Title: Let Fire Burn and Wind Ignite (Where There Be Dragons)
Beta: My lovely luvscharlie. She’s the only one who will put up with me and I am forever grateful because she is too good to me. Every piece I write will always be partly for her.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Viktor Krum/Charlie Weasley
Summary: Two years after the war, a business trip to Romania brings Charlie to a strange monastery. He meets a brooding Viktor Krum and a strange old man who force Charlie to contemplate the forces of nature, particularly the combination of wind and fire.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction set in the Harry Potter Universe – all recognizable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.
Warning(s): Um… slash and all that comes with hot man sex.
Word Count: 8,954
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this, westwardlee. I’ve spent a lot of time working on this and I love Charlie Weasley and I do hope this resembles your request. I tried to work in as much as I could with this lovely pairing. The title, “Where there be dragons”, is from the ancient world when people would make maps, the places that were unknown, possibly untouched by man, were marked by a dragon symbol.
Charlie Weasley slowly laces up his boots, taking his time to tighten each worn lace into the soft leather of his boot before moving to the other foot. He wiggles his toes in the tightened boots; the snug feeling of sock against leather is comforting and familiar. He takes a last glance around the small tent to make sure he hasn’t left anything out of his packing. It is strange how a tent in the middle of a foreign country can become home. It certainly isn’t the Burrow, but it is home, especially after the war.
It had been nice, being with his family during the war, but he left for a reason. Charlie had stayed until Hogwarts was able to hold students in October before he broke the news to his mother that he was going back to Romania. It was hard being home, seeing everything he had missed while chasing dragons; Ginny’s laughter, Ron’s budding romance skills and a bond only family could provide. But even so, he found himself missing the peaceful confines of his tent and the rolling hills of the Romanian countryside. There was no fire in England, and he returned to the Reserve with a sense of relief.
Satisfied with his last round about the room, he moves quickly to pull on a black t-shirt with a dragon emblem on the left breast, ‘where there be dragons’ is embroidered around the large Romanian Longhorn, its dark green scales and glittering golden horn sparking against the matte of black behind it. He picks up his wand and a muggle wallet containing directions and some precautionary muggle identification, stashing them into a pocket of his trousers, before grabbing the large leather knapsack and shrugging it into place on his back; its contents vary from personal items to dragon retrieval gear, but it held much more than it appeared.
He glances at his watch and strides out of his tent and into the warm breeze of the Romanian summer on the Reserve. Charlie passes by many Reserve employees enjoying the calm before breeding season starts in full fervor in a week or so. He nods politely at those he knows, occasionally saying goodbye as he makes his way across the Reserve. The Reserve used to be a place where people were full of energy and life, drinking and joking at night and getting to know dragons with a rush of fire and adventure. It’s been a full year since the end of the war and maybe the Reserve is getting back to its old self, but for now, it’s timid, and the keepers spend most of their time, not with each other, but with their dragons. Reuniting themselves with a love they have neglected for over a year, either for the war or fear for their families.
Eventually, he reaches the other side of the Reserve and enters the large brick building, winding his way through the hallways until he reaches a small room.
“Hello, Skender.” Charlie smiles widely at his best friend at the Reserve before pulling the man into a tight hug. Skender is almost a head taller than him, at 6’7" with dark features and a goofy smile, but his accent is lighter than it would appear, since his mother was English.
“Good to see you. Are you prepared for your trip?”
“Yeah. It should be just a simple retrieval mission.” Charlie sits down on the medical table, and Skender picks up his wand to trace over Charlie. Skender is the Reserve healer, and before any handler leaves the Reserve on business, they are checked by him.
“How many?”
“Two or three. I’m only there to scout and trap. I’ll Portkey them in.” Skender nods, putting his wand on the table and making some marks on a chart in front of him.
“Good, you are well. Let me activate your Portkey.” Charlie watches as Skender rummages through a large bin of miscellaneous items.
“Stop looking at my arse, Charlie. There will be many men in Sofia to take advantage of,” Skender says as he pulls a gold water bottle out of the bin; Charlie just laughs, a full and joyous rumble that reminds him of pubs and firewhiskey.
“I wouldn’t go after you in a million years, Oana would kill me. I don’t want to die by the hand of your wife- that would be a scandal.” Skender smiles widely, shaking his head, hands Charlie the Portkey and checks his watch.
“It should go off in a minute or so. Be very careful, Charlie. Those Bulgarian monks are tricky.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to be back, Mother.” Skender tries to look shocked, but his smile gives him away. He starts to retort, but Charlie feels the familiar tug and barely says “Goodbye” before he is tugged out of sight.
<3<3<3<3<3
It takes three hours to get through the Bulgarian Ministry. By the time he reaches the outskirts of town, it is almost midday, and Charlie knows he won’t be able to make it to the mountain with time to spare. It would be easier if the Bulgarian Ministry would permit Apparition by foreign wizards, but it was still too soon after the war. They saw too much traffic of dark wizards they wished had never graced their land and were reminded of times when fear was an integral part of Bulgarian lives, times before Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.
Part of Charlie wishes he was back at the Reserve, tending to dragons and settling into the familiarity of Romania. But as much as he longs for the Reserve, he longs for time on his own, where he can put the effects of war behind him, embrace the new found peace and cause a little trouble. Charlie loves a challenge. Maybe that’s why he loves dragons. They are terribly stubborn creatures and prefer to be left alone. The war was dangerous and exciting to some morbid extent, but Charlie didn’t want to be an Auror. He was a dragon keeper. So he jumped at the chance at an offsite assignment, he could be on his own with three powerful dragons and strange wizards. Maybe he could get a little bit of the fire back that the war stole.
