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Pillow Fights And Other Extreme Sports	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of this fanfiction. It's got the word 'fan' in it for a reason.

Chapter List
- 1-Pillow Fights And Other Extreme Sports
- 1
Warnings: Anal, Oral, Rimming, minor involved (but nothing of note happens until they are grown), slash, Incest

Pairing: Charlie/Ron

Notes: Happy Birthday Starstruck86!

I have done my best to stay true to the timeline, but if I screwed it up, whoops. As always, if you want to be added to my mailing list, email maybeitsmajick@gmail.com. I will not add blank emails but "mailing list" or "add me" are perfectly sufficient. I will never spam you. I will only email you with fic updates and related information.

Pillow Fights and Other Extreme Sports

The Burrow: September 1990

"Mmphnnmmph!!!"

Charlie laughed and pulled the pillow back from his little brother's face, "what was that, Ron? I didn't hear you," he laughed that full-bellied laugh he had.

Ron, ten years old and chubby-cheeked, huffed up at him. "I said, I'll get you for that!" He grabbed a pillow from behind his head and beaned Charlie with it so hard that his stocky brother tumbled to the floor, elbow crunching into the boards and cracking one of them good. He was going to have to fix that before their mother saw it, or he'd get hell for breaking the house, again. The 'young and rambunctious' excuse hadn't really worked for him since he turned sixteen. He had Bill to blame for that, he supposed – his oh-so-perfect big brother. He'd been so pissed when Bill left them all to go digging around dead people in Egypt, but he got it now. He loved his family, but he couldn't wait to get out of England and out of this house, go somewhere that people didn't know every last detail of his life, up to and including the color of his underwear and how many bloody pairs he owned.

To take some of the sting off of his wanderlust, he'd developed a certain habit of tormenting the youngest of his brothers, only a little, and all in good fun. He was pretty sure Ron enjoyed it as much as he did, even if their mother would wash his mouth out with soap if she heard some of the words spewing forth from her 'innocent' little Ronald's lips.

"That bloody hurt you little twat," Charlie griped, tossing the pillow he'd accosted Ron with at his brother. It distracted Ron just long enough for him to get his stocky body up over him grab it again and start beating his kid brother about the head and shoulders with the pillow anew.

Ron held his own pillow up like a shield, griping about fair play in between breathless laughs. "You're too big!" he bemoaned. "I don't stand a bloody chance!" He shoved against his brother's chest, but it barely made the stocky seeker budge.

Charlie laughed and dropped his pillow to grab Ron's hand. "Of course," he grinned. "I have to use my advantage while I've got it." He held his brother's palm flat against his chest and ran a hand down from the wrist to the elbow. "Look at these long arms. You're going to be tall, just like Bill. Then I'll be the one who doesn't stand a chance."

Ron blinked up at his brother. The playful mood had all but vanished in an instant and he felt a tingling sensation spreading up and down the arm that Charlie touched so tenderly. It turned his spine to butter and made him melt into the mattress. "I'll get you back then. Just you watch," he answered, but it was barely a whisper.

Charlie felt something tingling in his stomach as he leaned down over his brother with a smile that was a little less giddy and more – Ron thought – predatory. It scared him, but it excited him.

"I look forward to that," Charlie whispered back. He found himself trapped in a dangerous moment. He wanted to keep leaning forward, but knew he shouldn't. He noticed the shape of Ron's pouty lips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, lost himself in bright blue eyes. 'Someone, please. Stop me...'

It was as if, in that instant, his mother's sole purpose in life was to answer his prayers. Her voice thundered up the stairs, "BREAAAKFASSSSTTTTT! Get your lazy bones down here!"

The moment was shattered and Charlie clambered off his baby brother. He pulled open the door. "Was just waking up the sleepyhead, mum! Be right down!" he hollered back.

Charlie thought he'd never loved his mother quite as much as he did just then. She'd broken a spell that would have been the end of him, so when he made his way down the stairs, he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. When she asked what he was about, all aflutter with maternal joy, he'd said rather simply, "Oh, you know. Nothing in particular."

Molly laughed and ruffled his hair. "I should cut this before you're off to Hogwarts," she declared.

"Mum, you just cut it last week. It's fine," Charlie complained.

"Have all your things packed, Charlie dear?" she asked as she fiddled with his bed-head.

"Yu-huh," Charlie answered around his first mouthful of eggs.

She turned and bellowed again "Ronaaalllddd!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming..." a voice whined from upstairs.

"Honestly," she sighed. "How is he ever going to make it to classes on time next year if he can't even make it down to breakfast?"

Charlie laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much. He'll have Percy there to nag him. I wish I could be there to see it."

*

The Burrow, July 1990

Charlie sighed as he laid back in bed staring at the ceiling. Up side – he'd graduated, and even better, he'd totally owned that pathetic rich little Slytherin prick and won Gryffindor the cup! The down side? He frowned at the mugglish sling his right arm was trapped in. He'd busted it up so bad it would take a whole week to heal! And what the hell could you do for a week with only your left hand?

Well, Charlie could think of one thing at least. He slipped his hand beneath the threadbare sheet and pulled his pants down to rest beneath his balls. Even just the sheet rubbing against his bare flesh felt great. Once he was on his own, he thought he might give sleeping in the buff a go. The thought passed idly through his mind as he wrapped his fingers around the flesh. He closed his eyes and imagined the centerfold of that magazine his mother would kill him for if she ever found where he'd squirreled it away between the mattress and the box spring. Full-breasted and curvy in all the right places, shaved, and with a bikini tan that said not much was covered even when she was wearing it. As good a fantasy as any, right? Long wavy hair spilling down her back as she tossed her head. Likes: long walks on the beach, puppies, skinny-dipping and tit-fucking. Sounded like his kind of girl. Hell, sounded like anyone's kind of girl, right? Rather the point, wasn't it?

Charlie licked his lips and sighed, dragging his palm up from base to tip, then down again. He did it slowly, casually. He was basically a cripple for the time being, and Bill was still in Egypt, so for the summer or until he settled on what he was going to do with the rest of his life he had the room to himself. The one benefit of that was being able to wank whenever he wanted and to take as long as he wanted doing it. The fantasy didn't matter – lips wrapping around his prick, hands sliding over his body, a tongue lathing affection across his tightening nipples. His cock grew hard in hand quickly and he didn't quite realize when the fantasy warped – the curvaceous hips he imagined gripping became slender and boxy, the chest flat, freckled, and pale. It didn't bother him that he found himself fantasizing about a man. Quite the contrary, he found the thought of a stiff prick bouncing in the air as his imaginary lover rode him intoxicating. It seemed silly to bias himself over something silly like gender if both enticed him.

His lips parted. His breath shortened. His back arched. His bedroom door opened.

Wait, what? Yes, his bedroom door opened without so much as a knock. Charlie cussed and sat up abruptly, bundling the sheets in a lump at his midsection quickly as his dear, baby brother walked in. Slender, pale, freckled... 'Shite. Bollocks. Fuck me.' Ron hadn't seen, had he? He couldn't possibly know, right? Charlie had forgotten that horrifying moment in September when he'd damn near snogged his kid brother until now. It suddenly came flooding back to him – the flushed face, the sulky lips, the vibrantly blue Weasley eyes wide and innocent – the memory of Ron with morning breath and bed head raced straight for his groin, though he knew it oughtn't for so many reasons, not the least of which was that he'd helped change Ron's diapers.

Ron held firmly to a small box of candies. "What're you doing?" he asked as he sidled up to the bed.

"Nothing much," Charlie answered, glad that his voice remained steady in spite of the barely concealed hard-on that raged beneath the sheet as he watched Ron pop a candy between his moist lips. He unconsciously licked his, but Ron didn't seem to notice.

"Mum said to give her your robes. Since you won't need them anymore," Ron blanketed, looking a little grumpy. Charlie didn't blame him. It must be rough getting all the hand me downs. Oh, he'd had a few too, but since Bill was so thin and he was so broad, most of Bill's old clothes went straight to Percy. No amount of magic could make them fit his broad frame.

