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Chapter Text

Nine-year-old Draco sat stiffly in the stands at Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch, perched on the edge of his seat beside his father, Lucius Malfoy. It was the first Quidditch match Draco had ever seen at the school his family spoke so highly of. Though he wouldn’t be a student for a couple more years, Lucius had insisted it was time Draco saw the "proper wizarding tradition" of Hogwarts Quidditch in action.

Draco, trying to mirror his father’s composed demeanor, felt a buzz of excitement he couldn’t quite suppress. He’d never seen so many witches and wizards gathered in one place, cheering wildly as the players zoomed above them on their broomsticks. The colorful blur of the match fascinated him—but his attention was soon drawn to someone on the field, someone he couldn’t look away from.

There, soaring gracefully on a broom, was a tall Gryffindor with fiery red hair. His name was Charlie Weasley. Draco had heard the name mentioned in passing—always in a sneering tone from his father. But no amount of disdain could distract Draco from the way Charlie flew. It wasn’t just skill; it was joy, raw and unfiltered. Every turn, every dive, every save as Keeper seemed like magic in its purest form. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“Watch the game, Draco,” Lucius drawled beside him. “Not just one player. A Malfoy always sees the bigger picture.”

But Draco didn’t care about the "bigger picture." He didn’t care about which house won or who scored. He only cared about the way Charlie laughed when he caught the Quaffle mid-air, the way he waved to his teammates with a grin so warm it made Draco’s chest ache. It was unlike anything he’d seen in the cold, calculated world of his upbringing. Charlie Weasley was everything Draco’s life wasn’t: bright, fearless, and free.

When the match ended, Gryffindor victorious, Draco found himself lingering in his seat as the crowd dispersed. Charlie had landed on the pitch, laughing and ruffling his hair as his teammates clapped him on the back. For a moment, their eyes met—just briefly—and Draco froze. He thought he saw Charlie smile at him, but before he could be sure, Lucius tugged him by the shoulder.

“Come along, Draco,” his father said sharply. “We’ve seen enough.”

Draco followed, but his mind stayed behind, replaying the match and that fleeting glance. He didn’t have the words to describe the feeling—it wasn’t admiration, nor was it jealousy. It was something new, something soft and strange. He knew only one thing for sure: he wanted to see Charlie Weasley fly again.

And so began a quiet fascination that Draco Malfoy couldn’t quite explain, even to himself.

Chapter Text

After the Quidditch match, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie Weasley. For days, he imagined what it might be like to talk to him, to learn how he became such a great flyer. One evening, with a determined scowl, he sat at his ornate desk in Malfoy Manor and began to write.

**Dear Charlie Weasley,**
I watched you play Quidditch last week, and you were *amazing*. Your flying was so… graceful. You must be the best player at Hogwarts. How do you train? Do you practice every day? Do you eat special foods to make you faster? (If you do, can you tell me which ones?)

I think you’re better than Viktor Krum. Don’t tell anyone I said that. It’s a secret.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy

P.S. If you have any advice for someone who *might* want to play Quidditch someday, I’d appreciate it. (I’m already good at flying, obviously.)

Draco sent the letter off with one of the family’s owls, proud of himself. When a reply arrived two days later, he tore into it eagerly.

**Dear Draco,**
Thanks for the kind words about my flying! I don’t know about being better than Viktor Krum, but I’ll take the compliment.

As for training, it’s all about practice and loving what you do. There’s no special food (though I wouldn’t say no to a chocolate frog or two). And if you already love flying, you’re halfway there!

Best of luck if you try out for your house team someday. Maybe I’ll see you on the pitch one day!
Cheers,
Charlie Weasley

Draco frowned. The letter was polite, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more—something personal, something… special. He wasn’t about to give up.

---

Over the next few weeks, Draco sent more letters, each one a little bolder than the last.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
Do you remember me from the stands? I was the blond boy sitting next to my father. I waved at you after the game—did you see? You smiled at me.

Also, do you think Gryffindor wins because you’re so good, or are the other houses just bad? Be honest.

Your (future) friend,
Draco Malfoy

---

**Dear Draco,**
I can’t say I remember seeing you wave, but I’m sure I smiled at lots of fans that day! As for the house teams, I think Gryffindor wins because we work hard and play as a team. (But don’t tell my brother Percy I said that. He’ll turn it into a lecture about loyalty or something.)

By the way, how old are you? You seem pretty serious about all this for someone who’s not even at Hogwarts yet.

Take care,
Charlie

---

Draco read the last line and bristled. *How old am I? As if that matters!* He sat down to write again.

**Dear Charlie,**
I’ll have you know I’m nine, and I’m already an excellent flyer. My father says I have “natural talent,” and I agree. (You’re welcome to watch me fly anytime if you want proof.)

Also, if I were at Hogwarts, I’d definitely be on the team by now. Do you think first-years should be allowed to play? I think it’s a silly rule.

By the way, does your family have *seven* children, or is that a rumor? That sounds exhausting.

Your *serious* fan,
Draco Malfoy

---

Charlie couldn’t help laughing when he read Draco’s latest letter. The kid was relentless. With a grin, he wrote back:

**Dear Draco,**
Nine, huh? Well, that explains a lot. I like your confidence, though—"natural talent" and all. I’ll take your word for it until you’re old enough to prove it on the pitch.

As for the rule about first-years, it’s probably for the best. Trust me, Hogwarts is chaotic enough without adding eleven-year-olds zooming around.

And yes, there are seven of us. It *is* exhausting, but it’s never boring. Speaking of, you remind me a bit of my younger brother, Ron. He’s your age, and he’s just as determined to prove himself. You two would probably get along.

Keep practicing!
Charlie

---

Draco scowled at the comparison to Ron but brightened when he realized Charlie had mentioned him to someone else. *He’s thinking about me,* Draco thought smugly.

The letters continued for months, with Draco asking increasingly specific questions about Quidditch and Charlie answering with patience and humor.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
Do you have a favorite move when you’re playing Keeper? I’ve been practicing blocking with a Quaffle against the wall of our garden. (Our house-elf throws it for me. He’s not very good at aiming, though.)

Also, what’s your broom? I bet it’s a Comet 260 or something even better. My father says I’ll get a top-of-the-line broom when I’m at Hogwarts. He says nothing but the best for a Malfoy.

Your future teammate,
Draco Malfoy

---

**Dear Draco,**
My favorite move is probably the Starfish and Stick—look it up when you’re older! And yes, I’ve got a Comet 260, though I wouldn’t mind upgrading someday. Sounds like your dad’s got it all planned out for you.

Just make sure you’re playing because you love it, not just because you’ve got the fanciest broom. Trust me, the broom doesn’t make the player.

P.S. Tell your house-elf I said he’s doing a great job.

Cheers,
Charlie

---

Over time, Charlie began to look forward to Draco’s letters. Sure, the kid was a little intense, but there was something endearing about his enthusiasm. Draco, for his part, was thrilled that Charlie kept writing back. To him, it felt like a victory every time a new letter arrived.

Though Charlie saw him as nothing more than an eager young fan, Draco dreamed of the day he’d stand on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, a shiny new broom in hand, and prove himself worthy of Charlie’s attention—not as a cute kid, but as an equal.

For now, though, he was content to keep writing.

Chapter Text

One quiet afternoon, Draco sat at his desk, twirling his quill. He had written and rewritten his latest letter to Charlie three times, each draft filled with little half-truths about his “love” for Quidditch. But this time, he frowned and decided to write what he was really thinking.

**Dear Charlie,**
I have a confession to make. I don’t think I actually *like* Quidditch. Don’t get me wrong—you’re amazing at it, and I’ll always love watching *you* play, but… I hate sweating. It’s sticky and gross, and my hair looks awful afterward. (You don’t seem to have that problem, though. How do you manage to look *cool* while flying?)

But my father expects me to be perfect at Quidditch. Every Saturday, I have to play “practice matches” with some boys from our circle: Goyle, Crabbe, Blaise, and Theo. Honestly, they’re all rubbish at flying. Goyle once flew into a tree trying to catch the Quaffle. I think the Quaffle was more frightened than he was.

Still, I try to be good at it because my father says “Malfoys excel at everything.” But honestly, Charlie, I’d rather just sit in the stands, eat chocolate, and watch you fly. (Speaking of chocolate, I’m sending you my favorite kind with this letter. I hope you like it!)

Your very sweaty fan,
Draco Malfoy

---

Two days later, Charlie received Draco’s letter along with an impeccably wrapped box of expensive chocolate. Laughing to himself, Charlie read the letter and immediately wrote back:

**Dear Draco,**
First of all, thanks for the chocolate! I shared it with my dormmates, and they all think you’re some kind of noble benefactor now. You’ve officially earned the title of “Fancy Friend of Gryffindor.”

Secondly, it’s okay not to like Quidditch. Not everyone does, even if their family expects them to. But if you don’t love it, don’t torture yourself trying to be perfect. Life’s too short to waste on things that make you miserable (or sweaty).

And don’t worry about looking “cool.” Half the time, I come off the pitch covered in mud and looking like I’ve wrestled a troll. Trust me, it’s not glamorous.

By the way, Goyle flying into a tree made me laugh so hard I almost fell out of my chair. You might secretly be funnier than you realize.

Cheers,
Charlie

P.S. If you ever want to skip one of those practice matches, just tell your dad you’re “studying the theory of Quidditch strategy.” Sounds impressive, doesn’t it?

---

Draco was overjoyed to receive Charlie’s reply. Inspired by Charlie’s mention of the chocolate, he decided to send something else—something *better*. This time, it was a sleek broom servicing kit, engraved with Charlie’s initials in silver.

**Dear Charlie,**
I thought you might like this. Even the best brooms need care, and I thought it would suit someone like you. My father says brooms are “investments,” but I think they’re more like pets, don’t you?

Also, your advice about “Quidditch theory” worked! My father actually believed it. I got to skip practice and spent the afternoon reading instead. I know you said life’s too short to waste on sweaty things, but unfortunately, my father is *very* long-winded about his opinions.

Thank you for being honest with me. It feels nice to tell someone the truth. You’re the only one I’ve told about hating Quidditch. (Don’t let anyone else know, okay? Not even your brothers!)

Your *grateful* fan,
Draco Malfoy

---

Charlie laughed when the package arrived. A fancy broom servicing kit with *his initials*! Draco wasn’t just sending gifts—he was going *all out*. Charlie wrote back, determined to match Draco’s humor.

**Dear Draco,**
You’re really spoiling me here, aren’t you? First chocolate, now this? I’m starting to think you’re trying to bribe me into joining your fan club. (If so, it’s working.)

I’m glad you got out of practice, though I hope “Quidditch theory” doesn’t turn into your go-to excuse. Your father might catch on eventually. Maybe next time, just pretend you’ve injured your broom arm. (For authenticity, you could wear a sling. Very dramatic.)

And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone your secret about hating Quidditch. But if you ever do decide to play for fun, make sure it’s because *you* want to, not because anyone expects it of you.

Thanks again for the gift—it’s too fancy for a guy like me, but I’ll make good use of it.

Take care,
Charlie

---

Over the next few weeks, Draco kept sending gifts with his letters—everything from rare wizarding snacks to hand-knitted gloves he claimed were “too common” for him but “perfect” for Charlie. In return, Charlie sent Draco small, thoughtful tokens: a photo of the Gryffindor team (with a cheeky note that said “You can frame this, if you want”), a jar of homemade treacle tart from his mum, and even a copy of an old Quidditch playbook he thought Draco might like.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
I framed the Gryffindor team photo, but only because *you’re* in it. Everyone else looks… average.

Thank you for the playbook! I’ve been studying it, even though I still don’t like Quidditch. It makes me feel clever, and I like imagining what you’d look like doing all these fancy moves.

By the way, your treacle tart was amazing. I think I’ll tell our house-elf to bake me one. (Don’t worry, I won’t say it’s better than my mother’s. That would be dangerous.)

Your biggest fan,
Draco

---

The letters became a routine—a bright spot in both of their weeks. Though Charlie still thought of Draco as an amusing, sweet kid, Draco was beginning to feel like their friendship was something *more*. For now, he was content to keep writing, dreaming of the day he could prove himself worthy of more than just Charlie’s kindness.

Chapter Text

Narcissa Malfoy noticed the change in her son almost immediately. Draco, who had spent the past year sulking whenever he wasn’t practicing Quidditch or memorizing spells to impress his father, now seemed… brighter. His pale face no longer carried the pinched look of someone carrying too much pressure, and he’d even started humming to himself around the manor.

It wasn’t until she saw him writing letters at his desk one evening—his tongue sticking out in concentration and an unopened box of chocolates beside him—that she decided to ask about it.

“Draco, darling,” she said gently, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You’ve been in such good spirits lately. I don’t suppose you’d like to share what—or who—is keeping you so cheerful?”

Draco froze mid-sentence, his quill hovering over the parchment. “It’s… nothing,” he said quickly, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Nothing doesn’t usually involve gift wrapping and hours of letter writing,” Narcissa said with a soft smile. She leaned closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Is it someone special?”

Draco hesitated, then mumbled, “It’s just Charlie Weasley.”

“Charlie Weasley?” Narcissa repeated, raising an elegant brow. She recognized the name instantly—the second eldest of that *very large* Weasley family. “The Quidditch player?”

Draco nodded, his blush deepening. “We’ve been writing letters. He’s… nice.”

Narcissa’s smile softened. She didn’t press further, sensing that Draco wasn’t ready to say more. But over the next few weeks, she noticed even more changes in her son.

---

One morning, Narcissa was tending to her flower garden when she heard soft footsteps behind her. Turning, she was surprised to see Draco standing there, looking a little unsure of himself.

“Do you need something, darling?” she asked, brushing dirt off her gloves.

“I… thought I’d help,” Draco said, avoiding her gaze. “With the flowers, I mean.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened slightly. Draco had always loved their garden as a young boy, spending hours helping her plant roses and arranging bouquets. But as he grew older, Lucius had steered him toward more “practical” pursuits, and the garden had been all but forgotten.

“I’d love that,” she said warmly, handing him a pair of gloves.

They worked side by side, planting winter roses and pruning the hedges. At first, Draco was quiet, but as the afternoon wore on, he began to talk—about Charlie, about Quidditch, and even about the treacle tart Charlie had sent him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Draco said suddenly, digging into the soil. “Maybe I could try making treacle tart myself. Do you think I could?”

Narcissa laughed softly. “Of course you could. You used to love helping in the kitchen when you were little. Remember the time you tried to make lemon cakes and ended up with lemon soup?”

Draco groaned, but he was smiling. “I was six!”

“Exactly,” Narcissa said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “If you could try back then, you can certainly try now.”

---

The next day, Draco announced that he was going to bake. The Malfoy house-elves looked bewildered at first, but with Narcissa’s encouragement (and a lot of supervision), Draco donned an apron and got to work.

He started with treacle tart, using the recipe Charlie’s mum had included in the jar she’d sent. At first, things didn’t go smoothly—he spilled flour on his robes, burned his first attempt at the crust, and nearly dropped the mixing bowl on the floor.

But Draco found himself smiling through it all. It felt… good to create something, even if it wasn’t perfect.

When the tart was finally done, Draco carefully wrapped a slice and included it in his next letter to Charlie.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
I’ve done something extraordinary. I baked a treacle tart! (Well, technically, I baked *two*—the first one didn’t survive.)

I used the recipe your mum sent, but I added a sprinkle of cinnamon to make it “my own.” I’m including a slice with this letter. If it’s terrible, just lie and say it’s good.

Also, I’ve started gardening with my mother again. Did you know roses have *thorns*? They’re vicious little things. But I suppose they’re worth it, since the garden looks nice now.

Anyway, I hope you like the tart. If you don’t, please don’t tell your brothers. I can’t have the entire Weasley family laughing at me.

Your *potentially talented* fan,
Draco Malfoy

---

**Dear Draco,**
The treacle tart was brilliant! I wouldn’t lie about food—especially not to someone who sends me chocolate and fancy broom kits. The cinnamon was a nice touch, too. Mum was impressed when I told her you baked it yourself.

Also, I laughed so hard at your comment about roses. Yes, they have thorns. That’s why you have to be careful, mate! But I’m glad you’re spending time with your mum. She sounds great.

If you ever want tips on surviving the kitchen—or dealing with vicious plants—just let me know. You’ve already got the hard part down: trying and not giving up.

Cheers,
Charlie

---

As the weeks passed, Draco’s letters became more honest, his gifts more thoughtful, and his confidence grew in ways Narcissa hadn’t seen before. She watched proudly as her son rediscovered parts of himself he’d buried under the weight of his father’s expectations.

And though Lucius occasionally grumbled about Draco’s “frivolous hobbies,” Narcissa always silenced him with a calm, pointed remark: “Let him be happy, Lucius. It suits him.”

Chapter Text

Lucius Malfoy prided himself on being observant. It wasn’t long before he noticed the subtle changes in Draco’s behavior—the time spent writing letters, the gardening, the faint smell of something burnt wafting from the kitchen, and, most unsettling of all, the distinct lack of Quidditch-related updates.

One evening, Lucius entered the dining room to find Draco quietly sipping tea, his hands smudged with dirt from the garden.

“Draco,” Lucius began, his tone calm but probing, “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been… preoccupied lately. Care to enlighten me?”

Draco stiffened, glancing at Narcissa for support. She gave him an encouraging nod. “I’ve just been… writing letters. And helping Mother in the garden. And baking,” he added quickly, as if trying to slip the word past his father unnoticed.

Lucius blinked. “Baking?” He sounded as though Draco had just announced he was considering a career as a Muggle postman.

“Yes, baking,” Draco said, more defiantly this time. “Treacle tart, to be precise. Charlie Weasley sent me a recipe.”

At the mention of the Weasleys, Lucius’s lip curled in disdain. “Charlie Weasley? The blood traitor? Why are you corresponding with *him*?”

Draco hesitated, but Narcissa stepped in smoothly. “They’ve struck up a friendship. It’s been wonderful for Draco. Haven’t you noticed how much happier he’s been lately?”

“Happier?” Lucius repeated, as though the word were foreign to him. “Happiness isn’t the priority here. Draco has responsibilities. He’s a Malfoy. Spending his time on frivolities like… baking and letter-writing is hardly befitting of his position.”

Draco’s hands clenched into fists under the table. “It’s not frivolous,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Lucius asked sharply.

“I said, it’s not frivolous!” Draco stood up, his voice trembling but firm. “For once, I’m doing things I actually enjoy. I don’t like Quidditch, Father. I hate it. And I’m tired of pretending to be perfect just because you want me to be.”

Lucius stared at him, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. He opened his mouth to retort, but Narcissa cut him off with a calm yet steely voice.

---

“Lucius,” she said, her tone brooking no argument, “I think you’ve forgotten something very important.”

“And what is that?” Lucius asked, his voice tight.

“That Draco is a child,” she said firmly. “He’s our son, not an extension of your ambitions. He’s allowed to explore his own interests, even if they don’t align with your expectations.”

Lucius’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’s acceptable for him to squander his potential on—”

“Sowing seeds and baking tarts?” Narcissa finished for him, raising a delicate eyebrow. “Yes, I do. Because for the first time in months, Draco is smiling. He’s sleeping better. He’s confident again. And if you can’t see the value in that, then perhaps you need to reevaluate your priorities as a father.”

Draco stared at his mother, his heart swelling with gratitude.

Lucius’s mouth opened and closed as though he were struggling for a rebuttal, but none came. Finally, he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I only want what’s best for him.”

“And what’s best for him,” Narcissa said gently, “is to let him figure out who he is, without the weight of our expectations crushing him.”