He sighs, casts a Translator Charm and hails a muggle cab. It takes three hours to get out of the city, but the ride to the base of the mountain is beautiful and Charlie enjoys the rolling hills and lush green countryside. The cab driver stops at what appears to be a chair lift, Charlie smiles politely before handing him money and stepping out of the cab. The lift is amazing, with a perfect view of Vistosha Mountain. Charlie takes the opportunity to look for hot spots; he pulls out a pair of omnioculars from his knapsack and casts a nonverbal charm. When he brings the omnioculars to his eyes, he can see body heat detected in the areas below. Three areas look promising, and Charlie mentally notes their locations, thanking Merlin they are relatively close in proximity to one another. It means a gentler hike.
The lift lands, and Charlie looks up at the Dragalevski Monastery. The building closest to him is coloured in red bricks halfway up, before it turns a beautiful white; the windows are lined with brick as well; and the roof is done in dark tiles. The buildings surrounding the area are all white with many large, arched windows lined with red brick. The scene is beautiful, and Charlie wishes he wasn’t here on business, so he could enjoy the nature of the monastery. The monastery is not quiet like he expected. Children are running around, and many tourists are walking around the surrounding garden and church. Charlie nods politely towards a group of older women before turning and walking into the archway path that leads to the monastery quarters.
The monastery is full of monks who vary in ages (some very young), and each time Charlie passes one, they bow to each other before moving on. Dragalevski is a purely wizard monastery, although the term 'wizard' is used differently here. Each of the monks are elemental wizards, they have the power of one of the elements, and spend years trying to confine the magic. Elemental magic is tricky and difficult to control. But the monks at Dragalevski find a life of silence and meditation cools the power inside of them and they train for decades to be able to control it. Some are never allowed to leave the monastery because their power has consumed them and rendered them insane, but others eventually leave for a solitary life in the mountains or join the Bulgarian Ministry.
Eventually the pathway leads to large room, where many monks dressed in brown robes are speaking in low voices to each other and playing various games on low tables. Many of the monks are wearing blue, white and green necklaces. There are some young elementals who are small children no more than 6 years old. They pay Charlie no mind, not even glancing in his direction as he weaves his way to the front of the room and up four steps to where a very old man sits, eyes closed. He must be at least 200 years old; with a snow white beard that touches the ground and no hair on his head at all. The red cord around his neck stands out against his pale complexion and mute brown robes. His skin is weathered, and Charlie approaches the man with caution. He has been told this man is very powerful.
“You’ve come to take our fire breathers.” The man doesn’t open his eyes, and Charlie is surprised by his American accent.
“Yes,” is the only reply Charlie makes before setting his knapsack down and kneeling on the steps before the old man.
“Do you know why we have asked you to come?”
“No.” Charlie watches the man carefully and his eyes snap open. They are wreathed in flame, and Charlie has to keep himself from falling backward off the steps.
“See? Even being around you, Dragon Keeper, sets my element off balance. Imagine what it does to our boys…” The man’s voice is smooth, although his eyes burn yellow-orange. “We cannot train with them so near, but they are attracted to our elemental powers. We draw them nearer by the day. They hear the call of flames, and it cannot be ignored.”
The man leans near to Charlie, and Charlie can feel the skin rising on the back of his neck. The flame-ringed eyes bore into him, and he can feel his own temperature rising. He wills himself not to panic and holds the old man’s gaze steady.
“You feel it too. An inferno so deep and consuming you live with dragons to control it. You, Charlie Weasley, are blazing with the call of flame.”
Charlie breathes deeply, ignoring the steady rise of panic. The man was scary. His power was scary, and Charlie could feel it charge the air around them. His hand twitched for his wand, even though he knew it was no good. Elemental wizards were not to be messed with, they are too unpredictable and often surrender no caution to sense. He was told to go to the man in the Great Hall who runs the monastery, but Charlie wonders if the old man has lost control over his power now and has descended into madness.
“You will sleep in the far west wing, as it is for guests only. There, you will not disturb my students with your blaze. Outside your window is a path leading to a large field about five miles into the mountain. You will find what you seek there.”
The old man sits back, his eyes still dancing with flames, but the power, so strong it seemed tangible only a moment before, was no longer in the air. A small smile graces the old man’s face; a smile that both eases Charlie and puts him on edge.
“Another guest is staying in the room across from yours. He is a dear friend of mine. Maybe you can teach him of your blaze, and he can teach you of his gust. He is in love with the wind, just as you are with fire. When a flame is met by the most gentle of breezes, it will become brighter, and the heat will grow more intense.” The old man gestures to a small hallway leading off from the large room. “Dinner is at 6. Breakfast at 6 and lunch is at 12. And I, I am Kenna… born of fire.”
The old man closes his eyes, and Charlie takes the silence as a cue to leave, so he quietly picks up his knapsack. He picks his way through the young elementals before looking for a pathway that led west.
A small hallway leads him towards the back of the monastery, west. Unlike the rest of the walls, these are painted with swirls of vibrant color. Areas of blue, red, green and white stand out, but are blurred again into a vestige of paint; it almost seems chaotic, a rushed feeling propelling Charlie down the hallway. There are many doors on each side of the hall, but they are all closed. At the end of the passage is a large door, cracked open to reveal the shower and bathroom, and a door to the left is open.
