Archive of Our Own

To: and_vine
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: The Dragon and the Unicorn
Author: lyras
Pairing: Charlie/Pansy
Summary: Charlie's dragon sanctuary is close to collapsing, and the arrival of Pansy Parkinson, conservationist and unicorn hunter, may be the final straw. Falling for each other is not in the plan.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 16,500 words
Warnings: Disturbing content (off-scene violence with description of wizards [not main characters] savaged by wild animals).
Author's notes: and_vine, I had great fun with your prompts, and I hope you enjoy what I came up with! Thank you to T for beta-reading; any errors that remain are my own.

"You cannot deny," Ilie bellowed over the pounding dance beat, "that this European business is making it harder and harder for the sanctuary to survive."

Charlie nodded, smiling wryly, and watched the girl on the balcony out of the corner of his eye.

"And this latest plan to redraw the boundaries..." Ilie paused to slurp his beer. "What are they trying to do, put us out of business?"

"It's just politics," Charlie shouted irritably. "A load of pen-pushers who don't give a shit about the animals."

"Yes, indeed! They don't care about dragons..." Ilie's hands swept out for emphasis, and Charlie grabbed the beer bottles. "They don't care about us. All they care about is the power to keep writing new laws." Ilie banged his hands down on the table, which swung round under his weight. He blinked owlishly at it.

"Drink up, mate." Charlie handed him back his beer. "We're having a night off, remember? Forget about it for a while."

"You're right." Ilie's breath puffed against Charlie's face as he sighed. "But I am so worried, you know? I don't like the way things are moving."

Nor did Charlie, but that was hardly the point of the evening. He clinked his bottle against Ilie's, downed it and went to collect two more from the man behind the bar.

The Wizarding arm of the European Union had recently become the bane of Charlie's life. With Romania's accession into the EU, the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary had fallen under the control of the European Committee for the Control and Preservation of Dangerous Magical Creatures, but so far the only thing the committee seemed interested in preserving was money. It certainly wasn't dragons. Over the past few months, there had been talk of selling off sanctuary land 'for development'. Charlie knew what that meant: expensive hotels and too many people wandering too close to his dragons.

The bartender slammed the beers down along with his change. Heading back to the table, Charlie glanced up. The girl was still watching him. She was also still alone, but she wouldn't be for much longer; not in a place like this. Nobody ended up alone in the Sibiu Bliss Club. He looked up at her, smiling broadly, and passed Ilie his drink. "Get that down your neck," he called. "I'll be back soon."

Ilie looked at him through bleary eyes and turned to follow his gaze. His pleasant face split into a grin. "Don't hurry back." He waved at a group of men in a corner by the dance floor. "You've been cramping my style, Weasley."

Charlie grinned and made his way across the sticky carpet to the staircase.

The girl's cool gaze seemed to play across his skin as he walked. He'd come out tonight with one intention: to forget the troubles of the dragon sanctuary for a few hours. If that involved sweeping a gorgeous woman off her feet, who was he to refuse?

He almost leapt up the last few stairs, but slowed to an amble as she looked away. No point in seeing too keen.

Because he was Charlie Weasley, and because this was Romania, he also patted his wand pocket, just to make sure. A dive like this was the local vampires' idea of a perfect hangout. Admittedly, few of them did any killing these days, but Charlie felt that life was complicated enough without adding a vampire lover to the mix.

He smiled confidently as he approached the girl, who was leaning on the railing overlooking the dance floor. She didn't look like a vampire from behind -- too curvy. Charlie liked curves, especially when they were displayed to advantage, as these ones certainly were. Aside from that, all he knew was that she had shoulder-length dark hair and a pair of dark eyes that had transfixed him from across the room. That was good enough for him.

She glanced up as he settled onto the railing alongside her, giving him a good look at those eyes. Oh, yeah, she was gorgeous all right, with the kind of stare to stop a dragon at fifty paces, and full lips that would look just brilliant around...

He suppressed that thought for now and leaned down, raising his voice over the music. "Fancy a dance?"

She shook her head. "I don't dance." He had addressed her in Romanian, but her answer came in unaccented English.

"Right." He leaned against the rail. "A drink, then?"

"No, thanks." She was still gazing out across the dance floor. Was she looking for someone? He wondered if he had misread the situation.

"What do you do, then?" He swigged his beer. It was cheap piss, and he'd pay for it with a headache tomorrow, but he didn't come to this place for the artisan drinks. "If you don't drink and you don't dance, I mean."

She turned to face him, and he was suddenly very aware of her cleavage. It was dressed in some sort of frilly top, but he had no time for that; not when her breasts were brushing his chest, her hand was reaching for his beer bottle and her eyes were fixed on his face.

"I came here to forget," she said, lips brushing his ear. "To get away from it all."