Lucius was silent for a long moment. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he murmured, “Very well.”

---

Though Lucius begrudgingly agreed to step back, he couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on Draco’s newfound hobbies. One afternoon, he wandered into the garden to find Draco and Narcissa laughing over a patch of particularly stubborn weeds. Draco was smudged with dirt, his hair askew, but he looked genuinely happy.

Lucius cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Draco,” he said stiffly, “I thought I might observe your progress in the garden.”

Draco stared at him, unsure whether this was a trap. “Um… sure.”

Lucius wandered over to a rosebush, inspecting it with a critical eye. “Your pruning technique could use some improvement,” he said after a moment.

Draco blinked. “You know about pruning?”

“I’m not completely ignorant,” Lucius said with a touch of indignation. “Your grandfather taught me. Gardening is… an art form.”

Narcissa smiled behind her gloves. “Perhaps you’d like to join us, Lucius?”

Lucius hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ll leave the… artistry to you two.” But as he turned to leave, he added, almost grudgingly, “The garden does look better than it has in years.”

---

**Lucius and the Treacle Tart**

A few days later, Draco presented a freshly baked treacle tart at dinner. Lucius raised an eyebrow as the tart was placed in front of him.

“You made this?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “Yes. Charlie sent me the recipe.”

Lucius gave a faint sniff of disapproval but took a bite anyway. His expression remained neutral for a moment before he swallowed and said, “It’s… acceptable.”

Draco smirked. “High praise from you, Father.”

Lucius said nothing more, but he quietly helped himself to a second slice. Narcissa caught Draco’s eye and gave him a small, proud smile.

Chapter Text

Draco’s letters to Charlie became longer and more honest, while Charlie’s replies remained warm and encouraging. Draco found himself looking forward to each owl delivery with a level of excitement he hadn’t felt about anything in years.

One day, after receiving Charlie’s latest letter (which included a hand-drawn diagram of a dragon playfully chasing a Quaffle), Draco decided to do something bold.

**Dear Charlie,**
I’ve been thinking about what you said—how life’s too short to waste on things you don’t love. You’re right, of course. (Don’t let that go to your head.)

So, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to write to my father and tell him I don’t want to play Quidditch anymore. I’d rather spend my time gardening, baking, and doing things that make me happy.

I know he won’t like it, but… I think I’m ready to stand up for myself. Your letters helped me realize that I don’t have to be perfect in his eyes to be worthwhile. So… thank you.

By the way, I’m sending you something special this time. It’s a bouquet I made from our garden—roses, hydrangeas, and a few sprigs of lavender. (Don’t laugh. It’s very tasteful.) If you don’t like flowers, just say your mum does, and I won’t be offended.

Your biggest fan,
Draco

---

When Charlie received the bouquet, his dormmates howled with laughter, but Charlie just smiled and placed the flowers on his bedside table.

**Dear Draco,**
First of all, the bouquet was brilliant. Mum saw it when I took it home over the weekend, and she said it’s “a masterpiece of elegance.” I think that means she likes you already.

Second, I’m proud of you for deciding to talk to your father. It takes courage to stand up for yourself, especially when it’s to someone you care about. But remember, you don’t have to face him alone. Your mum clearly supports you, and, well… you’ve got me too.

Take it one step at a time. And if it doesn’t go perfectly, just know that you’re already doing more for yourself than most people ever do.

Cheers,
Charlie

---

That evening, Draco finally worked up the nerve to talk to his father. He entered Lucius’s study, where the man sat reading by the fire.

“Father, I need to tell you something,” Draco began, standing stiffly in the doorway.

Lucius glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Go on.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I don’t want to play Quidditch anymore. I… I don’t even like it. I’ve only been doing it because I thought you wanted me to.”

Lucius set down his book, his sharp gaze focused entirely on Draco. “And what do you plan to do instead?”

“I want to spend more time on things I enjoy,” Draco said, his voice gaining confidence. “Gardening, baking… writing letters.”

Lucius’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Those are hardly the pursuits of a Malfoy heir.”

“Maybe not,” Draco said, lifting his chin, “but they make me happy. And I think that’s more important.”

For a long moment, Lucius said nothing. Then, to Draco’s surprise, he sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Happiness… is important.”

Draco blinked, not expecting his father to agree so quickly.

“But,” Lucius continued, his tone firm, “you must understand that as a Malfoy, you will always have certain expectations placed upon you. That doesn’t mean you can’t pursue your hobbies, but you must also be prepared to uphold our family’s reputation.”

“I understand,” Draco said cautiously. “But I want to find a balance—on my terms.”

Lucius studied his son for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But if you’re going to bake, at least ensure it’s worthy of a Malfoy dinner table.”

Draco almost smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

---

That night, Draco wrote to Charlie, unable to contain his excitement.

**Dear Charlie,**
I did it! I told my father I don’t want to play Quidditch anymore. He wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t explode either, so I’m calling it a win. He even said I could keep baking, as long as it’s “worthy of a Malfoy dinner table.” (I think that’s his way of giving me a compliment?)

Thank you for believing in me. I don’t think I could have done it without your letters.

By the way, do you think I could visit the Burrow one day? Your mum’s treacle tart is still the best I’ve ever had, and I’d love to learn her secrets. Plus, I’d like to see you again.

Your friend (or maybe more?),
Draco

---

**Dear Draco,**
I knew you could do it! And yes, that was definitely a compliment from your dad. Coming from someone like him, that’s high praise.

As for visiting the Burrow, you’re welcome anytime. Just be prepared—it’s a bit chaotic, and my brothers might ask you a hundred questions about your “fancy life.” But Mum will stuff you full of food, and I’ll make sure you feel at home.

Looking forward to seeing you again. And if you’re lucky, I might even let you try flying one of my old brooms—no Quidditch pressure involved.

Cheers,
Charlie

---

Draco smiled as he read the letter, imagining what it would be like to visit Charlie’s home. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was on a path that was entirely his own.

And maybe, just maybe, that path included Charlie.

Chapter Text

Draco was both excited and terrified when he received Charlie’s official invitation to visit the Burrow. It was written in Charlie’s usual casual tone, but Draco could practically hear the chaos in the words:

**Dear Draco,**
Mum’s been asking about you nonstop since I told her about your treacle tart and flowers. She insists you visit, and I quote, “so we can feed that poor boy properly.” (She says you’re probably too skinny.)

Fair warning: the Burrow isn’t exactly what you’re used to. It’s a bit… crowded, and my brothers can be a handful. But it’s also warm and welcoming, and I think you might like it.

I’ll be home for the next week, so come by anytime. I’ll make sure Fred and George don’t prank you too badly.

Looking forward to it,
Charlie

Draco reread the letter at least a dozen times, unsure if he was more nervous about meeting Charlie’s family or about stepping foot into such a humble home. Narcissa, however, was delighted.

“You’ll be fine, darling,” she said as she helped him pack. “Just be yourself—and if anyone makes you uncomfortable, remember, you’re a Malfoy.”

---

When Draco stepped out of the Floo Network and into the Burrow’s sitting room, he was immediately greeted by a whirlwind of activity. The house was loud, warm, and filled with the delicious smell of baked goods.

“Draco!” Molly Weasley bustled over, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, look at you, so proper! You must be starving. Sit down, dear, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Before Draco could respond, Fred and George appeared, flanking him on either side.

“So this is the famous Draco,” Fred said, smirking.

“The one sending Charlie all those letters,” George added.

“You didn’t mention he was this posh,” Fred said, poking at Draco’s tailored robes.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Charlie appeared, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “All right, you two, leave him alone. He’s my guest.”

Fred and George exchanged mischievous grins but backed off—for now.

“Come on,” Charlie said, steering Draco out of the chaos and into the garden. “Sorry about them. They’re harmless, I promise.”

Draco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “It’s… different here,” he admitted.

Charlie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a bit much at first, but you’ll get used to it. Mum’s probably already planning a feast for you.”

---

True to Charlie’s word, dinner at the Burrow was a feast. Plates of roast chicken, potatoes, and fresh-baked bread crowded the table, along with Molly’s famous treacle tart for dessert.

Draco sat between Charlie and Ginny, who eyed him curiously but didn’t say much. Across the table, Ron was attempting to sneak extra rolls while Percy lectured him about table manners.

“So, Draco,” Arthur Weasley began, his tone friendly. “What’s it like living in a manor? I imagine it’s quite different from our little house.”

Draco hesitated, unsure how to answer. “It’s… very quiet,” he said finally. “And tidy.”

Fred snorted. “Sounds boring.”

“It can be,” Draco admitted, surprising himself.

Charlie glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I bet you prefer it here, don’t you?”

Draco looked around the table, at the laughter and warmth and the complete lack of pressure to be perfect. “I think I do,” he said softly.

---

After dinner, Draco and Charlie escaped the noise and climbed up to Charlie’s old room, which was filled with dragon posters and Quidditch memorabilia. Draco ran a hand over one of the posters.

“You really love dragons, don’t you?” he said.

Charlie shrugged. “Yeah. They’re wild and unpredictable, but they’re also loyal if you know how to handle them. Kind of like you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Charlie grinned. “You’ve got that same fiery streak, but deep down, you just want someone to understand you.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” Charlie teased.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Draco spoke again.

“Charlie… thank you. For inviting me here, for writing to me… for everything.”

Charlie leaned back against the wall, his smile softening. “You don’t have to thank me, Draco. You’re my friend. And honestly, it’s been nice having someone to talk to who’s not trying to steal my socks or set my bed on fire.”

Draco laughed, feeling more at ease than he had in years.

---

**The Morning After**

The next morning, Draco woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of laughter drifting up from the kitchen. He made his way downstairs to find Molly flipping pancakes while Fred and George bickered over who got the first plate.

Charlie was sitting at the table, reading a letter. When he saw Draco, he grinned and patted the seat next to him.

“Morning. Sleep okay?”

Draco nodded, feeling a warmth he wasn’t used to. “Better than I expected.”

Molly placed a plate of pancakes in front of him, and Draco hesitated before taking a bite. They were fluffy, sweet, and absolutely perfect.

“You’ll have to get the recipe for those,” Draco said to Charlie, who chuckled.

“Why? Planning to impress me with your cooking?”

Draco smirked. “Maybe.”

---

Draco’s visit to the Burrow wasn’t just a chance to spend time with Charlie—it was a glimpse into a life he’d never known, one filled with love, chaos, and acceptance. And for the first time, he began to imagine a future where he could truly be himself.

Chapter Text

After the chaos of breakfast, Draco lingered in the kitchen, looking around awkwardly. Ginny, perched on a stool with her legs swinging, watched him like a curious cat.

“You’re quieter than I expected,” she said, her voice high-pitched but confident for an 8-year-old.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And you’re… shorter than I expected.”

Ginny giggled. “I’m eight, so that’s not fair. You’re practically ancient.”

“I’m nine,” Draco said indignantly. “And that’s hardly ancient.”

Ginny shrugged. “Close enough. You don’t seem like the kind of person Charlie would be friends with, though.”

Draco blinked. “Why not?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You’re all serious and fancy, and he’s—well, Charlie.”

Draco frowned. “Maybe I’m not as serious as I look.”

Ginny studied him for a moment before nodding. “All right. Prove it. Do you want to see the frog I caught yesterday?”

Draco froze. “A… frog?”

Ginny grinned and hopped down from the stool. “Come on! It’s in the garden!”

---

Draco reluctantly followed Ginny into the garden, where she led him to a small box with air holes punched into the top. Inside was a fat, green toad staring up at him.

“Isn’t he brilliant?” Ginny said proudly.

Draco wrinkled his nose. “I suppose he’s… adequate.”

Ginny laughed. “You’re funny. Most people would say he’s gross.”

“He is gross,” Draco said, stepping back as the toad croaked. “But I’m trying to be polite.”

Ginny gave him a sly look. “I think you’re scared of him.”

“Malfoys aren’t scared of anything,” Draco declared, folding his arms.

“Prove it,” Ginny challenged, holding the toad out toward him.

Draco stared at the slimy creature, his bravado faltering. “Fine,” he said finally, reaching out and gingerly touching its head.

Ginny burst out laughing. “See? You’re not so bad after all.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

---

As the days went on, Ginny began to warm up to Draco. She admired his cleverness and his sharp tongue, and he found her boldness refreshing—unlike anything he’d experienced before.

One afternoon, while Charlie was out helping Arthur with the chickens, Ginny approached Draco with a wicked grin.

“Do you want to prank Fred and George?” she asked.

Draco blinked. “Can anyone prank Fred and George?”

“Not usually,” Ginny admitted. “But if we work together, I think we can do it.”

Draco hesitated. “Why do you want to prank your brothers?”

“Because they keep calling me ‘Gin-Gin’ and stealing my biscuits,” she said, crossing her arms. “Are you in or not?”

Draco smirked. “I’m in.”

Ginny’s plan was surprisingly sophisticated for an 8-year-old. With Draco’s help, they filled Fred and George’s shoes with mud from the garden and replaced their toothpaste with mashed potatoes.

When the twins discovered the pranks, their outraged cries echoed through the house. Ginny and Draco high-fived, their laughter blending together.

“You’re officially my partner in crime,” Ginny declared.

“Lucky me,” Draco said with a grin.

---

That evening, while the rest of the family was busy, Ginny and Draco sat on the floor of the living room, coloring in one of Ginny’s old sketchbooks.

“Do you think Charlie likes me?” Draco asked suddenly.

Ginny looked up from her drawing of a dragon. “Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

Draco hesitated, fidgeting with a crayon. “I’m not… like him. I’m not brave or adventurous. I’m just… me.”

Ginny frowned. “That’s silly. Charlie likes you because you’re you. He talks about you all the time, you know. He says you’re clever and funny.”

Draco’s cheeks turned pink. “He does?”

Ginny nodded. “And for what it’s worth, I like you too. You’re nicer than I thought you’d be.”

Draco smiled, feeling a warmth he wasn’t used to. “Thanks, Ginny. You’re not so bad yourself.”

---

By the time Draco’s visit was coming to an end, his bond with Ginny had grown strong. They spent hours playing outside, drawing in her sketchbook, and plotting harmless pranks on the older brothers.

One evening, Charlie found the two of them in the garden, laughing as Ginny showed Draco how to climb a tree.

“You’ve made a new best friend, haven’t you?” Charlie said, leaning against the fence with a smile.

Ginny grinned. “Draco’s fun. He’s not as stuffy as he looks.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

Charlie laughed and ruffled Ginny’s hair. “Thanks for keeping him company, Ginny. You’re a good little sister.”

Ginny puffed out her chest proudly. “I know.”

Draco smiled, realizing he wasn’t just leaving with a stronger bond with Charlie—he was leaving with a friend in Ginny, too.

Chapter Text

After his visit to the Burrow, Draco found himself thinking more and more about Charlie. It wasn’t just that Charlie had been kind to him; it was the way he treated everyone, the way he belonged in the chaos of his family. The Weasley home was loud and full of life, and Draco couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the way Charlie fit into it all. There was a comfort there that Draco had never known.

He had returned to Malfoy Manor with a lot on his mind, and over the next few weeks, he found himself looking forward to Charlie’s letters even more. Their bond, though young, was growing stronger with each exchange. Draco couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth when Charlie would share little details about his life—his love for dragons, his dreams of working with them one day, and even his family’s antics.

---

With Charlie’s 17th birthday approaching on December 12th, Draco knew he had to come up with something special. He thought about how much Charlie loved dragons and how passionate he was about them. Draco had noticed in their letters how Charlie often talked about his dream of working with dragons one day, though he hadn’t yet started.

After much thought, Draco decided on the perfect gift—something that would reflect Charlie’s love for dragons and his determination to one day work with them.

---

Draco contacted a jeweler he knew who worked with exquisite designs to create a pendant—a silver dragon with wings spread wide, designed to capture the power and majesty of the creatures Charlie loved. It wasn’t just any dragon pendant; this one had intricate details, making it look alive, as if ready to take flight.

Draco made sure the pendant was small enough to be worn on a chain, with a personal engraving on the back: **“For the one who inspires me to reach for more.”** It was a message meant to honor Charlie’s passion and the way he had started to inspire Draco through their friendship.

---

As Draco prepared the gift, he wrote a letter to go along with it. He wanted to keep it sincere but not overly emotional.

---

**Dear Charlie,**

Your birthday is almost here, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what to give you. I know you have a love for dragons, and I wanted to find something that reflects that passion.

The attached gift isn’t much, but I hope it’s something you’ll find meaningful. It’s a small token of my appreciation for the friendship we’ve built and the inspiration you’ve given me.

I don’t know what your birthday will be like, but I hope this gift makes it a little brighter.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays. I look forward to seeing you again soon.

- Draco

P.S. You really should tell me more about your dreams of working with dragons sometime. I’m curious about what that’s like for you.

---

As Draco prepared to send the gift, he asked Ginny if she could help him deliver it, wanting to keep it a surprise for Charlie.

When Ginny visited Malfoy Manor one day, Draco pulled her aside. “Ginny, could you help me with something? I’ve got a gift for Charlie’s birthday, and I want to make sure he gets it on the 12th.”

Ginny gave him a teasing smile. “Oh, I see what this is. You’ve got a big crush on him now, don’t you?”

Draco flushed but didn’t deny it. “Just make sure he gets it on time. I don’t want him to figure it out too early.”

Ginny smirked. “I’ll handle it. You’ve really gone all out for him, haven’t you?”

Draco nodded, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I want him to like it.”

---

On December 12th, Charlie woke up to a quiet morning, unaware of the surprise Draco had planned for him. The Burrow was in the middle of preparations for his birthday celebration later in the day, but Charlie had always preferred a low-key gathering.

When Ginny arrived with the package from Draco, Charlie’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s this?”

Ginny grinned. “It’s a surprise from Draco. He asked me to bring it over for you.”

Charlie took the package and unwrapped it carefully, revealing the silver dragon pendant. His eyes widened at the beautiful craftsmanship. It was delicate and elegant, with every detail of the dragon’s wings and body perfectly sculpted.

“Wow,” Charlie breathed, turning the pendant over to see the engraving. He smiled softly, touched by the gesture. The words on the back read: *“For the one who inspires me to reach for more.”*

Charlie felt a warmth spread through him. It wasn’t just a gift—it was a reflection of Draco’s understanding and appreciation of his dreams.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Charlie said, looking up at Ginny. “It’s perfect.”

Ginny nodded. “I’m glad you like it. Draco really thought this through.”

---

Later that evening, after the birthday celebrations had settled down, Charlie wrote back to Draco.

---

**Draco,**

I honestly wasn’t expecting anything like this. The pendant is beautiful—it’s exactly my kind of thing, and I’ll wear it every day. You’ve really gone above and beyond, and it means more to me than I can put into words.

I’m lucky to have a friend like you, Draco. It’s strange, but I feel like you’re one of the few people who actually gets me. Not just about dragons, but... well, everything.

Thank you for the gift and the kindness. I’ll be sure to tell you more about my dragon dreams next time we meet.

- Charlie

P.S. You’ve set the bar high for birthday gifts now. I’ll have to come up with something just as good for you.

---

When Draco received Charlie’s letter, he felt a wave of contentment wash over him. He had done it—he had made Charlie happy. More than just the birthday gift, it was the bond they had been forming, and this gesture had been a way to show Charlie how much he meant to him.

Charlie hadn’t quite realized how much Draco cared yet, but Draco was okay with that. He would wait. The friendship they shared was already something special, and Draco knew that as they grew older, it would only deepen.