The room is simple. A bed sits in the center of the room with a night stand on one side containing a small clock and lamp. The other side of the room is devoid of furniture, with large French doors that lead out to a path. A chest of drawers sits on the wall with the entrance. There are no paintings, the walls are white, and the only sign of color is the deep red duvet on the bed. Charlie shakes his head and goes to unpack his knapsack into the deep chest of drawers. He’s not sure how long it will take to track and capture the dragons safely, but dragons could be hard to find when they wanted, and if Kenna was right and they wanted to be here, close to the fire, then they would definitely put up more of a fight to leave.
A month at least.
Even though the monks were creepy, being incredibly powerful and uncontrollable, the monastery cast a sense of tranquility over Charlie; he walks to the French doors and lets them swing open into the afternoon sunlight. Maybe it is the simplicity of the building or the lush atmosphere surrounding the walls, but the breeze carried with it a sense of purpose, a sense of destiny. It’s eerie, yet oddly comforting to Charlie and he finds himself lying on the bed, thinking about the attraction of fire as he drifts off to a peaceful slumber.
<3<3<3<3<3
Charlie woke several hours later, the last colors of sunset dying on the horizon. A quick glance at the clock confirmed his fears, it was 6:30. He wouldn’t be getting anything to eat this evening. He simply lay in his bed trying to remember his dreams. Charlie could almost remember Quidditch and feelings of wind swirling around him, maybe it was a tornado…He could also remember the caressing feeling of hands against his shoulders and a fire the strong hands had enticed, acting like a wind to catch and ignite the flame inside of him. But clear images escaped his mind; all Charlie could remember were feelings.
Shaking his head, Charlie sits up in bed, banishing all thoughts of his dream from his mind. A nice, hot shower will relax him and get him ready for his early start in the morning. Charlie quickly strips, flinging his clothes into a corner of the room before he wraps a towel around his waist and summons his shower kit with his robe. He pauses for a minute, contemplating whether or not to leave his wand, then tucks his wand into his shower kit before opening the door.
“No. I am not ready for return,” a deep voice directly outside his room says. Through the cracked-open door, Charlie can make out a large man bending down to speak. His English is broken and his accent is thick, Charlie cannot tell where he’s from, but the deep and heavy tones of the accent suggest a Slavic origin. Charlie wonders why he’s speaking English, when it clearly isn’t the man’s first language but gets distracted by the smooth tones of his voice.
“I vill come vin I vant.” The tone is final and the man stands up, his back facing Charlie. Charlie barely registers the nice curve of the man’s arse before he is face to face with the calculating eyes of Viktor Krum. There are storms brewing in his eyes, fierceness and edge that Charlie can imagine being directed at a glittering snitch.
Charlie swiftly opens the door entirely, breaking eye contact with Krum and holding out his hand.
“Sorry to interrupt. Charlie Weasley.” Krum nods and takes his hand. His handshake is firm and Charlie can feel the calluses beneath his own.
“Yes. I remember you from da Tournament. You vere the dragon handler.” Charlie chuckles, only slightly surprised at Krum’s memory, and lets go of Krum’s hand.
“Yeah. Still am.” The awkwardness in the air looms between them. Charlie tries not to stare at the Quidditch star, but he cannot help noticing the thick cords of Krum’s neck as he talked and the well-defined muscles underneath his red t-shirt, or how he’s grown his dark hair out, letting it flop into eyes, his strong jaw line, and the strength and skill evident in his powerful legs and arms. Charlie would never have expected to meet Krum here, in an isolated monastery. He wants to ask why Krum is here… What drove him to this mountain?
“You are here to take da dragons?” Charlie’s eyes snap back up to meet Krum’s, noting the amused twinkle there. Krum probably had many men and women admire his form. Charlie forces a smile embarrassed at being caught.
“Yeah, I guess the dragons bother their magic.” Krum nods in agreement, and notices Charlie’s shower kit.
“You vill enjoy here. It is peaceful.” With that, he sweeps back into his room, closing the door abruptly behind him.
Charlie blinks several times before heading to the bathroom. Krum is such an odd character. He remembers Krum from Bill’s wedding, lurking and terribly ungraceful without his broom, and yet Charlie found his blunt and surly nature somehow endearing. Their meeting in the hallway was peculiar. Krum was friendly, yet abrupt. Charlie couldn’t tell if Krum's strangeness was due to his own unfamiliarity with the culture of this country or the hard world of Quidditch. But either way, he finds himself pondering Viktor Krum.
There were always rumors flying around the Quidditch circuit about players' personal lives. After Krum’s interest in Hermione Granger during the Triwizard Tournament many magazine articles had focused on Krum’s past relationships, including those with men. But, at Bill's wedding, Charlie had overheard a conversation Krum had with disguised-Harry. Krum was clearly only interested in women, whatever his past relationships alluded to.
He takes a long shower, refusing to let the images of Krum’s staunch muscles and strong face linger very long in his mind. It would not do well to get distracted while playing with fire, but it doesn’t stop Charlie from wrapping thick, calloused fingers around his cock and leaning against the wall under the steaming water. His other hand travels to twist and pull at his nipples, watching the large Welsh Green dragon tattoo stir and roar fire over his hand from its inked place around his shoulder and across his left pectoral. He can almost feel the heat of its breath, as well as the Ridgeback curled around his hip, tail curling up his back, fire dancing across the cut of his hip. The water droplets collect on his skin and he closes his eyes savoring the feeling of his hand on his cock. He imagines a phantom mouth, wrapped deliciously tight around him, tongue dancing tantalizing under his shaft. It only takes a few minutes until Charlie pulls himself into completion, the evidence of his pleasure swirling down the drain.
