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Midnight Flying	By : TwistOfLime Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 2200 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Return of Charlie Weasley
- 2-Flying Lessons
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Chapter One: The Return of Charlie Weasley

The stars in the night sky twinkled brightly as Charlie made his way across the grounds of Hogwarts, enjoying the cool November air against his face. It felt good to be back on the school grounds again and he felt lucky that the newly reinstated Triwizard Tournament had given him the opportunity of returning.

In the distance, a violent roar ripped through the night’s stillness and Charlie could just make out a burst of flame through the trees at the edge of the forest. Someone had woken up. He hesitated a bit, contemplating going back to help, before continuing on. There were more than enough people in the enclosure to handle the situation; he wouldn’t be missed. Besides, that Horntail was a nasty piece of work he reflected, wincing as he felt the fabric of his shirt rub against the fresh burn, still tender, on his side. He deserved a little bit of time to recover.

In the distance, the massive form of the Quidditch stadium came into view and Charlie couldn’t contain the schoolboy grin that broke out on his face.

Charlie had been a seeker for Gryffindor during his years at Hogwarts. A damn good one if he said so himself. He probably could have gone on to play professionally, but the idea never really tempted him; he wasn’t one for the spotlight. Most people didn’t understand his decision, but he was happy where he was. He liked the excitement of working with dragons, the physical challenge of it. He liked being able to work outside and get his hands dirty, the camaraderie among the dragon tamers and the simple life on the compound.

He still loved flying though, and temptation of being able to fly once more in the Hogwarts stadium was too much to resist. Mounting the steps, he made his way to the school’s broom shed.

“Alohamora,”he whispered, as the door sprang open in front of him.

He frowned slightly surveying his choices. The brooms were pretty much the same as those that had been there when he was a student: ancient Shooting Stars and a few from the Comet Series that were surely antiques by now. Sighing, he selected a Silver Arrow that looked like it was at least from this decade and began adjusting some of the tail twigs. Pity the students weren’t supposed to know they were here, he could have asked Harry for a go on his Firebolt.

At last satisfied with his broom, Charlie marched out to the center of the pitch and mounting his broom, pushed off into the night.

It was bliss, as if all of his worries had been left there on the ground: no exasperation at his mother’s incessant worry for Harry, no concern over that Green Welsh being rejected by its mother, no stress of paperwork yet to be completed, nothing but the rushing of the crisp fall air and the feeling of freedom.

Putting on a burst of speed, Charlie lapped the stadium a few times before shooting higher into the air. As he dove towards the pitch, he vaguely wished he had thought to take the Snitch out while he was in the broom shed. It was probably for the best though. It was dark and he was a bit rusty, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted to answer to Hooch if he’d lost it.

Pulling out of his dive and rising once more, Charlie reveled in the feel of the cool night air against his face. If he closed his eyes, he could fool himself into thinking that the wind whipping in his ears was really the roar of the crowd. He could almost hear them calling him name. “Charlie... Charlie... CHARLIE!”

His eyes flew open and he pulled on his broom to turn abruptly. Someone was calling his name. On the opposite side of the stadium, high in the stands, stood a dark figure waving to him, alternately shooting red sparks from the end of their wand and calling his name.

Racing towards them, he recognized the figure as he got closer. It was Elizabeth Graves, the compound’s apprentice mediwitch who had come along with the dragon tamers to relieve Madame Pomfrey of the responsibility of attending to their frequent burns.

“Sorry Liz,” he said, landing in the stands next to her, leaning on his brooms handle. “Hope you weren’t trying too long to get my attention.”

“No,” she responded shortly, looking slightly irritated.

“Er... what can I do for you?” he asked with a puzzled frown.

Shaking her head she reached into the pockets of her cloak and pulled out a pot of burn salve. “I should have known you’d forget,” she grumbled, her facade of annoyance betrayed by the smile on her lips. “You have to be my worst patient Charlie Weasley, and that’s saying something. Now hurry up, you’ll have scarring if we don’t get this second application on soon.”

“I didn’t forget,” he lied, pulling his shirt over his head and plopping down on the bench seat. “I just didn’t think it was that pressing. I don’t mind a bit of scarring.”