"Sure," Charlie answered, imagining Ron swimming in the excess fabric. It was really cute. "Hey, let me have one of those," he changed the subject, gesturing at the box of candy in Ron's hand.

Ron pulled the box closer to his chest. "No! They're mine!" he declared stubbornly. Charlie chuckled. Ron had never liked sharing, not one bit.

"Come ooon. Don't be stingy!" Charlie declared. He couldn't stop himself. Teasing Ron was so fun. His petulant expressions were too cute.

"They're mine!" Ron declared even more firmly.

'So...so cute!' Charlie impulsively pulled Ron toward him and cupped the back of his neck with one hand, laying a heavy kiss on his mouth and weaseling his tongue between shocked, parted lips. He dragged his tongue through Ron's mouth and tangled it around the candy, stealing it on the way back. His groin twitched madly with desire, but he managed to reign in his hormones enough to force an impish grin and display the stolen candy between his teeth.

Ron looked aghast. He rubbed an arm across his mouth. "...the hell is wrong with you!?!" he declared.

'That's what I'd like to know,' Charlie thought, but what he said was, "That's what you get for being stingy," like it was his most brilliant joke.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Git. Mum wanted me to tell you lunch will be ready soon."

"Yeah, sure," Charlie answered.

Ron was quick to leave the room. 'Afraid I'll snog him again,' Charlie thought dryly. 'And he's right to be.' He thought he passed it off right, that Ron would be too embarrassed about having been had to tell anyone. But that only solved the most immediate problem. W ell, second most immediate. He flopped back against the mattress and slipped his hand into his pants again. He was so hard it hurt, and it was Ron's scent that made him feel like this, Ron's taste. He was only a kid! And his brother! He couldn't think about that!

Still, he groaned softly, biting his lips to muffle himself so the sounds wouldn't be carried through the thin walls. He couldn't fight Ron from his fantasies as he rolled his hips and tugged his prick to a fast, hard orgasm. "Fucking hell..." he breathed, wiping his hand off on his stomach and grabbing his wand for a quick clean-up.

'I've got to get my shit together. What the hell is wrong with me?'

*

Treehouse near the Burrow, August 1990

The hollow at the base of the tree that Ron stepped into was large enough for a child to walk through, but a grown man would have to crawl. Once inside, the space was far less cramped. Arthur Weasley had always been brilliant at extension charms, and the one he used on the space beneath the hollow tree was no exception. It had never been intended for the gaggle of children Arthur and Molly had ended up with, as it was originally built when Bill was still a tiny little tike, but it was plenty big enough for two or three, with a small table and chairs etched out of the wood in one corner and a ratty old mattress in the other. It even had a fully functioning lavatory with a standing shower.

Now that nearly all the Weasleys were either in Hogwarts or out of it, it didn't get much use, but Ron still liked it. All of his other brothers had outgrown it, and Ginny didn't really care about it one way or another. She was too busy with, well, with whatever girls do, he figured, so it was almost his own private spot. Almost, except for Charlie, who – though his body barely fit through the entrance anymore – still took to hiding out there whenever he could, especially now that the recruiters kept showing up on their doorstep.

"You're here again," Ron blanketed.

"Observant, aren't you?" Charlie answered.

" 'nother recruiter is looking for you. Mum said to go look for you."

"Congratulations, you found me." It wasn't that Charlie didn't want to play Quidditch anymore. He just didn't know what he wanted, so he was dodging the recruiters for as long as he could, trying to buy some time. He loved Quidditch, really he did, but he just didn't know if it was what he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing. There had to be something out in the wide wizarding world bigger than Quidditch, bigger than Hogwarts and the Burrow, something big enough to swallow his attention whole and get his mind off of the depraved things he wanted to do to Ron.

"You want me to tell her I couldn't find you?" Ron asked.

Charlie shrugged morosely. "It doesn't matter I s'pose," he answered, dropping his chin onto the arms he had planted on top of his knees.

Ron's answer was to flop down to a seat beside him on the dingy mattress. "I'm going to Hogwarts next month," he said. He was buzzing with anticipation and nervousness on the subject, Charlie well knew. The twins, no doubt, had been feeding him all sorts of rubbish stories.

"Yeah, they grow up fast," Charlie teased, grabbing Ron into a noogie and letting his brother fight his way out of it too quickly.

"There's a letter for you," Ron said. "Owl arrived when Mum was making lunch. I put it on your bed."

"Thanks."

"What's in Romania?"

Charlie's posture tensed. "Maybe nothing," he answered. "You didn't say anything to mum about it, did you? I don't want her fussing over stupid shite that probably isn't anything. The way they're all mental over all these recruiters is enough, yeah?"

Ron pursed his lips as if he was going to ask more, so Charlie blurted out the first thing he could think of to change the subject. "Hey, how 'bout some flying lessons, eh? Get you a head start for the school year, yeah?"

"Really?" Ron asked hopefully. Charlie, after all, was the best flyer he knew.

"Sure, fetch my broom for me, and I'll meet you out by the lake. Just make sure to dodge mum n' dad, so they don't know you found me or ask what you're up to." He wasn't even sure Ron heard that second sentence, he ran out of the treehouse so quickly.

*

Charlie hated himself, just a little. He hated the way he rested his hand on Ron's hip and leaned over his shoulder when he showed his brother how to grip the broom. He hated the way he knelt down and caressed Ron's shin while he showed him how he should tuck his ankles beneath him, and rested his hand on his spine to explain how he ought to lean forward a bit for better balance until he got the hang of flying. He was utterly disgusted with his behavior. He was obsessed in the worst way and Ron kept seeking him out when he was trying to escape, clueless (even after that candy kiss a month ago) to the filthy things Charlie couldn't fight from his thoughts when they were alone together.

"Okay now, got it? Up!" The broom rocketed toward the sky.

"Uwah!" Ron yelped. The broom wobbled madly as it shot out over the lake.

"Steady Ron!" Charlie called from the ground. "Take a deep breath and calm down!"

"Aaaahhhh!!!!!" Ron answered. The broom started spiraling downward.

"Ron!! Calm the fuck down!" Charlie swore. It was too late. Ron lost control of the broom and crashed through the surface of the water. "Ron!" The broom bobbed up to the surface of the lake and floated there. "Ron?!" But he didn't see that trademark messy red hair.

Charlie kicked his trainers off and dove in after his brother. He pulled Ron's wet noodle body to the side of the lake and fumbled for his wand. He cast the resuscitation charm he learned first year to eject the water from Ron's lungs, but it didn't work. Then he did it a second time, and still nothing. 'No no no! Why isn't it working?!'

"Ron! Ron, fucking wake the bloody hell up!" he demanded after the third and fourth attempts, pulled his brother to his chest and strangling around a sob. He yelped when he felt fingers gingerly tickling his ribcage.

"Got'cha," Ron laughed, pulling back with a grin. "Charlie? Shite. I didn't mean to make you cry..." he pouted.

Charlie pulled him back against his chest hard and wouldn't let go, even when Ron squirmed. "Don't ever ever do that to me again," he said sternly. "Merlin, Ron! You scared me half to death."

"I' was just a joke..." Ron answered, muffled by his face buried against Charlie's broad shoulder.

"It was a piss poor one," Charlie answered stubbornly. "What would I do if something ever happened to you?"

Ron pushed back to free himself and Charlie couldn't keep from noticing the way his white t-shirt clung to his torso and droplets of water rippled down his throat from his hair. In spite of what mental faculties were with him, his groin started to take notice. "Go crying to Bill?" Ron asked with a stupid grin.

'Bill. Of course! Bill will know what to do! He'll know some spell, or something!' Charlie may be an adult now, at least technically, but he was still convinced his older brother could solve any problem.

"Brat," Charlie said, ruffling Ron's hair. "Go on back to the house before Mum starts to worry and sends the whole troupe out here to find us. I've gotta get my broom out of the lake, and I left my watch in the treehouse. I'll be right behind you."

Ron got up and dusted himself off, heading back toward the house. 'And what a behind it is...' Charlie thought as he watched him go. He shook, his head and, before he could talk himself out of intruding on his dear big brother, apparated the second Ron disappeared over the crest of the hill.