<3<3<3
The morning dawns bright, the swell of heat hinting at what Charlie is sure promises to be a very hot day. Charlie gets ready quickly, throwing together a quick bag of tracking supplies before he heads down to breakfast.
The mess hall is large and Charlie is surprised to see so many people eating breakfast. The hall is full of brown robed monks who watch him carefully as he picks his way through tables to get to the large banquet table, ladled with food. Some monks follow his movement closely, Charlie notices them shift in their sheets and he wonders if they too, like Kenna, are uncomfortable with his presence.
He makes short work of breakfast, packing things for lunch, before disappearing out of the monastery. Idly, he wonders where Krum is. His noticeable figure was absent from the hall. But Charlie pushes the thought away as he approaches the tree line of the forest. He walks the tree line, looking for a good entrance and pathway into the dense trees and brush of the forest, but the thicket doesn’t let up, and by the time he finds an opening he is only a few feet from his bedroom’s French doors. The path leading into the forest is well worn and Charlie notices fresh footprints in the dirt. The thought of other people in the forest make the hairs of his neck stand on end. It’s hard enough with just him and the dragons on his mind, let alone someone else.
Charlie strides into the forest with silent but quick steps. The heat looms in the forest, and Charlie wonders if the moisture in the air is just the Bulgarian climate or the result of something larger and scalier. The path through the forest is calm and Charlie enjoys a silent walk through the trees. Birds and small, forest dwelling animals are the only signs of life Charlie sees for some time. The small path slopes upward, and sweat starts to bloom on Charlie’s skin. The trees are thick, but provide surprisingly little relief from the oppressive heat and humidity and by the time the path levels out, Charlie is soaked with sweat.
The sound of birds dwindles and the smell of sulfur penetrates the air. The trees thin considerably as Charlie comes to the edge of a vast clearing. Where once there must have been a lovely, lush meadow, there is now charred ground and dragon feces. Pulled down trees are seen in the outermost areas of the clearing, signs of the dragons' progression towards the monastery. Contrary to popular belief, dragons prefer walking to flying and will clear pathways if they can. Despite the evidence of the dragons' presence, the area around the site was clear and no dragon seemed to lurk in the shadows, as much as dragons really lurk with their large size and rumbling roar.
Charlie takes his time casting a copious amount of spells including motion detectors and health monitors. The spells are difficult, and take up most of what is left of his morning. The air is hot and sticky, but clouds break into the tyranny of heat at two in the afternoon and Charlie breaks for lunch. Climbing a tree on the west side of the clearing, he can see the entrance to the area clearly and he sits down to dragon watch.
Unfortunately, the dragons don’t want to play today. Charlie watches the clearing for several hours before he covers his scent from the scene and makes his way down the trail and back to the monastery.
This pattern continues for days. There are no signs of the dragons, except for small trips on his detection spells at night, certainly nothing worthy of trekking up a five mile trail. Apparition is too risky, without knowing the sex of the dragons. It is prime mating season, the most dangerous time for retrieving dragons. He has no choice but to try his hardest to lure them to come around because if they ever got near enough to the monastery… Charlie cannot imagine, nor does he want to, the damage that might result from that combination of magical fire.
He doesn’t see Krum for the rest of the week, sometimes when Charlie is lying in bed he hears the awkward footfalls of the famous Seeker, but other than the sounds he makes going to the loo at night, Charlie neither sees nor hears any trace of him.
There is a change in the routine three weeks in, when Charlie gets a warning from Kenna. The Fire Elementals were all gathering to do some sort of fire ritual, which Kenna was reluctant to elaborate upon, only informing Charlie that he should expect the dragons to be more active than normal during this period. At least that’s what Charlie thought he said. It was hard to decipher what Kenna really meant with all his cryptic words. He kept saying a great thing about wind and fire… but Charlie was too concerned with the effect high levels of fire energy would have on the dragons lurking in the forest to really take much notice.
On the way back from breakfast, after having a brief and frustrating conversation with Kenna about the rituals that were going to be performed in three days time, Charlie runs into Krum on the way to his room. Krum’s wearing running shorts, exposing the vast expanse of Krum’s toned, muscled thighs covered in coarse, dark hair. He is shirtless, his flawless olive skin stretched taunt over powerfully potent muscles. His eyes involuntarily follow the trail of dark hair leading down Krum’s abdomen and disappearing into his shorts; there are sparse hairs around his rosy nipples which beg to be nipped at. Charlie tries not to stare, or drool, but Krum is a sight to behold. The sheen of sweat is apparent, even in the thin light of dawn, suggesting Krum has come in from a run. The smell that lingers on his skin is one of sweat and musk and something that Charlie can't quite distinguish. Mingled together, it is intoxicating. Charlie suppresses a shiver; it has been ages since anyone affected him this way, especially someone so much younger than himself. Most of the blokes at the Reserve are older than him, and it has been a long time since someone as young as Krum had piqued his interest. If he was being completely honest, it had been a long time since anyone had caught his interest, let alone spent time in his bed.
“Hey,” Charlie says, approaching Krum, who is standing at his bedroom door. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
Krum spins around from his post at his door and considers Charlie with bright, brown eyes. Charlie forces himself not to notice the flush of exertion on Krum’s skin.
“Yes. Today, I vill accompany you. Yes?” Charlie frowns in surprise and Krum continues. “You need vind. I vill not get in your vay.”
