Title: A Day in the Life
Author: Bambu a/k/a bambu345
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5,931
Pairing, if any: CW/HG
Prompt: Charlie and a dragon

A/N: This is a small (well, smallish) outtake from the Leap of Faith universe.
Leap of Faith is a collaboration between Tales and me (originally begun in an LJ conversation about Weasley family finances, and my joking comment that Molly Weasley wrote Mills & Boon style romances during those ten months of the year when her children were at school.) If anyone is interested, you can find the story on OWL or on bambu_tales , but I believe this snippet can stand on its own.

Beta kudos are being withheld for the moment, as the gift is for one of my betas, and the other is at work. If you see any mistakes, please let me know.

A Day in the Life

By Bambu

Charlie ignored the insistent heat radiating from his pocket - he knew it was his golden galleon, and the message was from his wife with a reminder that his in-laws were coming to dinner. However, right then, Bathsheba held all his attention. It was rare that dragons hatched prematurely, and even rarer for them to survive, but Charlie was determined to see that the afternoon's disaster didn't end in another death. Even if it meant incurring Hermione's ire.

He landed with a jolt, swinging his leg over the broomstick, leaving it behind, hovering. Charlie strode across the uneven ground toward the hatchery, levitating the magically cocooned infant he'd been towing for six kilometers. The cocoon was opaque, but he could hear Bathsheba's distressed cries coming from within.

Geraldine, the reserve's manager, rounded the corner of the building, and from the state of her hair, it was clear she'd been called from her bath. "What the hell--?"

"Poachers," Charlie replied, grimly.

"Dear Merlin! Not again! Where this time?"

"Norberta's nest. This little one's all that's left."

In her shock, Geraldine's voice rose an octave. "And Norberta?"

"Potions ingredients." Charlie's jaw worked, the muscles tightening and clenching, and he couldn't force any more words between his lips.

"Bugger!" Gerry swore, but she slipped past Charlie, opening the door for him. "Who are you going to use?"

"Smaug."

"Smaug?"

"Terry agrees with me. He and Sergei have come ahead, and with any luck at all, they'll have her in place when we arrive."

Gerry nodded before turning left into a narrow passage.

The hatchery had recently been upgraded through the combined efforts of the Chinese and British Ministries. It was laid out in the shape of a badly drawn sun. Eight stalls, large enough to house a full-grown Chinese Fireball, surrounded an enormous octagonal-shaped central room. The central incubation chamber was filled with heated sand where abandoned eggs - if they were discovered in time -- incubated before being reunited with natural mother, or introduced to its surrogate.

In case of surrogacy, matching dam to hatchling was a delicate balance between temperament and luck. Smaug was volatile, at best. At her worst, she could fry Bathsheba to a crisp with a single burst of flame. However, she was the most successful surrogate the reserve had. Charlie was betting - hoping - she would accept the premature dragonette, if they could keep the stink of magic to a minimum.

Ahead of him, Gerry reached the main room, slid back the wall panel between corridor and incubatory, and angled to the left once inside the cavernous chamber, leaving the doorway clear. Her slippers were too thin-soled for the chamber, and she shifted from foot-to-foot, but the urgency of her business was more important than her comfort. Whipping her wand from her hastily donned leathers, she snapped her wrist, setting several things into motion. Across the room, a panel swung open in the far wall, and a series of jointed fencing segments, made of stiffened dragonhide wrapped around saplings, flew to the middle of the room, linking and shaping themselves into a bottomless pen and then hovering mid-air.

Charlie had reached the doorway by then, and Bathsheba keened a fearful cry as they crossed the threshold. "Gerry, damn it! No more magic."

"There's no time to do it otherwise."

Before Charlie could comment, the roar of a dragon thundered in his ears, and his anxiety lessened, but only a little. "Terry did it. Smaug's in place."

The inner wall of room six rumbled and shook as enormous latches were released and the center sections of the separating wall between stall and incubation chamber were pushed back. Swiftly, Gerry positioned the jointed pen near the moving wall, while Charlie maneuvered his precious burden into place, dead center in the pen.

"Anything left of the eggshell?" she asked.