*

Egypt, August 1990

Bill cussed as he spilled his whisky on his pants. "The hell?!" he declared. Several alarms went off when someone just apparated into his personal quarters. He was more than a little surprised when he spun about to find Charlie squatting on his area rug, dripping wet. "Char?"

"Bad time?" Charlie asked with a horribly demoralized expression on his face.

Bill sighed and sliced his wand through the air, neutralizing the wards, and then repeated the gesture to reset them. "Most people apparate outside and knock you know, Charlie," he sighed. Yeah, it was kind of rude, but he knew his brother and he wouldn't be here if something wasn't wrong.

Charlie shrugged.

Bill sighed. "It's never a bad time for you. You know that." He helped Charlie up onto the battered sofa. "What happened?"

Charlie leaned forward burying his head in his hands. "I'm sick," he muttered.

Bill blinked, "stomach virus?" he asked. Charlie always used to get them when they were kids – ate too much, too fast, mostly. "You want me to make you that potion?" It was a home remedy with no name. It didn't really do anything, but Charlie didn't know that. It was just a bunch of harmless herbs that Bill had thrown together once in a panic when he was nine and their parents were out. Charlie had been swearing by it ever since, and Bill didn't have the heart to tell him it was all in his head.

Charlie shook his head and lifted his gaze. "I'm mental, Bill. I'm losing it. I've taken a fancy to someone I absolutely can't fancy. I didn't know what to do but come to you. You must know some spell, or some potion. There's got to be some way to make me un-fancy him..." He got up and paced, raked his hands through his sopping hair.

Bill sat back and let out a breath. If only he did know such magic. He got up and pulled Charlie to his chest. He knew he shouldn't. "Magic can mask the heart temporarily, Char, but it can't change it. You know that." He pet his hair as his brother shivered against him. 'If only that weren't true, I'd be able to help us both,' Bill thought.

He settled Charlie back on the couch and poured him a drink. "Tell me everything," he said. "Getting it off your chest might help."

Charlie tipped the firewhiskey back in one fell swoop and blurted, "It's Ron," before the alcohol had finished burning its way down his esophagus.

"Shit," Bill cussed. "Must be the Weasley family curse," he muttered under his breath, getting up to start pacing himself but thinking better of it and sitting down again when Charlie grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"Whaddya mean, family curse?"

"It's nothing," Bill answered, but he wouldn't look Charlie in the eye.

Charlie grabbed his chin. "Don't tell me it's bloody nothing. What are you on about?" He forced Bill to look at him, and the shame and guilt he read in his blue eyes gave him more insight into his big brother than he was ready for. He let go and fell back. "You..."

"You," Bill admitted, turning away again. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't! Is that the reason you're all the way out here in this stinking hole, digging up graves? To get away from me?"

"I love my job," Bill said firmly. He meant it. He maybe hadn't expected to love it as much as he did when he took it. He may have had ulterior motives at the time, and he may be thinking now – praying – that if Charlie loved someone that wasn't him, he might finally be able to let it go and move on – but that didn't change the fact that, in spite of what he'd just dubbed the 'Weasley Family Curse' he did love his job, and he loved Egypt – even all the bloody sand. "Listen Char, forget it, and I mean forget all of it. As your big brother, I'm going to give you the best advice I can here. You've got to wait it out. Find a job you love and make bloody well sure it's far away from both of us." He trusted his resolve, but he didn't trust it far. "Get a job you can throw yourself into until he grows the fuck up and finds someone. Let that break your heart as much as it's got to, and move on."

"And your heart? Did I just...?" Did he break Bill's heart? He'd had no idea! But now that he knew, all those ways Bill used to look at him that he couldn't figure out were exactly the same expressions he was throwing Ron's way.

"Never mind it," Bill answered. "It may not feel like it now, but you've done me a favor."

Charlie felt horrid. He was always running to Bill for answers to his problems, but he was Bill's biggest problem. He didn't know how to apologize for that. Bill was right. He had to get away from Ron, distract himself somehow. And he couldn't stay near Bill, because he'd only be torturing a man who held a very dear place in his heart. "I, uh...I don't mind doing you...other favors, if..."

Bill tensed. "Don't offer it, Charlie. You don't mean it."

"Maybe I do," Charlie answered petulantly. After all Bill had done for him over the years? He owed his brother some kind of repayment, didn't he? And Bill was handsome.

"Not for any of the right reasons, Char," Bill answered sadly, caressing his brother's cheek. He wanted to kiss him. Charlie could see that now, but Bill wouldn't. He knew Bill wouldn't. 'Because he's a better bloke than I am,' he thought. Bill would never have pulled that trick with the candy just to get a brief taste of that thing he could never have like Charlie had. He'd just been silent and responsible and perfect all this time, when deep down, he was fucked, and he ran off to Egypt because that was the only way he could be sure he wouldn't hurt the brother he loved more than he ought to. Seeing Bill's example was a hard lesson, but one that Charlie thought he could follow, for Ron's sake.

"I guess it's going to be Romania, then," Charlie resolved.

"Romania? Their Quidditch team's shite, isn't it?" Bill asked.

"Not Quidditch," Charlie answered. "Dragons."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Be careful."

"You too." Charlie got up. "I, uh, I'll see you for the holidays?"

"Wouldn't miss it for all the tombs in Egypt," Bill answered with a tired smile.

"Guess I'll just, you know, see myself out."

"Thanks," Bill answered. He should at least walk Charlie to the door, but it was easier if they just kept things short and they both knew it. Four months from now, when they squeezed into their old room in the Burrow, they would have to pretend this conversation never happened, and that was easier to do if Charlie disappeared as abruptly as he'd arrived.

Bill watched his beloved younger brother disapparate and sighed, cancelling and resetting the security wards again. He slumped back against the couch and downed another firewhiskey. "Ron, huh?" He sighed. He'd been hoping for something better for Charlie, something normal. Bill looked up at the roof as if he could see through it to the sky and glare at Merlin, Morgana, and all the other fucked over wizards of old who apparently had a vendetta against the Weasley family. "What did we ever bloody do to you?" he griped. "Charlie doesn't deserve this shite."

*

The Burrow, August 1997

Bill captured Charlie in his best bear hug. He'd been doing that to everyone who crossed his path all morning.

"Ack!" Charlie laughed. "Bill, give it a rest. If you wrinkle your dress robes, again, Mum's gonna flip her lid."

"I'm so glad you're here," Bill replied. Dress robes be damned. "You're my rock, Char."

Charlie weasled out of Bill's long arms and grabbed the bottle from the table beneath the window. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Just a little," Bill said. "Calm the nerves a bit, you know?"

"You? Nerves? If curse-breaking wasn't ballsy enough, you've decided to go and marry a girl that Mum hates. You have nerves of steel."

"Says the dragon handler," Bill laughed. "She's lovely though, isn't she Char? Sure, she's a little blunt, but I like that. With Fleur, I always know exactly where I stand."

"And she reads you like a book?" Charlie asked.

Bill flopped to a seat on the bed and laughed. "Merlin, yes. I can't hide anything from her. She's got me figured."

"That's a nice change of pace, yeah? Someone who's figured out the mysterious mind of William Weasley," Charlie joked. To think, there was a time he didn't know how he was supposed to look Bill in the eye, with so much truth spread out between them. Now? Well, he had to admit, "I'm a little jealous. Someone knows my big brother better than I do."

"Oh, but in different ways, Charlie. Always different ways."

But finally the right ones. Charlie understood without having to be told. He couldn't be happier for Bill. He'd moved on. He wished he could do the same, but the past seven years of Christmas dinner and family vacations had been several kinds of hell as far as Charlie was concerned. Look, but don't touch. Look, but don't be seen looking. And he was still looking. He'd been right about Ron – he had grown lean and lanky, and damn it all to hell, that happened to be Charlie's favorite type. He knew Bill had taken Ron shopping with him earlier in the week and dreaded the thought of his youngest brother in proper dress robes. He'd be way too beautiful. Copious amounts of alcohol might well be his only hope.

Speaking of alcohol. "What is this, anyway?"