The expectant look on Krum’s face makes Charlie reconsider his refusal. Krum could undoubtedly take care of himself, and Charlie couldn’t deny his curiosity of Krum’s personality… among other aspects of the Seeker.
“Sure. If you want to, but the dragons could be more-” But Krum is disappearing into his room before Charlie can finish. Charlie chuckles at the oddness of the situation before walking into his own room, leaving the door open in invitation, and packing a few remaining items. He makes sure the magically shrunk cages are packed, including sedatives and three Portkeys that can only be activated by a dragon’s signature scale composition.
“I am ready.” Krum’s thick accent fills the room, just as Charlie is adjusting the pack on his back. He’s changed into brown trousers and an old Quidditch jersey. The sight makes Charlie smile, as he gestures to the French doors. He is surprised when Krum returns the smile, with one of his own. It is broad, genuine and it leaves a strange feeling in the pit of Charlie’s stomach, as he leads Krum out of the monastery and onto the path into the woods.
They walk side by side, in silence, but for the sounds of labored breathing brought on by the exertion of the hike, before Charlie’s curiosity refuses to be quelled any longer. “So, what are you doing here instead of training for the new season?” His tone is light, and he glances beside him to gage the reaction of Krum’s face. A frown forms on the young man's face, his brow furrows, and Charlie wonders if he’s said the wrong thing.
“I cannot fly.”
The words are spoken tersely and Charlie cannot hide his surprise, or his curiosity. “Why? Are you injured?” Krum stops walking, and Charlie follows suit. The Bulgarian looks serious, even more severe than usual.
“I do not have da,” he gestures to his chest apparently searching for the correct word, “heart. Somefing is vrong, I can fly. But it’s not da same. I vill not play vithout it.” He looks sad for a moment, then continues to walk, the path sloping upward.
Charlie can only imagine the pain not being able to play must be causing him. Charlie had chosen not to play professionally after he left school, but he could have played. He had chosen to follow his heart; Dragons were where his heart had led him. But, that had been his choice. What must it be like to have no choice? He couldn’t imagine possessing the physical skills and talent, only to find that you no longer had the heart. Charlie wouldn’t be able to touch a dragon without it. In spite of himself, he wondered what had broken Viktor Krum's spirit and taken his heart?
“How long have you been here?”
“Since da English Ministry vell”
“Two years is a long time. How do you know there still a problem with your flying?”
Krum’s laughs, the tone harsh. “I know.”
Charlie only nods, and they continue on in silence once more. They arrive at the clearing and take up a position in a tree. Krum climbs before him, and Charlie watches his lithe body stretch to reach branches before he finally settles into a branch high in the tree, his face still creased from their earlier conversation. Charlie begins the ascent, all too aware of Krum’s gaze following him as he climbs the tree. He settles himself on a branch near Krum that provides him a good view of the clearing below. The tension between them is discernible, but surprisingly not uncomfortable. Charlie settles into the silence between them, attempting not to contemplate what could make Krum lose his desire to fly.
“Tell me ov da dragons. Vat is it like?” Krum’s voice breaks through the silence and Charlie turns to consider him. The frown is gone, and in its place a look of genuine interest. Charlie fills the space between them easily, with stories about the Reserve, of Skender and close calls he has had in the past and they laugh easily in the confines of the tree. Charlie tries not to notice the rich sound of Krum’s laughter or the way his shoulder muscles ripple when he laughs. He is surprised at the ease in which he tells Krum about the war and the Burrow, the loss of Fred and the disconnection he feels with his family. But there is something about Krum that is oddly comforting, a brooding sort of challenge that is laced with a genuinely kind personality. Charlie and Krum spend most of the afternoon talking.
“Why dragons?” Krum says, and Charlie feels like he’s done so much talking but continues anyway.
“Dragons. I guess I have more in common with them than I do with people. I’m good with them; they like me. I guess that makes it easier.” He smiles easily at Krum, but Krum is studying him. Charlie fights the blush that wants to rise from Krum’s intense stare.
“Yes. I can see fire inside you, like dragons' fire.” Charlie tries not to squirm under Krum’s stare but it’s hard, Krum’s gaze seems to burn straight through him and Charlie shifts his legs to accommodate his erection. Krum’s eyes are unreadable and Charlie breaks the eye contact, turning towards the field. Hours tick by and soon the forest is eating the sun and Charlie is ready to go back. He shifts from his post, and chances a glance at Krum. He’s still staring.
“I am looking for mine fire. Dat is why I’m in da mountains.”
Charlie meets his gaze and shivers at the small implication found there. Ideas are forming in his head, naughty and enticing ideas that are slowly starting to become slightly more than just ideas -- maybe possibilities. He shifts off the branch and pauses when his feet reach the branch beneath him. He smiles, letting the ideas shift into scenarios as he raises an eyebrow towards Krum.
“Have you found it?” Charlie asks boldly. Krum stares back and there is definitely heat in the gaze.
“Maybe.” Charlie holds his gaze for a moment before climbing down the tree, trying to ignore the tenting in his trousers.
He lands on the ground with a dull thud before he searches through his bag. His hand finally lands on a small brown bundle at the bottom of the sack and he pulls it out. Krum lands beside him not long after, his gaze is less intense but the remnants of their earlier connection are still there and it causes Charlie to smile confidently back at Krum.
“I’m going to set up a tent and spend the night here. It’s too close to the elementals' crazy fire ritual to leave the dragons alone. You can go back if you like, but I want to be here for dawn.”
