Chapter Two
Terrence ran a hand through his sweaty hair, surprised to find the tips weren't singed. The Fireball, whom they had finally just started calling Rosu, the Romanian word for red, was a spitfire--literally. In just under a month, Terrence had received more burns than he'd had in a year in Wales. It was a grouchy beast, refusing to let anyone near it except him and Weasley, and even then it still wouldn't let Weasley do much beyond the basic approach, in spite of his former experience with the last Fireball they'd had at the Romanian reserve.
Terrence had tried all the tricks he had learned in China, but he had the distinct impression the dragon was secretly laughing at him each time. Still, he was able to get closer than Weasley, which he knew bothered the experienced keeper. Charlie Weasley might not remember him, but he remembered Charlie Weasley: fiercely loyal but even more stubbornly determined to succeed and win. At least, that was how he had played Quidditch at Hogwarts. He had been a brilliant Seeker, and Terrence had admired the Gryffindor even as he had hated him for beating him to the Snitch every time they had played against one another. To be honest, being able to best him at something like taming a Chinese Fireball felt good.
Still, it was exhausting. Terrence spent countless hours with the beast, trying to learn its ways and earn its trust. He worked with it every day, trying to get closer, sometimes simply watching as it continuously swam in the lake with the only other creature it would truly let into its world: the Welsh Green. It was remarkable to witness, such a deep bond between two solitary dragons, and Terrence was excited to see if it would develop into more.
The sun was setting on an unusually warm day as Rosu frolicked in the water. Branwen was observing from the shore this time, and Terrence had an idea. Perhaps if the animal were so fond of water, he should approach it where it was most comfortable. It was a risk, but one worth taking after making so little progress, and he could handle it: he was a strong swimmer. He peeled off his clothes and jumped into the cold water.
The first time he simply swam off the rock by himself and did not approach the dragon at all. Weasley caught him the next day, and he was sure a look of both envy and annoyance passed over the other man's face. He thought about inviting Weasley to join him, but they had a wary relationship when they weren't working in the field, and Terrence could do this on his own. He wanted the challenge--and he wanted to win.
After a week he began swimming closer and closer. Rosu did not object, nor did Branwen. Terrence always made sure to enter the water after the green dragon had left; he knew he would be considered an intruder in their water dance otherwise.
Weasley tried to warn him of the danger: that he was unprotected in the water, unable to get to his wand, swimming without backup on his breaks. Terrence had shrugged it off, and Weasley had stormed away. Terrence liked the water: it cooled him off after the long, difficult afternoons spent working on the reserve. Rosu was calm in the water, and Terrence felt like he might finally be making progress, however unusual the method. And Charlie knew as well as anyone that part of the thrill of working with dragons was the element of risk and danger.
Today he was going to try to swim even closer. As Terrence lowered himself into the cool water, he noted Branwen on the shore, apparently asleep. The two dragons were almost inseparable now; it occurred to Terrence that if the Green were to wake up, he could be in considerable trouble. Of all the other dragons at the reserve, Branwen was now the only other one who still did not allow him near her: it was as if she sensed his intent with Rosu.
Nonetheless, he wanted to try. He wanted to finish what he had started and head back to Wales. Romania was beautiful but foreign, and he missed the Welsh mountains where he had finally found some peace from the insistent nattering of his family: study this, play that, work there, marry her. Merlin, he'd had enough when he'd left for China. He had enjoyed a relatively quiet few years back in Wales, but the assignment to Romania couldn't have come at a better time, for they had been pressuring him once again to return to London to find a pretty girl and a prosperous job and just settle down.
He had no intention of following their wishes: it was his life, and he was a dragon keeper, not some goblin's lackey. If they had thought dragons were just a passing fancy, they were wrong. It was what he was best at, what he was supposed to do. His sister had towed the family line, putting aside her dreams and marrying for wealth and status, but Terrence would do neither. He would remain with his dragons, wherever he needed to be.
Floating on his back in the water, Terrence suddenly realized he was quite close to Rosu. He was unfocused, preoccupied by his thoughts. It had happened before: it was how he had got the scar on his neck in China. His mind kept dwelling on other things--the owls from his mother, the sad letters from his lonely sister, forced to marry someone she didn't really love, the damning silence from his father--and he realized too late that Rosu was agitated by his approach. Maybe it was his distracted air, maybe it was something else entirely, but the dragon roared, drawing Branwen from the shore almost immediately.
Terrence dived, but the Green caught him across the back before he could get deep enough. He gasped, inhaling a mouthful of dirty lake water and scrambling toward the surface for air. Unfortunately, Branwen was turning for another pass, and he didn't have his wand. He needed to go under again, but he was coughing too much, and he knew then that the last thing he would see was going to be a mouthful of dragon teeth, and a wicked claw ripping his chest open. He turned and dived, forcing himself under, but it wouldn't be deep enough …
A flash of light and explosion of sound stopped the dragon mid-flight, and Branwen turned at the last minute with another guttural growl. Rosu rose with her, and they both flew back toward the mountains. Terrence popped back to the surface, gasping as he tried to fill his lungs with air and find his balance in the water. He felt a pair of strong arms grab him around the chest and begin pulling him back toward the rock.
"I'm not drowning, Weasley," he finally managed in weak protest. He wasn't, not really, but his back was on fire, and he didn't mind the help as much as he normally would have; he just didn't want Weasley to know that.