Chapter Text

As Charlie spent more time with his family and wrote back to Draco, he began to notice something—a subtle shift in Draco’s letters. At first, it had been just friendly banter and simple conversation, but now there were hints of something more. Something deeper. It wasn’t overt, but Charlie could sense that Draco was starting to care for him in a way that went beyond friendship.

One evening, as Charlie sat by the fireplace in the Burrow, he reread Draco’s letter again. The words lingered in his mind: *“You’ve inspired me to reach for more.”* Charlie paused. He had known Draco for a while now, and their friendship was still young. But that particular line, combined with the thoughtful gift Draco had given him for his birthday, had made Charlie realize that Draco’s feelings were becoming more complicated.

Charlie sighed, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t naïve. He could tell that Draco was growing fond of him—more than just a casual affection. But it wasn’t just the emotional weight of the situation that concerned Charlie. It was the fact that Draco was still so young, only 9 years old. He was just a child. Charlie couldn’t ignore the age gap between them, no matter how much he cared for Draco. They were in completely different stages of life, and Charlie knew that it was inappropriate for him to consider anything beyond their friendship, at least for now.

---

As the days went by, Charlie tried his best to maintain their friendship, but it wasn’t always easy. Draco’s letters had become more personal, and Charlie could sense that Draco was starting to open up more about his emotions. There was something so pure and innocent about it, but it also made Charlie feel a twinge of guilt.

"Draco’s just a kid," Charlie muttered to himself as he sat by the fire, reading another one of Draco’s letters. "He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling yet. He’s just trying to be close to someone who actually cares about him."

Charlie wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. He cared about Draco, of course. He had enjoyed getting to know him, and their letters were something he looked forward to. But deep down, Charlie knew that he couldn’t encourage Draco’s feelings in the way that he might want to. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair to either of them.

---

One evening, after sending his most recent letter to Draco, Charlie decided to write a different kind of letter. This time, he knew it was necessary to address the growing emotions, but he had to do it gently. He couldn’t leave Draco in the dark, but he also couldn’t let him think that there was a possibility of something more between them.

Charlie took a deep breath and began to write.

---

**Dear Draco,**

I’ve been thinking a lot about our friendship, and I want to say something to you that might be a little hard to hear. First, let me say that I’m really glad we’ve become friends. You’ve shown me that even someone like you can have a heart that’s big enough to care about others. I admire that about you.

But I also think it’s important to be honest with each other, especially when it comes to feelings. I’ve noticed that your letters have been a little different lately, and I think you might be starting to feel something more than just friendship. And while that means a lot to me, I want you to know that you are still so young, Draco. I care about you deeply, and I want to be your friend—but I’m 17 years old, and you’re only 9. We are at very different places in our lives.

I want you to understand that I think you’re amazing, and you’re growing into such a strong and thoughtful person. But right now, I can’t be the kind of person you might want me to be, and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. You deserve someone who can love you in the way you deserve when you’re older and when you’re ready.

You’re a brilliant young wizard, Draco. And I hope we can still continue to be friends. But I think it’s important that you know how I feel so you don’t get confused.

Thank you for everything you’ve shared with me. I truly value our friendship.

- Charlie

---

When Draco received Charlie’s letter, his heart sank. He had known that something was coming—hadn’t he felt the shift too? But even so, reading Charlie’s words made him feel a little hollow inside. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Charlie might feel the same way, but deep down, he knew that Charlie was right. He was just a kid, and Charlie was much older.

Still, Draco couldn’t help but feel a mix of disappointment and understanding. He respected Charlie’s honesty, but the ache in his chest didn’t disappear.

He took a deep breath, sitting at his desk with the letter in his hands. After a moment, he picked up his quill and wrote back, trying to keep his emotions in check.

---

**Dear Charlie,**

Thank you for being honest with me. I understand now. I guess I didn’t fully think about how things might seem, but I’m glad you told me the truth. I won’t lie, it does hurt a bit to know that we can’t be anything more than friends right now, but I get it. You’re right. I’m still young, and I’ve got so much to learn.

I think... I think I’ll always care about you, Charlie. Maybe when I’m older, we’ll understand things better. I’m glad we’re friends, and I’ll never forget the kindness you’ve shown me. I just want you to know that I appreciate you more than you realize.

Thank you for everything.

- Draco

---

Charlie felt a wave of relief wash over him when he received Draco’s response. He had been nervous about how Draco would take his words, but it seemed like Draco understood. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was hurt him, and he was relieved to know that their friendship was still intact.

As Charlie sat by the fire, thinking about everything, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Draco was just a kid, but he was wise beyond his years. And in the future, when they were both older, who knew what could happen? For now, they could continue to be friends, and that was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Charlie sat on the edge of his bed at Hogwarts, turning over Draco's latest letter in his hands. It was as though he were reading correspondence from a stranger. Where once Draco’s words had overflowed with excitement and curiosity, now they were polite, distant, and devoid of the spark Charlie had come to cherish.

It hurt more than Charlie cared to admit.

He had made the right choice, hadn’t he? Rejecting Draco’s feelings had been necessary. Draco was just a kid—bright, determined, and painfully young. Charlie couldn’t have encouraged anything inappropriate, but now... now he wasn’t so sure. Draco had withdrawn, and with that withdrawal came an emptiness that Charlie couldn’t shake.

“Oi, you’ve been staring at that for ages,” Bill said from the other side of the room, dragging Charlie out of his thoughts.

“It’s nothing,” Charlie muttered, folding the letter neatly and tucking it away. But it wasn’t nothing. Every time he read Draco’s clipped sentences, he felt a pang of regret that lingered longer than it should.

---

The distance between them didn’t fade—it only grew. Charlie would watch as Ginny received lively, cheerful letters from Draco, her laughter filling the Burrow as she read aloud about Draco’s antics with his friends.

“He said Pansy dared him to bake a cake last week, and he nearly burned down the kitchen!” Ginny giggled, holding up Draco’s letter like a trophy.

Charlie smiled faintly, but inside, something twisted. Why was it that Draco could still be so open with Ginny, but his letters to Charlie were stiff and formal?

Late one night, as he reread their older letters—those filled with Draco’s unfiltered thoughts, his admiration, and his vulnerable admissions—Charlie’s chest tightened. He had told himself he was just fond of the boy, but now, faced with the absence of that connection, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He missed Draco. He missed the letters filled with fire and humor, the way Draco had looked at him with wide, earnest eyes. Charlie realized he had been holding himself back, dismissing the bond they shared as something fleeting and inconsequential. But it wasn’t.

Draco wasn’t just a kid he liked hearing from. He mattered to Charlie in ways he hadn’t admitted before.

---

Draco’s birthday was coming up, and Charlie was determined to make things right before leaving for Romania at the end of June.

It had to be special. Charlie thought back to Draco’s many letters, trying to find inspiration. Draco loved gifts—small, thoughtful tokens that made him feel seen. Charlie remembered one particular letter where Draco had marveled over the dragon figures Charlie had carved in his spare time.

That was it.

Charlie spent every free moment in the weeks leading up to Draco’s birthday crafting the perfect gift: a hand-carved dragon, its wings outstretched as if ready to take flight. He enchanted it to breathe tiny puffs of smoke and move gracefully through the air when activated. Alongside it, he wrote a letter—one filled with honesty.

---

**Dear Draco,**

I know things between us have been different lately, and I’m sorry if I’m the reason for that. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I said to you, and the truth is, I haven’t been completely honest with myself.

When I told you we couldn’t be more than friends, I thought I was protecting you—protecting both of us. But in doing so, I think I hurt you, and that’s something I never wanted to do.

Draco, you’re important to me. More than I realized until recently. I don’t know what the future holds, but I want you to know that I care about you—deeply. This gift is just a small token to remind you of that.

Happy Birthday, Draco.

Yours,
Charlie

---

On the morning of June 5th, a beautifully wrapped package arrived at Malfoy Manor, addressed to Draco. The house-elves placed it carefully on the dining table, and Narcissa called Draco down to see it.

Draco opened the letter first, his heart pounding as he read Charlie’s words. By the time he finished, his cheeks were flushed, and his hands trembled slightly as he unwrapped the gift.

The dragon was exquisite—sleek, detailed, and enchanted in ways only someone with a deep love for dragons could manage. Draco activated the charm, and the dragon took off, circling the room with elegant precision before landing gently in his hands.

For the first time in months, Draco felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. Charlie hadn’t forgotten him. Despite everything, he still cared.

---

The letter and the gift marked a turning point for both of them. Draco wrote back immediately, his words brimming with renewed warmth. He thanked Charlie for the dragon, for the letter, and for being honest.

“I don’t know what the future holds either,” Draco wrote, “but I’m glad we’re still part of each other’s lives.”

As June came to a close and Charlie prepared to leave for Romania, their letters became more frequent again. Though the distance would be greater, the bond between them felt stronger than ever.

For Charlie, Draco’s birthday had been more than an opportunity to give a gift—it had been a chance to set things right and acknowledge his own feelings. As he boarded the train for Romania, he carried with him the hope that their connection would endure, no matter where life took them.

Chapter Text

Draco sat at the dining table in Malfoy Manor, the elegantly wrapped package from Charlie in front of him. His heart beat a little faster as he picked up the letter first, his name written neatly on the front in Charlie's handwriting. There was something about seeing Charlie’s words again, after months of cold formality between them, that made him hesitate.

Taking a deep breath, Draco unfolded the parchment.

---

**Dear Draco,**

I know things between us have been different lately, and I’m sorry if I’m the reason for that. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I said to you, and the truth is, I haven’t been completely honest with myself.

When I told you we couldn’t be more than friends, I thought I was protecting you—protecting both of us. But in doing so, I think I hurt you, and that’s something I never wanted to do.

Draco, you’re important to me. More than I realized until recently. I don’t know what the future holds, but I want you to know that I care about you—deeply. This gift is just a small token to remind you of that.

Happy Birthday, Draco.

Yours,
Charlie

---

Draco’s breath hitched, and he set the letter down carefully, as though afraid it might disappear. Charlie cared about him. Even after everything, after months of distance and disappointment, Charlie still thought about him. Still cared.

He glanced at the package and began unwrapping it, his hands trembling slightly. The paper fell away to reveal a stunningly carved wooden dragon, its detail so intricate it looked alive. Draco’s fingers brushed against the wings, and to his surprise, the dragon stirred. It unfurled its wings, lifted into the air, and began circling the room in smooth, fluid motions.

It was beautiful.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Draco smiled—a genuine, unrestrained smile. He reached out, and the dragon landed gracefully in his hands, its enchanted eyes gleaming up at him.

"Happy birthday, darling," Narcissa said softly, watching her son’s reaction from the doorway.

Draco turned to her, his cheeks flushed. “It’s from Charlie.”

“I can see that,” Narcissa replied, her voice gentle. “You seem happier than you’ve been in months.”

Draco didn’t deny it. He held the dragon close and glanced back at the letter. A warmth spread through him, and for the first time since Charlie’s rejection, the ache in his chest felt a little lighter.

---

Back at the Burrow, Charlie was packing his things for Romania, the dragon enclosure plans spread out across his bed. The transition from Hogwarts to a life with dragons was exciting, but his thoughts kept drifting to Draco.

The letter had been harder to write than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t expected to feel so exposed, so vulnerable, putting his feelings into words. But now that it was done, Charlie felt a sense of relief. No matter what came next, Draco knew the truth.

“Are you nervous about leaving?” Ginny asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“A little,” Charlie admitted. “It’s a big change, but I’m ready for it.”

Ginny tilted her head, studying him. “You’re thinking about Draco, aren’t you?”

Charlie paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I sent him something for his birthday. A letter, too. I wanted him to know how much he means to me, even if... even if things aren’t perfect between us.”

Ginny smiled softly. “He’s lucky to have you, you know. Not many people see the real Draco, but you do.”

Charlie smiled faintly. “I think we’re both lucky, in our own way.”

---

The day before Charlie was set to leave for Romania, an owl arrived at the Burrow. Charlie recognized the elegant handwriting on the envelope immediately, his stomach flipping as he opened the letter.

---

**Dear Charlie,**

Thank you for the gift. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me, and it’s sitting proudly on my desk as I write this. The dragon reminds me of you—strong, free, and so much bigger than life itself.

Your letter... it meant a lot to me. More than I can put into words. For months, I thought I’d ruined everything between us. I thought you didn’t care anymore, that I’d pushed you away. But now I see that wasn’t true.

I care about you too, Charlie. More than I probably should. I know things are complicated, but I hope we can still be... whatever we’re meant to be.

Good luck in Romania. I’ll be waiting to hear all about your adventures.

Yours,
Draco

---

Charlie folded the letter, a soft smile spreading across his face. He tucked it into his pocket and glanced out the window at the horizon, where his future awaited.

No matter how far he went, no matter how much distance separated them, he knew this wasn’t the end. Draco had become a part of his life—a part he wasn’t willing to let go of.

With his bags packed and his heart a little fuller, Charlie left for Romania, ready to begin a new chapter while keeping Draco close in his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Romania was everything Charlie had imagined. The dragon reserve was vast, untamed, and brimming with life. The first weeks were a whirlwind of learning, hands-on training, and adjusting to life far from home. Yet, no matter how busy his days were, Charlie always found time to write to Draco.

---

**Dear Draco,**
Romania is wild—everything you’d imagine and more. The reserve is massive, and I’ve already seen at least five different species of dragons up close. They’re incredible creatures, but they’re also stubborn as anything, much like someone else I know.

How are you? I imagine you’re busy preparing for Hogwarts. Have you decided which robes to bring? Let me guess—everything perfectly tailored and the finest fabrics money can buy.

Write back soon. I miss hearing from you.

Yours,
Charlie

---

Draco’s letters, while still filled with his usual wit and flair, now carried a sense of purpose. He was focused on Hogwarts, determined to make a strong impression when he arrived. But even amidst his preparations, Charlie was never far from his thoughts.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
I knew you’d say the dragons are stubborn. That’s why you’re perfect for the job—you’re the only one patient enough to handle them.

As for Hogwarts, yes, the robes are ready. Mother insisted on the finest fabrics, of course. She’s also been fussing over my books and supplies. Father says I need to "uphold the Malfoy name," but between you and me, I’m more interested in finding out what the library looks like.

By the way, your letters are the only reason I haven’t completely lost my mind while preparing for school. Keep them coming, or I’ll send a howler.

Yours,
Draco

---

The weeks leading up to September 1st were a blur of activity at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa took charge of Draco’s school shopping, ensuring he had everything he needed and more. Draco, however, found himself distracted—his thoughts often wandering to Charlie.

When he wasn’t trying on robes or packing his trunk, Draco spent hours in the garden tending to the flowers with his mother. The hobby, once forgotten, had become a source of calm amidst the chaos. It reminded him of the conversations he’d shared with Charlie, who always encouraged him to embrace the things he loved.

Draco even attempted baking again, with slightly better results. One afternoon, while frosting a cake that leaned precariously to one side, he laughed to himself. “Charlie would have a field day with this disaster,” he muttered.

---

The morning of September 1st arrived, and Draco found himself standing on Platform 9¾, his polished trunk and elegant owl cage by his side. Lucius gave him a curt nod of approval, while Narcissa hugged him tightly, whispering words of encouragement.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station, Draco sat by the window, his heart racing with anticipation. His nerves were a mixture of excitement for what lay ahead and sadness at leaving behind the letters that had become his lifeline to Charlie.

The thought of writing to Charlie from Hogwarts, sharing stories about his classes and the people he met, brought a small smile to his face.

---

Charlie’s letters became Draco’s anchor in his first weeks at Hogwarts. Whenever he felt overwhelmed by the newness of it all—his classes, the competitive atmosphere of Slytherin, and the weight of his family’s expectations—Charlie’s words reminded him to stay grounded.

---

**Dear Draco,**
I’ve been thinking about what you said in your last letter, about feeling like you have to prove yourself. I get it—really, I do. But you don’t have to be perfect, Draco. You’re already more than enough.

Romania’s been keeping me busy, but I still find time to carve. I made another dragon this week, but it’s not as nice as the one I sent you. You must’ve inspired me with your high standards.

Let me know how your classes are going. And don’t let anyone give you a hard time—especially those Gryffindors.

Yours,
Charlie

---

Draco often read Charlie’s letters late at night, long after his dorm mates had fallen asleep. The words gave him a sense of comfort, a reminder that someone out there cared for him in a way that felt genuine and steady.

In return, Draco shared every detail of his life at Hogwarts—the strange quirks of his professors, the competitive matches of Wizard’s Chess in the common room, and his growing fascination with Potions.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I actually enjoy Potions class. Professor Snape seems to approve of me, though that’s probably because he and Father are old friends.

The castle is everything I imagined and more. The Slytherin common room is grand, of course, but nothing compares to the library. I’ve already spent hours there, and I think the librarian might be getting suspicious.

Your letters are the best part of my week. I can’t wait to hear more about your adventures with the dragons.

Yours,
Draco

---
As the months passed, their letters became more frequent, their bond stronger. Charlie sent Draco updates on his work at the reserve, often including sketches of the dragons he worked with. Draco, in turn, shared his progress at Hogwarts, always careful to include a touch of humor to make Charlie smile.

Though they were separated by distance and age, their connection remained unshaken. Draco counted down the days until the holidays, knowing it would bring an opportunity to see Charlie again.

For both of them, the letters weren’t just a way to stay in touch—they were a lifeline, a reminder that no matter where they were in the world, they had someone who truly understood them.

Chapter Text

Christmas at Malfoy Manor was a dazzling affair. The grand halls sparkled with silver and emerald decorations, enchanted icicles dripped from the chandeliers, and the faint hum of a magical orchestra filled the air. Lucius Malfoy mingled with esteemed guests, while Narcissa supervised the festivities with her usual grace. Draco, only twelve but already accustomed to the duties of a Malfoy heir, moved through the party with practiced politeness.

Yet, his mind was elsewhere.

Earlier that day, he’d received a letter from Charlie.

---

**Dear Draco,**
I know tonight will be busy for you, but if you can, I’d like to see you. I’ll be near the edge of the Manor grounds by the greenhouse around nine. Don’t worry—I’ll keep out of sight.

Yours,
Charlie

---

Draco had read the letter multiple times throughout the day, his heart racing each time he thought about the possibility of seeing Charlie again. He wasn’t sure how Charlie planned to get past the wards around the Manor, but if anyone could manage it, it was Charlie Weasley.

By eight-thirty, Draco was growing restless. As the guests moved toward the dining room for dessert, Draco slipped away, unnoticed by his father but not by Narcissa.

“Draco,” she called softly, stopping him at the foot of the grand staircase.

He froze, turning to face her with a carefully neutral expression.

“You’ve done enough for tonight,” she said, her voice kind. “Go on. I know there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

Draco’s mask cracked, and a small, grateful smile appeared. “Thank you, Mother.”

---

Draco made his way to the edge of the grounds, his footsteps silent on the snow-covered path. The greenhouse glowed softly in the distance, its glass panes fogged from the warmth inside. Standing just outside its light was Charlie, bundled in a thick coat and scarf, his hair tousled by the cold winter breeze.

“Charlie!” Draco whispered, his voice a mix of relief and excitement.

Charlie turned, grinning as he saw Draco hurrying toward him. “You made it.”

Draco smirked, brushing snow off his cloak. “Of course I did. Though I’d love to know how you got past the wards.”

Charlie shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I may have asked your mother for a little help. She seemed... understanding.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Mother let you in?”

“She didn’t seem too surprised that I wanted to see you,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “I think she’s on to us.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “She always knows everything.”

---

Charlie pulled a small, carefully wrapped package from his coat pocket and held it out to Draco.