Krum nods and takes the brown bundle from Charlie. Charlie enjoys the brush of calluses against his hand. Krum nods again and sets off across the clearing, leaving Charlie to swallow the lump of desire and slight anticipation in his throat. They hunt around for a flat piece of earth, far enough away from the clearing to be unseen but with a relatively clear view of the surrounding area. Krum stumbles across a small freshwater creek, and they set up the tent with little conversation, using their wands to set up the non-magical tent. The sun sets around them and they manage to get the tent up before it completely disappears behind the trees. Krum disappears while Charlie is laying out the only sleeping bag he brought with him, he unzips the sides and lays it out and throws the rest of the contents of the bag into the tent.
Krum appears twenty minutes later with two large bundles of wood and Charlie nods his thanks. The silence between them is not awkward like Charlie would think, but terribly arousing. Charlie fights what must be his millionth erection of the day as Krum bends over to build a small tower from the wood before creating a flame with his wand. The warmth of the air is almost too much for the fire, but wand light is tedious and the fire gives the area around the tent a good amount of light. After the fire is lit, Krum sits back and reaches into his pocket. Two taps of his wand reveal two sandwiches and he smiles as he leans to the side of the fire and Charlie accepts the food with skeptical look.
“I alvays miss dinner.” Charlie laughs and nods his head, settling back to eat his sandwich. But halfway through his dinner, with the immediate hunger satiated, Charlie is distracted by the muscles of Krum’s jaw as he chews his sandwich and the way the fire dances against the dark, almost black, pools of his eyes. His normally heavy brow seems less harsh in the firelight and the glow makes his olive skin look delicious.
Charlie practically swallows the rest of his sandwich whole before getting up, mumbling a hasty reason for departure and makes his way to the creek. It had become unbearably hot in Krum's presence, and he felt the insistent press of his prick against his thigh and trousers. Charlie doesn’t waste any time peeling off the sweat laden clothes, letting his shirt and trousers pile up on a small boulder at the creeks edge. Both dragon tattoos are flicking their tails and puffing smoke across his taunt skin. His hand strays to tickle the belly of both before his socks and shoes get hung up on a nearby tree and Charlie pulls off his briefs, taking care not to touch his throbbing cock, before wadding hip high into the stream. The water of the steam is cool and relaxing, but does nothing to diminish the intensity of his erection, mostly because he cannot get the images of Krum’s body out of his mind.
He bends his knees, letting the water level rise over his head before standing back up again; the water begins to ease the images from Charlie’s mind. He dips his head underneath the water several times, washing the sweat off his body with strong swipes of his hands across his flesh. He spends a considerable amount of time rubbing at taut muscles in his neck before running his hands through his hair several times and wiping the water droplets from his eyes. Charlie finally turns around to get out of the creek when the sight of Krum stops him.
The seeker had shed his shirt, a thin sheen of sweat flickering across his olive skin. Charlie’s eyes are immediately drawn to Krum’s open trousers and to the slow movement of Krum’s hand across his heavy cock. Charlie’s previous erection returns in full force as Krum strokes his cock in insanely slow movements, circling the head with his blunt fingertips before returning to the base of his cock. Charlie involuntarily licks his lips at the sight. Krum’s normally dark eyes are pitch black with desire and he does not stop staring at Charlie’s body. Charlie’s cock twitches at the thought.
“I vas enjoying da view.” Charlie nods his head at the Bulgarian before slowly stepping out of the creek and making his way over to him. Charlie’s legs are heavy with lust and he barely notices the ground he covers before running his fingertips over the sweaty shoulders of Viktor Krum. His skin is surprisingly soft and Charlie groans, as his hands trail down to Krum's dark nipples. He rolls each of them between a thumb and forefinger, enjoying the arch of Krum’s back, and the way his head tips back as a moan tumbles out of his throat. Charlie leans forward, careful not to let his body touch Krum’s, before sucking at the muscles of Krum’s throat, before licking a trail to his Adam’s apple and nipping hard. Krum’s hands find their way into Charlie’s hair, tugging tightly and Charlie smirks against his skin. Krum’s hips thrust in the air and Charlie chuckles at the sight, so deliciously wanton.
Charlie licks and sucks his way down Krum’s throat, nipping at his collarbone before laving at ridged nipples and biting down just enough to hurt, watching Krum’s hips buck again at his ministrations. Charlie’s fingers trail down Krum’s tense stomach, tracing powerful muscles while his tongue follows not far behind, flicking and nibbling at each ridge of muscle. Krum’s head snaps up as Charlie licks a long line over the dips in muscle along the line of his hips, tasting salt and musk that makes him moan. Charlie watches Krum’s hooded eyes and open mouth, delighting in the red marks blooming all over Krum’s neck and chest. He pushes Krum’s brown trousers to his knees, noting the lack of pants before placing tiny licks up Krum’s inner thighs, making sure to steer clear of his swollen prick. His hands reach around Krum to knead the strong muscled arse. Images of his delicious arse underneath Charlie flash vivid enough in his mind to make him moan against Krum’s inner thigh.