"In the cocoon with the hatchling, but I'm afraid there are other shells mixed in with this one," Charlie replied, tersely, "I couldn't afford to sort them out."

Gerry grimaced, still shuffling her weight between feet. "Will they taint the imprinting?"

"It's possible. If the hatchling survives the night I'll be surprised."

"If she doesn't, it won't be for lack of trying, Charlie." She paused, briefly. "It was bad?"

"The worst. The bastards got Gizmo, too. You know how protective he was of his mate."

Gerry leaned against the wall, and tears glittered in her eyes. At that moment, the last section of wall locked into place. Terry and Sergei were there, accompanied by Fergus and four additional dragon-handlers, all on alert.

Framed by the broad doorway stood Smaug. Her distinctive, silvery blue scales shone in the reflected light of a late afternoon sunset. She mantled, her wings extending partially, exposing the thin membrane between joints. Her head was raised, and Charlie could see her nostrils flaring as she unerringly focused on the opaque, egg-shaped bundle settling to the hot sands.

Charlie murmured, " Finite Incantatem ," dispensing with the magical cocoon in a flurry of silver motes, leaving behind a piteously keening, still-damp dragonette amidst a number of shattered egg shards. In room six, Terry Higgs moved, his feet sliding into a wider stance, revealing his tension, yet his wand never wavered from the Swedish Short-Snout. They could stun her, but not before she killed the hatchling.

Smaug stepped forward, her nostrils flaring again. Only her head entered the incubatory while she inspected the hatchling, cocking her massive head from side-to-side.

Charlie held his breath, his wand ready, a shielding spell hiding behind his teeth.

Smaug raised her head and inhaled.

The moment before she exhaled seemed to stretch into infinity.

And then Smaug exhaled. Brilliant blue flame erupted from her mouth, bathing the hatchling in a warm zephyr of maternal care while frying the egg shards and leather-and-branch enclosure to ash. A single stunning spell was cut-off mid-incantation when Fergus clapped his hand over Sergei's mouth.

Unaware of the human drama, Bathsheba chirped from the sands, raising her muzzle.

Sweat dripped down Charlie's neck, darkening his tattered flannel shirt.

Smaug lowered her magnificent head and greeted Bathsheba with a huff of warm breath. Muzzle touched muzzle.

The breath exploded from Charlie's lungs. Around the connected rooms, grins spread from face to face as cautious optimism replaced the shocked distress from the poaching incident.

Smaug turned her head, snaking her sinuous neck in search of food. Someone had foreseen a happy outcome, because there was a tub of oozing goat meat within striking distance. Smaug gobbled a whole leg, and the crunch of bone resounded in the hatchery.

Gerry took the moment of distraction to depart, kicking off her slippers as soon as she reached the corridor, hissing as the cool stone soothed her naked feet. No one else moved, as Bathsheba had yet to eat.

The only sounds in the cavernous chamber were those Smaug made eating, and when Bathsheba chirped an insistent demand for food, two of Terry's hand-picked handlers flinched. Charlie would twit them about it later, but not while the outcome of the surrogacy remained in doubt. However, in a welcome anti-climax, Smaug simply lowered her head to feed her putative daughter.

Relieved grins spread wide on all present, and one by one, the dragon handlers left, until only Terry and Charlie remained. Smaug settled into a wallow, dug by her powerful shoulders, with Bathsheba curled into a tight little ball between her surrogate's front paws. Terry rolled the goat cart into the main chamber, then nodded at Charlie to indicate he would take the first watch. Bathsheba would need to be fed every hour if she were to live. All the indications were for a favorable outcome, despite her early and forced hatching.

When Charlie exited the building, full dark had fallen. Reminded of other responsibilities, he pulled his golden galleon from the pocket of his leathers, but the earlier message was gone. There were no subsequent messages. Charlie hated to disappoint Hermione, but he knew her parents would understand.

Suddenly golden light speared into the darkness. Fergus had opened the door to the lodge's mudroom. He stuck his head outside, calling, "Charlie! Alexander's waiting for you in the office."