“What’s this?” Draco asked, taking the gift.

“Open it and see,” Charlie said.

Draco carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a beautifully crafted silver bracelet adorned with tiny dragon charms. Each dragon was intricately detailed, with shimmering scales that caught the moonlight.

“It’s enchanted,” Charlie explained. “The dragons offer protection. If you ever feel like you’re in danger or... overwhelmed, they’ll keep you safe.”

Draco stared at the bracelet, his fingers lightly tracing the charms. “Charlie, this is...” He paused, swallowing hard. “It’s perfect.”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you I’m here for you,” Charlie said softly. “Even when we’re far apart.”

Draco slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the cool metal warming quickly against his skin. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie smiled, reaching out to ruffle Draco’s hair. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Draco scowled, swatting his hand away. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“You’ll always be a bit of a kid to me,” Charlie teased, though there was warmth in his tone.

---

They sat on a nearby bench, talking quietly as snow fell around them. Charlie described life in Romania, sharing stories about the dragons he’d encountered and the challenges of his work. Draco listened intently, occasionally asking questions or offering sarcastic commentary that made Charlie laugh.

In return, Draco shared updates about his first year at Hogwarts—his classes, the people he couldn’t stand, and his favorite spots in the castle. He avoided mentioning his father’s expectations or the pressure he felt as a Malfoy, but Charlie could sense the weight on his shoulders.

“You know,” Charlie said after a while, “you don’t always have to be perfect, Draco. It’s okay to just be yourself.”

Draco looked away, his silver-grey eyes fixed on the snow-covered ground. “Being myself isn’t always an option.”

Charlie frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Well, just know that with me, it is.”

Draco glanced at him, his expression softening. “Thanks, Charlie.”

---

As the clock neared ten, Draco sighed. “I should get back before Father notices I’m gone.”

Charlie nodded, though there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Alright. But hey, don’t let all those fancy guests ruin your Christmas.”

Draco smirked. “I’ll try.”

Before leaving, Draco hesitated, then quickly hugged Charlie, his arms tightening briefly around him. Then give him a little kiss on the cheek even he need to stand on his tippy toe “Happy Christmas,” he murmured. Draco face redden but he still managed to give Charlie his sweetest smile.

Charlie hugged him back, his voice warm. “Happy Christmas, Draco.” And with all his self control he end the night giving Draco a kiss on his temple.

As Draco disappeared into the shadows, Charlie stood by the greenhouse for a while longer, his breath visible in the frosty air. He couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to the next time they’d see each other.

---

When Draco returned to the party, Lucius was too engrossed in a conversation to notice his absence. Narcissa, however, caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile.

Draco made his way to his room shortly after, the silver bracelet gleaming on his wrist. As he sat by the window, watching the snow fall outside, he felt a rare sense of peace.

Charlie’s gift wasn’t just a bracelet—it was a reminder that someone believed in him, just as he was.

Chapter Text

Draco stepped off the Hogwarts Express with his usual swagger, his silver-grey eyes scanning the bustling crowd of students. As a second-year, he was no longer a nervous child trying to make an impression. He was a Malfoy—confident, poised, and determined to live up to the expectations placed on him.

Ginny Weasley trailed a little behind him, looking around with wide-eyed wonder. It was her first year at Hogwarts, and while her excitement was evident, so was her nervousness. Draco had promised Charlie he’d look out for her, even if he’d rather not associate too much with the Weasley family in public.

Still, Ginny was different. She was spirited, kind, and—most importantly—not annoying like her older brothers.

“Keep up, Weasley,” Draco said, his tone brusque but not unkind. “You’ll get trampled if you linger.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but followed him. “I know how to handle myself, Malfoy.”

“I doubt that,” Draco muttered, but he slowed his pace so she could walk beside him.

As they entered the castle, the familiar grandeur of the Great Hall greeted them. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky, and the four long tables buzzed with energy. Ginny’s eyes sparkled as she took it all in, her nerves temporarily forgotten.

Draco glanced at her and smirked. “Try not to look so impressed. It’s just a school.”

Ginny ignored him, too enchanted by the magic of it all to care.

An Awkward Encounter
Later that evening, as Draco was lounging in the Slytherin common room, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson sat nearby, discussing the new first-years.

“Did you see Ginny Weasley at the Sorting?” Pansy asked. “She looks just like her brothers—poor thing.”

“She’s tolerable,” Draco said casually, earning surprised looks from his friends.

“Since when do you care about a Weasley?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco shrugged, not bothering to elaborate. He wasn’t about to explain his connection to Charlie or how he’d grown fond of Ginny during their occasional letters and meetings.

The next day, Draco’s mood soured considerably when he encountered Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley in the corridors. The so-called “Golden Trio” was as insufferable as ever, with Potter’s self-righteousness and Weasley’s constant scowling.

“Potter,” Draco drawled, stepping into their path. “Still acting like the savior of the wizarding world, I see. How exhausting that must be.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Get out of the way, Malfoy.”

“Why should I? You’re not the only one who exists, you know.” Draco smirked, his gaze flickering to Ron. “Weasley, shouldn’t you be keeping Potter on a leash? He might wander off into another dangerous situation.”

Ron turned red, but Hermione tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s just go, Ron.”

Draco watched them leave, his smirk fading into a scowl. He couldn’t understand what Ginny saw in her brothers—or why she seemed to idolize Potter.

Draco and Ginny’s Growing Friendship
Despite his disdain for the Golden Trio, Draco couldn’t help but keep an eye on Ginny. She was adjusting to Hogwarts quickly, but there were moments when she seemed quieter than usual, her usual spark dimmed.

One evening, he found her sitting by the lake, her knees pulled to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

Ginny glanced at him, startled, before looking away. “Nothing.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Lying isn’t your strong suit.”

She sighed. “It’s just... I feel like I’m always in someone else’s shadow. Ron, the twins, even Percy. They’re all good at something, and I’m just... me.”

Draco tilted his head. “You’re not just anything, Weasley. You’re... decent. For a Gryffindor, anyway.”

Ginny gave him a small smile. “Thanks, I think.”

After a moment, she asked, “Why do you hate Harry so much?”

Draco’s expression darkened. “Because he thinks he’s better than everyone else. He’s reckless, arrogant, and people treat him like he’s some sort of hero just because he survived something as a baby.”

Ginny frowned. “That’s not true. Harry’s just... trying to figure things out, like everyone else.”

Draco scoffed. “If you say so.”

Draco had always prided himself on knowing more about what was happening at Hogwarts than most. However, as his second year unfolded, even he couldn’t deny that something strange was happening. Whispers of attacks and a “Chamber of Secrets” spread through the school like wildfire, leaving students uneasy and parents worried.

Ginny, who had started the year with her usual spark, seemed more withdrawn as the weeks went on. Draco noticed her pale complexion and nervous behavior, but every time he tried to ask what was wrong, she brushed him off.

It wasn’t until he wrote to Charlie in November that he realized just how concerned he was.

---

**Dear Charlie,**
I don’t know if you’ve heard, but something’s happening at Hogwarts. People are getting attacked, and there’s all this talk about a monster in the Chamber of Secrets.

Ginny’s not herself. She’s jumpy and quiet, which isn’t like her. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I thought you should know. Maybe you can talk to her? She listens to you more than anyone.

Draco

---

Charlie’s reply came quickly, and it was unusually serious.

---

**Dear Draco,**
Thanks for telling me. I’ve heard bits and pieces about what’s going on at Hogwarts, but if Ginny’s acting strangely, that worries me more than the rumors.

I’ll try writing to her, but if she doesn’t open up, keep an eye on her, alright? I’ll come to the school if I need to. Don’t let her brush you off if something seems really wrong.

Charlie

---
Charlie’s 20th birthday on December 12th provided the perfect excuse for him to visit Hogwarts. He arrived in the evening, greeted warmly by Hagrid, who had been delighted to hear one of the Weasleys was stopping by.

Draco, of course, had made arrangements to meet him outside the castle. It had taken some convincing with Snape, but he’d managed to secure permission to “escort a visitor” on school grounds.

When Charlie arrived, Draco handed him a small, neatly wrapped box.

“Happy birthday,” he said, trying to sound casual, though his heart was pounding.

Charlie smiled, opening the box to reveal a finely crafted dragon figurine made of emerald and silver, enchanted to move and breathe small puffs of smoke.

“Draco, this is incredible,” Charlie said, clearly impressed.

Draco smirked, though his cheeks flushed slightly. “I thought you’d like it. You’re always going on about dragons.”

Charlie clapped a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

---

That evening, as they were walking back toward the castle, they found Ginny sitting alone near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, shivering despite her thick cloak.

“Ginny?” Charlie called, his voice full of concern.

She jumped, clearly startled, and turned to face them. Her eyes widened when she saw her brother and Draco together. “Charlie? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you—and to celebrate my birthday,” Charlie said gently. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Ginny hesitated, glancing nervously at Draco.

“It’s alright,” Charlie said. “You can tell me.”

After a long pause, Ginny finally burst into tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” she sobbed. “I’ve been having these blackouts, and sometimes I wake up and I don’t remember what I’ve done. But then I hear about the attacks, and I—I’m scared, Charlie.”

Charlie crouched down beside her, pulling her into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, Ginny. We’ll figure this out.”

Draco stood nearby, his mind racing. Ginny’s confession was shocking, but it also confirmed his suspicions that something darker was at play.

“Ginny,” Draco said carefully, “have you found anything strange recently? Something that might be... cursed?”

Ginny’s face paled, and she slowly nodded. “A diary. I found it in one of my books at Flourish and Blotts. At first, it seemed harmless, but... I think it’s making me do things.”

Charlie and Draco exchanged a grim look.

“Where is it now?” Charlie asked.

“In my dorm,” Ginny whispered.

---

The next day, with Charlie’s help, Draco convinced Ginny to hand over the diary. Draco didn’t dare touch it, so Charlie took it, planning to bring it to Dumbledore immediately.

“I don’t like the feel of this thing,” Charlie muttered, holding the diary carefully in a cloth. “It’s dangerous, that’s for sure.”

Ginny looked relieved but still anxious. “Do you think this will stop the attacks?”

“We’ll make sure it does,” Charlie promised.

Draco nodded. “You’re not dealing with this alone, Ginny. Not anymore.”

---

Over the next few weeks, Charlie stayed in close contact with Dumbledore, sharing what he’d learned about the diary and its connection to the Chamber of Secrets. Meanwhile, Draco did his best to support Ginny, though he kept his involvement subtle.

When the time came to face the creature in the Chamber, Draco wasn’t directly involved, but he stayed up all night waiting for news. When he finally heard that Harry Potter had destroyed the diary and defeated the basilisk, he felt a strange mix of relief and irritation.

“Of course Potter had to be the hero,” he muttered.

Charlie, who had come to Hogwarts as soon as he heard the Chamber had been opened, ruffled Draco’s hair. “You helped, you know. If you hadn’t told me about Ginny, who knows how much worse it could’ve gotten?”

Draco frowned but didn’t pull away. “I guess.”

Charlie smiled. “Give yourself some credit, Draco. You did good.”

For the first time in weeks, Draco allowed himself to relax. Maybe he wasn’t the hero of the story, but he had helped save someone who mattered to him—and that was enough.

Chapter Text

The days following the destruction of the diary were strangely quiet. Ginny was recovering slowly but steadily, and the atmosphere at Hogwarts began to feel lighter. But Draco found himself restless, pacing around the Slytherin common room and even avoiding his usual rounds of taunting the Gryffindors.

When an owl arrived with a letter from Charlie asking him to meet near the Forbidden Forest, Draco felt a rush of nervous anticipation. He made his way there, finding Charlie waiting near Hagrid’s hut, bundled up against the December chill.

“You’re late,” Charlie teased, though his grin softened the words.

Draco crossed his arms. “I’m never late. You’re just early.”

Charlie laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Fair enough.” He gestured for Draco to follow him, and they began walking along the edge of the forest.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Draco could feel the weight of unspoken words between them.

“Ginny told me you kept an eye on her,” Charlie said finally. “She said you were there when she needed someone, even if she didn’t want to admit it at first.”

Draco shrugged, looking away. “I just... noticed something was off. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal,” Charlie said firmly. “If you hadn’t told me, who knows what might’ve happened?”

Draco kicked at a patch of snow. “Potter’s the one who saved her in the end. As always.”

Charlie stopped walking and turned to face Draco. “Draco, you don’t have to be the hero of every story. What you did mattered. You cared enough to notice something was wrong, and you did something about it. That’s more than most people would’ve done.”

Draco’s cheeks flushed, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or Charlie’s words. “I guess.”

Charlie smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to guess. I’m proud of you.”

As always Charlie words make Draco feels lighter make his beautiful face turn red.

---

They found a quiet spot near the edge of the forest and sat down, the snow crunching softly beneath them. Draco fiddled with the edge of his scarf, stealing glances at Charlie.

“You’re leaving soon,” Draco said, his voice quieter than usual.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Need get back to work. I miss the Dragon.”

“Dragons,” Draco repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course.”

Charlie laughed. “I’ve always been a bit obsessed, haven’t I?”

Draco hesitated, then asked, “Can’t you stay a little longer? I miss you” Draco bite his lips as if he just said something sinful. Maybe it is.

Charlie tilted his head, considering the question. “You know, i miss you too. It’s just not the right time” He eliminated the gap between them, then give Draco a warm hug that feel make Draco feels grounded.

Draco nodded slowly, enjoying the warmth from Charlie hug. “I think I get that.” He murmured.

Charlie looked at him curiously. “Do you?”

Draco met his eyes, something unspoken passing between them. “Yeah. I do.”

---

Before they parted ways, Charlie reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped package.

“What’s this?” Draco asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“It’s for you,” Charlie said. “An early birthday present.”

Draco frowned. “My birthday’s not until June.”

“I know,” Charlie said with a grin. “But I’ll be in Romania by then, so I figured I’d give it to you now.”

Draco took the package and unwrapped it carefully, revealing a leather-bound journal embossed with a silver dragon.

“It’s enchanted,” Charlie explained. “The pages refill themselves, so you’ll never run out of space. I thought you might like a place to write down your thoughts—or just anything you don’t want to say out loud.”

Draco stared at the journal, his chest tight with emotion. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Charlie smiled. “You’re welcome.”

As they stood there, the wind carrying the faint sounds of laughter from the castle, Draco felt a strange sense of contentment. Charlie gently caressed his face the rough finger tracing Draco smooth skin.

“You’re so beautiful” Whispered Charlie so gently that Draco scared it’s just a dream. But before he could think Charlie kiss his temple as a goodbye. Leave Draco to be longing for their next meetup.

---

When Draco returned to the castle that night, he tucked the journal carefully into his trunk. He opened it to the first page and, after a moment of hesitation, began to write.

**"I think I’m starting to understand why people care about things that aren’t perfect. Charlie does. Ginny does. Maybe I can too."**

From that day on, Draco made a quiet promise to himself: he wouldn’t let the expectations of others dictate who he was. And though he wasn’t sure what the future held, he knew one thing for certain—he’d always remember Charlie’s words.

Chapter Text

Draco had been thinking about Ginny for days. After everything that happened with the diary, he knew she was still shaken. He could tell she was trying to act normal, but the strain was obvious in the way she avoided eye contact and flinched at loud noises. Draco wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how.

Then it hit him—Ginny loved sweets. Her mom’s treacle tart was famous among the Weasleys, and he remembered how her eyes lit up whenever she spoke about it. Draco could bake, and he’d been making treats for Charlie for years now, so why not try his hand at making something special for Ginny?

He set to work in the Slytherin common room, hoping no one would disturb him. It was a quiet day, and the other students were occupied with homework or gossiping in the hallways. Draco carefully followed Mrs. Weasley’s treacle tart recipe, concentrating hard to make sure it turned out perfect. He even decided to make some mini star-shaped sugar pies for Ginny, knowing she loved anything that was both sweet and cute.

---
Draco had carefully packaged the pies and the tart, but now came the tricky part—getting them to Ginny. He couldn’t enter the Gryffindor common room, not unless he wanted to risk detention. So, he enlisted Pansy’s help, though she wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea.

“I don’t see why we’re doing this,” Pansy grumbled, watching Draco carefully decorate the tart. “It’s a waste of time, you know. Ginny Weasley isn’t your responsibility.”

“God, just help me Pans,” Draco said, not looking up. “you’d already promised to help me.”

Pansy crossed her arms. “Fine. But don’t expect me to make the pies.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Just hold the box steady. I’ll do the rest.”

With a deep sigh, Pansy did as he asked, though she spent most of the time watching Draco with a bored expression. Draco didn’t mind. He knew what he was doing.

After a few more minutes, the treats were ready. Draco grabbed the box and headed toward Gryffindor Tower. He found Ginny by the common room entrance, looking lost in thought as usual.

“Ginny,” Draco said, his voice a little softer than.

She turned, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Draco! What’s this?”

“I brought you something,” he said, handing her the box with the pies and tart. “I know you like sweets. I hope this cheers you up.”

Ginny’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “You made this for me?”

Draco nodded, trying to look nonchalant. “Yeah, I’ve been practicing my baking skills.”

Ginny smiled warmly. “Thank you, Draco. This means a lot.” She quickly opened the box, picking up one of the star-shaped pies. “These are so cute!”

Draco watched as she took a bite, and her face immediately lit up with pleasure. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed. “It’s like my mum’s treacle tart!”

Draco felt a small surge of pride. “It’s Mrs. Weasley’s recipe,” he admitted. “I thought it might remind you of home.”

Ginny smiled again, her eyes filled with gratitude.

---
Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been watching from a distance, curious about Draco’s sudden act of kindness. They had seen him hand over the box to Ginny and now stood nearby, pretending not to listen.

Ron crossed his arms. “What’s Malfoy up to now? Is he trying to buy Ginny’s friendship with sweets?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think that’s what’s happening. I think he just wants to be nice to her.”

Harry was watching Ginny, who was happily munching on the pies. “Ginny looks like she really likes them. I didn’t know Malfoy could bake.”

“Neither did I,” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s full of surprises.”

Ron is actually knew Charlie has bragged about it how the blonde keep making sweets for him. And it making Ron even more curious.

“Let’s see what it tastes like,” Ron said, grabbing a piece of the treacle tart before anyone could stop him.

Hermione sighed, but Harry grinned and took a bite of the tart himself.

“Oi, this is actually good,” Ron said, swallowing the pie. “It’s better than anything Mrs. Weasley has made. And you know how much I love her cooking.”

Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief. “Malfoy can bake better than your mum?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say *better*, but it’s really good.”

Harry chuckled. “Malfoy’s full of surprises, alright.”

Ginny, who had been listening to their exchange, laughed. “Draco can be surprising, that’s for sure.”

Draco, who had been standing awkwardly off to the side, flushed at the unexpected praise. “I’m glad you like it.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “You made this, Malfoy?”

Draco nodded, a little stiffly. “Yes, I did. It’s not *that* hard, you know.”

Hermione gave him a bemused smile. “It’s a lot harder than you think. But you did a good job.”

Draco felt a strange warmth at the unexpected approval from the Gryffindor trio. He wasn’t used to them being so... nice.

“I didn’t know you were such a good baker, Draco,” Harry said, offering him a rare smile. “Maybe you should make a career out of it.”

Draco couldn’t help but smirk. “You really like it huh, Potter.”

Harry grinned, chewing on another pie. “Just shut up Malfoy.” But no biting in his words.

Ginny smiled softly at Draco. “Thank you for everything, Draco. These pies are really helping me feel better.”

Draco nodded, a small but sincere smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. Just... don’t forget that you’re not alone.”

As Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued to enjoy the sweets, Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things were changing between them. Even if it was just over a tray of sugar pies and a treacle tart, it was a start.

Chapter Text

Draco had made it through two years of Hogwarts with his reputation mostly intact, but now, in his third year, things were changing. His relationship with Harry, once antagonistic at best, had started to evolve. He wasn’t sure when it had started—maybe it was the shared moments after Ginny’s ordeal, or maybe it was the mutual respect they had come to understand—but Draco found himself talking to Harry more often.

One evening, after classes, Harry found Draco sitting at a table near the garden, scribbling something in his journal.

“What’s this?” Harry asked, peering over Draco’s shoulder.

Draco tensed at first but then relaxed. “Just a recipe I’ve been working on.”

“Wait, you’re baking again?” Harry asked, surprised.

Draco nodded. “Yeah, I want to send Charlie something.” Draco said it so casually as if it’s something so common.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Charlie? The Weasley?”

Draco shrugged. “Yes. I suppose it’s odd, but he’s always been kind to me, and I wanted to return the favor.” Draco voice sounds so soft as if it hurts him to spoke louder.

Harry sat down across from him. “What are you making?”

Draco paused, glancing at Harry. “I’m trying to perfect a batch of Holiday Blancmange. Charlie said he quite fascinated by the taste.”

Seeing the determination that Draco gives Harry feels a bit of jealousy of how thoughtful Draco is to Charlie.

Draco nodded. “It’s a recipe from a well known chef. I thought Charlie might like it.”

“Well known chef recipe, huh?” Harry mused. “I think i can help you with that.”

Draco looked surprised. “You’re... into baking?”

Harry smiled. “Nope but i can give you an honest opinion.” Then Harry grinned. “And I’m just here for moral support,” he added, leaning back in his chair.

Draco’s lips twitched at the irony. “I suppose I’ll take whatever I can get.”

By the end of the night, Draco had a batch of treats that were nearly perfect. Holiday Blancmange had a smooth, rich texture that was a far cry from the first attempt.

“Well, I think Charlie’s going to love these,” Draco said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Harry gave him an approving nod. “Yeah, you’re a lot better at this than you let on.” Feels his heart started warming for the certain blond.

---

Over the next few weeks, Draco and Hermione found themselves spending more time together, mostly because of their shared interest in books. Draco had always been an avid reader, but his tastes had been more focused on wizarding history and magical creatures. Hermione, on the other hand, loved a variety of subjects. She’d always bring a stack of books to their study sessions, eager to share her latest discoveries.

“You should really read this one,” Hermione said one afternoon, handing Draco a thick book titled *The Art of Magical Confectionery.* “It has some great recipes and tricks for perfecting sweets. You might find it useful.”

Draco took the book with a raised eyebrow but smiled. “You’ve read this one already?”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled. “Of course! You’d be amazed at how much there is to learn about baking. It’s not just about the ingredients; it’s about understanding the process.”

Draco was impressed by her enthusiasm. “I’ve always found it therapeutic,” he admitted, thumbing through the pages. “Baking and Potions, I mean. It’s like controlling something in a world that often feels out of control.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “That’s exactly how I feel when I read. It’s like entering a world where I can learn anything I want.”

Their bond grew stronger through their shared love of books and the quiet moments spent reading together. It wasn’t something Draco had expected, but it became a comforting routine.

While Draco had made significant strides with Hermione and Harry, his relationship with Ron remained as strained as ever. They tolerated each other, but there was no true friendship between them. It wasn’t until the incident with Buckbeak that things started to change—though not in the way Draco expected.

After Buckbeak’s trial, Draco found himself feeling both confused and angry. He couldn’t stand how Ron and the others seemed blame him of the situation.

Draco look too anxious so when Harry approached, he glanced at Draco. “What’s going on?”

Draco took a deep breath. “I just... don’t understand. I thought we had reached some sort of truce, but it feels like nothing has changed. I told my father he dont need to execute the bird but he just won’t listen. He never listen” Draco eyes start to water make Harry feels bad for him.

Harry nodded. “I know just give Hermione and Ron time okay.” Harry said softly while his hand carefully wipe away Draco tears.

Draco’s fists clenched. “I get that, but it doesn’t make it easier. I don’t like feeling like this.”

Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

Draco nodded, feeling a little comforted.

It had been a few days since the Buckbeak incident, and Draco was still stewing over what had happened. The trial, the scorn from everyone—especially Ron and Hermione—it felt like the whole world was against him. No matter how hard he tried to explain his side, no one seemed to understand. It wasn’t like he’d wanted Buckbeak to be sentenced to death; he’d just been following his father’s advice, doing what he thought was right.

But it was more than that. It wasn’t just the Buckbeak situation that had him troubled. The more Draco thought about it, the more he realized how much the situation with Ron and Hermione had strained his relationships with everyone around him. He had tried to do the right thing, to stay in control of his emotions, but it felt like every time he turned around, someone was blaming him for something.

Draco had always been good at keeping things to himself, but the weight of everything was starting to press down on him. He couldn’t talk to Pansy—she didn’t really understand. And he certainly couldn’t talk to his father; Lucius would only scold him for being weak. The one person who had always been different, though, was Charlie. Charlie had been kind to him, something Draco couldn’t quite understand, but appreciated nonetheless. He had always been someone Draco felt he could trust.

So, after a long evening of pacing the common room, Draco decided to write to him. The only person that can ease his mind.

---

**Dear Charlie,**

I’ve been thinking about Buckbeak, and I’ve been thinking about how it’s been going with everyone ever since. It’s all been so frustrating.

I know I’ve been distant lately, but I just don’t know how to explain everything. I didn’t want Buckbeak to be sentenced to death. I really didn’t. But no one seems to understand that. Especially Ron and Hermione. They’ve been so angry with me. And I can’t blame them, really. It’s not like I’ve ever given them a reason to trust me.

They blame me for Buckbeak, and I don’t know how to make them see it differently. Ron’s been especially difficult, and Hermione just looks at me like I’m some sort of monster. I tried talking to them, explaining that it wasn’t my decision, but they don’t want to hear it. I don’t think they ever will. They’ve never really seen me for who I am, just who they think I am.

It’s hard, Charlie. I don’t know if I’m even the same person I was when I first came to Hogwarts. All I wanted was to fit in, to be someone I could be proud of, but sometimes it feels like I’m always a step behind everyone else.

I’m sorry for rambling. I just needed to tell someone. I don’t expect you to have all the answers, but it helps to write it down, to let someone else in.

I hope you’re doing well. I know you’re probably busy with work, but I’d like to hear from you whenever you can.

Yours sincerely,
Draco Malfoy

---

Draco folded the letter, sealed it with his family crest, and sent it off, hoping Charlie would understand. He wasn’t sure if he would get a response, or if it would even make a difference, but for once, he felt like he had done something right by reaching out.

---
A week passed before Draco received a reply. It came in the usual owl, but when he opened it, he was surprised by the warmth in Charlie’s words.

---

**Dear Draco,**

Thank you for your letter. It really means a lot to me that you reached out, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share your feelings with me.

I can’t pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through, but I can imagine how difficult it must be. The whole Buckbeak situation was messy, and it sounds like you were caught in the middle of it all. Sometimes people just don’t see the bigger picture, and it’s easy for them to place blame on someone. I’ve seen it happen before, especially in situations that are out of our control.

As for Ron and Hermione—they’ll come around. They’re both stubborn, but they’re also loyal and fair, even if they don’t always show it. It might take time for them to understand, but I believe they’ll see things differently in the long run. The most important thing is that you stay true to yourself, even when it feels like the world is pushing you in another direction. It’s easy to get lost in what other people think, but you know who you are.

If it helps, I think you’re doing just fine. You’re not perfect, but no one is. And you’re trying, and that’s all anyone can ask for. It’s good that you care, even if it doesn’t always feel like it makes a difference.

Take care of yourself, Draco. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels like you are.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,
Charlie

---

And the latter come with beautiful flower bouquets that Charlie gives preservation charms.

Draco felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he read Charlie’s words. The kindness in Charlie’s letter was exactly what he needed. It wasn’t a solution to his problems, but it was a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the burden alone. For the first time in weeks, Draco allowed himself to believe that things could improve, even if it took time.

Chapter Text

The start of Draco’s fourth year at Hogwarts came with a whirlwind of excitement and tension. The Triwizard Tournament had brought a buzz to the castle, and the arrival of witches and wizards from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons only added to the chaos. Draco, however, found himself feeling out of place amidst the festivities.

While most students were caught up in the excitement, Draco couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease. Between his father’s pressure to uphold the Malfoy reputation during such a high-profile event and his lingering feelings for Charlie, Draco found it difficult to focus on anything else.

It was on a crisp October afternoon, not long after the arrival of the tournament champions, that Draco spotted a familiar figure near the castle’s edge. Charlie Weasley was standing with Hagrid, talking animatedly about something that involved a lot of pointing and gesturing toward the Forbidden Forest.

Draco froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected to see Charlie so soon, especially here at Hogwarts. Part of him wanted to approach immediately, but another part hesitated, unsure of how to act.

As if sensing his presence, Charlie turned and spotted Draco standing a few feet away. A warm smile spread across his face, and he waved Draco over.

“Oi, Draco! Come here!” Charlie called out.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to appear calm and composed as he approached. “Charlie,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. “What are you doing here?”

Charlie grinned, his freckled face lighting up. “I’m here to help with the dragons.”

“Dragons?” Draco’s eyes widened.

Charlie nodded. “It’s for the first task of the tournament. The champions are going to face them. My team and I are here to secure them and make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Draco’s mouth went dry. Dragons. Of course, Charlie would be involved in something as dangerous and thrilling as that.

Charlie studied him for a moment, his smile softening. “But enough about that. How have you been? You look... taller.”

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “I—yes, I suppose I am,” he said awkwardly. “I’ve been fine. Busy with classes and everything else.”

Charlie chuckled. “Still as formal as ever.” He placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Really, though. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking about you.”

Draco felt his cheeks flush, and he looked down at the ground. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just... trying to keep up with everything. The tournament’s been a bit overwhelming.”

Charlie nodded knowingly. “I can imagine. A lot of eyes are on this place right now. But don’t let it get to you, okay? You’re stronger than you think.”

Draco glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “You really think so?”

Charlie’s smile widened. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

As they talked, Draco found himself relaxing in Charlie’s presence. They walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the conversation flowing more naturally than it had in months.

“So,” Charlie said after a while, “any new hobbies or projects you’ve taken up? Last I heard, you were getting pretty good at baking.”

Draco smirked. “I suppose I’ve kept at it. I made tiramisu for Ginny last week. She said it was so good.”

Charlie laughed, the sound rich and warm. “That’s high praise coming from Ginny. I’m glad you’re keeping up with it. It suits you.”

Draco hesitated before speaking again. “I’ve also been reading more. Hermione and I... we’ve been exchanging books. It’s strange, but we’ve actually found some common ground.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Hermione Granger? I’m glad you guys reconciled”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah. She’s not as insufferable as I thought she was. And Harry’s been... tolerable.”

Charlie chuckled. “You’re full of surprises, Draco.”

They reached a quiet clearing, and Charlie stopped, turning to face Draco. “Listen,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I know things haven’t always been easy for you, especially with everything going on. But I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You’re growing into someone who’s not afraid to be himself, and that’s not easy.”

Draco swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He wanted to say something, to express how much Charlie’s words meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

Charlie smiled and pulled him into a brief, firm hug. “You’ve got this, Draco. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

---
When they parted ways, Draco watched as Charlie walked back toward the group of dragon handlers near the forest. There was something about Charlie’s presence that made Draco feel grounded, like he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As he returned to the castle, Draco couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t know what the future held, but for now, he felt a little stronger, a little more confident, knowing that Charlie believed in him.

It had been days since Charlie and Draco’s walk along the Forbidden Forest. Draco found himself thinking about their conversation often, replaying Charlie’s words in his mind. For the first time in months, he felt like he wasn’t completely alone in the chaos of his life.

Charlie, too, couldn’t shake their conversation. There was something about Draco—his vulnerability, his determination to navigate his complicated world, and the way he had grown over the years—that stirred something deep within him. It wasn’t appropriate, and he knew it, but it was undeniable.

It was late one evening, well after curfew, when Draco found himself outside near the Quidditch pitch. The sky was clear, the stars bright against the dark canvas. He had come out for some fresh air, needing to clear his mind after a particularly difficult day.

To his surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Charlie’s voice broke the quiet, and Draco turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Draco shook his head. “I needed to get out of the castle for a bit. It feels... suffocating sometimes.”

Charlie nodded, stepping closer. “I get that. Hogwarts can feel like its own little world, cut off from everything else. It’s easy to feel trapped.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the cool night air wrapping around them.

“You’re going back soon,” Draco said quietly, breaking the silence. “Heading off to Romania.”

Charlie smiled faintly. “Yeah. It’s exciting, but... bittersweet. I’ll miss a lot of things about being here.”

Draco looked up at him, his silver eyes catching the starlight. “Like what?”

Charlie hesitated, his heart racing as he looked at Draco. “Like moments like this,” he admitted softly.

Draco’s breath hitched, and he felt his cheeks warm despite the chill in the air. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, his gaze fixed on Charlie.

Before he could process what was happening, Charlie stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup Draco’s cheek.

“Draco,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.”

Draco’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. “Charlie—”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off as Charlie leaned down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips. It was brief, barely more than a brush, but it sent a jolt through both of them.

They pulled apart, their faces mere inches from each other. Charlie looked conflicted, his hand dropping to his side. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shock, confusion, and something that felt dangerously close to hope.

But before either of them could say another word, a voice broke through the quiet.

“What the hell?”

They both turned to see Harry standing a few feet away, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Harry,” Charlie started, his voice calm but firm, “it’s not what it looks like.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “It *looks* like you just kissed Malfoy.”

Draco’s face flushed red, and he quickly stepped back, putting distance between himself and Charlie.

“It’s none of your business, Potter,” Draco snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

Harry crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between them. “Actually, it is. You’re an adult, Charlie—and Draco’s still a student. What are you thinking?”

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t thinking, clearly. It was a mistake.”

Draco flinched at the word, but he quickly masked his reaction, his face becoming a blank slate. “Right,” he said coolly. “A mistake. Just forget it ever happened.”

Harry frowned, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. “Look, I’m not going to say anything to anyone, but... this is serious. You need to be careful.”

Charlie nodded. “I know. And I appreciate that, Harry. Thank you.”

Draco turned on his heel, his shoulders tense. “I’m going back to the castle,” he said stiffly, not looking at either of them.

“Draco, wait—” Charlie started, but Draco didn’t stop.

Back in his dormitory, Draco sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the letter he had been writing to Charlie earlier that evening. His emotions were a tangled mess, and he didn’t know how to untangle them.

He felt humiliated, hurt, and—worst of all—hopeful. That kiss, brief as it was, had meant something to him. But to Charlie, it was just a mistake.

With a frustrated sigh, Draco crumpled the letter and threw it into the fireplace.

---

Charlie couldn’t sleep that night. He kept replaying the moment in his mind, the look on Draco’s face when he called it a mistake. He hadn’t meant it like that, but he couldn’t take back the word now.

He knew he had crossed a line, and he hated himself for it. But part of him couldn’t ignore the feelings he had for Draco. It was wrong, he knew that, but it didn’t make the emotions any less real.

As he lay awake in his room, Charlie made a decision. He would talk to Draco, explain himself, and try to make things right.

Chapter Text

The next day, Draco avoided everyone. He skipped breakfast in the Great Hall and slipped out of Potions early, not bothering to meet up with Pansy or Blaise afterward. The previous night’s events lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the conflicting emotions Charlie’s kiss had stirred.

By evening, Draco was sitting alone in the library, surrounded by books he wasn’t actually reading. The usual haughty mask he wore had slipped, replaced by a look of exhaustion.

That was how Charlie found him.

“Draco,” Charlie said softly, stepping into the quiet corner of the library where the younger boy sat.

Draco stiffened but didn’t look up. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Charlie said, pulling up a chair across from him.

Draco’s silver eyes flicked up briefly before returning to the book in front of him. “There’s nothing to talk about. You made yourself perfectly clear.”

Charlie winced. “I didn’t mean what I said last night—not the way it came out.”

Draco finally looked up, his expression guarded. “So it wasn’t a mistake?”

Charlie hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “It was... complicated,” he admitted. “Draco, you’re important to me. You have been for a while. But you’re still young, and I’m—”

“Leaving for Romania,” Draco interrupted, his tone bitter. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.”

“That’s not the point,” Charlie said gently. “The point is, I care about you, but I can’t act on those feelings. It wouldn’t be right.”

Draco closed the book in front of him with a soft *thud* and crossed his arms. “So you’re saying we should just forget about it?”

Charlie leaned forward, his gaze earnest. “I’m saying I want to be in your life, Draco, but not in a way that would hurt you—or anyone else. You’re still figuring out who you are, and you deserve the time to do that without me complicating things.”

Draco stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You think I’m just some naïve kid who doesn’t know what he wants, don’t you?”

“No,” Charlie said firmly. “I think you’re incredibly smart and brave, and you know exactly what you want. But that doesn’t mean the timing is right.”

Draco’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Charlie thought he might lash out. But instead, Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Fine,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Charlie chuckled softly, relieved that the conversation hadn’t gone worse. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

---
As the weeks passed, things between Charlie and Draco gradually returned to something resembling normal. They exchanged letters, though the tone was more cautious than before. Draco focused on his studies and his baking, often sending Charlie treats with his notes.

When the first task of the Triwizard Tournament arrived, Charlie stayed at Hogwarts for a few extra days to ensure the dragons were safely handled after the champions faced them. On his last evening, he found Draco by the lake, staring out at the dark water.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Charlie said, coming to stand beside him.

Draco didn’t look at him. “I know.”

Charlie hesitated before pulling a small package from his pocket. “I got you something.”

Draco finally glanced over, his brow furrowing as he accepted the gift. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

Draco unwrapped the package carefully, revealing a small, intricately carved dragon figurine made of wood. Its wings were spread as if ready to take flight, and its expression was fierce yet elegant.

“It reminded me of you,” Charlie said quietly.

Draco stared at the figurine, his throat tightening. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice barely audible.

Charlie smiled, placing a hand briefly on Draco’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough—not your father, not anyone.”

Draco nodded, his grip tightening on the figurine. “I’ll try.”

As Charlie turned to leave, Draco called after him. “Charlie?”

Charlie paused, looking back.

“I’ll miss you,” Draco admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Charlie’s smile was warm, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving Draco standing by the lake, the dragon figurine clutched tightly in his hand.

Chapter Text

The Triwizard Tournament had left the entire wizarding world shaken, but none more so than Draco Malfoy. The events of that fateful night—the return of the Dark Lord, Cedric Diggory’s death, and Harry Potter’s claims—had unsettled him deeply. For the first time in his life, Draco felt true fear, not for his grades or his father's approval, but for his future.

He overheard the whispers from his parents, the urgency in his father’s tone as he spoke in hushed voices about Voldemort’s return. Draco knew what it meant: the Dark Lord would use the Malfoys, and his father, so loyal to his image and reputation, wouldn’t resist.

Draco didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t face what waited for him there.

Late one evening, Draco found himself sitting across from his mother in the Slytherin common room. Narcissa had arrived earlier that day under the guise of a casual school visit, though Draco suspected it had more to do with Lucius needing her out of the house for the time being.

“Mum,” Draco started, his voice unusually soft.

Narcissa looked up from the cup of tea she’d been nursing. “Yes, darling?”