"Excellent," Charlie answered, pleased that he sounded more nonchalant than he felt. "We're on the same page, then."

Outside, he pulled her into the first doorway they came across and kissed her. She melted against him and he pulled her closer, making no effort to hide his erection. If she felt it, it only turned her on: she squirmed closer, one leg curling around his, and he was just wondering whether he dared try to bring her off right there when she pulled away.

"My hotel -- it's just round the corner." Even breathless, her voice was low and soft. No wonder she hadn't bothered trying to say much over the music.

He kissed her hard. "'Kay," he murmured, and reluctantly let her lead him down the street, raising an eyebrow when she turned under an arched entrance into a tall, tastefully lit building. This was where the European Wizarding Union staff stayed on the rare occasions when they ventured this far east.

"Don't look at the concierge," she ordered.

Resisting the urge to give whoever was on duty a wave, he followed her meekly through the atrium and into the lift.

"Going up," the lift said in Romanian, and Charlie kissed the girl once more, until the door opened at floor fifteen.

When they were finally inside the room, she disappeared into the en suite, leaving Charlie to hover by the long mirror that covered one wall. He was starting to question his actions. A quick shag was all very well, but what did he know about this girl? Even her accent was difficult to place: English, he was pretty sure, but with a lilt that spoke of time spent in the US.

But what did that matter? He'd come out to forget his troubles, and what better way to do it than with a beautiful woman who seemed as keen for it as he was? He was wondering what troubles she might be trying to forget when she opened the bathroom door and gazed at him appraisingly. He pushed off from the wall.

"I'm Charlie, by the way."

She nodded, a smile edging at her lips. "Hi."

He stepped forward. "So, what do I call you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing," he mused. He was almost close enough to touch her now. "That's not a very nice name for someone like you. Beautiful. Dark. Mysterious." He kept his tone playful.

"All right." She shrugged. "I'm Pansy." She seemed to deflate as she spoke, as if she'd been putting on an act. Well, he supposed they had both been acting, to some extent.

"Nice to meet you, Pansy." He held out his hand, and she glanced at it. "Look, I can go if you like. I don't have to stay here; we don't have to do anything." Then, because she really was gorgeous, he added, "Or I can stay and give you something to remember."

Her gaze held a sardonic glint. "Is that right?"

He grinned as her hand came up to grasp his own.

Her underwear was soft and silky, but he was much more interested in removing than admiring it. It fell to the floor along with his jeans, and then she was no longer kissing him but bending so that her lips and hands fastened around his cock, and the sight was just as sexy as he'd imagined. He relaxed and let his arousal pulse stronger, more deeply, watching the girl's reddened lips sliding along his length while her tongue did something invisible but amazing.

She looked up at him, mouth open, dark eyes wide, and it was almost too much. He used all his self-control to drag himself back, pulling her up by the hand as his cock throbbed between them. Even the pressure of her thigh threatened to send him over the edge.

He felt for her. Maybe a bit of reciprocal pleasure would take the edge of his own arousal so he didn't embarrass himself. But she was wet and breathing hard, clenching hungrily around his fingers, leaving him in no doubt about what she wanted.

No need to wait, then. He hitched her up slightly, pushing until he got the angle right and slid inside with a groan of relief that she echoed. He held her there against the bathroom door as her fingers clung to his shoulders, squeezing tighter and tighter until they were barely moving, although every millimetre of friction felt like a gateway to ecstasy.

She was moaning in unison with his grunts, each little thrust bringing them both closer until she collapsed against him for just a second. Then her legs tightened around his hips and she drove him into her faster and harder, so that he lost track of everything except the point where their bodies met.

The next morning, he emerged from the bathroom to find her dressed and applying make-up charms. He watched with interest as her lips grew fuller, the vampy red shade she'd worn last night toned down to a demure peach. Then his eyes fell on the card by her bag.

"You work for the EWU?"

She snatched it up, not looking at him, and resumed her assault on her face.

"Well?" he pressed. If she did work for the European Wizarding Union, she certainly hadn't mentioned it last night, although come to think of it, he hadn't exactly bothered to ask. He hadn't even intended to stay the night, but somehow it had been easy to slip into bed and wrap her in his arms. Easier than Apparating back to the dragon sanctuary exhausted and half-pissed, at any rate.

She put down her wand. "I don't work for them. I consult for them."

"Oh?" That sounded even worse. What if she was here to spy on the sanctuary, providing evidence that would help the EWU shut it down? "What kind of consulting?"

"Rare magical creatures." She glared at him. "And nothing to do with dragons, before you ask."

"How did you know I...?"

She shrugged. "I was at school with one of your brothers. I pegged you as a Weasley as soon as I realised you were English, and when you said your name was Charlie...well. You're covered in badly healed burns, and the most famous dragon sanctuary in Europe's about thirty miles from here." She glanced sideways at him. "I am right, aren't I?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "For the time being, anyway. But if you're not here for us, what are you doing?"

