Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58493 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 28
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story..

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
NOTE: Read chapter slowly. Many things happen in a short period of time!

RECAP: Snape has returned from his meeting with Voldemort. Dumbledore flooed back to Hogwarts. Harry is at the Burrow with the Weasleys, when Death Eater's attack, accompanied by dementors. Unable to fight, due to his lack of magic, Harry is busy running and dodging spells with DE Rowle zeroes in on him. Shadow takes a spell intended for Harry and Charlie comes to their rescue.

"Keep your eyes open, Harry!" Charlie barked, dodging and ducking, before throwing off a few nasty hexes that he shouldn't have known, but did, courtesy of Bill. He threw a quick water charm towards Shadow and immediately took up a stance between the Nytura and Rowle. The setting sun glinted off fiery red hair and flashing blue eyes, filled to the brim with energy and emotion, as Charlie expertly threw himself into the fray.

In that moment, Harry thought that Charlie Weasley was perhaps, the most handsome dragon tamer and wizard he'd ever seen.

Well, besides Theo, of course.

By the time his romanticized feelings caught up to him, so did another one of Rowle's spells. Harry could have sworn that time itself slowed for him to see the outcome that he never could have predicted.

When it happened, Harry found himself thinking of two things, one that he was perhaps, a coward and two, that he'd never gotten the chance to kiss Charlie Weasley.

The spell shot towards him with pinpoint accuracy at the moment that Charlie's blue eyes opened wide. He shouted Harry's name and threw a shield that cracked under the lethal magical pressure. Harry tried to scream, but the shield broke and the curse remnants hit Charlie in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

"Charlie? Charlie!" Harry's frantic yells drew the attention of the other Weasleys. He bristled with unrestrained anger and the weight that whatever powers that belonged to him where nowhere near safe enough for immediate use, much less for revenge. "Charlie!" He screamed again, aware that he could not run directly to the body, but unable to keep himself from lurching forward towards the fallen redhead.

"Charlie! No, not my Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. Her voice rose up, louder than all the others in the fray, demanding to know the truth. Her eyes burned with pure fury and she bore down on the remaining handful of death eaters. Her spells carved up the earthen ground of the backyard and shook the leaves of what few trees still stood nearby.

The shadowed wizards backed off, but did not retreat, even as the witch's fury began to swell and grow.

"Harry, look out!" Fred and George were there, throwing up shields and casting the spells that Harry couldn't.

Harry crumpled to his knees beside the fallen body, his distraught hands trembling as they skimmed quickly over the surface of Charlie's clothes and registered the fact that he wasn't breathing.

Charlie wasn't breathing.

For a moment, his throat and chest tightened painfully and the reality echoed.

Charlie wasn't breathing. Not a single breath.

Trembling fingers brushed lightly over the rise of Charlie's nose and closed those, wide, unseeing blue eyes before tracing a shaky outline around his lips.

It hurt.

As if someone had reached inside, ripped his soul out and set him on fire.

Harry didn't think he could breathe either.

He stared, unseeing.

"Harry?"

"Harry!"

Fred and George called his name, but Harry didn't hear them. He only stared at the face of the young man he'd fallen quite certainly in love with over the space of a single weekend.

This was not happening.

This could not happen.

Charlie was his.

Charlie was part of him.

He couldn't live without Charlie.

Surely Charlie wouldn't die on him, not from something like a simple spell. It hadn't even been the killing curse. A dark curse, probably, but Charlie was powerful, a little thing like that wouldn't have killed him. It shouldn't have.

Harry felt his breath hitch.

Didn't Charlie know that he wasn't allowed to die?

A shudder wracked through this body and Harry opened his mouth as his head fell back. He felt the chill in the air and saw the swirling darkness overhead, but everything was bleak and grey. None of it mattered.

None of it mattered without Charlie.

And so he screamed.

An unearthly shriek rent through the air.

Rowle didn't really understand what happened when the ponytailed redhead fell to the ground.

In hindsight, he would count it as a terribly counterproductive move on their behalf as immediately following afterwards, the most soul-stirring, heart-wrenching screech filled the air. The kind of screech that made him nearly jump out of his skin, with intent to hide and never come out. It promised horrible, dark things to the one it was intended for.

He looked up and directly into green eyes that flashed into a vivid gold as angry tears streamed down that anguished face. Lips moved and words were spoken.

Rowle couldn't hear a thing, but he trembled.

He couldn't help himself.

Feared Death Eater, favorite of Voldemort and dark wizard that he was, Rowle saw that expression and felt his own darkness freeze around him in a worthless barrier.

His knees buckled beneath him and his hands and feet scrabbled for purchase.

The ground beneath him—moved.

"Orbis terran kal." The forbidden words slipped past his lips, but now, Harry didn't care.

He had to do something. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing. If Theo was going to ream him out for this, then fine. He could. Later. For now, all Harry cared about was Charlie. This was half his fault. If he hadn't been here, then they never would've attacked The Burrow.

Charlie would've never been hit.

This wouldn't be happening.

It's not right! He thought, darkly. My life may be a joke, but this is Charlie…he didn't deserve this!