"On my way." Charlie changed his direction, angling toward the mudroom entrance rather than the front of the lodge, but the crack of Apparition halted him mid-stride. He instantly smiled when he recognized Hermione, but the smile turned to a frown when a second arrival heralded his brother-in-law. Hermione wasted no time crossing the yard to meet her wayward spouse, and when she reached Charlie's side, she put her hand to his cheek, then popped onto her tip-toes for a kiss. It was brief, and he buried his nose in her hair for a moment after. Hermione hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry about Norberta."

"We were lucky to save one of the hatchlings, but how did you know? What happened with your parents, and why-"

"If anyone could mitigate a disaster it would be you." She pulled him toward her companion, but Charlie balked.

"Why is Harry here? And where are your parents?"

"Mum and Dad decided to stay at the flat after Alexander floo'd."

"Kettleburn?"

"Yes. He told me about the attack, so I understood why you were late." She paused. Her glance flicked to the top button of his shirt, and Charlie knew she was remembering his injury from when they had first become a couple. I'm a prat , he thought, reeling her in, kissing her lightly on the mouth. "I'm sorry you worried. I'm sorry I didn't answer -"

"It's all right. I do understand." She broke out of his embrace, once more moving in the direction of the mudroom where Fergus, and now Harry, waited. "I floo'd Harry because-"

"I won't have it look like I'm calling in family favors, Hermione. Even though I appreciate how much you care."

"You didn't, and neither did I."

They had reached the door to the mudroom by then, skirting the small pond whose surface gleamed in the pale moonlight. Harry stepped forward. "Good to see you, Charlie."

As they shook hands, Charlie said, "And you, although I'm wondering why I'm seeing you."

"Yeah." Harry shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair, the faded scar barely visible in the moonlight. "Let's talk about that inside, shall we? It's confidential."

Hermione quirked a smile. "No, Harry, it's Unspeakable."

The two friends laughed at her choice of words, and Charlie followed them into the building, his mind considering possibilities. He kicked off his boots, saying, "Look, the immediate danger is past, so let me take a quick shower."

"I'll come with you," Hermione offered as they entered the kitchen.

In the midst of carrying a bowl of stew, Fergus shook a finger at her. "No you don't, lass! I know you. If you go with him, we'll be waitin' all night for you to come back." And then he laughed when she blushed.

Charlie merely chuckled, bending to whisper in Hermione's ear, "You can join me later." When he raised his hand to tap her lips with his forefinger he noticed dried gore around his nailbed and knuckle. "Definitely later."

"Fine. I'll fix you something to eat while you shower. There are too many of us for your office, so we'll meet here." She turned to the older dragon handler. "Fergus, will you fetch Gerry and Alexander? And then we'll need Terry -"

"He's with Smaug and the hatchling," Charlie replied, heading toward the lodge's great room and the stairs which would take him to his well-earned shower.

Fergus shrugged. "I'll send young Sergei to take his place. It's time he stood a rotation."

Suddenly there seemed to be a great deal of unspoken tension in the kitchen. Unerringly, Charlie turned toward Harry, noticing that he and Hermione were holding a silent conversation. "Harry?"

His brother-in-law eyed their surroundings, his gaze resting on the four interns sitting at the far end of the table eating stew. He said, "Not now, Charlie. Just choose someone else to relieve Higgs."

Charlie opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but the younger man's expression changed, and for the first time, Charlie saw the man who had defeated Voldemort staring out of bottle green eyes. It chilled him to the bone.

"Stop it, Harry." Hermione chided, and squeezed Charlie's forearm. "Choose someone else, love. Is Annika here?"

Fergus gave the three a sharp look, clearly having heard the quiet conversation, and he didn't take a seat. Instead, he buffeted Harry on the shoulder, and spoke loudly enough to draw the interns' attention. "Here's your stew, Potter. It was good to see you again. I'm off." Then he lowered his voice. "I'll send her immediately. Alexander can hold the bairn while we talk." He sauntered from the room. From the far end of the long table, the four interns, interested momentarily, went back to their dinner.

Charlie noticed, however, that Harry still held his wand. He asked, "Are my people in danger?" Harry's "not at the moment," did nothing to ease Charlie's disquiet.