"Great, isn't it?" Bill answered. "One of the guys I used to work with in Egypt had ten bottles owled over as a wedding gift. It's some kind of homebrew. I stopped asking years ago. Keeps me drunk and happy," he joked as he pushed back to his feet and held out his arms. "Press me?"

Bill obviously missed the double meaning, but Charlie quirked a brow.

"That's not what I meant! You know it's not," Bill laughed. "I'm about to be married."

"And you love her?"

"Madly," Bill answered jovially before abruptly changing the subject. "What do you think about Hermione?"

'Bushy haired, self-absorbed, bossy twat,' Charlie thought irritably. He shrugged. "She's alright."

"Ron seems to fancy her."

"Good for Ron," Charlie answered with more venom than he intended.

Bill cupped his face. "Charlie..."

"I know, okay, I know," Charlie answered. "But I still think he can do better."

Bill gave Charlie's shoulder a squeeze. "What's better? What's worse? No one knows for sure. If she makes him happy..."

"But she doesn't," Charlie protested. He shook his head. "Never mind it, Bill. I'm cool. This is your day. Don't sweat my bullshit, yeah? My job, today, is to make sure you look like your dashing self, mingle, and smile for the cameras. I'll be too busy keeping Auntie Muriel busy to sulk properly."

Bill snatched the bottle and took another long swig. "In that case, I'll owe you big time."

"Well, you can start paying me back by showing your face downstairs before Mum passes out from the anxiety," Charlie teased, pushing on Bill's chest.

"And what are you doing while I'm mingling?"

"Finishing off this bottle, obviously," Charlie joked with his most impish grin. "I'll be down in a bit, check on the blushing bride n'all that."

Bill grabbed Charlie in one more huge hug. "You're gonna make someone very happy someday, Char. And I hope you'll let me be your best man when that day comes."

"I'll take your application into consideration and get back to you," Charlie quipped, pushing Bill out of the room. "Go. Mingle. Enjoy your spotlight, yeah?"

Charlie spent the next five minute drowning his brother-centric sorrows in the green glass bottle of Merlin only knew what before the door opened again. "Came running back with your tail between your..." he started to say when he saw Ron was standing in the door rather than Bill. "...legs... Hey, Ron. What's up?"

Ron held up a piece of blue cloth. "Er, tie?" he asked hopefully. "Harry was trying to do it for me but Hermione stole him to help set up the tables. I don't think he knew what he was bloody doing anyway. He said he did, but I'm pretty sure he sneaked off when I was in the loo and had Ginny do his."

'So cute.' Charlie laughed and waved him over. "I hope you washed your hands," he teased.

"Sod off," Ron griped. Charlie thought that was cute, too.

"Well, come here if you want me to do it. How'm I the only bloke in the house who knows how to tie a tie?" Charlie complained playfully. Bill knew – he was sure, because Bill was the one who had taught him, but he had insisted Charlie do his anyway on the grounds his hands were shaking with nervous energy at the time.

"Plenty of free time?" Ron quipped.

"If you weren't so cute, I'd bean you one."

"You can't," Ron grinned, stretching his arms out in front of him. "Long arms, see? Just like you said. You can't reach." He grinned playfully and swiped the bottle from Charlie's hand in that split second that Charlie was off his guard.

"Ron, don't..."

"Uuuggghhh!" Ron declared. "What in the bloody hell is that. Tastes like piss," he griped.

"It's an acquired taste," Charlie admitted.

Ron swayed a bit. "Whoa."

"And really strong. You okay?"

Ron nearly fell on his face. It was Charlie's reflexes alone that saved him. He spun him about and planted his back against the wall. "Steady now," he said. "I think you can use a detoxifying charm and the wedding hasn't even started yet."

"Hehe," Ron answered.

'Oh boy...' "Lightweight, aren't you?" Charlie teased. He was distracted from freeing his wand by Ron's flushed cheeks, and the way he draped his arms over Charlie's shoulders.

"Hey, you know what I just remembered?" Ron nearly sang the words. "I remembeerreed when I was a kid, and we used to have those pillow fights. You remember? You used to wake me up in the morning by beating me over the head with a pillow until I finally said something, and thheeeen... Then you would say 'sleeping beauty arises! No kisses necessary. I knew that handsome prince story was bollocks." Ron tried to imitate Charlie's voice and failed miserably. "You remember that?"

"I remember," Charlie said a bit more stiffly than he wanted to. He remembered nearly snogging the hell out of Ron every time and saving himself with lame jokes just like that one.

"Know what else I remember?" Ron slurred. "I remeeembeeerr...that I wanted you to kiss me," he said. "Right here." He aimed a finger at his lips and let it flop carelessly against Charlie's chest. "Bloody well would have been a nicer way to wake up."

"Oookay," Charlie said. "Time to sober you up."

"I still want you to kiss me," Ron blurted.

Whatever else was in Charlie's brain melted into oblivion. "Don't say that." If Ron said that, he wouldn't be able to maintain his resolve. He already felt his groin swelling beneath his robes and prayed Ron didn't feel it against his thigh, or at least didn't realize what it was.

"Why not?"

"It would make your girlfriend sad," Charlie answered lamely, but even as the words spilled from his lips his hands were sliding across Ron's ribs. He still wanted him – more now than ever, if he was honest. There was a small consolation in that: it meant he wasn't a pedophile, but that didn't change how wrong this was.

"Okay. Hermione is a girl, and she's a friend, but she is not my girlfriend," Ron blanketed, coming out of his drunken state instantly.

Charlie jumped. "You're not drunk."

"...shit." Ron cursed. Busted. "Well, I'm a little drunk," he amended. He knew this was mental. He'd been trailing on Charlie's heels most of his life, and when Charlie left he latched onto Harry not because he made a decent replacement, but because...well, because he was better than nothing he supposed. Of course, he liked Harry. Harry was his best friend. But the way he liked Harry and the way he liked Charlie weren't the same. The way he liked Hermione wasn't even remotely similar. What he felt for Charlie was just...bigger, somehow. He didn't know how to put words to it. "And that's not your wand jabbing me in the hip," he added. 'Guess I'm a Gryffindor after all,' he thought, because that took all the guts he had. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but they were in the middle of this huge war, and he was about to leave his family to help Harry collect the horcruxes and defeat You Know Who, and what if he died? What if he never saw his family again? He knew that should be bothering him most of all, but what kept striking him at the most inopportune moments was always, always Charlie. What if this was his last chance with Charlie?

"Ron, we..."

Ron pulled Charlie too him recklessly and crushed their lips clumsily together. He knew if he let Charlie get out the word 'can't' then this crazy thing between them was over. It should be over, but he couldn't bear the thought of it ending.

Charlie lost his resolve under the sloppy kiss. He tilted his head, opened his mouth and deepened it. He moaned against Ron's lips when he felt his brother's leg curl around his hip. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. There was a house full of people downstairs, and the girls up the hall getting into their dresses and fancy cosmetics. And that was all the things that was wrong with it if you ignored the fact that he was snogging his brother, several years his junior. The latter was the least of his problems, all things considered. Oh, fuck things considered. Too late, now. He was already hiking Ron's dress robes up above his hips, dragging his lips across his love's jaw. "Fuck, Ron..." he breathed.

Ron moistened his lips and tried to catch his breath. One kiss was all it took and Charlie had lost all control, it seemed. Ron decided he would let his favorite brother blame it on the booze later if he felt too guilty about it. He dug his fingers into Charlie's hair. "Yes, please," he rasped. Fucking would be brilliant.

Charlie hoisted Ron's legs up off the floor and used his body weight to pin him to the wall, tugging the back of Ron's pants down to expose his arse. He wasted no time grabbing his wand and casting the appropriate stretching spells.

Ron bit his lip hard and his eyes teared, long legs wrapping around Charlie's hips for balance.

"Bloody dress robes," Charlie griped, fumbling with the length of his until there was a massive pool of cloth in Ron's lap. Later, they might laugh about that, but for the moment, the need between them was too frantic. Charlie crushed his lips to Ron's again and rammed into his tight hole.