"I can't tell you that. Sorry." She didn't sound it. Closing one eye, she touched her wand to her eyelid, which turned a dusky grey.

"Well." He considered attempting a goodbye kiss, but the atmosphere felt suddenly constrained. "How long are you in the area for?"

She shaded the other eyelid before meeting his gaze. "I'm leaving tonight." She looked at the card and pressed it into his hand abruptly. "I'll be back in a few weeks. Here's my card. Pansy Parkinson."

He nodded. "There was a Davinia Parkinson in my year."

"My cousin."

"She was in Slytherin, if I remember rightly."

"Mm-hmm."

He waited for her to elaborate -- after all, it wasn't a huge deal if she was a Slytherin. She obviously assumed he'd been in Gryffindor, but that was over fifteen years ago. But she broke away from his gaze, searching her bag for something. "I've got to go," she muttered.

"Me too." He'd be pushing it to get back to the sanctuary in time for patrol, even if he Apparated right back to Headquarters. Dragons kept early hours, and so did the wizards who tended them.

She looked up, and because he couldn't think of another way to end it, he leaned down and kissed her. When he pulled away, she gave a faint sigh that might have expressed regret. "Bye."

"I'll see you," he said, and Apparated away.

Several weeks later, Charlie's Cleansweep soared over the Viştea Mare peak and settled into a hover, taking in the full glory of the Făgăraș Mountains. The snow-covered ridge ran like the backbone of an enormous dragon from peak to peak, until it merged into the next section of the Carpathians. Fog roiled through the firs in the valley, but up here the air was clear and new, although an angry yellow cloud over the next peak indicated a looming storm.

It was the first day without snow in two weeks. He felt his body reviving as the wind tore through his layers of clothing; it was freezing, but who cared? This was much better than being cooped up indoors.

In the air, he felt freer than he ever did on land. He'd thought about going into Quidditch after school, but Quidditch could not offer the bleak beauty of the mountains, nor the adrenalin of dragon-tending. Besides, Charlie had loved Seeking, but he had not loved the audience. It was better up here: more peaceful.

He had spent the night in his private refuge, a cave long abandoned by the dragons as being too exposed to the elements. That did not matter to Charlie, who found that the judicious application of warming and screening charms protected him as much as he needed. He liked his fellow dragon handlers well enough, but Headquarters always felt a little too much like school when the weather came down. Occasionally, he escaped to Sibiu, as he and Ilie had done a month earlier. But when that wasn't possible, he used the cave.

Escaping his responsibilities had been difficult recently. Arriving back after his night with Pansy, he had found another letter from the EWU, this one requiring a full breakdown of the sanctuary's expenses and funding mechanisms. Since Viorica, the last employee to have bothered with the accounts, had left five months earlier, Charlie had spent the following week tethered to his desk, attempting to make sense of the spending (mainly on staff, but also on potion ingredients, medical care and safety equipment) and funding (virtually nil).

His report had been sent off three weeks ago and nothing had been heard until yesterday. After paying the owl, Charlie had dumped the unopened letter on his desk, where it had quickly been covered by more paperwork.

He pointed his Cleansweep higher, gathering speed as the valley fell away below him. Even the mountain over which he'd been hovering looked flattened and far away, although it was hard to judge distance in the snow. As he flew, he scoured the land for signs of activity. By rights the dragons should be quiet at this time of year, but one thing he'd learned in his fifteen years with them was that you never took their behaviour for granted.

When he had accepted the promotion to Sanctuary Manager, he'd been excited. Crina Constantinescu had been an excellent dragon handler and manager, but she had learned dragon lore from Harvey Ridgebit himself, and seemed unwilling to deviate from his outdated practices. Charlie had looked forward to testing out his own theories.

What he hadn't expected was for managing the place to take up so much of his time that he rarely got out among the dragons.

Dipping into another valley, this one free of fog but rippling with fir trees and the occasional refuge hut, he felt something release inside him; something he hadn't even known had been tense. How could he worry about bureaucracy in a place like this? He directed his broomstick down to the little escarpment he'd discovered a few months ago: the place that always made him feel at peace.

Then he saw the figure trudging through the snow far below, apparently making for the pine wood that covered half the valley.

For a second he craned his neck. Had he lost his bearings? No: there was the familiar double peak of Viştea Mare and Moldoveanu on his right. Below him was the network of caves where several dragons were wintering. And there was a wizard, wandering alone as if on some pleasure hike.

He sped up. Whoever it was, they must be a wizard; no Muggle had penetrated the deflecting charms and protective spells on the sanctuary lands in two decades. And wizard or not, they were in great danger.