Hermione shoved her husband toward the stairs. "Go. Take your shower," she leaned in as if for a kiss, but hovered a breath from his lips, and her words barely carried to his ear. "Don't deviate from your normal routine. It will be all right."

Believing her, he kissed her swiftly, his eyes never leaving Harry's, but then Charlie turned and sprinted across the great room, mounting the stairs three-at-a-time. It was completely in character. He always hurried if Hermione were waiting for him.

Ten minutes later, Charlie returned to the kitchen to see Alexander Kettleburn bouncing his young son on his knee. Gerry and Fergus were seated with him, Fergus making silly faces to entertain the baby. Harry and Hermione stood nearby, and Harry still held his wand. Of the interns there was no sign, and there was an empty place at the table, a fresh bowl of stew waiting for him. When Hermione spotted Charlie, she smiled. As he crossed the room, he passed through a magical membrane causing all the hairs on his body to stand on end. Abruptly, his temper flared. "What the bloody hell is happening, and why is it happening at my reserve?"

All talk stopped, Fergus' head whipped around so fast that were he a less limber man he would have suffered an injury.

Harry's professional demeanor slid neatly into place. "I'll tell you presently."

"Tell me now, Harry."

"I'm waiting for Higgs."

Charlie gritted his teeth. "You can give me the long version when Terry gets here; give me an abstract now. We've had four dragons' nests destroyed in as many months, and I would like to know what's going on."

It wasn't Harry who replied, but Hermione. "International smuggling ring trading in Dark artifacts, Class A and XXXX untradables."

"Hermione!" Harry snapped. "You were allowed to come along as a courtesy."

"Don't speak to me like that, Harry James." Hermione poked her friend's chest. "You know how frustrated you used to get when Dumbledore kept information from you - information you needed to know. Charlie needs to know. He has a saving people sort of thing." Then she smirked. "You should understand that."

"Right. I won't bring you next time."

She crossed her arms, and when Harry's expression turned surly, Charlie could have laughed. He would have if the situation were different. Nonetheless, he didn't like the assumptions he was drawing. "If I follow the general direction of Hermione's summation, you're accusing Sergei Volkanoff of aiding and abetting a known smuggling ring?"

"Not yet," Harry acknowledged.

Hoarse shouting from outside the lodge drew everyone's attention. Harry and Charlie sprinted toward the quickest exit. Fergus, Gerry, and Hermione ran through the great room to the main entrance. Alexander remained in the kitchen, wand drawn, and baby suddenly in a cot with a security bubble placed around it.

The scene outside was almost one of a malicious schoolboy prank, only this one with more serious overtones. Sergei hung upside down, mid-air, his pockets emptying as he was shaken about like a rag-doll. Several vials -- some empty, others filled and unlabeled -- lay scattered on the ground below him, amidst an assortment of coins and a yew wand. Three interns held torches or wands lit to illuminate the scene, their fourth urging Terry to release Sergei for questioning. Terry stood at the epicenter of the commotion, his wand dipping and rising as he directed Sergei's nausea-inducing adventure.

As soon as Terry saw Charlie, he shouted, "Do you know where we found this . this piece of filth?"

Harry barked at the fourth intern. "Dawlish, set up a perimeter!"

Narrowing his eyes when the reserve's intern quickly followed the order, Charlie responded to Terry's angry question as he closed in on the scene. "Where did you find him?"

"In the lab. Dissecting choice bits from Gizmo's carcass." Terry gave a particularly vicious flick of his wand, and Sergei screamed as he dropped several meters only to be jerked upward by the ankles, "The swine was calculating the value of dragon's blood."

"Bring him down," Harry commanded. "We need to talk to him."

"No!" Terry shouted.

"Higgs-"

"He's violated the terms of his agreement with the reserve while an employee, Harry. He's mine to discipline." Charlie took a great deal of pleasure in watching Sergei's eyes widen, and the dangling man shrieked, "I am a Russian citizen. I demand-"

Charlie silenced him with a non-verbal spell. "I don't give a fuck what you demand, Volkanoff."

"He's violated wizarding law." Harry pointed his own wand at the transgressor.

"Wait," Hermione interrupted before the alpha head-butting spiraled out of control. "Let me try something."