"Could have fooled me," Weasley muttered, equally out of breath from the effort of swimming for two. They reached the rock, Charlie climbing up first and offering a hand to Terrence. He took it, trying to keep the injury to his back hidden. He'd never live it down if Weasley saw the gash he could feel dripping blood with every small movement. He started to pull on his shirt, but gasped in pain as the fabric came into contact with shredded skin.
"Turn around," Charlie ordered. Terrence shook his head.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." But he was biting his lip, and as soon as he shook off Weasley he needed to see the Healer at the reserve who treated all their injuries and illness. He'd get an earful from her as well, but that wasn't as bad as from Weasley, and at least she'd have a spell and some salve for it.
"No, let me see it," Charlie demanded. Terrence reluctantly turned, but was met with silence.
"See, it's nothing," he finally muttered, turning back with a grimace. Weasley's face actually looked pale beneath all the freckles.
"It's bad, Terrence," Charlie replied, brushing his long red hair from his face. "You need to see Maggie immediately."
"I was on my way before you stopped me to stare at it," Terrence snapped, almost instantly regretting it as Weasley simply raised his eyebrows in response.
"I just saved your life, Higgs. A thank you might be more appropriate."
Terrence sighed, waving a hand over his face as the adrenaline rush left him and he staggered, his legs now shaking, his back on fire. Weasley was instantly at his side, ducking his head under his shoulder to support him. They were of equal height, and when Terrence glanced at his partner's face, he saw real worry there.
"I know," he murmured, trying his best to tone it down and not snap again. "Thank you. I appreciate the backup." He knew it was half the gratitude he probably owed Weasley, but he couldn't help it: he had wounded more than his back.
Charlie snorted as he looked away. "Right. Tell me again later when you actually mean it. Let's go before you pass out."
They stumbled back to the main living area of the reserve in silence. But Terrence felt Weasley's warm breath on him each step of the way, felt strong muscles moving in time with his injured ones. And there was something else, something he wondered if Charlie felt as well, or if he were just delirious from pain.
* * *
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?" asked Maggie, gentle fingers prodding at the remnants of his injury. She cast a few spells and began to rub in the ointment she'd been using for a week. Terrence was finally starting to feel his back return to normal: he could almost sleep on it, and lifting his arms above his head no longer stretched reluctant skin and muscles. Maggie had told him there would be another scar, but he was a dragon keeper: they practically collected them as prizes.
"Nothing's wrong," he mumbled. He'd had another owl from his family. They were not subtle, that much was certain: his mother had sent him all sorts of news from Llwytmor, as if hearing about his former reserve might motivate him to at least return to Britain. Then she threw in any gossip she had managed to find out about the Romanian reserve, likely hoping to drive him away. He had already heard most of it, though, and he knew it was a good place.
Then why did he not want to be there anymore? And at the same time, why did he want to stay?
"I know you're lying," she said, coming around in front of him as he stood and began to pull on his shirt. "Or at least, you're not telling me something."
"I'm just tired, that's all," Terrence said, and it was true: he had not been sleeping well at all since Branwen had clawed him. He was uncomfortable, but more than that, it was his thoughts that kept him awake. He turned it over constantly in his mind, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, what he could have done differently. Yet always he came back to that moment when Weasley had saved him, and then walked him back to Maggie's before he had passed out from the pain.
"I can give you a sleeping draught," she offered. "If you think it will help."
He nodded and gave her a weary smile. "Actually, yes--that would help a lot, thank you."
He waited while she bustled over to the cabinet she kept well-stocked with anything anyone might need on a dragon reserve: potions, tinctures, draughts, and numerous strips of long white cloth for wrapping injuries and burns. Terrence was glad to be rid of his bandage, since it had itched like mad; he'd gladly walk out with a sleeping draught instead, if it helped clear his mind for a decent night's rest.
She brought over a small vial and placed it into his hand, stepping close. She smelled sweet, of lavender and chamomile and all the other herbs she used for her craft. He somehow sensed he could kiss her, right then, if he wanted, but as beautiful as she was, he wasn't interested. His family might stop pestering him if he told them he was settling down with a pretty young Healer, but he knew he could never do that. It wasn't who he was, to simply marry for convenience; he didn't even sleep around the reserves like a lot of other keepers.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice catching a bit; he wasn't completely immune to her nearness, after all.
"I would offer you more if I thought you were interested," she said, gazing into his eyes for an answer; he glanced away, and she stepped back with smile.
"I am a good listener," she said. "If you ever wanted to talk about it. Or just him."
He glanced back at her in surprise, eyes wide as she laughed lightly. "Don't worry, it's not obvious at all. I just pick up on these things rather well in my line of work."
He stuttered something he could barely make sense of, but she just laughed again and pulled him into a warm embrace. "You're not the only one who's had those thoughts about him. I did too, once." Once again, Terrence stumbled over his words, still too shocked that she had sussed him out. She put a hand to his face. "Let me know if you need anything, Terrence."
This time he just nodded, then impulsively kissed her on the cheek in gratitude. He probably should talk to her soon, before he burst from holding it in. She smiled again as he headed out the door, then called out after him: "He's a hell of a kisser, just so you know!"
Terrence walked away, red-faced and hoping against hope that no one had heard her. He tried to put her words out of his mind as he headed to the grounds for the day. He needed to stay focused, before he was injured again--or worse, the man she was talking about.
* * *