The cloaked figure looked round and threw up a hand as Charlie brought the broomstick down, spraying snow in a ten-metre circle. He didn't wait for him or her to recover.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

The wizard's hand dropped, and Charlie gaped. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Pansy inspected her wand and swore under her breath. "If you could be quiet," she said in a low voice, "I'm busy here."

Charlie took a deep breath. "You're trespassing. Not only that, but you're trespassing in the nesting area of a dragon sanctuary, which takes the misdemeanour from being wrong to being criminally fucking stupid. Do you have any idea what nesting mothers are like?"

She bit her lip, but her voice was steady. "I've seen nesting dragons. I had to risk it."

"Why?" He glanced over his shoulder. According to Ilie's report, Norberta had been just beyond the tree line last night, but Merlin knew where she'd got to by now. "Never mind. We need to get out of here. We can talk at HQ." He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He raised his eyes to the heavy sky. "I'm giving you one more chance to come along without a fight."

"I told you, I'm not leaving!" He grabbed her arm harder this time, ignoring her struggles. "Will you get off me, there's a--"

Her voice had finally risen above a murmur, but he paid no attention, focusing on Apparating back to his office without splinching either of them or losing any broom bristles.

"How dare you!" she spat, staggering away from him and steadying herself on a chair.

"Oh, I'm really sorry," Charlie retorted, "for getting you out of a dangerous situation after you refused to come quietly."

"There's a bloody unicorn foal somewhere in those trees," she yelled.

He stopped short. "What?"

She turned with hands on hips. "I told you I had to risk it. I've been tracking it for days."

Since this was the first they'd seen of her, she must be pretty good. But Merlin only knew why they hadn't been told that some madwoman was hunting unicorns on their territory. "There've been no unicorns in these parts for twenty years," he said.

"Exactly." Her tone was clipped. "But this one exists. I was so close, just a few minutes behind, until you powered in on that stupid Cleansweep." She glared at him. "Do you have any idea how much work you threw away?"

Charlie's mind was whirling with the implications of her bombshell. "This area's protected -- for dragons. But unicorns..."

"Unicorns have a higher protection status in mainland Europe," she finished. "They take precedence."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She gestured to the paper-covered desk, and then to the owl sitting on its perch by the window, a tiny scroll tied to its leg. "Maybe if you checked your post instead of letting it pile up, you'd have had a bit more warning about this."

He wrenched around and forced himself to take the scroll gently from the owl. He even paid the creature and let it back out through the window before he unwrapped and read the letter, which was from his favourite correspondent, the European Committee for the Control and Preservation of Dangerous Magical Creatures. It was full of legalese, a language he'd never had any patience with, so he scanned it until a sentence stood out near the bottom.

The Category II reserve status of the following area of land is hereby revoked with immediate effect, until such time as the security of the creature subject to Category I protection is ensured.

Charlie reread the line, scanned up the parchment to check that he had understood it correctly, and met Pansy's gaze. "You can't do this."

"I don't make the Committee decisions," she said.

"Oh, that's right, you're a contractor." He couldn't keep the sneering note out of his voice. "But if you're a contractor tracking unicorns, it works out pretty well for you, doesn't it?" He kept his voice quiet. "How much are they paying you for this?"

"Nothing unless I find the foal."

"And if you do?"

"A considerable amount." She held his gaze. "You know as well as I do that unicorns are one of the rarest species on the planet these days. Preserving them for future generations is vital."

"Dragons are endangered, too." Even to himself, it sounded like a whine. He took a breath. "Or do you only care about the pretty creatures?"

"I care about whichever creature I'm detailed to find and protect," she said.

"Bloody Slytherins," he muttered.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Her cheeks coloured, belying her words.

"Let me see." Through the window, the mountains seemed to be mocking him. How on earth was he to clear a troop of dragons, some of them nesting mothers, others yearlings still dependent on their parents, off half of their territory? Where was he going to put them? "Slytherins are cold, calculating bitches who never do anything unless it's for themselves. Oh, and most of 'em supported Voldemort, back in the day."

"At least we have some sense of pride," she snapped. "Unlike Gryffindors, and especially unlike Weasleys. Was it Rita Skeeter who called you 'a stupidly big family of dim under-achievers?' Whoever it was, they were right."

They glared at each other. Charlie had a sudden vision of her a few weeks earlier, her eyes wide with pleasure as he fucked her. He shook his mind free of the memory.

"I need to figure out how to get my dragons to safety," he said quietly.

"And I need to get back to my unicorn."

He took a deep breath. Sending her out as dragon bait was tempting, but it would help no one, least of all the dragons. "I strongly advise you to stay put for the rest of the day," he said, "while we clear the area. The dragons'll be even more unpredictable than usual, and they won't like being moved."

She opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut. "Right." She pulled her bag off her shoulder. "Is there a room I can stay in here? I need to know the second I can get back into the area."