For a moment it was touch and go, and only Terry complained when Harry and Charlie acquiesced, although he seemed mollified by the malicious grins which split the other wizards' faces.

"Hold him in place for a moment." Hermione waved her wand, transforming Sergei into a small kid. Terry's expression turned feral, and the goat, Sergei, bleated. Hermione unburdened one of the interns, dousing his torch's fire, and transfiguring the metal handle into a cage. Opening its door, she said, "Put Sergei in here, please."

"If there wasn't an Auror present-" Charlie grumbled, but directed the terrified goat into the cage, where Sergei immediately began to butt his transfigured head against the bars, "-I'd be happy to release him in the hatchery just as he is. Smaug loves goat meat." Then, with the savage impetus of previously denied fury, Charlie thrust his wand at the goat, stunning Sergei with such force he toppled onto his back, tiny cloven hooves wobbling in the air as the goat's body rocked back and forth.

The interns laughed nervously, and Fergus herded them toward the lab. "Here lads, let's take inventory. Make sure that gobshite didn't abscond with anything else."

Harry levitated the cage in the direction of the lodge, calling over his shoulder, "Send for the rest of the team, Dawlish. Higgs, I'll need you inside." Terry nodded, looking to Charlie for confirmation before following Harry.

Hermione waited for her husband, her lip clenched between her teeth, but Charlie didn't follow Harry right away, nor did he go to Hermione. Instead, he crossed to the paraphernalia littering the ground beneath Sergei's bobbing display. When he would have picked up the vials of dragon's blood, Dawlish forestalled him. "That's evidence, sir."

Charlie straightened up, his expression hard. "Something you care to tell me?"

Dawlish was a credit to his training. "I'm afraid that would be confidential. Auror Potter would be able to explain better than I."

Charlie gritted his teeth. He nodded toward Fergus and his charges as they entered the narrow wooden building which housed the reserve's lab. "Are they MLE as well?"

"No, sir. They're exactly what they seem to be."

"Good. When you leave the reserve tonight, Dawlish, don't plan on coming back." Dawlish paled, and Charlie smiled grimly. Then, he collected Hermione before returning to the lodge.

"Charlie," she said, clearly uncertain of his mood. He squeezed her hand, but then they entered the building, and anything else Hermione might have said was drowned out by the hubbub.

The enormous fireplace was alight with Floo powder, allowing various MLE personnel to arrive through the green flames. In his element, Harry directed his team who scurried about with efficient economy, but when he handed the goat cage to one of his men, Charlie released Hermione's hand, and yelled, "Stop!" It was surprisingly effective. All activity ceased, and every head swiveled in Charlie's direction. "Leave the goat."

Harry said, "He's under arrest."

"We're not in Britain, and the reserve is under my jurisdiction." Charlie glanced at the goat then back at Harry. "You can have him when I'm done."

"Not going to happen. I've been working on this case for the last year-and-a-half, and he's been caught in the act."

"He stays here, Harry. He's violated international law and the Covenant for the Protection of Endangered Species."

"He's the link we need." Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. "It's not as if I'm setting him free. I guarantee he'll see the inside of Azkaban prison for a long time."

"Will he have a trial?" Charlie asked.

"Of course."

"Then you can't guarantee he'll see prison. If you leave him here, I guarantee he'll regret his choices for the rest of his very short life."

The fire flared green, but neither man noticed. They stepped closer to one another, anger flushing their cheeks.

"I'm not leaving him, Charlie. He's going back to Britain to stand trial."

"He killed my dragons!" roared Charlie.

A new voice entered the heated argument. "And he will be punished to the full extent of the law."

Harry and Charlie spun to face the newcomer. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood on the hearth rug, no less impressive because he was wearing his dressing gown and slippers. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his smile when he looked down upon the stunned goat being held by a very nervous young Auror. Whatever he had become, Kingsley was still a Dark wizard catcher at heart.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Kingsley," Hermione said, and she neatly snatched the goat cage from the Auror's hands. "If you will give me a moment, I think we might have solved another piece of the puzzle." She opened the cage door and levitated the kid from its confines. " Finite incantatem! "

Stunning and transfiguration spells sloughed off the prisoner, his body lengthening, shifting, becoming human. Before he attempted to flee, Hermione spun an Incarcerous in his direction. Vines spurted from her wand, wrapping around Sergei. He began to bluster and stammer, but at a glance from Hermione, Charlie obligingly silenced his former employee. Charlie grinned as he stepped next to Hermione.