Ron made a startled sound into the kiss as he was penetrated. "Oaf," he muttered into the kiss. Charlie could stand to be a little more gentle, couldn't he? It's not as if Ron had never had sex with a bloke before, of course – all sorts of crazy shite happened in the boys' dorm – but that didn't mean bending over for other men was exactly a habit, either. It stung, but that took a back seat to the fact that his brother wanted him badly enough that he honestly couldn't wait. He couldn't be gentle. He couldn't take his time. They'd both been waiting for this far too long for it to be graceful.

"Nngh," was Charlie's only reply as he braced himself with one hand on the wall and the other digging into Ron's bony hip as he began to thrust.

It was rampant, clumsy, and over far too quickly. That was really the only way it could go after seven years of fantasizing. Charlie bit into the dress robes at Ron's shoulder as he spilled himself up into his sibling's hot entrance. Ron bit the back of his fist to keep from crying out too loudly as he filled his pants with spunk.

Charlie found his legs had turned to jelly and he slid down to his knees, taking Ron and his beautiful long legs with him. The kiss Ron laid on him was still passionate, but far more subdued after their wall-gasm.

"Shite, Ron..." Charlie breathed. That wasn't how he imagined his first time with his brother to be – and that when he allowed himself the fantasy of having any time with Ron. He'd practically raped him. The guilt started to amass in the pit of his stomach.

Ron panted helplessly. "Yeah..." he answered lamely. Shite and fuck and all of those exclamations one spews out when 'holy crap that was brilliant' doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Er, we should, uhm, you know, get downstairs," Charlie said, reluctantly disengaging and snatching his wand up again to clean himself off.

"Right..." Ron reluctantly did the same, making sure to be thorough lest he be sitting through the entire party with a sticky, itchy groin.

Reality hit Charlie hard in the chest. He wanted Ron more than ever having had only that brief, but blissful, taste of him, but it was so wrong! "Ron, I..."

Ron ignored the pixies running riot in his stomach and grabbed Charlie's hand. "Don't," he said. "Don't say we shouldn't have done it. What if...I mean, there's so much going on, so...so what if this is the only chance we ever have, right?"

Charlie's stomach flopped. He grabbed Ron a bit to fiercely by the arms. "Don't you ever say that." He didn't mean to be a total freak with that adamant a declaration, but the thought of losing Ron wasn't one he could bear.

"I didn't mean...but, you know, it could happen. It could definitely happen," Ron replied as Charlie pulled him tight to his chest. He buried his face against the older Weasley's shoulder. "So, I mean..."

"Consequences be damned, is it?" Charlie answered. "I must be turning into Bill, if you're telling me that."

Ron graced Charlie with a weak chuckle. It wasn't all it should be, but it was all it could be under the circumstances.

Charlie sighed. "I seriously love you, you know," he confessed. "I have for, Merlin, I don't even know how long."

"Me too," Ron said. "I...you're going to laugh at me."

"Probably," Charlie admitted, pulling back just enough to get a good look at Ron's face.

"When we were kids, I used to look for any excuse to be alone with you. I don't know what I thought would happen, but whatever it was, I was so sure I wanted it. But you always found some excuse to get rid of me."

Charlie realized he was holding his breath. "Ron. I had to."

"I know," Ron answered. "Now."

'Oh fuck it. Bill can kick my ass later.' Because, of course Bill would take one good look at him and know what he'd done. He hoped that good look wouldn't come until after the wedding. He didn't want to be the one to spoil his brother's special day.

He cupped Ron's chin and laid a kiss on him – it wasn't the heavy kisses they'd forced on each other during their embarrassingly brief shag, but the kiss he'd always wanted to give to Ron, the one that said all the things he wasn't allowed to say or didn't have the words for. Ron was more than happy to respond in kind, curling his arms more tightly around Charlie's shoulders.

When they had to pull apart, Charlie looked down at Ron seriously. "So, this Hermione..."

"Is just a friend!" Ron exclaimed as if he'd said it ten thousand times to ten thousand people. "Geez. Are you that jealous?"

"You have no idea," Charlie admitted shamelessly. No point in shame now, was there? "So then, why is it that you've been glaring daggers at Krum all morning? If she's 'just a friend', what's the harm if he fancies her?"

"She happens to be one of my best friends, just or otherwise," Ron grumped. "And she can do better than..."

"Than an incredibly wealthy, world famous Quidditch player and all around decent bloke?"

"...who lives in Bulgaria," Ron enunciated. "When will Harry and I ever see her if she doesn't at least fall for someone British?"

Charlie laughed. That was just so very Ron. He just wants his little trio to be together forever. "Oh, it's not all so bad as you think," he assured. "After all, Romania isn't so far from Bulgaria. You can crash at my place."

Ron wrinkled is nose. "You should come home, too," he griped.

"I have a home," Charlie answered more firmly. "In my battered little flat, near my dragons." Which he really did love, all said.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Ron moped.

"Don't 'whatever'," Charlie insisted. "Once the party gets rolling and no one will see you slip away, we'll meet out by the shed, yeah? Steal some time alone?" he asked hopefully.

Ron colored and nodded. "Don't get too tied up with Great Aunt Muriel."

"Same goes for you."

*

Fred and George fought their way out of the collapsed canopy. Arthur cast the broken furniture into a pile off to the side. Molly dusted invisible grit off of Percy's shoulders and shuffled him around to make sure he was in one piece. Bill similarly fussed over Fleur. Charlie helped Gabrielle to her feet.

The Death Eaters, and most of their guests, had fled, but the chaos was only just beginning to fade. Now that it was, Charlie gave pause, took stock of his surroundings. Bill. Fleur. Percy. Mum and Dad. The twins were pulling Ginny out from under a table. "Ron," he realized. "Ron!?" he called more loudly. No answer, and now his family noticed that someone was definitely missing. He threw open the back door to the house and called inside. "Ron!!!"

'Merlin. Oh fuck. No. No no no....where in the bloody hell was Ron?!'

"Harry and Hermione are missing too," Ginny pointed out. All Charlie could think at that moment was, 'Who bloody cares about Harry and Hermione? Ron is missing.'

He felt Bill's hand on his shoulder. "Ginny's right," he said calmly. "Wherever he is, he'll be with the two of them. I'm sure he's fine."

Molly, who had been fairly well distraught by Charlie's realization, squared her shoulders. "You're right, of course. We'll check the clock inside. Come on then."

And sure enough, there was Ron's hand still perfectly in tact, though, Charlie thought, the words 'mortal peril' that it pointed to had never before seemed quite so perilous. 'At least he's alive,' he reminded himself. 'And, bossy little snot that she is, that friend of his is supposed to be really good at magic. And Harry...' Charlie's hopeful thoughts dampened at the thought of Harry. '...has nearly been killed every year since Ron first met him, and Ron in the same boat by association. But, only nearly!' he forced himself to think – 'nearly' was the only sliver of hope he could grasp past the pit of despair that was threatening to swallow him whole until later that evening when he finally was slipping out of his dress robes and heard something crumple in his pocket.

The note was brief. Ron had obviously scratched it out in about three seconds and stuffed the rumpled parchment on him somewhere in the midst of their drunken stumbling about the reception.

'Charlie,

Don't worry. Stuff to do, can't explain. Be safe. Lov--'

He didn't even get to sign his name – those simple three letters – but Charlie would know Ron's chicken scratch anywhere. The note would be a comfort to him, if not for that dastardly clock hand that he had been watching their mother stare at all night long until Bill had, in that way Bill had of silently bossing everyone around, insisted they all get some sleep, that nothing else could be done for tonight. And in that not quite so silent way that Arthur had, their father had said he was going to 'stay up a bit and read', which they all knew translated more or less as 'stand guard and see if I can get in touch with Kingsley or anyone else from the Order.' They all made a silent agreement not to translate that out loud and headed to their various assigned corners of the Burrow, or Shell Cottage, respectively, to call it a night.

The next morning, when Charlie rolled out of bed, he didn't fail to notice Bill abruptly snapping shut a pocket watch that he'd never seen before. ...or the 'Ron' hand, which was still pointing at 'mortal peril'.

*

The Burrow, August 1998

"It's true!" Harry declared. "The place is going up in flames, and the two of them? Snogging."

"That's our Ron. The king of awful timing!" George laughed.