He closed his eyes. Great. But the sooner they sorted this out, the sooner she would be off his patch. "First floor, second door on the right. I presume you've got a sleeping bag and what have you?"

She nodded.

"Okay." He swept the paperwork aside until he found his map. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some pissed off dragons to deal with." He didn't look up again, and after a moment, her footsteps thudded down the hall.

At ten o'clock that night, Charlie and Ilie trudged wearily back to HQ behind the rest of the handlers. Moving dragons was never easy; attempting to move them now, with the snow line in place, the yearlings still close to their parents and the eggs half-way to hatching, was a nightmare. Hattie, who was difficult at the best of times, had nearly killed Dacia before consenting to be driven into the approved territory.

Thankfully, Hattie had been the only nesting mother in the site designated for shutdown by the EWU Committee. Charlie hoped that the egg would survive; horntails weren't as rare as unicorns, but they were high up on the endangered magical species list. And this was Hattie's first egg in a decade.

"If we lose that egg," Ilie said, "perhaps the Committee will realise they have to stop this. We can't keep losing land."

Charlie nodded, too weary to speak. He'd been furious with Pansy earlier as the catalyst for this latest incursion into the sanctuary. After a day of chasing dragons, however, he saw it as just one in a line of measures that would culminate in the loss of the dragon populations in Romania -- followed by other losses across the continent.

"It's as if they don't give a shit about us," Ilie continued. "We all know you can't make much money from protecting dragons."

"But you can't use them for other purposes unless you have a stable population," said Charlie, as if Ilie didn't know this.

"Yes." Ilie looked back across the swathe of moonlit snow. "Not much chance of stability here." He turned back toward the base with renewed purpose. "I'm exhausted. Beer and bed?"

Charlie shrugged his assent. "Just give me a minute," he said. "I'd better tell Unicorn Lady she can get back to her work in the morning."

He dragged himself up the old stone stairs. Headquarters had once been a border fort, built to withstand everything from marauding Vandals to Roman conquerors. During the Holy Roman Empire its owner had capitulated, and then capitalised on the power of the Empire to build his own power base, along with a new fortified castle. It had been disused for a century before Ridgebit had appropriated it as a base for the sanctuary, and was crumbling at the edges. But the foundations remained strong, and Charlie often found the memory of Hogwarts dogging his steps when he spent too long indoors.

Pansy did not answer his knock. After waiting for a couple of minutes, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

He recognised her bag on the bed, although it sagged, as if a large portion of its contents had been removed. There were one or two items of personal detritus on the old wooden desk, but of Pansy herself there was no sign.

Frowning, he checked the desk, and found a gum wrapper, an empty packet of nuts and a note.

Tracking my unicorn. Back asap.

Charlie swore. He should have realised she wouldn't stay put for the day; not if she'd been as close as she said she was to the unicorn.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. She hadn't mentioned a time on the note, and there had been nobody left in the building to see her go. He would just have to wait for her to return.

His beer and an Owl from the hospital in Sibiu were waiting in the dusty meeting room downstairs. Dacia was going to be fine, according to the mediwizard's report. He wasn't sure if it was the relief of hearing that or merely the alcohol topping off his exhaustion, but in a few short minutes, he was climbing the stairs once more, this time heading for his own room.

Throwing his clothes over the chair that served as his laundry basket, he made for the shower and soaped off the sweat, soot and blood as quickly as he could. Since their morning confrontation, he had spent the day not thinking about Pansy, ignoring the memory of her soft curves and the way she'd moaned as he thrust into her. In bed, he gave in, stroking himself, imagining her as she'd been that morning, hard and unflappable. He imagined her straddling him in the darkness, still half-dressed but riding him, riding them both somewhere else: a place far away from here, where his dragons could be safe.

She was still missing the next morning. Charlie waited a couple of hours; it was always possible that when darkness fell she had Apparated to the comfort of Sibiu rather than returning to HQ. But when there was still no sign of her at ten o'clock, and when the early patrol reported that Norberta was not to be found either, he grabbed his Cleansweep and a map and set off in pursuit.

Norberta should have been his biggest problem. He was furious that he had to worry more about Pansy, who had caused all the trouble in the first place. How dare she march in here with her stupid EWU backing and turn the sanctuary upside down?

As for Norberta, she was probably fine -- but equally probably, she had returned to some lair in the area that was now off-limits, which meant that in EWU terms she was classified as a feral dragon. Ilie had already taken out a group of handlers to look for her. It was crucial that they brought her back within the sanctuary before her transgression was reported. Aside from the threat that this would pose to Norberta's life, the sanctuary did not need any more problems with a bureaucracy half a continent away.

He began searching for Pansy at the place where he'd found her the previous day, and was unsurprised to see footprints trailing down the snowy slope. Of course she would have gone back there as soon as she could. He couldn't believe he'd thought differently yesterday.