Draco hesitated, his hands clenching tightly in his lap. “I don’t want to come home for the holidays.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, the faintest flicker of concern crossing her delicate features. “Draco, what are you saying? Of course, you’ll come home.”

“No,” he said firmly, looking her in the eye. “I can’t. I know what Father is involved in now, and... I don’t want to be part of it. I’m scared, Mum.”

Narcissa set her teacup down carefully, her hands trembling slightly. “Draco, your father is doing what he thinks is best for our family.”

Draco scoffed. “Best for our family? Or best for his place next to *him*?” He exhaled shakily, leaning forward. “Mum, please. Just this once, let me stay somewhere else. I’ll be safe. I promise.”

Narcissa studied her son, her heart aching. Draco had always been her pride and joy, her reason for enduring everything that came with being a Malfoy. She had always protected him, sometimes at great personal cost.

“Where would you go?” she asked quietly.

Draco swallowed. “To Charlie. He’s in Romania now. I’ll write to him and explain everything. He’ll understand.”

Narcissa frowned. “Draco, I don’t know if that’s wise. Charlie Weasley is... well, he’s not exactly—”

“I trust him,” Draco interrupted. “He’s the only person I trust right now. Please, Mum.”

There was a long silence as Narcissa weighed her son’s request. Finally, she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek.

“If this is what you need, then I’ll allow it. But promise me you’ll stay safe, Draco.”

Draco nodded, relief washing over him. “I promise.”

---
That night, Draco penned a letter to Charlie, his hand trembling slightly as he wrote.

> *Dear Charlie,*

I hope this letter finds you well. I know you’re busy with your work in Romania, but I need to ask something important. I can’t explain everything in a letter, but I’m not safe at home anymore. My father... he’s involved in something dark, something I don’t want to be part of.

I was wondering if I could stay with you for the summer. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to. I can help with the dragons or do chores or whatever you need—I just can’t go home.

Please let me know if this is possible. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, but I don’t know what else to do.
Yours,
Draco

He folded the letter carefully and gave it to his owl, watching as it disappeared into the night.

---

A few days later, Draco received a reply.

> *Dear Draco,*

I’ll be honest—I wasn’t expecting this letter. But if you need somewhere safe, my door is always open. You don’t have to explain everything right away. Come to Romania, and we’ll figure it out together.
And don’t worry about the dragons. I’ve got plenty of work for you here if you want to keep busy. Just focus on being safe and taking care of yourself for now.
Let me know when to expect you. I’ll make the arrangements.
Yours,
Charlie

Draco let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope.

---
When Draco stepped off the Portkey and onto the rocky terrain of the Romanian dragon reserve, Charlie was there to greet him.

“You made it,” Charlie said with a warm smile, pulling him into a brief but reassuring hug.

Draco nodded, his nerves still buzzing. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Charlie waved him off. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

As they walked toward the small cabin Charlie called home, Draco looked around at the vast expanse of the reserve, the faint roars of dragons echoing in the distance. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe again.

Chapter Text

Draco had never imagined he’d feel out of place anywhere, but the Romanian dragon reserve was a far cry from the polished halls of Malfoy Manor. The air smelled of fire and earth, the distant growls of dragons a constant hum in the background. It was wild, untamed—a stark contrast to everything Draco had known.

Charlie led him into the cabin, which was modest but cozy. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, and the smell of roasted vegetables filled the air. It wasn’t luxurious, but it felt... safe.

“You can take the spare room,” Charlie said, gesturing toward a door at the end of the hall. “It’s not much, but it’s private.”

Draco peeked inside. The room was small, with a simple bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the reserve. There was no silk bedding or ornate furniture, but Draco felt strangely comforted by its simplicity.

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly, setting his trunk down.

Charlie smiled. “Make yourself at home. Dinner’s almost ready, and after that, I’ll show you around the reserve tomorrow. Sound good?”

Draco nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he’d fare among dragons.

The next morning, Charlie took Draco on a tour of the reserve. The dragons were far larger and more intimidating than Draco had expected, their scales gleaming in the sunlight. Charlie spoke about them with a passion that lit up his entire face, and Draco found himself listening intently, even if the dragons themselves made him nervous.

“You don’t have to get too close,” Charlie reassured him when Draco hesitated near the enclosure of a particularly feisty Hungarian Horntail. “But if you ever feel like trying, I’ll be here to help.”

Draco nodded, grateful for Charlie’s patience.

As the days turned into weeks, Draco settled into a routine. He helped Charlie with minor tasks around the reserve, though he mostly stayed away from the dragons and he mostly cook all the time now. In the evenings, he took to baking in the small kitchen, finding comfort in the familiar act of creating something with his hands.

One evening, Charlie walked into the kitchen to find Draco pulling a tray of treacle tarts from the oven.

“Is this what I think it is?” Charlie asked, grinning.

Draco smirked. “I figured you might be missing a taste of home.”

Charlie took a bite and groaned in delight. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that?”

Draco flushed slightly but said nothing, focusing instead on cleaning up the kitchen.

---
On nights when the workday wasn’t too exhausting, Draco and Charlie would sit outside by a small fire, staring up at the stars.

“Do you miss Hogwarts?” Charlie asked one evening, glancing at Draco.

“Sometimes,” Draco admitted. “But it’s complicated. Everything feels... heavier now. Like I can’t just be a normal student anymore.”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. But you’re stronger than you think, Draco. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still standing.”

Draco looked at him, his expression softening. “That’s because I had you to help me.”

Charlie smiled, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something he tried to push down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

One afternoon, Draco ventured closer to one of the dragon enclosures while Charlie was working. A young Welsh Green, smaller and less aggressive than the others, had caught his eye.

Charlie noticed and approached him cautiously. “Thinking about saying hello?”

Draco hesitated. “Maybe. It doesn’t look as terrifying as the others.”

Charlie chuckled. “That’s because she’s still young. Here, hold out your hand like this.”

With Charlie’s guidance, Draco slowly reached out toward the dragon. To his surprise, the creature leaned forward, sniffing his hand before letting out a soft rumble.

“You did it,” Charlie said, his voice filled with pride.

Draco turned to him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.”

Chapter Text

Draco sat by the fire in Charlie’s cabin, his pale face illuminated by the soft glow of the flames. His Hogwarts letter lay crumpled in his lap, untouched since it had arrived weeks ago. He wasn’t going back. He couldn’t. The thought of stepping into the castle again, where every glance would remind him of who he was and what his family stood for, made his stomach twist into knots.

Charlie entered quietly, brushing ash off his dragonhide gloves. He stopped when he saw Draco, his gaze softening at the sight of the boy looking so lost.

“You’re still brooding,” Charlie teased gently, though his voice carried concern.

Draco didn’t look up. “Not brooding. Deciding.”

Charlie sighed and dropped into the chair across from him. “Alright, what are you deciding?”

Draco finally met his eyes. “Whether I can stay here. With you.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Draco’s words hanging heavily between them.

“Draco...” Charlie began, his tone careful. “You can’t run from this forever.”

“I’m not running,” Draco snapped, sitting up straighter. “I’m just... choosing differently.” His voice softened, and he looked down at his hands. “It’s not like anyone’s going to miss me there. My so-called friends only care about blood status, and everyone else probably thinks I’m just like my father.”

Charlie reached across the table, placing his hand over Draco’s. “You’re *not* like your father. You’re better than that, and the people who matter will see it.”

Draco’s gaze flicked to their hands, then back to Charlie’s face. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “You see it.”

Charlie’s chest tightened. He knew where this was headed, and he knew he shouldn’t let it go any further. “Draco, you’re fifteen. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you—”

“I know,” Draco interrupted, his tone sharper now. “I’m not asking for anything, Charlie. I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Charlie’s breath hitched. The sincerity in Draco’s voice, the vulnerability in his expression—it was overwhelming. He didn’t say anything, afraid that whatever he might say could either encourage or hurt Draco further.

The next morning, Draco stood in the doorway of the cabin, watching as the sun rose over the reserve. Charlie joined him, his presence grounding, as always.

“I’ll go back,” Draco said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Charlie glanced at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

Draco nodded. “You’re right. I can’t stay here forever. As much as I’d like to.”

Charlie chuckled, though his heart ached at the thought of Draco leaving. “Hogwarts isn’t as bad as you think. And you’ve got Ginny, Granger, and even Potter now, in his own annoying way. You’re not alone there.”

Draco turned to face him fully, his silver eyes searching Charlie’s face. “You make me feel like I’m not alone, Charlie.”

Charlie swallowed hard, his resolve wavering under Draco’s intense gaze. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair from Draco’s face. “You’re never alone, Draco. Not while I’m around.”

Draco leaned into the touch for a moment before stepping back, breaking the spell between them. “I should pack.”

Charlie nodded, his voice thick. “Yeah. You should.”

When it was time for Draco to leave, Charlie escorted him to the train station. They stood off to the side, away from prying eyes.

“Write to me,” Draco said, his voice quiet.

“Always,” Charlie promised.

Draco hesitated, then leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Charlie’s lip. Before Charlie could respond, Draco stepped onto the train, disappearing into the crowd of students.

As the train pulled away, Charlie touched his lip where Draco’s lips had been, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Chapter Text

Charlie sat at the dining table in his cabin, absentmindedly picking at the simple meal he’d thrown together. The house was quiet—too quiet. Without the sound of Draco’s laughter echoing in the halls or the familiar clatter of pans from the kitchen, it felt hollow.

His coworkers had noticed the change almost immediately.

“Charlie, mate,” one of them teased over lunch one day. “What’s with the long face? Did your wife leave you or something?”

Another dragon handler chimed in, smirking. “Must’ve been some wife, considering how miserable he’s been.”

Charlie glared at them, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Knock it off. It’s not like that.”

“Sure, sure,” the first handler said, grinning. “But seriously, you’ve been moping around for weeks. You miss that kid of yours, don’t you?”

Charlie didn’t bother denying it. He did miss Draco. He missed the way the boy would hum softly while baking, the way he’d complain about the dragons while secretly marveling at them, and—if he was honest—he missed the way Draco’s presence filled the cabin with life.

Draco, meanwhile, was having the worst time of his life.

Fifth year at Hogwarts was miserable. The looming presence of Umbridge, the whispers in the corridors about his family, and the weight of expectations from home all pressed down on him. He hated every second of it.

He tried to distract himself with schoolwork, with Slytherin politics, and with anything else that might dull the ache in his chest. But at night, when the castle was quiet and his dormmates were asleep, he found himself thinking about Charlie.

He missed the warmth of the cabin, the smell of woodsmoke and dragons. He missed Charlie’s crooked smile and the way his rough hands were always so careful, whether handling a dragon or brushing a strand of hair from Draco’s face.

---
One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Draco sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

**Dear Charlie,**
Hogwarts is unbearable. I hate it here. Everyone is either insufferable or terrified, and the few people I can tolerate are too busy with their own problems to notice mine.

I wish I were back at the reserve. I miss the dragons. I miss the peace. I miss... you.

How are things there? Are the dragons giving you trouble? Have you burned your dinner again yet?

Yours,
Draco

---

Charlie received the letter a few days later and couldn’t help but smile at Draco’s familiar sarcasm. He grabbed a quill and wrote back immediately.

**Dear Draco,**
I can’t say I’m surprised you hate it there—Hogwarts sounds like a madhouse these days. I’d offer to let you come back to the reserve, but I don’t think McGonagall would forgive me for stealing one of her students.

The dragons are fine, though they’re easier to deal with than my coworkers. They’ve started calling you my “runaway wife,” by the way. Thought you’d enjoy that.

And for the record, I haven’t burned anything. Yet. But it’s not the same without your cooking.

Stay strong, alright? You’ve got this. And remember, the reserve is always here when you need a break.

Yours,
Charlie

Chapter Text

The firelight in Charlie’s cabin flickered softly as he unfolded Draco’s latest letter. He’d been waiting for it with more impatience than he cared to admit, the absence of Draco’s presence making every day drag. Charlie’s fingers brushed over the parchment, lingering on Draco’s elegant handwriting.

**Dear Charlie,**
I hate everything about being here. Hogwarts is suffocating. Umbridge is worse than a Hungarian Horntail, and I’d rather be anywhere but here.

The only thing that keeps me sane is thinking about the reserve. I miss the sound of the dragons at night and the way the cabin smelled like the forest. I miss sitting by the fire with you. And... I miss you.

I’ve been trying to bake again, but it’s not the same without your teasing about how much flour I get on my robes. Pansy is useless at helping, and Theodore only hovers around hoping for free food. I find myself wishing you were here to tell me I’m using too much cinnamon—again.

Write soon, Charlie. The days are unbearable without hearing from you.

Yours,
Draco

Charlie set the letter down and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. The ache of missing Draco had only grown sharper with every passing week. And he could feel Draco frustration in all his latter. He know Draco hates being in there. But there’s nothing he can do. And he’d gotten used to the boy’s laughter filling his home, to the way Draco would hover in the kitchen, making a mess while pretending not to care.

Reaching for a quill, Charlie poured his thoughts onto the parchment, unable to stop himself from letting more emotion seep into his words.

---

**Dear Draco,**
Your letter is the only thing that’s made this dreary week bearable. The reserve feels too quiet without you here. Even the dragons seem to notice—one of the younger ones has taken to curling up outside the cabin like she’s waiting for you to come back.

I miss you, too. More than I probably should.

Every time I walk into the kitchen, I half expect to see you there, covered in flour and arguing with me about why treacle tarts should have more filling. And you’re wrong, by the way. They’re perfect just the way you make them.

Draco... I know you’re struggling at Hogwarts, but you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve come out of it with this determination that I can’t help but admire.

But if it ever gets to be too much, you know where to find me. I’ll always be here for you.

Yours,
Charlie

---
When Draco read Charlie’s letter, his heart raced. He stared at the words, “I miss you, too. More than I probably should,” and felt a rush of warmth that made him forget, just for a moment, how much he hated being at Hogwarts.

But the ache of missing Charlie only grew stronger. One evening, after yet another humiliating encounter with Umbridge, Draco sat at his desk and stared at the stack of unfinished assignments. He couldn’t do it anymore.

Grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment, he quickly scribbled a note.

**Dear Charlie,**
I’m coming back. Don’t tell me not to—I can’t stand it here anymore.

Yours,
Draco

---

Charlie received the letter late one evening, delivered by Draco’s owl. He read it three times before swearing under his breath. He knew better than to try to stop Draco—once the boy made up his mind, there was no changing it.

A few days later, Charlie was in the middle of feeding the dragons when he heard the familiar sound of Draco’s voice.

“Are you going to help me with my trunk, or should I levitate it myself?”

Charlie turned to see Draco standing at the edge of the reserve, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“I told you, I couldn’t stay there,” Draco said, his tone softer now. “I needed to be here. With you.”

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Draco stepped closer, his smirk fading into something more earnest. “You don’t want me here?”

Charlie’s breath caught. He reached out, cupping Draco’s cheek gently. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to still. Draco leaned into Charlie’s touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

“You shouldn’t make me miss you so much,” Draco murmured, his voice barely audible.

Charlie’s hand slid down to rest on Draco’s shoulder, and he smiled softly. “I don’t think I could stop, even if I tried.”

Chapter Text

In the grand Malfoy Manor, the mood was tense as Narcissa and Lucius sat in the drawing room. An official owl had arrived earlier that evening with a letter from Hogwarts, detailing Draco’s abrupt disappearance.

Lucius paced the room, his cane tapping rhythmically against the marble floor. His face was a mask of cold fury, but Narcissa—sitting composedly by the fire—watched him with an unusual calmness.

“This is unacceptable,” Lucius growled, breaking the silence. “Running away from Hogwarts? Do you realize how this reflects on the Malfoy name?”

Narcissa, sipping her tea, arched a delicate brow. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”

Lucius stopped pacing, staring at her in disbelief. “The best? Draco is supposed to be preparing for his future, not gallivanting off to... wherever he’s gone!”

“We both know where he’s gone,” Narcissa said softly, her gaze steady. “The Weasley boy’s dragon reserve.”

Lucius sneered at the mention of the name. “That blood traitor? You’re letting our son associate with *them*?”

Narcissa set her teacup down with a deliberate clink. “Draco is safe, Lucius. For now, that is all that matters.”

“Safe?” Lucius spat. “He’s supposed to be at Hogwarts, building connections and learning the skills he’ll need to uphold this family’s legacy! Instead, he’s off baking treacle tarts and hiding with a bunch of dragon handlers!”

“And would you rather he stay here, surrounded by... *this*?” Narcissa’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. She gestured vaguely toward the walls of the manor, as if they embodied all the darkness creeping into their lives. “Would you rather he come home and risk being drawn into the madness surrounding the Dark Lord’s return? He’s just a boy, Lucius.”

Lucius clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his cane. “He’s a Malfoy. He doesn’t have the luxury of running away from his responsibilities.”

Narcissa stood, her composure unbroken, and walked over to him. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “You know as well as I do that Draco isn’t ready for this. He’s not like you, Lucius. He doesn’t have the same... appetite for what’s coming.”

Lucius looked away, his expression conflicted. “And what would you have me do? Send him an invitation to stay away indefinitely?”

“No,” Narcissa said, her voice softening. “We do nothing. For now, we let him stay where he is. Where he’s happy.” She hesitated, then added, “Where he’s far away from the things we cannot protect him from here.”

That night, after Lucius had retired to his study, Narcissa sat by her writing desk. She pulled out a piece of parchment, her elegant quill poised in her hand.

**Dear Draco,**
I received word of your decision to leave Hogwarts. While your father is less than pleased, I must admit that I am... relieved.

I trust that you are safe and well. Stay where you feel you belong, my darling. I only ask one thing of you: write to me. Let me know how you are and what you’re doing.

And, Draco—please don’t let your father’s expectations weigh you down. You are my son, and that is enough.

Love,
Mother

Narcissa folded the letter carefully and sealed it with the Malfoy crest. She called for the family owl, who perched obediently on her arm.

“Take this to Draco,” she whispered, stroking the owl’s feathers. “And make sure he knows he is loved.”

At the reserve, Draco sat on the porch of Charlie’s cabin, watching the dragons in the distance as the sun dipped below the horizon. When the Malfoy owl appeared, he froze, his heart sinking. He feared the worst—his father’s anger, a demand to return.

But as he unfolded the letter and read his mother’s words, his throat tightened. The simple affirmation of her love and understanding brought tears to his eyes.

Charlie stepped outside, noticing Draco’s expression. “Bad news?”

Draco shook his head, quickly wiping his eyes. “No. Just... my mother.”

Charlie sat down beside him, his hand resting lightly on Draco’s back. “She’s alright with you staying here?”

Draco nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s relieved, actually.”

Charlie smiled softly, pulling Draco into a side hug. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, yeah? You’re safe here. And you’ve always got me.”

Draco leaned into Charlie, closing his eyes. For the first time in weeks, he felt like things might be okay.

Chapter Text

The cabin felt warm and cozy, its wooden walls glowing in the evening light. Draco sat curled on the sofa, a book resting in his lap, though he wasn’t reading. His mind wandered far too often these days, usually to the man bustling about in the kitchen.

Charlie.

Draco had grown accustomed to the older man’s presence, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his laughter. There were days when Charlie would come back from the reserve, his arms covered in soot and scratches, his hair a mess—and Draco would find his heart skipping a beat.

Now, at almost sixteen, Draco was no longer confused about his feelings. He knew exactly what they were.

“Dinner’s ready,” Charlie called, interrupting Draco’s thoughts.

Draco looked up, offering a small smile. “What is it?”