It was nice that George could still laugh. They'd all lost so much, but George lost the most of all, Charlie figured. Ron, at least, was alive. Snogging bushy haired know-it-all prats, but alive. There was that much, at least. Still, Charlie couldn't quite find the idea of Ron with his tongue down the throat of someone who was supposedly 'just a friend' very funny. He tried to laugh. He just couldn't. Violent jealousy could really put a dent in one's sense of humor.

"Charlie."

Bill didn't have to say more. He knew. They'd never talked about it after the wedding, but Bill knew. Charlie wasn't sure if he knew that he'd pounded Ron into the wall, per se, but he was sure Bill knew he'd done something that he shouldn't have with their kid brother, and he knew that the current conversation was edging on his stocky brother's last nerve. A distraction was in order.

"Oh, yeah!" Charlie declared abruptly. "Your potion, right? I think I left it on the kitchen counter. Or maybe the bathroom sink. Sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck with his best carefree grin (which wasn't quite as carefree as it used to be), "I'll help you look for it."

Once the kitchen door closed behind him, Bill frowned. It was slight, but Charlie found that Bill had grown to look less dashing and more severe after the Greyback incident – he didn't think it was just the scars that made him think so, but no one else particularly seemed to notice. "Pull yourself together," Bill stated, arms crossing his chest. "This is a good thing. You know it is."

"Sure," Charlie answered sullenly. "Doesn't mean I can't feel like it bloody sucks, though, does it?"

"Char..."

"Never mind it," Charlie answered with a sigh. "I can only take off work for but so long. I'll be headed back by the end of the week, and I'll have until Christmas to get it together. You don't have to play Mum #2 forever, Bill. I'm a big boy."

"So you say, but if you keep up the sulking, someone other than me is going to figure out it's not just about Fred."

Charlie looked away at that. "Way to lay on the guilt." Of course he felt guilty. Fred was dead, and that was horrible. Fred was his beloved younger brother. Of course it sucked a thousand different ways that they were all gathered here mourning in the first place, but Ron was alive, and for better or worse, Charlie had his priorities.

"Anything I can do to help," Bill replied sardonically. "This thing. You can't let it run your life forever." 'This thing' was their unofficial code for 'your desire to shag our baby brother senseless' and had been for quite a while. Charlie wondered when they'd started calling it that. A 'thing' – like it was some old toy or a favorite pair of shoes. It seemed such a stupid name for the varied and convoluted machinations of his obviously defective heart. His feelings for Ron were so much bigger than a 'thing'.

Charlie glanced at the door and when he was sure no one was coming let himself sink against Bill's chest. It was so good to have someone he could lean on, who knew what it was like. And Bill had moved on long ago – so even though this should be weird, somehow it wasn't. "I'm not you," he complained against his brother's shoulder. "I tried it your way. It didn't work. So shut up and let me sulk in peace. Bastard."

Bill held him there. He felt for Charlie, of course he did, but if he didn't remind him that he was being mental, no one would. "This is for the best, Char. You know it is. Now you can..."

But Charlie cut him off. "I can what, Bill? Latch onto the first pretty face that shows an interest and end up married a year later?" He knew that was uncalled for. Bill adored his wife, but that wasn't even remotely comforting to Charlie, when he was the one forcing himself to smile even though the man he loved had been snogging someone else. "I'm not you. Your way sucks."

Bill pet Charlie's hair. He hadn't done that since they were kids. "I know," he answered. What else could he possibly say? He understood the feeling – that tear-your-gut-out hopelessness. "But it's going to get better."

"Sure. Can't bloody well get any worse, can it?" Charlie sulked as he righted himself, put himself back together after the moment of weakness. "You don't need to watch my back forever, you know. I'm a grown man."

"Of course I do," Bill replied. "You're my favorite, after all. Always have been. Always will be." He ruffled Charlie's hair and earned a childish swat for his efforts. "Doesn't much matter whether or not the feeling's mutual."

"Bill, I..." but there was no point in continuing. There was nothing he could say. Besides, Bill was already slipping out the back door. He knew what that meant – that he would be left with the task of making his excuses for him. Bill seemed to hate crowds anymore. Charlie thought it might be because when they all got together, it was just that much more apparent that someone was missing. 'I'm probably reading too much into it.' And anyway, he had his own problems, and Bill had always worked through his bullshit on his own. He wasn't the type of guy who easily opened up or cried on shoulders. He just got in his moods. Charlie didn't much envy Fleur having to deal with them.

Charlie sunk into a seat at the kitchen table. 'As for my shit, well, there's no point in beating a dead hippogriff, right? Ron found someone. That's a good thing. It is. Bill is exactly right.' What a pity that he didn't believe a word he was telling himself.

*

Shell Cottage, August 1998

Bill dragged his hand over his face and blinked his eyes. Who in the bloody hell was in his kitchen at 2:36 in the morning? "Ron? What are you doing?"

"I, er..." Ron stumbled awkwardly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm up," Bill answered. It wasn't Ron's fault. He'd just gotten so used to sleeping crazy hours during the war that he hadn't yet adjusted back to a full night's sleep. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, checking all the rooms, and doing two or three circuits about the house before he remembered the only threatening thing he might happen across was garden gnomes. Fleur would tease him about his midnight de-gnomings, saying he was rescuing her from the yard work. This was the first time he'd actually found an intruder. He settled into his usual seat and raked his hair back. "Trouble sleeping?"

Ron didn't quite answer. He just sort of shrugged. Bill had noticed how much the war had changed him. It was hard to describe, but Bill thought it was a kind of stillness that hadn't been there before.

"What's on your mind?"

"I thought..."

"...that Charlie was here? He left after dinner."

Ron looked down at his hands on the table. "He didn't even tell me he was going today."

"Would it have made a difference if he did?" Bill asked. He knew he was driving the conversation in a dangerous direction, but he thought he owed it to Charlie.

Again, Ron didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. After an obscenely long silence he blurted, "there's nothing going on with Hermione. I don't think he likes her and I wanted him to know. It was just this fluke thing. I mean we thought we were about to die and I went a little mental. I mean..."

Bill lifted his hand to stop the verbal diarrhea. He knew what was happening. In a very ass backwards sort of way, Ron was asking for advice. 'Why does everyone come to me for advice? I obviously don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing.' But, he was the oldest so he owed it to his brothers to fake it. "Ron. Would it make a difference?" he repeated.

"...I don't know," Ron admitted. "Me 'n Charlie...it's sort of...it's bloody complicated."

"Then do us all a favor and leave him be until it's not," Bill said. "Because what Charlie wants from you is very simple, and we both know it."

Ron turned rather red. He suspected Bill had a good idea of what was going on if he didn't outright know, but having it confirmed made his supper roil around in his stomach like he'd swallowed a bunch of doxies. "Bill, uhm..."

"Just make up your mind," Bill interrupted him. "Wants aside, that's what Charlie needs from you. So take some time. Don't rush into something you can't finish. He deserves an answer, but he deserves one that you mean."

Ron stared blankly at the tabletop for an awkward few moments, letting it all sink in. "I thought I might go back to Hogwarts, finish up," he said as if that was an answer. Maybe it was. Everything was still so fresh. The war was hardly over. The first flowers on all the graves hadn't even died. Everyone needed a little time to pull themselves together.

Bill gave Ron's hand a reassuring squeeze. "We're not all as self-aware as Charlie," he joked weakly. "Get some sleep. If you don't want to head back to the Burrow, you know where the guest room is."

"...thanks." Ron grimaced. It felt like he was running away straight to his big brother all over again. He still felt sick to his stomach when he remembered the first time. On the other hand, the guest room probably still smelled like Charlie, and he wasn't quite strong enough to resist that temptation.

Bill shrugged as he got up. "Whenever you need it, Ronnie," he yawned. "But if I don't get back to bed soon, I'll end up on the wrong side of sunrise."

"Yeah, sure," Ron answered. "You're getting too old to be up at all hours, anyway," he joked, if only to try desperately to lighten the mood a bit.

"Damn right I am," Bill grinned. "Not when I've got a beautiful woman in my bed who likes to cuddle. G'night, Ron."