“Fuck. Stop dat teasing.” Krum’s voice comes out husky and choked, and Charlie meets his gaze before taking Krum's leaking cock into his hand and swallowing him whole. If there was one thing Charlie took pride in, it was his ability to suck cock and Krum tasted perfect, musk and salt spreading over his tongue. The warm length in his mouth is heavy against his tongue, and Charlie opens wide to allow Krum to sink into the heat of his mouth. Krum moans loud and tightens his grip on Charlie’s hair, scraping his chewed nails across Charlie’s scalp. Charlie works his lips up and down Krum, rhythmically stroking his tongue on the vein running on the underside of Krum’s cock. Krum cants his hips to meet Charlie’s bobbing and Charlie slowly opens his throat. He watches as Krum’s eyes widen at Charlie’s relaxed state before thrusting down Charlie’s throat. Charlie hums as Krum’s length slides down his throat; his finger’s painfully pulling on Charlie’s hair and the wild look of desire in Krum’s eyes.
He allows Krum to thrust until he gets erratic and Charlie can feel the coming orgasm, he winds his hands to the front of Krum who is thrusting wildly with his head thrown back, muscles tensing in every thrust and his moans filling the otherwise silent night air. With one swift motion, Charlie places his right hand on Krum’s stomach and pulls back, the other hand tightening around the base of Krum’s shaft and successfully starving off Krum’s climax. Charlie watches with desire as Krum bucks his hips in desperate search of Charlie’s hot mouth, a tight whine leaving Krum’s throat. His eyes are shut tightly as Charlie rises, taking in the flush of Krum’s chest and the sweat on his skin.
“I thought you liked women.” Charlie rasps against Krum’s ear, pressing his body tightly to Krum’s. The feeling of bare skin against his is delicious and he barely stops the thrust of his hips against Krum’s, their erections trapped between their bodies. Krum laughs against his ear and Charlie can feel the rumble of his chest against his own.
“I do, but I like men more.” Krum’s hands come alive, one curls around Charlie’s neck as Krum pulls away from Charlie’s ear and crushes their lips together. His other hand reaches behind Charlie, groping Charlie’s arse and pushing their lips together. Charlie moans into the kiss, sliding his tongue against Krum’s and thrusting steadily against Krum.
Krum starts walking backwards, and they stumble back to the campsite. They have to stop twice; once for Krum to shed his trousers and once to put more wood on the fire. They make it into the tent and collapse in a tangle of hard muscle and long limbs. Krum lands underneath him, sucking on nipple. Charlie curses as Krum’s teeth graze the sensitive numb. They can’t seem to stop the thrusting of their hips, Krum’s against his tight and his against Krum’s abdomen.
“Such a fucking talented mouth.” Charlie curses as Krum’s teeth graze the sensitive nub. They can’t seem to stop the thrusting of their hips, Krum’s against his thigh and his against Krum’s abdomen.
It only takes a few exquisite moments of Krum’s tongue on his nipples before all Charlie can think about is being buried balls deep in Krum’s tight arse. He moans audibly at the thought, pushing Krum’s head away before he scrambles between Krum’s legs and pushes them up towards his ears. Krum takes his cue, panting and hooks his arms underneath his knees, exposing himself to Charlie. Charlie growls at the sight before him, Krum’s tight pucker tightening, twitching for him and thinks once about lube before changing his mind and leaning down, licking Krum’s cock once before tonguing his balls. Krum’s moans seem a fair distance away as Charlie shoves one hand underneath of Krum, canting his hips up and giving him perfect access.
The first swipe of his tongue against Krum’s hole is rewarded with a loud curse word in Bulgarian from the man beneath him; Charlie smirks and sweeps his tongue over Krum’s entrance again, lingering a little longer. The taste is muskier and Charlie laps at the hole, enjoying the slick slide of his tongue across Krum’s flesh, until Krum is pushing back at him and cursing loudly above him. He works his tongue into the tight ring of muscles, imagining his own cock nestled there, the muscles relax quickly against his tongue and Charlie fucks Krum fast, licking into him until Krum paws at his own erection and Charlie bats his hands away.
Charlie pulls away from Krum’s wet hole, sticking two fingers in his mouth to coat them in saliva before working them into Krum’s body. Charlie sits up and eases Krum’s legs down until his feet are flat on the tent floor, his knees bent. Charlie watches Krum’s face as his eager hole greedily sucks Charlie’s fingers inside him. Charlie scissors him open, before slipping a third finger in and feeling the tight hole stretching around his calloused fingers. Krum’s body arches beneath him, his mouth slack open and his hands pinching his nipples. Charlie moans at the sweat slick muscles and the abandon written all over Krum’s body. He looks like something straight out of Play Witch, olive body and strong muscles so pliant underneath him; Krum’s mouth is open and his eyes are shut tightly. His back arches time and again, revealing the column of his throat just begging to be kissed. He searches only for a moment for the hard knot inside Krum before he finds it. He strokes it once, twice before Krum cries out and slams his hands on the ground, grinding his arse back against Charlie’s hand.
Charlie smirks and slowly drags his fingers out of Krum’s hole and enjoys the way the pucker tightens in the empty space, like it misses his presence. Krum pushes back and growls and Charlie catches his gaze. There is no doubt of the fire there now, and it causes a shiver to run down Charlie’s body. He takes his finger and slides it across Krum’s slit, gathering pre-come before mixing it with his own and coating his solid erection. Charlie shifts on his knees until his cock is lined up with Krum’s hole, he keeps eye contact with Krum, the blunt end of his shaft rubbing against Krum’s pucker.
There is a glint of mischief in Krum’s eyes before Charlie finds himself on his back, the power of Krum’s legs effectively pinning him to the ground. Krum’s form looms over him, his strong brow and long nose casting shadows on the tent walls. He is sitting on Charlie’s abdomen, a smirk present on his face.