Sergei struggled wildly against his constraints when Hermione retrieved a small silver knife and tiny flask from her robes. She smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile at all. "I think there may be another crime to lay at this man's feet."

"What other crime?" Kingsley asked.

"I won't know until I determine his identity." Hermione proceeded to push Sergei's body over, uncaring whether he landed on his face or not. No one protested her treatment; in fact, they watched in fascination. When Sergei wriggled away from her, she said, "This will be easier if you lie still," and then stunned him. "We suspect he isn't Sergei Volkanoff." She pushed Sergei's sleeve off his forearm, and used her knife to make a small incision in his pale skin. Deftly, she collected his blood in the flask. "Baden's been reading your notes, Harry."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Baden Nott's been reading my notes. How did your department get my notes?"

She rolled her eyes. "Department of Mysteries. We have access to everything ."

Charlie smirked at Harry's expression, but he stayed near Hermione as she moved toward the billiard table. Setting the flask in on the green baize, Hermione waved her wand in an intricate spiral. On a silent count of three, vapor rose from Sergei's blood, swirling, coalescing into an oval, and then the oval spun tighter, faster, until it formed into the shape of a head. A head familiar to everyone who'd fought on the front lines of the recent war.

"Rabastan Lestrange!"

"Just as Baden thought." Hermione's tone bordered on smug.

As Harry appeared ready to lunge in Sergei's direction, Charlie shouted, "Wait!"

"Why?" Harry asked, not at all pleased.

Charlie poked Sergei with the toe of his boot. "I assume you think he's been taking Polyjuice for the past year, but it's not possible."

"Yeah," Terry piped in, looking very much as if his newly discovered pet was a puffskein rather than a ridgeback. "The dragons hate the smell, Potter; we would have noticed, or he would've been eaten."

From the expressions of the reservists in the great room, the latter was their option of choice.

"He's not Rabastan Lestrange," Hermione said, bringing their attention back to her. "This spell doesn't determine identity. It determines paternity."

"Excellent." Kingsley's eyes glittered in triumph. "I like nothing better than having the whip hand."

"So Sergei Volkanoff is Lestrange's son."

"Not exactly." Hermione's expression saddened, and she asked Charlie, "Were you disappointed in his performance as Sergei Volkanoff?"

Fergus answered her, and Charlie wondered when he'd returned from the lab. "We all were. His references were excellent, as were the reports of his internship, but we found him curiously lacking."

"We assumed Durmstrang's and Beijing's standards had slipped, and after his first month, we kept him from anything sensitive, even though he kept - Shite!" Charlie's fist clenched, and he took a step away from the prisoner lest he kick the man. "He always wanted to assist Fergus in the lab. We should have put it together sooner."

"No, Charlie. I don't think so." Kingsley, put his arm on Charlie's shoulder. "Harry's team has been following this group for months. They were clever and careful. Until now, we didn't know Lestrange was involved, although we had . never mind. How long after he came here did anything go missing?"

Gerry entered the conversation. "We've had niggling discrepancies in inventory for a few months, but nothing which couldn't be explained by accidental breakage or the fact we have four interns this season. We're all careful, but-"

"And none of the poaching incidents happened until after he'd been in residence for several months." Charlie mentally reviewed the year Sergei Volkanoff had been at the reserve.

Kingsley stepped away from Charlie, and patted his pocket. "You would have had no reason to suspect Lestrange."

"Are you saying he's not Volkanoff?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, but it was Hermione who said, "I don't know about Harry, but I suspect Lestrange killed Volkanoff and took his place. It's why his performance was subpar."

"What happens now?" Charlie flexed his hand, releasing the tension of his coiled fist. "He's still in violation of the Covenant."