The first tendrils of elemental magic crackled up from the ground beneath him, sending a rippling, tingling sensation through his fingertips.

Harry clenched his hands to fists.

He'd destroy the world, if he had to, at this point.

How dare they hurt Charlie.

"How dare you!" He rasped, struggling to his feet with the weight of the elemental magic nearly crushing him to the ground. He'd never invoked Theo's password before and he was entirely unprepared for the onslaught of pure, raw power as it rushed into him and out of him, causing tremors as his physical body was unable to handle the sudden strain.

It hurt worse than he'd felt a minute ago, as if the very poles of the earth were tugging him in different directions. As if his body would be physically wrenched apart and left in mangled remains.

Ha.

So that was why Theo had warned him.

Harry almost smiled, the very fraction of movement, painful in its conception. If the power tore him apart, then that was fine—as long as he could drag that scumbag down to the pits of hell, he didn't care. He'd take every one of those dark wizards down with him. Death would be welcome, so as long as Charlie's death hadn't been in vain.

"His life wasn't yours to take!" He hissed, with all the anguish that currently roiled within him.

And then he was moving.

Harry saw Rowle's face right before he sucker punched him in the stomach with enough force to hear bones creak beneath his hand, to hear the gurgle as he choked on the customary mouthful of blood, to hear the gasp of surprise at his reaction. The Death Eater went flying across the lawn before he skidded on the ground, his body twisting into an odd, unnatural shape. A guttural cry came from the fallen wizard as it suddenly appeared that his skin was slowly dribbling off and melting into the muddied ground beneath him.

The towering dragel child standing at length, sneered at him, for Harry didn't care. Death was too good for this, for him. He yanked on the tiny tendrils of energy connected to the body through tangled, glowing lines. He yanked at them until only a handful remained, too exhausted to pull them all free, as every movement of his body now took more effort than he could bear.

That was enough, for now. It would have to do.

Golden magic crackled and tangled visibly in the air around him as Harry turned back to Charlie's fallen form. His gaze flickered back to the crumpled bodies around him and Harry stretched out a hand.

"Terran Recro Algoe." He whispered, forming the image of the spell in his mind and willing it to work. He didn't know where the words came from, the urge to speak and craft had surged up inside him the moment he'd invoked Theo's password. Instinct told him it was right, the flow of the magic told him it was right, even as that very magic began to tear at him.

He had already risked enough, what was one more thing?

Theo…Theo where are you? I need you…why aren't you here? Won't you please come? Please, alpha…!

The words and thoughts were tangled and primitive in his current state. He only knew one thing and one option. He needed Theo here—needed him now!

The sound of apparition cracks came through to his ears, followed by angry shouts.

Harry was only partially aware of more Death Eaters apparating in and out and back-up arriving from somewhere. He heard Dumbledore's voice. He heard Mrs. Weasley's screaming cries.

He heard the echo of the ground beneath him, crying in anguish. He didn't know how to send the power back. He didn't know how to keep from going with it. He coughed a mouthful of blood and nearly choked on the coppery taste.

A mouthful of blood and bile.

He'd overdone it.

The pain coursing through his veins promised to rip him to shreds even as he fought it by sheer willpower. He would not fall apart, not before Theo came, he couldn't. The powers themselves would punish him, they were angry, he could feel it. It would not be kind, nor pretty.

A whimper slipped past his lips.

Fire burned all through him and Harry felt as if he couldn't breathe and wouldn't live.

The very life was being sucked out of him.

He stretched a painful hand towards Charlie's crumpled figure, wondering how the distance between them was now so great than from when he'd shot forward to attack Rowle. He grimaced at one large spike of pain, hotter, brighter and more insistent than the others.

Without warning, Harry sunk to his knees and promptly keeled over to the sound of wicked laughter echoing in his ears.

Fire burned him everywhere.

I'm being burnt alive. It feels like a dragon's fire. How fitting.

Charlie thought, darkly amused as he felt himself drifting deeper and downward to the shadows that beckoned him to the underworld. He didn't really want to die, but of course, that wasn't really much of an excuse for anyone who wished to live. His mother would no doubt be stricken and heart-broken, his family would somehow fashion together a stronger bond in spite of his absence, in his memory. Everything would be fine, whether he came back or not.

But Charlie Weasley did not want to die.

In fact, now that he could think of it—and it was surprising to find thought as a current, active process in his given state—he wondered how long it took to die.

It seemed to be taking quite a long time.

An unearthly screech nearly deafened his ears.

It demanded that he remain among the living, challenging him to dare to live even as darkness loomed on the horizon.

His heart leapt and throbbed, frantically beating as if doing so would return him to life.

His soul ached, longing and burning to answer that eerie, haunting cry.

That cry that called to his very core.

"Terran Recro Algoe." The soft voice came from somewhere above him.

Three soft washes of light popped into existence and Charlie stared in amazement.

Two young men and one young woman, youthful in their appearances, hovered beside his floating figure. They were partial bodies, wispy from the waist downward as if they were genies rather than spirits.