It looked as if she had returned here and then headed directly into the forest. What took him a little longer to work out was where the other tracks had come from.

He traced his wand over the marks; the snow was sparser under the trees, but he could still make out muddy prints left by variously sized boots. Pansy seemed to have been joined by several other wizards soon after she set out. Had she had some kind of backup that she hadn't told him about? Perhaps she'd thought he'd been angry enough to see her alone, and decided not to mention that she was with a group.

The tracks followed a narrow path that wound through the pines, arriving at a junction where lots of prints were scuffed together, indicating that the walkers had halted. Charlie bent to inspect the ground.

A quick tracking charm confirmed his suspicions: several of the party had set off down the larger track, while one -- large prints, probably those of a man -- had taken the path to the left, and then returned to follow the others. On the way out, these tracks were erratic, as if their maker had been stumbling. Carrying a heavy load, perhaps? On the way back, they followed a regular pattern.

It was clear to Charlie that the larger path was the one to follow. But since he was here, he might as well check what the wizard on the smaller path had been up to. He marked the junction on his map and set off.

He no longer needed the tracking charm; although the path was narrow and overgrown, the footprints were deep, and had had the night to freeze, so that Charlie's boots stumbled over them like tractor ruts. About fifty metres along, there was a wide gouge in the track, as if the wizard had given up carrying his burden and simply dragged it, instead. Charlie's gaze followed the depressed earth until he reached what looked, for an instant, like a fallen, overgrown log. Then he saw the wide, dark eyes, and dashed forward.

He slashed the gag first, and Pansy gulped in air while he un-charmed her bindings.

"Thanks," she managed through chattering teeth.

"Never mind that." He hoisted her into a sitting position and she clung to him through her gloves. "We've got to get you back to HQ right now. Can you feel your fingers and toes?"

She nodded. "'m all right," she muttered. "They -- used warming charms. Already had them on my feet and hands. Only ran down a little while ago."

"Glad to hear it." He shifted so that his arm was around her shoulders, trying to ignore his body's reaction to her closeness, and the way she huddled into him. "But still, you've been out all night -- at least, I assume so?" She nodded. "Well, then, you need a mediwizard. Can you stand, d'you think?"

"No!" She shook her head violently. "I mean -- yeah, I can stand. But -- don't need a mediwizard, I need to get after those bastards before they reach my unicorns."

He stood up slowly, using his leg strength to pull her with him.

"Thanks," she murmured, and for an instant he thought she was going to kiss him. Then she stepped out of his arms, releasing his hands after a slight hesitation. "I'm all right."

She wasn't. She couldn't possibly be -- not after a night out in the open in one of the coldest parts of Europe, warming charms or no warming charms. But she was already tottering down the path, each step more assured than the last.

"Hey." He caught her arm, and was relieved when she leaned on him, although her pace did not slow.

"Got to catch up with them," she said, her eyes on the path. "Poachers."

"Ah." The various footprints he'd seen fell into place. "Not friends of yours, then."

"Certainly not!" she snapped. "And if they catch those animals before we do..."

Privately, Charlie thought that was extremely likely, given the poachers' head start, but he did not point this out. "Can we fly?" He indicated the broom that was hitched under his right arm.

"Maybe a little way." She bit her lip. "They took my wand. It was easier for them to use my charms rather than figure out their own. Unicorns don't like being tracked, especially by men."

"Well, no. We could use my wand, though."

She looked up at him. Although they were both swathed in gloves and thick coats, warmth seemed to be spreading between them, all the way down his left side. "Yes," she said with a nod. "That would be good."

Back at the junction, he pulled out his wand and map. Pansy took the wand, closing her eyes and muttering a tracking charm more complex than any Charlie had encountered before. The tip of his wand glowed pink, casting an odd, red shadow across the trampled snow and mud.

Pansy opened her eyes and bent over the map. "We need to go there." She pointed with the wand at a small lake on the other side of the valley.

"All right. We can fly there much faster than we can walk." He eyed her. "As long as you're sure you won't faint mid-flight, or anything."

He half-expected an angry retort, but she seemed to consider the matter. "No, I don't think so."

"Right, then." He folded the map away and patted his broomstick. He would leave the wand to her for now. "Climb on!"

The Cleansweep wasn't really made for two passengers, which meant that Pansy clung to him more tightly than she might otherwise have done, her thighs in their fleece-lined combats tight behind his own. Charlie let himself enjoy the sensation for a second before he took off, keeping the broomstick low until they were clear of the trees.

Out in the open, he gave the broomstick its head, and they rose in a wide arc over the pines. Pansy's gloved fingers interlaced over his stomach, and he looked around with a grin. She smiled back, although her eyes were still anxious. "Faster," she urged over the wind.

There was no fog today; it was beautifully clear, and the snow-topped pines sparkled below them. He urged the broom higher, and then the lake appeared, green and almost bowl-like beneath the soaring mountains.