“I do not let men fuck me.” He leans down, until his nose almost touches Charlie’s. Charlie can feel the heat and the desire pooling in the tent. Krum’s eyes were black pools of lust and he wonders what he must look like beneath the strong, Bulgarian man.
“I fuck dem.”
With swiftness and grace Charlie had seen him demonstrate in the air, Krum takes Charlie’s large cock in his hands and sinks down onto him at the most agonizing pace. Charlie’s mouth flies open and his eyes roll back in his head because Krum is the tightest fucking arse he’s ever had. The half-moan, half-growl that comes from his throat is foreign to his ears and he forces himself to open his eyes to watch as Krum impales himself onto Charlie’s cock.
“Fuck! Fucking fuck!” Charlie all but screams as Krum seats himself fully onto Charlie. His eyes are half lidded and all the muscles in his body are taut, Krum is a sight to be seen. Krum slowly rises, tightening his muscles around Charlie’s cock until only the tip is enveloped by Krum’s heat before relaxing and slamming back down onto Charlie’s length. Charlie can’t stop himself from talking, but Krum is too damn tight, too damn good at this to make anything coherent.
“So tight, Mother of Merlin. So bloody fantastic.” Krum throws his head back and sets into a rhythm, one hand gripping his thigh while the other one plucks at his nipple. Charlie can hardly stand the pace, so slow and enticing. He shifts just slightly and Krum’s head snaps back as he all but screams, breaking his slow rhythm. Charlie takes the opportunity to slam his hips up, fucking Krum from underneath.
“Bloody fucking hell, Viktor! Look so good fucking my cock,” Charlie pants, thrusting up to meet Krum as he plunges back down, letting his weight spear him onto Charlie’s cock. “Want you to come, come all over my chest, fucking my cock.” Krum just grunts, his hips speeding up. Charlie’s vision starts to blur, the pleasure coiling like white heat it is so fucking good. He wraps one hand around Krum’s leaking erection, pulling fast and hard because he was so fucking close it hurts. Krum’s voice gets louder, even though it sounds like it’s in the distance. Charlie can feel the fire rising off his skin, like the sound of Krum’s voice, the pull of his muscles and the swift heat of his arse is like an unfathomable wind to his own raging inferno.
“Oh fuck! So- FUCK! VIKTOR!” Charlie arches his back and thrusts up wildly, barely registering Krum’s answering screams and the uncontrollable thrusts as they both come in a mass of shaking limbs and desperate thrusts. Charlie’s orgasm hits him harder than anything he’s ever felt. He opens his eyes wanting to see Krum’s face as he comes, but his vision is of wind and fire as he descends into blackness.
<3<3<3<3
Charlie wakes long after the campfire has died out, to the slow stroke of hands on his hip. He tilts his head, to find Viktor lying beside him, leg thrown over his, tracing his dragon tattoo. The smell of sex and sleep is thick in the air and Charlie finds himself smiling lazily up at the man above him.
“’Ello.” Victor’s accent is even thicker with the blanket of sleep there.
“Hi.” Charlie says; sleep quickly creeping into his conscious again. Viktor just nods and presses a kiss to Charlie’s lips before falling asleep pressed up against him.
<3<3<3
Dragons wake Charlie just before dawn. With a swift kiss to the sprawled figure beside him, he untangles himself and jogs to the creek to retrieve his clothes. It takes less than four hours to round up the dragons into their magical cages. He gets a nasty burn on his left arm, but manages to get a note off to the Reserve and the Bulgarian Ministry before having to bandage it. The Ministry will call and get the team Portkeys so they can all Portkey back while he makes his way back to Romania. He walks back to the make shift camp site to find it gone, the tent packed up into a bundle and all other evidence of their night there vanished.
Including Viktor.
Charlie frowns at the scene and chides himself slightly. Viktor hadn’t said anything about more than just one night, and Charlie would just have to live with that. Even if he felt some sort of connection, a sense of peacefulness in the thick, Bulgarian Seeker.
He grabs his knapsack and sets off down the trail, ignoring the anger bubbling inside him coupled with disappointment. Just before he gets back to the monastery, a dark shadow passes over him and Charlie looks up to find a figure on a broom hovering over him. He cannot decide whether to smile or scowl, so he does neither.
“I am cured.” The thick Bulgarian accent comes from above before quickly dropping down to Charlie’s level, a broad smile on his face. Charlie does smile this time.
“Great job, mate.” His voice sounds strained even to his own ears as Viktor lands beside him.
“Da dragons are caged?”
“Yeah. All done. Ready to go back home.” Viktor nods and Charlie avoids his eyes. They walk in silence for a few steps before Viktor touches his shoulder and stops him. Charlie raises his eyebrow in question, but Viktor just smiles, a wicked smile and backs him up against a tree. The bark feels rough against Charlie’s back but he has little time to think about it when Viktor’s mouth slants against his. He hesitates for only a moment before kissing him back with equal enthusiasm, moaning into the kiss and letting his arms wrap around Viktor. Viktor licks at his mouth for a moment, before pulling back just enough to catch Charlie’s gaze.
“You catch dragons and cure me. I dink you deserve a revard.” Charlie gasps, laughing and Viktor sinks to his knees.
It is a long time before either of them speaks in normal tones again, but when they do, Charlie makes a joke about long Floo calls and Portkeys and Viktor smiles. They both walk back to the monastery wearing satisfied smiles, thinking about the complexity of wind and fire.
Charlie thinks Kenna might actually have gotten something right after all, just as he and Krum touch a Portkey back to Romania.