“Just some stew. Thought I’d keep it simple tonight.” Charlie walked over, ruffling Draco’s hair as he passed. “You need to eat more. You’re looking too pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Draco replied, smoothing his hair with a dramatic sigh.

Charlie laughed, the sound making Draco’s chest tighten. He got up and followed Charlie to the table, where a simple but hearty meal awaited.

As they ate, Draco couldn’t help but steal glances at Charlie. The older man was handsome in an effortless way—rugged and strong, with a kindness in his eyes that made Draco feel safe.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco flushed, quickly looking down at his bowl. “I’m not staring.”

Charlie smirked. “Sure, you’re not.”

---
A few weeks later, on the morning of Draco’s sixteenth birthday, he awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread. Sleepily, he made his way to the kitchen, where Charlie was putting the finishing touches on a stack of pastries.

“Happy birthday, kid,” Charlie said with a grin, turning to face him.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Draco replied, though his tone was teasing.

“No, you’re not,” Charlie said softly, his expression unreadable.

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the shift in Charlie’s tone. Before he could say anything, Charlie handed him a small envelope, sealed with the Weasley crest.

“What’s this?” Draco asked, frowning.

“Open it,” Charlie said, his voice unusually serious.

Draco sat at the table and carefully broke the seal. Inside was a letter, written in Charlie’s slightly messy handwriting.

---
To Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to formally request permission to court your son, Draco Luciuen Malfoy.

Over the past months, I have come to care deeply for him. He is intelligent, kind, and resilient beyond his years. I have no doubt that he will grow into an extraordinary man, and I would be honored to have the chance to be by his side as he does.

I understand the gravity of this request, and I assure you that I have nothing but the utmost respect and affection for Draco. I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove my intentions are genuine and honorable.

Yours sincerely,
Charlie Weasley

---

Draco’s hands trembled as he read the letter, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re asking my parents for permission to court me?” he whispered, looking up at Charlie.

Charlie shrugged, his ears turning red. “It’s the proper thing to do, isn’t it? I want to make sure they know how serious I am about you.”

Draco stared at him, his emotions a whirlwind. “Charlie, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Charlie interrupted, stepping closer. “You deserve to be treated with respect, Draco. And I’m not going to hide how I feel about you.”

For a moment, Draco was speechless. Then, without thinking, he threw his arms around Charlie, burying his face in the older man’s chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

Charlie chuckled, wrapping his arms around Draco. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Draco pulled back just enough to look up at him, his cheeks flushed. “I do.”

For the first time, he said the words out loud. And Charlie, with a soft smile, leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s forehead.

“Happy birthday,” Charlie murmured.

Chapter Text

The letter from Charlie Weasley sat on the ornate dining table in the Malfoy Manor. Narcissa’s delicate fingers held it gingerly, her expression unreadable. Across from her, Lucius was silent, his knuckles white as he gripped his cane.

“He dares,” Lucius finally growled, his voice cold. “A Weasley. A dragon handler. Asking to court our son?”

Narcissa folded the letter and set it down, fixing her husband with a steady gaze. “He is respectful, Lucius. And you know as well as I do that Draco would not have let this letter be sent unless he wanted it.”

Lucius’s nostrils flared. “Draco is too young to understand what he wants.”

Narcissa tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Our son is nearly sixteen, Lucius. He is far from a child. And you’ve noticed it too—he’s happier. Lighter. That boy has brought something good into Draco’s life.”

Lucius looked away, his jaw tightening. “A Malfoy does not consort with Weasleys.”

“A Malfoy also doesn’t run away from home,” Narcissa countered gently, “but Draco did, and you’ve done nothing to bring him back. Why?”

Lucius didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both knew the truth: Draco’s safety and happiness had outweighed his pride.

After a long silence, Lucius finally muttered, “If he’s happy... then so be it. But I expect that boy to be discreet.”

Narcissa’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “I’ll write to him. And to Draco.”

Charlie was working in the dragon reserve when the owl arrived, a simple scroll bearing Narcissa Malfoy’s elegant handwriting. He wiped his hands on his trousers before unrolling it.

**Dear Mr. Weasley,**
After much consideration, Lucius and I have decided to grant our blessing for you to court Draco.

While this situation is... unconventional, I trust that your intentions are sincere. My son speaks highly of you, and I have seen the light you bring to his life.

Please ensure that Draco remains safe and protected, as our world grows darker with each passing day.

Sincerely,
Narcissa Malfoy

Charlie exhaled in relief, a grin spreading across his face. He folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his pocket before heading back to the cabin.

Inside, Draco was sitting by the fire, reading a book. He looked up as Charlie entered, his pale face lighting up at the sight of him.

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” Draco teased.

Charlie strode over and ruffled Draco’s hair, earning a scowl. “Because I have good news. Your parents said yes.”

Draco froze, his silver eyes wide. “They... did?”

“Yep.” Charlie dropped into the chair across from him, his grin softening. “We’re officially courting, Draco. That means I’m going to do this properly. Dinners, gifts, the whole thing.”

Draco’s cheeks turned pink. “You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.”

“But I want to.” Charlie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re important to me, Draco. And I want you to feel that every day.”

Over the next few months, Charlie and Draco’s relationship deepened in ways neither of them had expected.

Charlie made it a point to include Draco in his work, showing him how to care for the dragons and teaching him about their habits. At first, Draco was hesitant—dragons were messy, and the idea of getting his hands dirty made him grimace. But Charlie’s enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, Draco found himself looking forward to their time in the reserve.

“See? I told you he wouldn’t bite,” Charlie said one afternoon, as a young Norwegian Ridgeback sniffed Draco’s hand.

“He’s drooling on me,” Draco complained, though there was a faint smile on his lips.

Charlie chuckled, wrapping an arm around Draco’s shoulders. “You’re doing great, love.”

Draco flushed but leaned into Charlie’s side, feeling a warmth he couldn’t quite describe.

---

In return, Draco introduced Charlie to some of his favorite pastimes. They spent evenings in the cabin’s kitchen, where Draco taught Charlie how to make delicate pastries and rich, buttery desserts.

“I don’t know how you make this look so easy,” Charlie grumbled, his fingers covered in flour as he tried to roll out dough.

“It’s called skill,” Draco said with a smirk, effortlessly cutting star-shaped cookies.

Charlie leaned over, smearing a bit of flour on Draco’s nose. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re terrible at baking.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the cabin with warmth.

Though their courtship was still new, their bond was undeniable. Charlie found himself captivated by Draco’s quick wit and surprising vulnerability, while Draco felt safe in Charlie’s presence in a way he never had before.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Draco looked over at Charlie, his heart full. “Do you ever regret this?” he asked softly.

Charlie frowned, turning to him. “Regret what?”

“Being with me,” Draco murmured. “It’s... complicated. I’m complicated.”

Charlie reached out, taking Draco’s hand in his. “I don’t regret a single moment with you, Draco. Complicated or not, you’re worth it.”

Draco smiled, his chest tightening. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek. “I’m glad it’s you,” he whispered.

Charlie pulled him closer, their foreheads resting together. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Charlie sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a rare nervous energy. Across from him, Molly and Arthur Weasley watched him with expressions that were both curious and concerned. Ginny sat nearby, fidgeting, while Harry and Hermione observed from the doorway. The absence of Ron, who was still struggling to warm up to Draco, was palpable.

“So,” Arthur said, breaking the silence, “you’re courting Draco Malfoy.”

Charlie nodded, his hands folded tightly on the table. “I am. It’s official now. Narcissa and Lucius have given their blessing.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “That must’ve been an interesting conversation.”

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted with a chuckle. “Lucius wasn’t thrilled, but Narcissa… she’s relieved. She knows Draco’s safe with me.”

“And how is Draco?” Ginny asked, her voice soft but curious. “He’s still so young, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled fondly. “He’s young, yes, but you know as well as I do how much he’s been through. He’s not a child anymore, Ginny. He’s strong, smarter than anyone gives him credit for, and more capable than I ever expected. But he’s also still finding his place in the world, and I want to help him do that.”

Molly sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I just worry, Charlie. He’s only sixteen. You’re asking a lot of him—giving up Hogwarts, leaving behind his family’s name and reputation. And what about you? You’re in Romania, working with dragons. How will you make this work?”

Charlie’s gaze softened. “I know it’s unconventional, Mum. But Draco’s the one who wanted this. He asked to come with me. He’s happier in Romania, away from everything—away from the war, the expectations, the name. And as for me…” He paused, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ve never been happier. He’s the one, Mum. I know it.”

Molly studied her son carefully before glancing at Ginny. “What do you think, dear?”

Ginny grinned. “I think Draco’s already family. He’s been part of my life since I was eight. And honestly, I’ve never seen Charlie like this. If Draco makes him happy, then I’m all for it.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “As long as you’re both prepared for what’s ahead, and as long as Draco truly understands the weight of this decision…”

“He does,” Charlie said firmly. “And I’ll protect him with everything I have.”

When Draco arrived at the Burrow that evening, he was met with a mix of emotions. Molly enveloped him in a warm hug, her motherly instincts overriding any lingering concerns. Ginny practically tackled him, grinning ear to ear.

“It’s about time you came back,” Ginny teased, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

Draco smirked, though his eyes were soft. “I missed you too, Ginny.”

Harry watched from a distance, offering a nod of acknowledgment. Draco returned the gesture, their fragile truce holding steady.

---
Later that night, Draco found himself sitting across from Molly and Arthur, Charlie by his side.

“You’re sure about this, Draco?” Molly asked gently. “This isn’t just some rebellious phase?”

Draco met her gaze, his voice steady. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Charlie is my safe place, my future. I know I’m young, but I’ve seen enough of the world to know what I want. And I want him.”

Molly studied him for a long moment before sighing. “You’re a brave young man, Draco. And if Charlie loves you, then you’re part of this family. But promise me you’ll always take care of each other.”

Draco nodded, his throat tight. “I promise.”

Arthur extended his hand, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome to the family, Draco.”

Life in the Romanian countryside suited Draco Malfoy in ways he never expected. Gone were the heavy robes and tailored suits of his Malfoy heritage, replaced with loose, light linen shirts and trousers that allowed him to move freely. His pale skin, once accustomed to the cold halls of Malfoy Manor, now glowed with the faintest sun-kissed hue. His silvery-blond hair had grown longer, always slightly tousled from the soft breeze that swept through their little cabin.

Charlie Weasley had never been a poet, but each day he found himself silently marveling at the boy who had turned his life upside down. Draco was becoming even more beautiful, not just in his appearance, but in the way he carried himself. The stiffness of his posture had melted away; he laughed more freely, his sharp tongue tempered with warmth. He had found his place here, not as a Malfoy, but simply as Draco.

Charlie watched as Draco stood at the kitchen counter, humming softly while arranging a tray of freshly baked tarts. His delicate fingers worked deftly, sprinkling sugar over the pastries.

“You spoil me,” Charlie teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Draco turned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, someone has to. You’d survive on burnt toast and coffee if I weren’t here.”

Charlie grinned, crossing the room to stand behind Draco. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You’re probably right. But it’s not just your cooking that spoils me, you know.”

Draco’s cheeks flushed faintly, though he tried to hide it by focusing on the tray. “Oh? What else, then?”

“You,” Charlie murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of Draco’s neck. “Everything about you. You make every day brighter, love.”

Draco tilted his head slightly, allowing Charlie’s lips to linger against his skin. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping him.

Charlie took courting Draco seriously. Every little detail mattered to him, from the flowers he picked during his patrols with the dragons to the handwritten notes he left for Draco to find in the mornings.

One evening, after a long day at work, Charlie returned home with a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his hand. They weren’t fancy or particularly rare, but Draco’s eyes lit up the moment he saw them.

“For you,” Charlie said simply, handing them over.

Draco took the flowers, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, though his voice was filled with affection.

“Maybe,” Charlie admitted, leaning down to kiss Draco’s forehead. “But you’re worth it.”

Draco placed the flowers in a vase on the windowsill, his heart swelling with warmth. He had never been courted before, not like this. Charlie’s love wasn’t grand or ostentatious; it was quiet, steady, and unwavering.

As much as Charlie showered Draco with affection, Draco was no less eager to show his own love in return.

One afternoon, while Charlie was out working with the dragons, Draco spent hours preparing a special dinner. He used recipes he had learned from Molly, adding his own twists to them. The table was set with care, candles flickering softly in the dim light.

When Charlie walked through the door, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Draco stood by the table, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I wanted to do something for you,” he said, gesturing to the spread. “You’ve done so much for me. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

Charlie crossed the room in two strides, pulling Draco into a tight embrace. “You didn’t have to do this, love,” he said softly. “But thank you. It’s perfect.”

They spent the evening laughing and talking, the world outside their little cabin fading away.

As their days together passed, Charlie found himself noticing the little things about Draco—the way his nose scrunched slightly when he was concentrating, the soft hum of his voice when he thought no one was listening, the way his smile lit up his entire face.

“You know,” Charlie said one evening as they sat by the fire, Draco curled up beside him, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Draco glanced up, his silvery eyes meeting Charlie’s. “You’re biased,” he said with a small laugh.

“Maybe,” Charlie said, brushing a strand of hair away from Draco’s face. “But it’s true. And it’s not just how you look. It’s everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you care... you’re extraordinary, Draco.”

Draco’s breath hitched, his cheeks flushing. He reached up, cupping Charlie’s face in his hands. “You make me feel extraordinary,” he whispered. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m enough. And that’s because of you.”

Charlie leaned in, capturing Draco’s lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Chapter Text

Life in the Romanian countryside continued to mold Draco Malfoy into someone even he barely recognized—but he liked who he was becoming. Days were filled with baking, tending to the small garden they had cultivated outside their cabin, and writing letters to Ginny and Narcissa. Nights, though, belonged entirely to Charlie.

They spent hours talking by the fire, wrapped in blankets and each other. Charlie told Draco about his adventures with dragons, the dangers he faced, and the awe he felt working alongside such magnificent creatures. Draco, in turn, shared stories of his childhood—both the good and the bad—slowly peeling back the layers of the boy who had been raised with such heavy expectations.

But as the days turned into months, the question of Draco’s future lingered in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

One evening, as they sat on the porch watching the sunset, Draco turned to Charlie, his expression contemplative.

“Do you think I made a mistake leaving Hogwarts?” Draco asked softly.

Charlie glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “Do you?”

Draco hesitated, staring down at his hands. “Sometimes, I wonder. Everyone says education is everything, that it’s the key to a future. And I left it behind. What if… what if I end up with nothing to show for myself?”

Charlie reached over, taking Draco’s hand in his. “Draco, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You could go back to school if you wanted to, but it doesn’t have to be Hogwarts. There are other paths. You could study abroad, or even take private lessons. Your future isn’t tied to one place or one choice.”

Draco looked at him, his silver eyes shimmering in the fading light. “What about here? What if I want my future to be with you?”

Charlie smiled, his thumb brushing over Draco’s knuckles. “Then we’ll build a future together. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have your own dreams too, love. What do you want, Draco? If you could do anything, what would it be?”

Draco thought for a long moment before answering. “I want to create something. I’ve been thinking about starting a bakery—a small one, nothing too grand. I could experiment with recipes, make things people haven’t tried before.”

Charlie’s grin widened. “You’d be brilliant at that. And I’d be your most loyal customer.”

Draco laughed, the sound soft and warm. “You’d eat me out of business, Weasley.”

Draco’s idea of a bakery quickly became a shared dream. Charlie helped him write letters to potential mentors, wizarding chefs who could guide Draco as he honed his craft. They set up a small workbench in the cabin where Draco could experiment with recipes, and Charlie became his eager taste-tester.

“Alright,” Draco said one afternoon, placing a tray of steaming pastries on the table. “These are new. I’ve infused them with powdered crystalized fruit—it should add a subtle burst of flavor.”

Charlie took a bite, his eyes widening. “Merlin, Draco, this is amazing!”

Draco’s lips curved into a proud smile. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“Of course not,” Charlie said, pulling Draco into a quick kiss. “You’ve got real talent, love.”

As Draco’s 17th birthday approached, Charlie began to feel a growing sense of anticipation. Courting Draco had been the happiest time of his life, but he knew it was time to take the next step.

On the evening of Draco’s birthday, Charlie led him outside, where a small table had been set up under the stars. Fireflies danced in the air, their light casting a soft glow over the clearing.

“What’s all this?” Draco asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Just sit,” Charlie said, pulling out a chair for him.

As they ate, Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off Draco. His beauty had only deepened with time—his silvery hair catching the moonlight, his pale skin glowing softly in the dark.

When the meal was finished, Charlie stood, taking Draco’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Draco,” Charlie began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “these past few years with you have been the best of my life. I’ve watched you grow, change, and become the incredible person you are now. I know you’re still finding your way, but I want to be with you every step of the journey.”

Draco’s breath hitched as Charlie pulled a small box from his pocket.

“Will you marry me, Draco?” Charlie asked, opening the box to reveal a simple yet elegant ring.

Draco’s eyes filled with tears, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the ring. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Yes, Charlie, I’ll marry you.”

Charlie slid the ring onto Draco’s finger before pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.

Chapter Text

The day of their wedding dawned with a crisp chill in the air, the Romanian mountains bathed in soft morning light. Charlie had insisted on a small, intimate ceremony—just their closest family and friends. Draco had agreed, wanting nothing extravagant or overwhelming, just something pure and meaningful to celebrate their love.

The ceremony was held in the garden behind their cabin, where Draco had planted rows of wildflowers that now swayed gently in the breeze. The chairs were arranged in a simple semicircle, and the altar was adorned with ivy and blossoms that Narcissa herself had enchanted to shimmer faintly in the sunlight.

Inside the cabin, Draco stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. He was wearing his mother’s wedding gown, an elegant, tailored robe of ivory silk that cascaded down his slender frame. The gown was simple yet breathtaking, the fabric catching the light with a soft, pearly sheen. The delicate lace sleeves hugged his arms, and the high neckline framed his pale, angular face perfectly.

Narcissa stood behind him, adjusting the train of the gown with a quiet smile. “You look stunning, darling,” she said softly.

Draco turned to face her, his silver eyes shimmering with emotion. “Are you sure this is okay, Mother? Wearing your gown…”

Narcissa cupped his face gently. “I couldn’t be prouder to see you wear it, Draco. You’re my son, and today, you’ll be the most beautiful person here.”

Draco smiled, tears threatening to spill as he hugged her tightly.

Outside, Charlie stood at the altar, fidgeting nervously with the cuff of his shirt. He wore a simple dark green robe, the color reminding him of the forests where he had spent so many years working. His family was seated nearby—Molly and Arthur, along with Ginny, Bill, Ron, the Twins, Percy and even Harry and Hermione.

The moment Draco stepped out of the cabin, every conversation stopped. The soft murmurs of the guests faded as all eyes turned to him.

Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—he could only stare. Draco was radiant, the sunlight catching his platinum-blond hair and the flowing gown, making him look ethereal.

As Draco made his way down the aisle, led by Narcissa, Charlie felt his heart pound harder with each step. He had always thought Draco was beautiful, but today, he looked otherworldly.

When Draco reached him, Charlie finally found his voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. “You… you’re stunning,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Draco smiled, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself, Weasley,” he teased softly, his silver eyes sparkling.

The officiant began the ceremony, their words weaving a story of love, courage, and acceptance.

When it was time for the vows, Charlie took Draco’s hands in his own, his rough, calloused palms a stark contrast to Draco’s smooth skin.

“Draco,” Charlie began, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions in his chest, “I never thought I’d find someone who would change my life so completely. You’ve brought light, love, and laughter into my world, and I promise to spend every day making you as happy as you’ve made me. I love you, with everything I am.”