" 'night," Ron replied, but knew it might well be on that wrong side of sunrise that Bill was so keen to avoid. This isn't how he'd expected his night to go. He had planned to come here, explain about that stupid kiss with Hermione. Charlie wouldn't be mad at him anymore, and they'd kiss and just sort of, see where that led them. But Bill was right – and fuck Bill for always being right about everything – Charlie was his brother and they were always going to be family. If he wasn't sure, if it all went sour, then he had a lifetime of avoiding each other's gaze across a crowded room to contend with, and Charlie was definitely worth more to him than that.

*

Romania, July 1999

Charlie flew between two tall trees and popped out through the barrier on the wizard side of the dragon sanctuary. A ball of flame hit the invisible wall behind him. "Phew!" he declared, flopping to a seat beside the wall. "Got the lil' bugger." He pulled a tiny little green dragon out from under his jacket. "Now then, let's see to that wing of yours, eh lil' bit," he said affectionately.

He'd spent half the night up waiting for the hatchlings to crack through their eggs. They all had, but the tiniest one had a wing stepped on by one of his brothers and if they didn't heal it quickly, the poor pup would never fly. So they'd spent the past several hours distracting mama so he could get in there and fetch the injured baby before she killed it out of a dragonish sense of mercy. He rubbed the little dragon's head to calm it as his coworkers reinforced the boundary where mama dragon attacked it.

"Be quick Jarleezh!" one said in a thick accent. "She is very angry!"

Bless him for trying, but Petre still couldn't pronounce his name, even after all these years. The barriers were strong, but could only withstand but so many attacks of dragon's breath before there was a breach. This was fine – typically they did their utmost not to piss off the dragons in their care too much, but a protective mama dragon was not easy to contend with.

He pulled out his wand and held the wing stretched, empathizing with the the little dragon as it whimpered in pain. "Episkey." He frowned. Didn't think that would be quite enough, but at least it set the bone back in place. He murmured a few other incantations, and soon the little dragon was flapping its tiny wing. "All better, then," he grinned. "Now, back to Mum you go," he said, nudging the tiny thing back through the barrier.

The mama dragon rushed to him, nudged him with her large snout, and scooped him up, carrying him back to the nest. Charlie let out a long breath and deflated. Without the adrenaline, he found himself exhausted. It had been a long night and all he wanted was to crawl in bed and sleep for the next three days straight, but that wouldn't do. He was working off-shift just now, and his own shift started in...

He looked at his watch. Ugh. Twenty-three minutes. He rifled around in his pack and pulled out a bottle of pepper-up potion.

Petre put a hand on his shoulder. "Go home, Jarleezh. I will cover for you, ya?"

Charlie clambered to his feet. "Thanks, Petre. I owe you one."

"Yes yes," Petre waved it off. "But who is keeping count anymore?"

*

Charlie awoke some time in the evening to the whistle of a kettle and a string of curses coming from the other room. 'Silence, you bloody thing. You'll wake him.' For a moment, he could swear that was Ron's voice, but as his gaze fixed on the peeling paper at the top corner of the wall, Charlie was reminded he was in Romania, and that simply wasn't possible. Even so, someone was in his flat making a cup of tea, and he wanted to know who it was.

He pulled on a pair of pants so he wasn't walking about the flat naked, grabbed his wand from the nightstand and padded across the cold floor to the doorway and peered into the kitchen. His stomach flopped. "Let yourself in, did you?" he quipped.

Ron spun about abruptly, and Charlie thought he'd forgive him for shattering his favorite teacup when he dropped it. After all, Charlie dropped it to the floor and smashed it into a million bits at least thrice per month himself. He pointed his wand and quickly repaired it, setting it to rest in the sink.

Ron was wearing a brown striped shirt he'd had for as long as Charlie could remember, but his shoulders finally filled it out and it was just a bit taut across the chest now. Charlie thought he rather liked the way Ron had finally filled it out.

"I...uhm..." Ron stumbled.

Charlie didn't quite miss the way Ron's gaze strayed across his own bare torso and followed the blue dragon tattooed across his chest as it weaved its way from rest under one collarbone to settle under the other.

"Congratulations on your belated graduation," Charlie said as he stepped further into the room.

Ron's feet carried him blindly to meet his brother half way. "I missed you," he blurted.

"Sorry I didn't make it to the party. Hatchlings n'all." It wasn't the only reason and they both knew it. "How's the girl?" he threw in casually, though it pained him to ask.

"Charlie, there is no girl. There never was." Well, there was this moment where he'd lost his mind and dated Lavender, but he didn't like to think about that and it wouldn't help his case any to tell Charlie about it. "Hermione's only a friend. All she ever has been, all she ever will be."

"Snog all your friends, do you?" He hated himself for saying it, but it was too late to take the words back.

Ron frowned a little. He knew he would have to explain himself, but he still wasn't sure he was going to be able to put it to words. "I thought I was going to die," he started. "And I wasn't ready to do that alone. Imagine she felt the same way, but that's all it was. You left before I could tell you that."

"You took your time getting around to it," Charlie chided as he tried to beat down the pixies flitting hopefully in his stomach.

"Yeah, well, 'bout that... I have this super-responsible big brother who said I should bugger off and leave you be until I was ready to give you a real answer."

Charlie laughed. That could only be Bill. "So then...?"

Ron took a deep breath. "You should congratulate me on my new job," he blanketed.

Charlie thought the comment came out of left field until Ron produced a rumpled letter of acceptance from the pocket of what he realized belatedly were indecently tight jeans. He skimmed the parchment. "Ron, you didn't..."

"I know what's most important to me now. And anyway, can't be any more bloody difficult than destroying horcruxes, can it?"

Charlie laughed and pulled Ron tight against his chest, the letter from the Romanian Dragon Handler's Association fluttering carelessly to the floor. "I wonder," he answered as he felt Ron's arms coil around his waist. "Sometimes, they're nothing but trouble."

Ron answered by tilting his head and leaning in for a kiss. Charlie was happy to let him have it. He pulled Ron to him hard, trying to bridge even the most insignificant gap between their bodies and opened his mouth to his younger brother's prodding tongue. He raked his fingers through overgrown layers of soft red hair and shuddered when the kiss broke and he felt Ron's hand taking hold of his arse.

"Some things are worth troubling yourself over," Ron said.

"Dragons?"

"Well, maybe dragon handlers, or at least one in particular," Ron admitted his obvious ulterior motive before leaning in for another kiss.

Charlie purred into it, sliding his hands over Ron's torso until he managed to slide them under the hem of Ron's shirt and touch the bare skin he'd been so desperate to touch most of his adult life. "I'll teach you everything you need to know about 'handling'." Charlie answered.

He pulled Ron's shirt back up over his head and Ron was happy to help get him out of it. Charlie found himself entranced by his brother's bare chest and shoulders, dragged his fingers down Ron's arms and watched him shiver. "How is it you're more beautiful every time I lay eyes on you?" he blurted.

"Must be magic," Ron smirked.

Charlie laughed warmly from somewhere deep in the pit of his podgy stomach. "I'll show you magic," he replied, grabbing Ron by the wrist and tugging him playfully into the bedroom. "And it'll last longer than five seconds this time."

Ron laughed as he was tossed to the bed. How could he ever have doubted that this is what he wanted out of life? What he had with Charlie was brilliant. It always had been. It was just when he focused on all that 'social norm' crap that it seemed complicated. Well, to hell with social norms. "Promises, promises," he joked with a broad smile as he watched Charlie kick off his pants and all but leap into bed with him. "All your mouth knows how to do is talk big," he teased as he rolled to his side for another kiss. "Well, I suppose it's not too poor at snogging, either."

"I'll show you what my mouth can do," Charlie quipped, latching onto Ron's earlobe as he unfastened those skin tight jeans and carefully lowered the fly.

Ron's already eager erection popped out against his palm.

"No pants?" Charlie laughed. "Pervert."