"I shall take him into custody." Kingsley raised an eyebrow, "Surely none can dispute my authority?" None did. "By your leave, Harry, I shall commandeer one of your subordinates -"

Charlie interrupted. "Take Dawlish."

In the process of giving orders to one of his underlings, Harry paused. "You don't suspect Dawlish of anything do you?"

"No. But I'm not happy with his deception, and I want him off the reserve."

"He was under orders. Surely you understand."

"I understand, Harry, but I don't want him here. And I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way."

"You aren't," Fergus said. Terry jerked open the front door, saying, "It'll be my pleasure to speed him on his way," before slipping into the night.

"The next time you need to place an undercover agent amongst my people, Kingsley, tell me first."

The minister's brows arched in surprise, but he replied calmly. "Fair enough. I would hex strips from the man who did the same to me."

"Good, then if I ever have reason to hex you, I'll remind you of this conversation."

Kingsley laughed, and at that moment, Dawlish scurried into the great room, his eyes widening when he saw the minister. "You're with me, young Dawlish." Kingsley retrieved a handkerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown, waved his wand and incanted, " Portus . Grab hold, young man, and bring the prisoner with you."

Thus, with a jaunty salute to Charlie, a wink at Hermione and a nod to Harry, the Minister of Magic whirled out of sight, accompanied by Dawlish and the still-bound Lestrange. Stunned silence held the room in thrall for a triple beat before everyone spoke at once.

The remaining interns entered the great room talking excitedly amongst themselves. Harry gathered his team. One Auror climbed the stairs to collect Sergei Volkanoff Lestrange's things, another floo'd to the Ministry to begin the paperwork.

Harry nodded to the remainder of his team, save one, and they filed through the floo. Then he said his farewells to Hermione. While he hugged her, he said, "We'll have to have a little talk about confidentiality."

Her eyes sparkled as she replied. "All right. I'll set up an inter-departmental meeting."

Harry frowned. "You could've told me."

"You could've told Charlie about Dawlish."

Harry's frown deepened, and his pale scar puckered. "Status quo, then?"

"Until such time as our departments pull their heads out of their collective bums, what I think doesn't matter. Besides, I may end up working for Gringotts and then it really won't matter." She grinned, and he scoffed.

While Harry waited for his remaining Auror to finish his task, he made arrangements with Charlie for the next day. Once that was concluded, Charlie joined Terry and Fergus where they blocked the doorway leading to the kitchen. "What was the damage?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the lab.

"Minimal. The lab's in good shape." Fergus nodded toward the Auror descending the stairs, a packed duffel floating behind him. Harry threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fire and stepped through with a final wave at Hermione. Fergus didn't pause in his accounting. "Smythe was thorough, although I had a time convincing him not to use magic in the hatchery itself. He wanted to search the main chamber."

"You didn't let him -" Charlie began to say, but broke off at the mischievous look on Fergus' face. He chuckled with real mirth for the first time. "You did?"

"I offered. But for some curious reason, he changed his mind after I opened the door to room six."

Terry laughed. "I'd have liked to see his face."

"Smaug was having a snack; it seemed to cool Smythe's enthusiasm." The three men shared the inside joke before Fergus finished. "There was a small cache secreted behind the tempering cabinet, but it only held a handful of short snout scales and three claws."

"Only?" Terry no longer laughed at Smythe's expense.

"It could've been worse." Charlie tracked the Auror's path through the lodge's main room.

"True enough," Terry replied. "Thank Nimue, it's not worse."

"Thank Smaug." Fergus grinned. "It was touch and go for a bit, but the ol' girl came through."

Suddenly, Charlie said, "Excuse me," before leaving his colleagues abruptly, striding to where Hermione leaned against the billiard table talking to Smythe. She was animated, her hands adding emphasis to her words. Charlie didn't like the way the Auror leaned toward her, clearly attracted, but she was oblivious of his interest. She smiled in delight when she saw Charlie, but Smythe stiffened and flushed. "Charlie, I was just explaining to Tris why he can't have the blood sample I took from Lestrange."

"Tris?"

