting your team from the stands come September.
Sincerely,
Charlie Weasley
~.~.~
Sitting back with a sigh, Charlie watched the receding silhouettes of the school owls fade into the distance as the sunrise crept over the horizon. For a moment, he dwelled on his newfound, quiet appreciation for its fiery beauty, which reminded him of something else very dear to him.
As his thoughts drifted back to the contents of his dream once again, he realized that his dream had made one more thing clear, and it couldn’t be settled by something as simple as sending off two letters. But let no one ever say that Charlie Weasley wasn’t up for a challenge, on or off the Quidditch pitch.
With a grin, he ambled up the stairs to bed. He’d need all the rest he could get if he was going to come up with a way to convince Ellen that they were worth a shot, what with him being in Romania and she in England come September. Her competitive spirit was just as strong as his, though; maybe it was time to start another bet. This time, the stakes would involve a kiss...
~.~.~ Fin ~.~.~
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