Pansy's gloved hands tightened on his stomach as he angled the broomstick down again. It was almost a shame to land so quickly. He was glad he'd been able to share this view with her, even briefly.

She shifted position, and he had enough time to register her knee moving against his thigh before she pointed ahead. "There!"

It looked like the camp sites used by hikers around these mountains -- but not in December, surely? He glanced back to acknowledge that he'd heard her, and pointed the Cleansweep into a dive.

He had intended to go in fast, but suddenly she was clutching his shoulder. "Oh, no," she said brokenly. "Oh, no, oh, no, please, no..."

Slowing the broom, he surveyed the scene below. It wasn't technically a camp, he realised; there were no tents. But several rucksacks were strewn across a triangle about ten metres wide. At the apex of the triangle was a large, crumpled shape, barely visible against the sparkling snow.

"No, no," Pansy was saying. "Please, no..."

As they landed, she unhooked her legs from the broom and stumbled toward the white shape, legs buckling as she reached it. Charlie dropped the Cleansweep and followed her.

Pansy was already muttering healing charms, but they would do no good. The unicorn's belly had been slashed open, and silvery blood had greyed the snow for several metres around. Charlie pulled off his glove and placed a gentle hand on the animal's muzzle, careful not to touch the bloody wound between its eyes. An eye fluttered open, but no intelligence looked out. The unicorn was already gone.

"Pansy," he said, as she murmured feverishly, holding his wand against the creature's ravaged underbelly. "Pansy, stop. You're just prolonging its suffering."

Still staring at the spilling innards of the unicorn, she made no protest as he reclaimed his wand. He recited a painkilling charm, one that he had modified to work for the biggest dragons. The creature's shuddering continued; he would have to trust that that was a physical reaction, and that its agony was lessened by the charm.

They waited while the little clouds of condensation around the creature's muzzle dissipated. Over the wind, Charlie heard Pansy's ragged breaths, and covered her hand with his own. Even dying, the unicorn was beautiful: no longer ethereal but savage and earthy and so very wild.

They felt her go. Something serene seemed to leave the atmosphere with her final breath. Charlie waited, watching Pansy out of the corner of his eye.

She stroked the silver mane once, and pushed herself up to a standing position. "We need to find the foal...oh."

He turned, following her gaze. Several metres away was one of the rucksacks he'd seen from the air -- except that now he saw it close up, it definitely wasn't a rucksack.

Springing toward it, he turned the figure over. The man was perhaps forty, with straggling dark hair under his blue hat. Charlie passed his palm over the man's bluish lips, but there was no need; he was clearly dead. His parka was ripped open at the front, and the snow on which he had been lying was stained a livid red. Gently, Charlie pushed up the parka to reveal a deep puncture wound in the abdomen, one that could only have been made by a sharp weapon -- such as a unicorn horn.

Pansy's shadow fell across the dead man. "They didn't even wait for her to die before taking her horn," she said coldly; "no wonder they didn't bother to care for this one."

He looked up. "Is this one of the people who attacked you?"

She nodded, mopping her cheeks with a glove, and held out her hand. "Can I have the wand?"

He handed it over. She repeated the complex spell she had used earlier, and the wand glowed pink again. Golden sparks flowed from the tip toward the dead unicorn and appeared to be absorbed by it. A second set of sparks swirled around the lake to a wooded section at the foot of a high peak.

"We need to head that way." She nodded toward the wood.

"We need to deal with this," he corrected her, but she shook her head.

"No. We can deal with all this later." She waved a hand at the two bodies. "We might still save the foal."

They set off on foot this time, although not until Charlie had pulled out his stash of home-made mint cake and persuaded Pansy to eat some. It brought a little colour back to her cheeks, and as they approached the wood she seemed to relax slightly.

"The foal'll have more chance under the trees," she explained. "A more even chance, anyway. I expect that's why the mother made a stand by the lake, to buy her foal some time."

Charlie pictured the unicorn, shining even in death, in contrast to the very mundane sight of the dead man. "Where's the stallion?"

Pansy shook her head angrily. "Killed a hundred miles south of here. That was actually the tip-off that there might be a live unicorn somewhere, when an extra source of powdered horn turned up on the market. The potion dealers have to report all their sources now, because of the new legislation. I came looking, and...there were the tracks. Mother and foal."

"Is that what you were doing here a few weeks ago?"

She nodded. "Checking out the area. And looking for poachers. I couldn't find any sign of them, which was the main point of checking up." Her voice was bitter. "Apparently I fucked up."

"Lucky they didn't get the mother and foal along with the stallion." It was just like his dragons, Charlie thought. They spent half their time on the sanctuary keeping the dragons away from people, and the other half keeping people away from the dragons.