"Takes one to know one," Ron breathed as Charlie's lips made their way down his throat and his tongue dragged along his collarbone. He lifted his hips to help Charlie pull the jeans off and cast them away. They crashed into the wardrobe and sent the door slamming shut with a loud clack that made them both jump to see what it was. The box of crap Charlie had tossed precariously on the top of it crashed to the floor. Old textbooks, quidditch gear, and a rememberall crashed to the floor. They laughed. Everything seemed so small and insignificant now that they were here together. All those years of buttoning it all up, pretending it didn't exist, and for what? Just enough angst to make this moment all the more sweet? Charlie decided he would let that be the reason as he dipped his head again and slipped his kisses lower and lower.

He sucked one of Ron's nipples between his teeth and purred at the hiss of breath his brother sucked in and the way his slender body writhed against the mattress. Once he'd had his fun with that one, he bestowed equal treatment onto the other. Ron had a rather helpless look on his face, utterly lost in their passion and they'd hardly begun.

"Still think all my mouth is good for is talk?" Charlie teased.

Ron looked at him with his lust-dilated pupils. "You're giving a convincing argument, but the Wizengamot's not convinced," he answered breathlessly.

"Hm... Then I'll just have to produce some more evidence in my favor," Charlie replied as he laid kisses down Ron's flat stomach and dragged his palms over his brother's hips and thighs. They both knew what he was working toward, but as he dipped his tongue into Ron's navel, Ron still jumped a bit as if surprised by the shock of pleasure that raced straight for his eager groin.

"Ch-charlie..." Ron whimpered.

"Have I convinced the Wizengamot yet?" Charlie teased.

"Th—uuh—they're starting to see your side of things," he breathed.

"Ah, then I can't stop now. I've nearly won them over," Charlie teased.

Ron fisted the duvet and held his breath. They both knew what was coming and try as he might to prepare himself, as Charlie's lips wrapped around his cock, he wasn't ready. It was probably impossible to ever be 'ready' for a blow job, but that didn't stop him from trying. He whimpered, torn between watching his gorgeous, tattooed brother bob over his erection or not watching and being surprised by every sensation. Both options seemed like cruel and unsual punishment of the most miraculous sort, so he caved in and propped himself up on his elbows for a better view. Charlie was gorgeous, and even more so deep-throating his prick. He reached a hand up to lace through his brother's sleep-tangled hair and Charlie moaned around him.

Right when he thought it couldn't get any more incredible, he felt a slick finger press against his anus and slide easily inside. "Aahh!" he shuddered. "Oh...oh fuck...!"

Charlie slid back off of his prick, dragging his tongue lazily along the pulsing veins on the shaft from base to tip and lapped up the precum dripping vigorously from Ron's erection. "All in due time, Ron," he teased, nipping playfully at the sensitive flesh of Ron's inner thigh as his finger continued to explore Ron's passage.

Ron jumped and cried out when Charlie found his prostate. He nearly came, and would have, if his brother hadn't clamped his hand hard around the base of his cock and stopped the flow from erupting out of him. Ron whined helplessly, eyes tearing from the pleasure. "Ch-charlie, p-please...!"

"No can do, baby brother," Charlie teased. "I told you we'd make it last this time, so you're just going to have to be taught a little patience." He grabbed his wand and dragged it gingerly down Ron's hard cock from tip to base, and Ron cried out as he felt something invisible tightening around his very full erection. When Charlie pulled the wand away, a red silk ribbon shot out of the tip and coiled tightly around Ron's cock like the laces of a ballerina slipper – from just under the head all the way down to a tight wrap and ribbon about his balls.

Ron whimpered helplessly. "Evil bastard," he complained.

Charlie answered by digging his finger into Ron's prostate again and making him moan. "How can it be evil to make you feel this good?" he answered.

"Ah-aaah!!!" Ron cried out. He was so ready, but in a way, Charlie was right – he felt so good, and he wasn't nearly ready for this to end. Charlie had wanted this for so long, longer even than Ron had, and that brief rut at Bill's wedding wasn't nearly enough. He couldn't really blame Charlie for wanting to play a little. He forced himself to take deep breaths as Charlie replaced his finger with his wand and murmured the appropriate spells with his lips pressed against his perineum.

Ron bucked helplessly at the swirling sensation that stretched and cleansed him. Charlie adjusted and sat back on his knees. Ron only got the briefest glance at his thick shaft before Charlie yanked his hips upward and pressed Ron's knees over his shoulders. Ron yelped.

"Ch-charlie, what...?"

He didn't have to wait for an answer as he felt Charlie pull his cheeks open with his thumbs and drag his tongue over Ron's anus.

Ron cried out rather loudly. "D-don...oh fuck me..." Ron gasped.

"When I'm good and ready," Charlie answered, and Ron could feel his hot breath grazing across his sensitive pucker.

Charlie continued his attentions. He swirled his tongue around Ron's pucker before weaseling it inside, thrusting it about and showing Ron just what his cock was going to do to him in very short order. He wanted to ram into Ron horribly, but he could wait, just a little longer. Ron was so beautiful, fisting the duvet and writhing like that he wanted to enjoy it a little longer before he lost all sense in the heat of the moment. He thrust his tongue in and out of Ron's pucker, relishing in the delicious little whimpers and moans escaping Ron's very kissable lips as the pleasure ripped through his fit, young body.

He teased Ron with his tongue for several minutes, overwhelmed by it all. Ron was actually here, finally in his bed, handing himself over so easily to Charlie's various ministrations. When he finally thought he'd tormented his brother quite enough, He lowered Ron's hips around his own and leaned over to kiss his brother's throat.

Ron pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss. "Okay, I admit it, your mouth is good for more than talking," he said breathlessly. "So shag me already."

Charlie's podgy belly rumbled with a breathless chuckle. "I love you, Ron." He didn't know if now was the right time to say it, but he didn't think there was really a wrong time to say that sort of thing.

Ron caressed his cheek, "I love you too, Charlie, more than you can possibly know, but if you keep me waiting any longer, I'm going to tie you to the bed and it'll be me having my way with you."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, I look forward to that," he said. "But, not tonight."

He pressed his head against Ron's pucker and pressed slowly inside. "Merlin!" Ron felt wonderful squeezing around him – hot and tight and just utterly perfect. For an extended moment he didn't dare breathe, lest it be over far too soon. One short thrust – they both moaned, then another, longer, and another. Slow. Steady. Charlie forced himself to breathe deeply in spite of the way Ron's hair fell against the pillow and his arms wrapped around Charlie's shoulders. They shared a few deep, heady kisses, but these were only the icing on the cake as Charlie began to thrust fully into his brother – long and deep.

"Ron. Oooh...Ron...."

"Oh Merlin, Charlie! Please...!"

"Ron..."

They moaned one another's names wantonly as they moved together, blinded by their passion. Charlie nibbled on Ron's throat. Ron dug his nails into Charlie's back. Charlie only barely remembered to pull free the ribbon he'd trapped Ron's erection with as he came closer to the edge. He panted as he took Ron's strained member in hand, and with two firm strokes they went spiraling into oblivion together. Ron clung tightly to him as ribbons of cum splashed between them. Charlie jerked his hips erratically as he spent himself deep within his lover. Once it was over, he fell to his side and pulled Ron against his chest. He kissed the crown of his brother's head. "Love you, Ron," he murmured again.

Ron burrowed into the embrace, smiling against Charlie's broad chest. "Sorry for taking so long to come around, Charlie," he said. "I guess I've been a real twat."

Charlie's belly rumbled with another warm chuckle. "Never mind. Your arse more than makes up for it."

Ron leaned back and swatted at Charlie's chest. "Git," he said, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "But I guess I'll take pity on you and love you back anyway."

"You'd better, because now that I've got you, I'm never letting go," Charlie answered before leaning down for another deep kiss.

"I can live with that," Ron answered. He sighed contently. "I guess I'll have to thank Bill for the good advice later," he mused.

"Nah. Let him sweat for a while. He deserves it in exchange for the horrible advice he gave me," Charlie replied. Oh, he'd tell Bill eventually, or in Bill's way, he would just instinctively know. Charlie thanked Merlin that the rest of his family didn't seem to be so observant, because it would make their Mum cry to know what they were up to when no one was watching. Well, he decided, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. It was the Weasley Family Curse, after all. He didn't stand a chance against magic that powerful.

~The End~
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