"Terris Sukey." The young woman murmured, gliding forward and touching his chest. "Brindus."

He choked and gasped, soundlessly. It felt as if she'd just stabbed him through the chest with a red-hot iron poker.

"Terris Makindor." Said the taller of the young men, gliding forward and also touching the dragon tamer's chest. "Brindus."

Charlie cried and struggled, though it did him no good. This pain was ten times worse than the previous one.

"Terris Alomath." The remaining young man clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it directly over Charlie's heart. "Brindus!"

The dragon tamer writhed in agony as flames erupted from his chest and his body was literally consumed by hot, angry flames.

The trio of spirits faded.

Pain exploded and race through him in a way that he'd never before experienced.

As his own personal hell began, Charlie lost all ability to think coherently.

Charlie was vaguely aware of the pain after what seemed like an eternity.

There was so much of it, that he no longer was able to process the feeling.

Everything ached. Everything burned and everything just plain hurt.

He knew he was living, somehow, but it seemed as if time had slowed and stopped to allow him this special treatment.

His hands were on fire and at some point, he looked at them, horrified to see that they had morphed into deadly, curled claws.

No…what's happening to me?

The coppery tang of blood and bile lodged in his throat and he felt the fire rushing through his veins as a foreign substance attempting to overpower the blood that kept him alive.

Lines and circles of fire blossomed on his back and centered about his shoulders.

And then, it stopped.

It was almost like someone had flipped a switch.

He'd died. That was the only logical conclusion.

Charlie knew he'd died, but then, he'd lived.

He was alive.

At least, he didn't feel very dead.

The pain settled in him as aches in his very bones and a hot, irritating heat feathered around his neck and shoulders.

Blue eyes popped open with startling clarity and Charlie heard the shouts and cries around him.

He awoke in time to see a clutch of hovering Dementors swirling overhead.

Yes, most definitely alive.

Unrestrained fury welled up within him and ignoring his body's protests, Charlie lurched to his feet and screamed upwards at the filthy monsters.

To his surprise, a volley of flame shot out of his mouth, streaking upwards into the sky.

Angry shrieks and cries filled the air. The Dementors swirled and gathered around, circling as if to attack.

He screamed again.

The flames leapt from his mouth, shooting fireballs through the air and the shadowed guards scattered.

"Charlie?" His mother's voice cut through the air. "Oh my—Merlin—Charlie!" Her scream was frantic and tear-filled as she cried in relief.

His eyes zeroed in on a crumpled figure several yards away, separated from his immediate presence by a large, yawning abyss torn through the ground. A Death Eater. His eyes narrowed and without thinking, he raised one clawed hand and threw a volley of flame that consumed half of The Burrow's backyard and everything else in that section.

A scorched expanse of smoking black stared back at him.

Oops.

Charlie stared in confusion.

His mind had caught up to the havoc his body was happily playing. He was spitting fire—literally!

A pained whimper drew his attention and Charlie hissed as he caught sight of the injured Shadow lying on the ground. Rage boiled and burned up from within him again. He hobbled forward, unsure of what to do, knowing that something ought to be done, but too muddled to puzzle it out. He chirred, softly, sadly.

Shadow made a quiet whuffling sound in answer, between its pained breaths.

Charlie keened softly, painfully aware of a very obvious emptiness inside him, as if two very obvious things were missing. Things that he didn't quite understand, but somehow knew that he needed.

A wave of frustration washed over him as he gave a low growl.

His mental gymnastics were cut short when a sweet, tantalizing scent spiraled up from the ground, teasing at his body. It was the perfect distraction and Charlie discovered that the lovely scent came from the unconscious body lying a few feet away. His mind was muddled and as such, took a moment to process the fact that it was Harry who lay, still and unmoving.

A mournful roar rattled in his chest and bellowed out of his mouth. Everything shook. The fierce sorrow it encompassed demanded silence and respect.

Against his protesting body, Charlie lurched forward the few steps it took to close the gap between them. Panic engulfed him and he dropped to his knees, gathering the limp body awkwardly in his arms, unsure of how to move with claws instead of hands, pausing to bat at the annoying heat at his neck and shoulders, it felt as if his hair was on fire.

Fire.

Hair.

Charlie nearly dropped his precious armful.

A glance showed that his lovely, wonderful ponytail was now a furious swarm of flames, dancing wickedly behind him.

Oh Merlin-!

"Charlie?" His mother's voice cut into the private moment.

A second later, a thick jet of cold water soaked him from head to toe. The flames stopped. A chill remained. Charlie whirled on her with an angry hiss, cradling Harry protectively to his chest and warning her to stay back. He tried to speak, but a rasping growl came out instead.

A/N: Charlie's transformed! It took pain, power and a desperate soulcry(courtesy of Harry!) to bring him back. We are currently in the middle of the Charlie story-arc, some hot guy action is slated to come. :P Anyhow, this answers part of that huge Weasley secret. There is Dragel blood among them. As for the rest of that secret(Where, why, how, etc)-that's answered after Theo arrives.
- 29
- 30
- 31
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

There Be Dragons, Harry