Draco’s lips trembled as he spoke his vows. “Charlie, you’ve shown me what it means to be truly loved and accepted. You’ve given me a home, a family, and a place where I can be myself. I promise to stand by you, to love you, and to cherish you for all the days of my life. You’re my everything.”

When the officiant declared them married, Charlie wasted no time pulling Draco into a kiss. It was slow and deep, a kiss filled with love and promise.

After the ceremony, they all gathered for a simple yet joyous celebration. Molly had prepared a feast, and Draco had baked a tiered cake decorated with sugar dragons that seemed to breathe tiny puffs of smoke.

Ginny couldn’t stop gushing over how beautiful Draco looked, and even Harry, who had once been one of Draco’s once have feelings for the boy, couldn’t help but offer his congratulations with a smile.

Narcissa sat quietly with Arthur and Molly, watching her son laugh and dance with his new husband. There was a peace in her eyes, a relief that Draco had found someone who truly cherished him.

As the evening wore on, Charlie pulled Draco aside, away from the crowd. The stars above them sparkled like diamonds, and the cool night air wrapped around them.

“Mom is going to cry every time she hears your name now,” Charlie teased. “She’ll never believe I managed to marry someone as incredible as you.”

Draco smiled, resting his head against Charlie’s chest. “I think we’re both pretty lucky, don’t you?”

Charlie kissed the top of his head. “More than lucky. Blessed.”

Chapter Text

The first few months of married life for Charlie and Draco were nothing short of blissful. Their cabin in the Romanian countryside felt more like home than anywhere Draco had ever lived. The mornings were spent together—Charlie working with the dragons while Draco busy baked or wrote letters these days he even sent letters to Pansy. Evenings were filled with quiet conversations by the fire, stolen kisses, and the deep, unshakable love they’d nurtured over the years.

But life has a way of surprising even the happiest of couples, and one morning, Draco began to feel faint.

Draco sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea as Charlie finished preparing breakfast. He’d been unusually quiet for the past few days, and Charlie had noticed.

“Alright, love,” Charlie said, setting a plate of eggs and toast in front of Draco. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

Draco hesitated, his silver eyes flicking up to meet Charlie’s. “I’ve been feeling… odd lately. Tired, nauseous, just not myself.”

Charlie frowned, concern etched on his face. “Do you want me to take you to a healer?”

Draco shook his head, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I already went.”

Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

Draco took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Charlie, I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Charlie was stunned into silence. Then, a slow, wide grin spread across his face. “Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice filled with awe. “We’re having a baby?”

Draco nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible, but the healer said everything looks healthy.”

Charlie crossed the room in two strides, pulling Draco into his arms. “A baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Draco’s forehead. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Draco laughed softly, leaning into his husband’s embrace. “I think this might be the most terrifying thing we’ve ever faced.”

Charlie pulled back slightly, his hands resting on Draco’s waist. “We’ll figure it out together. You and me, always.”

As the months passed, their little cabin transformed into a haven for the growing family. Charlie carved a crib out of wood, adding intricate dragon designs to the headboard. Draco spent hours knitting tiny blankets and robes, his magic occasionally causing the yarn to tangle when he got too excited.

Their love deepened with each passing day, the anticipation of their child bringing them even closer.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Draco rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder, his hands cradling his growing belly.

“Do you think I’ll be a good parent?” Draco asked softly.

Charlie tilted his head to look at him, his expression serious yet tender. “I know you will. You’ve got more love in you than anyone I’ve ever met. Our baby is lucky to have you.”

Draco smiled, his heart swelling with emotion. “And they’re lucky to have you too.”

The night their baby arrived was one of chaos and wonder. Draco’s labor was long, but Charlie never left his side. He held Draco’s hand, whispered words of encouragement, and kissed his forehead every time he felt Draco’s strength waver.

When the baby finally arrived, their cries filling the room, Charlie felt his breath catch in his throat.

“It’s a boy,” the healer announced, wrapping the tiny infant in a soft blanket before handing him to Draco.

Draco looked down at their son, tears streaming down his face. “Charlie… he’s perfect.”

Charlie sat beside him, wrapping an arm around Draco’s shoulders as they both stared at the tiny miracle they had created.

“What should we name him?” Charlie asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Draco thought for a moment before whispering, “Scorpius. Scorpius Orion Weasley-Malfoy.”

Charlie smiled, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple. “It’s perfect, just like him.”

Their life as a family of three was challenging but filled with love. Charlie would rock Scorpius to sleep while telling him stories about dragons, and Draco would sing him lullabies in soft, melodic tones.

Even during the sleepless nights and chaotic mornings, their love for each other never wavered. If anything, it grew stronger as they navigated the joys and struggles of parenthood together.

Ginny and Narcissa visited often, doting on the baby and offering their support. Even Molly, who had once worried about Draco’s youth and background, couldn’t help but fall in love with the way Draco cared for his son and husband.

One evening, as they lay in bed with Scorpius nestled between them, Charlie turned to Draco, his eyes filled with adoration.

“You’ve given me everything I never knew I wanted,” Charlie said softly.

Draco smiled, brushing a hand through Charlie’s hair. “And you’ve shown me what it means to be truly loved. I think we make a pretty good team, Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled, leaning in to kiss him. “The best team.”

Chapter Text

Life with a newborn wasn’t easy, but for Draco and Charlie, it only strengthened their bond. Scorpius was a perfect blend of his parents—Charlie’s warm, mischievous smile and Draco’s sharp, expressive eyes. But as much as they adored their son, they never let their love for each other waver.

Charlie made it a point to show Draco how much he was cherished every day, whether it was by leaving him sweet notes in the kitchen or surprising him with flowers he’d picked during his dragon rounds. Draco, in turn, filled their home with warmth—baking Charlie’s favorite treats, enchanting their little cabin to feel cozy even in the harshest winters, and always making time for moments of quiet intimacy.

One evening, after Scorpius had been tucked into his crib, Draco leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of wine. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a golden glow over the room. Charlie came in from outside, brushing snow off his boots.

“You’ve been out there forever,” Draco teased, setting down his glass. “I was beginning to think you’d run away with one of your dragons.”

Charlie grinned, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark Draco loved. “Not a chance. Why would I leave when I’ve got the most beautiful husband waiting for me inside?”

Draco rolled his eyes, though the blush on his cheeks gave him away. “You’re insufferable.”

Charlie closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “And you love it.”

Draco sighed, leaning into him. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

Charlie chuckled, kissing the top of Draco’s head before tilting his chin up. Their lips met in a slow, tender kiss, the kind that spoke of years of love and countless shared moments.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” Charlie murmured against his lips.

Draco smirked, his voice soft but teasing. “Obviously, fate couldn’t resist pairing a Malfoy with a Weasley. We’re a power couple, you know.”

Charlie laughed, pulling Draco even closer. “That we are.”

Despite their busy lives, Charlie and Draco always found ways to keep the romance alive. One snowy morning, Charlie surprised Draco with breakfast in bed—a tray laden with tea, fresh pastries, and fruit.

“Charlie,” Draco said, propped up on pillows, his silver eyes wide. “What’s all this?”

“Just a reminder that I love you,” Charlie said, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing him a cup of tea.

Draco smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are, married to me,” Charlie teased, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

Draco took a sip of his tea, his gaze soft as it lingered on his husband. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

One night, after Scorpius had fallen asleep, Draco was sitting by the fire, reading a book. Charlie entered the room quietly, holding out a hand.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “There’s no music.”

Charlie shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “We don’t need any.”

Draco hesitated for only a moment before setting the book aside and taking Charlie’s hand. Charlie pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist. Slowly, they swayed together, the room silent except for the crackling fire and the soft sounds of their breathing.

Draco rested his head against Charlie’s chest, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re impossibly romantic sometimes, you know that?”

Charlie chuckled, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple. “Only for you.”

---

### **A Love That Endures**

Their life was far from conventional—a runaway Malfoy heir living in the Romanian countryside with a dragon handler—but it was theirs, and it was perfect.

Even during the most chaotic days, when Scorpius was teething, the dragons were unruly, or the weather was unforgiving, Draco and Charlie always found their way back to each other.

One afternoon, as they watched Scorpius crawl around the living room, Charlie reached over and took Draco’s hand.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” Charlie asked.

Draco turned to him, a soft smile on his lips. “Every day. And I wouldn’t change a single moment.”

Charlie squeezed his hand, his gaze filled with adoration. “I love you, Draco.”

“I love you too,” Draco said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

Their love wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and it was theirs. And that, they both knew, was all they needed.

Chapter Text

Life in the Romanian countryside was blissful, but Draco was always dreaming about what came next. Scorpius, now an energetic toddler, had brought joy and chaos into their lives, but Draco found himself longing for more laughter, more tiny footsteps, and more love to fill their home.

One evening, after Scorpius had been put to bed, Draco sat at the kitchen table with Charlie, sipping a cup of tea. The soft glow of the fire lit the room, and the comfortable silence between them was one of love and contentment.

“Charlie,” Draco began, his voice soft.

Charlie looked up from the parchment he’d been scribbling notes on, his red hair slightly tousled. “Hmm?”

Draco hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of his teacup. “Do you ever think about having more children?”

Charlie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “More children?”

Draco nodded, his silver eyes glowing with a mix of nervousness and hope. “Scorpius is wonderful, and I love him more than anything, but… I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have a bigger family. For him to have siblings. For us to have more little ones running around.”

Charlie set down his quill and reached across the table, taking Draco’s hand in his. “Are you sure? Raising one toddler is already a handful.”

Draco smirked. “You’re the one chasing dragons for a living, and *I’m* the one who bakes, cleans, and handles Scorpius when he’s throwing a fit. I think I can handle it.”

Charlie laughed, bringing Draco’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “Alright, you’ve got a point. But it’s a big decision, Draco. Are you ready for that?”

Draco leaned closer, his gaze steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything. Our family… it feels complete, but it could feel fuller. And if I’m honest, I’d love nothing more than to give you more children, Charlie.”

Charlie’s heart swelled with love, and he stood, walking around the table to pull Draco into his arms. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Draco leaned into him, his voice muffled against Charlie’s chest. “I just know what I want.”

Charlie kissed the top of Draco’s head. “Alright. Let’s make it happen, love. Let’s grow our family.”

---
Draco was thrilled, practically glowing with excitement at the prospect of more children. He threw himself into preparing the house, reorganizing the nursery and adding tiny touches to make room for their future baby.

Charlie couldn’t help but admire him—how beautiful he was, how dedicated and loving. Every day, he found himself falling more in love with Draco, if that was even possible.

One evening, as Draco stood by the window, watching the snow fall, Charlie came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“You’re stunning,” Charlie murmured, his breath warm against Draco’s ear.

Draco leaned back into him, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled, spinning Draco around to face him. “I mean it. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life.”

Draco reached up to cup Charlie’s cheek. “Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe you just couldn’t resist my charm.”

Charlie leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, passionate kiss. “Definitely your charm,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

---

Months later, their efforts paid off. Draco stood in their kitchen, holding a tiny slip of parchment from the healer with trembling hands.

“Charlie,” he called, his voice shaking with emotion.

Charlie rushed in from outside, still brushing snow from his jacket. “What is it, love?”

Draco turned to him, tears brimming in his eyes. “We’re having another baby.”

Charlie froze, his eyes widening before a wide grin spread across his face. “Another baby?”

Draco nodded, laughing through his tears as Charlie pulled him into his arms and spun him around.

“You’re amazing,” Charlie said, setting him down and pressing kisses all over his face. “We’re going to have another little one.”

Draco smiled, his hand resting on his belly. “I can’t wait to meet them. And I can’t wait to see you as a father again. You’re wonderful with Scorpius.”

Charlie kissed him deeply, pouring all his love into that moment. “You make it easy, Draco. You make everything easy.”

---
As the months passed, Draco’s pregnancy brought even more light into their home. Charlie doted on him endlessly, bringing him his favorite sweets, massaging his back, and making sure he never lifted a finger unless he wanted to.

One night, as they sat on the couch, Draco resting against Charlie’s chest, he looked up at his husband. “I never thought my life would turn out like this. I never thought I could be this happy.”

Charlie kissed his forehead, his hand resting on Draco’s bump. “You deserve every bit of it, Draco. You’ve given me everything—our family, our home, your love. I’m the lucky one.”

Draco smiled, tears pooling in his eyes. “I love you, Charlie Weasley.”

“And I love you, Draco Malfoy,” Charlie said, kissing him softly.

Their love was a story of resilience and devotion, and as their family grew, so did their bond. Together, they faced every challenge with unwavering support, finding joy in the quiet moments and strength in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

The golden sun set over the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow across the vast Egyptian landscape. The Weasley-Malfoy family had recently moved to a sprawling, magical villa nestled near the ancient ruins of a wizarding settlement. The house was charming, with ivory walls, enchanted vines blooming with colorful flowers, and wide windows that let in the warm desert breeze. It was a place full of possibilities, perfect for their ever-growing family.

After years in Romania, Charlie had been offered a new role working alongside Bill at Gringotts to study ancient dragon artifacts. Draco, who had always dreamed of exploring the world, agreed without hesitation. With their six children in tow, they packed up their life and embraced a new adventure.

The house was abuzz with excitement as they prepared for their first party in their new home. The Weasley family, including their children, had all traveled to celebrate the big move. Even Narcissa and Lucius, now softened by years of seeing Draco thrive, had arrived, though Lucius was still grumbling about the heat.

Draco flitted around the kitchen, directing the house-elves while keeping an eye on their youngest, a toddling one-year-old named Aurelia, who was attempting to “help” by throwing flour everywhere.

“Charlie, can you grab the twins before they charm the furniture again?” Draco called out, brushing flour off his robes.

Charlie appeared in the doorway, holding their mischievous five-year-old twins, Lyra and Orion, each dangling by their shirt collars. “Caught them trying to ride a broomstick through the dining room,” he said with a grin.

Draco sighed, but his lips twitched into a smile. “I don’t know where they get their energy.”

“Definitely from you,” Charlie teased, leaning down to kiss Draco’s cheek.

Draco gave him a look but didn’t protest when Charlie slipped an arm around his waist. “I hope this house survives tonight,” Draco murmured.

Charlie chuckled. “It’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not the house I’m worried about—it’s Bill and Fleur’s kids teaming up with the twins.”

As the guests arrived, the house filled with laughter and chatter. The children ran through the courtyard, their giggles echoing as they played tag under the twinkling fairy lights Draco had charmed to float above the garden.

Molly was fussing over the food, despite Draco’s insistence that everything was under control. Ginny and Hermione were helping Narcissa admire the intricate Egyptian decor Draco had picked out, and Harry was busy keeping an eye on the kids.

Charlie, meanwhile, couldn’t keep his eyes off Draco. Dressed in loose, flowing white robes to combat the desert heat, Draco looked radiant, his platinum hair glowing in the soft light.

“Are you just going to stare at me all evening?” Draco teased when he caught Charlie watching him for the fifth time.

Charlie grinned, stepping closer and pulling him into a quiet corner. “Can you blame me? You’re stunning.”

Draco rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you married me,” Charlie said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

Later that evening, as everyone gathered in the courtyard, Draco and Charlie stood together at the head of the table.

“Thank you all for being here,” Draco began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “This move was a big change for us, but having all of you here tonight makes it feel like home already.”

Charlie took over, his hand resting on Draco’s waist. “Draco and I have built a life together that’s more than I ever could have dreamed of. And now, with our six amazing kids and all of you here, it feels like we’ve got everything we could ever need.”

“To family,” Draco said, raising his glass.

“To family,” everyone echoed, glasses clinking in unison.

As the party wound down and the guests began to leave, Charlie and Draco found themselves alone in the courtyard, the children all tucked into bed. The desert night was quiet, the stars twinkling above them like diamonds.

Charlie pulled Draco into his arms, swaying gently to a tune only they could hear. “Do you think we’ll be happy here?” Draco asked softly, resting his head on Charlie’s chest.

Charlie kissed the top of his head. “We’ve been happy everywhere, as long as we’re together. Egypt will be no different.”

Draco smiled, closing his eyes as he leaned into his husband. “I love you, Charlie Weasley.”

“And I love you, Draco Malfoy,” Charlie said, holding him tighter.

In that moment, under the vast Egyptian sky, they knew they had everything they needed—a home filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a bright future together.

Chapter Text

Years had passed since Draco and Charlie first began their life together. The villa in Egypt remained their family’s haven, filled with memories of laughter, love, and the sound of children growing up. Their six children—Scorpius, Lyra, Orion, Aurelia, Cassian, and their youngest, little Seraphina—had grown into a mix of mischievous adventurers and fiercely intelligent wizards and witches.

Each of them carried pieces of their parents within them: Scorpius, the eldest, was calm and thoughtful like Draco but had inherited Charlie’s love for creatures. Lyra and Orion, the twins, were the most daring, often found sneaking into dragon reserves or charming their way out of trouble. Aurelia had Draco’s sharp wit and Charlie’s fierce loyalty, while Cassian showed an early talent for magical archaeology, fascinated by the Egyptian ruins surrounding their home.

As for Seraphina, the baby of the family, she was the heart of the household, adored by all and spoiled equally by her siblings and parents.

On Draco and Charlie’s 25th wedding anniversary, the villa was alive with the energy of a celebration. Friends and family from all over had traveled to Egypt for the occasion, filling the courtyard with familiar faces and happy memories.

Molly Weasley sat beside Narcissa Malfoy, the two women chatting like old friends as they watched their grandchildren race around the garden. Ginny and Harry had arrived with their own brood, and even Ron, after years of tension, had grown to respect Draco as part of the family.

The highlight of the evening came when Scorpius, now a young man in his twenties, stood to give a toast.

“My parents taught me that love isn’t about where you come from or what people expect of you,” Scorpius said, his voice steady. “It’s about choosing someone, every single day, and building a life with them, no matter the challenges.”

He turned to his parents, who sat hand in hand at the center of the table, their bond as strong as ever. “Mum, Dad—you’ve shown all of us what it means to love fiercely and unconditionally. Thank you for giving us a home filled with joy, adventure, and the occasional dragon.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Draco wiped a tear from his cheek as Charlie pulled him close.

Later that night, after the guests had left and the children had gone to bed, Draco and Charlie stood on their balcony, overlooking the starlit desert.

“You’ve given me everything,” Draco said softly, leaning into Charlie’s embrace.

Charlie kissed the side of his head. “And you’ve given me a life I never thought I’d have. Our family, our home—it’s all because of you, Draco.”

Draco tilted his head back to look at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you think they’ll remember us like this? When we’re gone, I mean.”

Charlie chuckled. “Our kids? They’ll tell stories about us forever. You know how much they love to talk.”

Draco laughed, the sound soft and melodic in the night. “I hope they remember the love most of all.”

“They will,” Charlie promised, tightening his hold on him. “Because everything we’ve built, every memory, every laugh, it all started with love.”

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As the years went on, the Weasley-Malfoy family’s legacy grew. Their children thrived, carrying forward the values of love, kindness, and courage their parents had taught them.

Scorpius became a renowned magizoologist, working to protect magical creatures like his father. Lyra and Orion joined their Uncle Bill at Gringotts, uncovering ancient magical secrets. Aurelia became a healer, dedicating her life to helping others, while Cassian published groundbreaking books on wizarding history. And Seraphina, the dreamer of the family, followed in her mother’s footsteps as a skilled baker and artist, using her talents to bring people together.

Through it all, the love Draco and Charlie shared remained the cornerstone of their family, a beacon of hope and inspiration for generations to come.