“Yes, well I do. I prefer to keep my patients scar free when I can. Lumos. Here, hold this please” she said, handing him her lit wand.

Dipping her fingers in the pot, Liz gently lifted his right arm and began massaging the salve onto his burn. He felt his stomach somersault at the contact and slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Elizabeth Graves had caused quite a stir when she first arrived at the compound a couple months ago, fresh from school. The workers at the compound were a tightly knit bunch, given the isolation necessary for raising dragons, so really any new person becomes a person of interest, but Liz was different. Firstly, as a woman in a place sorely lacking the fairer sex, her arrival was something of an anomaly and guaranteed to attract more attention than normal. Mostly though, it was because she was beautiful with silky blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and sinfully plump lips, not to mention her arse, which was spectacular.

Charlie had taken an interest in her along with the rest, but a few of the other blokes at the compound had taken a fancy to her, particularly his flatmate Will. As far as Charlie could tell, these feelings weren’t reciprocated on her part. She was friendly, but always professional. Still, Charlie didn’t want to step on any toes. Working with dragons was a dangerous business without the added distraction of personal drama.

“Turn a little please. And shine the light this way.”

Doing as he was told, Charlie closed his eyes against her ministrations, trying to ignore the delightful sensations they were causing. As she shifted her attention to the burn on the front of his chest he was hit with the delicate scent of rosemary.

“Is that the salve?” he questioned, reaching for the jar.

She was there before he could reach it, slapping his hands away with a ‘tsk’ and drawing a chuckle from him. “Please stay still, this is difficult enough as it is in the dark without you moving the light everywhere. And yes, it is the salve.”

“Where’d you get it?” he asked. Most burn creams strong enough treat dragon burns smelled like a combination of petrol and burning rubbish, not exactly something you wanted to walk around smelling like for an extended period of time.

“I made it,” she replied. “I thought perhaps if the smell wasn’t so horrible my patients would be a little more cooperative. Apparently I was wrong.”

“That’s impressive Liz.”

“Well I didn’t choose to do my apprenticeship at a dragon compound for no reason. My specialty is burns. It’s not quite finished yet, though. It can’t be used on an untreated burn, at least not on an untreated dragon burn. There, done,” she said recapping the jar and wiping her hands on her cloak. “You can put your shirt back on.”

“You fly very well, you know,” she commented as he pulled his shirt over his head

“I do know.”

“You’re insufferable,” she said with a smile. “Where did you learn to fly like that?”

“I used to play Seeker for Gryffindor while at school here.”

“Now that’s impressive Mr. Weasley,” she said teasingly, slowly leaning to peek over the edge of the stands before stepping back with a shudder. “I could never do that. I hate heights, just watching a game makes me tense.”

“Then how’d you learn how to fly?”

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean you didn’t!? Haven’t you ever flown?” he exclaimed, gaping at her.

“No, I haven’t,” she said laughing at the expression of outrage on his face. “Not all of us were destined to be legendary Seekers, you know.”

Charlie stared at her. The thought of never having flown was unfathomable. She might as well have told him she had never breathed before. Without thinking he grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said, tugging her down the steps. “You’re getting your first flying lesson right now.”

“Oh, no,” she gasped, pulling back. “No, Charlie, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, you are.”

“I am not!” she gasped frantically. “I can’t Charlie. I can’t. I hate heights! I hate flying!”

“You’ve never even flown before. How do you know you hate it? Maybe you’ll love it, but you won’t even try. That’s pathetic. I though you were made of stronger stuff than that.” he challenged, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Oh please,” she replied, mimicking his stance. “That’s not going to work. I’m not twelve.”

“Come on,” Charlie said, softening. “Let me show you. You’re missing out Liz, it’s the greatest feeling in the world. I promise nothing will happen and we’ll stop whenever you want. Trust me Liz.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “Fine!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine, you can teach me. But I warn you Charlie, any funny business and I’ll hex you into next week. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” he said, bounding down the stairs to the broom shed to swap the Silver Arrow for two Clean Sweep Threes. Quickly locking the door, he ran out to meet her on the pitch.
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Midnight Flying