Men and Their Dragons

Charlie Weasley trudged back into the Romanian Reserve’s main building, heading straight to the infirmary to grab a first-aid kit and then head back to his room to bandage the many cuts and scratches that adored his body. His shirt was in shreds back on the reserve somewhere, more than likely, in a dragon’s egg nest. His pants just barely hung off his hips since he had to use his belt buckle as a distraction to get away from the not-so-happy momma dragon when one of his co-workers had taken the egg from her nest to take back to the nursery at the reserve.

Of course the Healer wasn’t all too happy to see Charlie in her infirmary the third time that week, and it was only Tuesday. She didn’t even bother to waste her breath on telling him to sit on one of the beds and let her go grab a potion. The Weasley boy simply grabbed a small white kit off the counter and walked right back out. He was passed many times, no one saying a word but only rolling their eyes or giving a knowing look.

Of all the people on the reserve, only Charlie Weasley was the one that comes home every day with barely any clothes on and more cuts and bruises to add to his collection.

“Fucking dragons…” Charlie muttered to himself over a bandage in his mouth as he spread an ointment over a cut on his foot. The small stream of blood slowly stopped, but a stain was left on his skin along with a small growing puddle under him from all of his other cuts. After another half hour, and another dozen string of curses and the overprotective momma dragons, Charlie was finally able to find something to wear other than just his boxers.

Just as Charlie was able to become decent in the confines of his room in the dorms of the dragon reserve, a loud banging came in contact with his door. A confused look crossed over his features before he finally walked over and opened the door (quickly) once hearing the hurried shout from someone on the other side.

Charlie opened the door, standing there in his bare-chested-scarred-burnt-cut-up glory as he looked at the frantic face of Antonia, a co-worker of a very special person to him. She looked pale, her eyes were puffy and red, her breath labored and rushed.

The redhead didn’t even have time to ask what happened before –

“Darien’s dead.”

And everything went crashing down.