"Tristan Smythe," Hermione supplied, and rushed on with her explanation. "It might be evidence, but it's my evidence, and as an Unspeakable, I'm considered an expert-"

"That's -that's fine, Mrs. Weasley," Smythe stammered. Hermione looked up in surprise at his sudden formality. "I'll just be going now. If you'll let Auror Potter know when he can have the sample, that should wrap up our immediate investigation." He inclined his head in Charlie's direction, his brown eyes staring at Charlie's arm wrapped around Hermione's waist. "I suspect you'll be hearing from us in the morning. We'll need to send a team to the site of the poaching incident."

"Yes," Charlie drawled, pulling Hermione closer. "I've already made arrangements with Harry."

Smythe flushed again, and left as quickly as possible. Hermione's expression was puzzled. "What was that about?"

"Poaching," Charlie answered and lowered his head to capture her lips. He let the kiss develop, the tensions of the day washing away in her responsiveness. They hadn't been married long enough to blunt their desire for one another, and Charlie's fingers threaded through her hair, cupping her head, while their tongues came into play.

"Oi!" shouted Terry. "Get a room!"

Charlie growled, but he broke the kiss; he grinned at the glazed look in Hermione's eyes.

Gerry stepped through the open doorway from the kitchen, a pot of tea and a mug hovering on a tray in front of her. "What are you still doing here, Charlie?" Gerry asked. "Aren't you on leave for the next thirty-six hours?"

"Someone has to stay with Bathsheba, and I have to be here in the morning. Harry's got a team of Aurors coming to the nest site." His earlier frustrated anger dampened his spike of ardor.

"Terry, Annika, and Fergus are taking turns through the night, and Alexander is staying over." As Gerry passed Charlie, she swatted his bicep. "Get the hell out of here, boy. Go home. Sleep with your wife." She laughed wickedly when Hermione blushed.

Mollified, Charlie grinned. "Excellent advice, Gerry. We'll just be going."

Hermione's and Charlie's good-byes were hurried, and they slipped through the floo accompanied by a number of catcalls, but they were laughing when they tumbled out of the fireplace in their flat. Knourek, their half-kneazle, bounded around into the entry and pounced on Charlie, purring for all he was worth.

"He's missed you," Hermione said.

" He missed me?" His stomach announced its empty state, and Hermione turned the corner into the kitchen. "What about you?" he asked, following her into the kitchen, Knourek twining through his legs as he walked.

"You know I missed you. It's been a whole week." She giggled when he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him. Her wand clattered to the counter, half atop the quiche she had been warming.

"Love, wait," she said, but he led her down the hall to their bedroom, casting a Silencing Spell on the door to the guest room where her parents slept. "You're hungry."

"I'm starving," he replied, "but not for food."

"Charlie," she protested, but it was muffled against his lips. He kissed her with urgency, the tensions, worries and losses of the day wreaking havoc on his emotions, but Hermione was his grounding point. When his hands slid beneath her top, she stopped protesting, and her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. He flicked his wand, shutting their bedroom door abruptly in Knourek's face. Hermione and Charlie were so focused on one another they didn't hear his hiss of irritation.

Months of familiarity sped their tasks, and in scant seconds they were naked. Hermione backed up until she hit the end of the bed, and she smiled as she fell, pulling Charlie with her. Calloused hands flattened the duvet on either side of her, and Charlie dipped his head to taste her mouth again. "Budge up," he murmured when their kiss broke.

He captured a nipple with his mouth as she scooted toward the headboard, and she paused when he gave a deep pull of suction, her fingers fumbling on the linens. Her moan spurred his excitement, and he moved as she moved, teasing the purling peak of her breast until he was positioned on the bed fully. His erection pressed between them, throbbing and insistent.

Hermione's fingers scraped against his scalp, and she spread her legs to hold him in the cradle of her thighs. "Love," she whispered, and he couldn't tell if it was an endearment or a proclamation. Maybe both.

He arched his back when she rocked her hips, but he didn't sheathe himself yet. Instead, Charlie kissed her again. He leaned on one elbow, taking most of his weight on that shoulder before snaking his other hand between their bodies, sliding across Hermione's smooth skin, through her bushy thatch of pubic curls. She was slick and hot and ready.

"Now," she demanded, and rocked her hips again.

"Now," he agreed and thrust home.