"That's why we had to rush through that EWU decision, about the land." Her glance at him was almost apologetic. "The poachers were spotted in Sibiu last week."

"Well, your way's clear now." He couldn't quite keep the bitterness from his tone. Not with Hattie's egg at risk and Norberta missing. Not with a dead unicorn and a dead man back there by the lake.

"Yes. Thank you." She sounded as if she meant it.

They were under the trees again, close to the caves from which Hattie, Norberta and several other dragons had been cleared the previous day. Pansy still held Charlie's wand aloft in front of her, although the tracks of wizards and a four-footed animal, presumably the unicorn foal, were clearly visible here.

He watched her as she strode ahead, betraying no sign of fatigue. This was the first time either of them had alluded to their first meeting in Sibiu. Was she thinking of it as much as he was? She betrayed no hint of the desire she'd seemed so comfortable with that night, but nor, he hoped, did he. He'd had other things on his mind, but it was still there, every time he looked at or spoke to her: that connection, that thread of want, twined with and strengthened by the memory of their passion.

Pansy bent to check something on the ground, straightened and moved on. Charlie had to admire her professionalism; whatever her affiliation with the EWU, she was obviously practised at her trade.

He moved alongside her. "How many unicorns've you found recently?" he asked in a low voice.

She glanced at him, her lips taut. "Not as many as I'd like."

"You ever work with Hagrid up at Hogwarts? He never seemed to have any trouble tracking them down, foals and all."

Did she stiffen slightly? "No," she answered. "I've been out of Europe for a while."

"But he'd be pretty useful at tracking them," Charlie persisted. "If you really need to find them."

She turned to face him. "I'm pretty useful at tracking unicorns," she said. "That's why I'm here." She walked on for a moment, then added. "I'm sure Hagrid's very good at what he does."

Which made it perfectly clear that she wasn't sure at all. "Not your favourite person, then?" Charlie ducked under a branch. "I used to like old Hagrid. Heart of gold, and all that."

She glanced at him under her dark lashes. "Yeah, you would."

"Well, yeah." He ignored the jibe. "He's the reason I do what I do. He wasn't a professor in my day, but he knew more about animals than anyone I've met before or since."

"Do you know what he did in my fourth year?" She was marching ahead, head turning as she checked for signs of life, although the wand still pointed down the track. "He crossbred a manticore with a fire crab and Merlin knows what else -- I'm pretty sure there was some acromantula in there, as well -- and made them into a project for us. He had no idea what they might be capable of -- they were bloody dangerous, always shooting stuff out of different orifices -- and even when they grew to the size of a house, we had to face them in the lesson every week." She shuddered. "They were disgusting."

"Not as cute as unicorns, eh?" He was grinning when the knut dropped. "Hey, you mean the blast-ended ... what did he call them? I saw them -- they were part of the Triwizard Tournament."

"I heard about that." Her tone was wary, but then she seemed to brighten. "Never heard what Hagrid did with them after. Do you know?"

"Let them loose in the forest," Charlie replied absently. "I expect they died of natural causes pretty quickly -- I know he couldn't get them to breed. Hang on -- your fourth year? You must've been in the same year as my brother, Ron."

"Uh...Ron?" She kept her face averted. "Yeah, I think I remember him."

Charlie laughed. "Well, I suppose you remember being at school with Harry Potter?"

"Look, we had different friends, all right?"

"Ah, yeah." He smirked. "I forgot -- Slytherin."

She froze, her arm shooting out to halt him. Ahead of them, the trees were clearing, pale sunlight dappling the bark and the snow that coated the ground. The end of Charlie's wand was glowing a deep purple.

Pansy's eyes were bright when she looked at him. "If I say stop," she murmured fiercely, "you stop, okay? I'll tell you when and if you can get close."

For a second, she sounded exactly like Professor Kettleburn, and the comparison made him grin as he nodded.

She gave him a glare that didn't quite mask her excitement, and moved off noiselessly. He followed her until her arm came out again and he had an instant to relish her touch before he saw what was ahead.

In horrified silence, they ran forward into a small clearing that had been created, very recently by the look of it, by heavy impact from above. Several trunks of varying thickness had snapped a few metres from the ground, their upper branches dangling or balanced against the roots. The area was probably five metres square, and in the centre were three dessicated shapes. Not deer; in his decade of working with dragons, Charlie had seen plenty of dead deer. Not even bears, who occasionally came off badly in encounters with the dragons, or cows, who came off even worse. These were humans; scraps of clothing clung to dessicated skin and bone, fluttering obscenely in the wind. Beside one body was a pool the colour of dark silver: some kind of melted equipment.

Charlie bent over the remains, covering his mouth and swallowing bile. This is going to be really bad for business. He could not unthink the thought once it was out, although he was ashamed of it.

Beside him, Pansy looked as if she was about to be sick. Charlie swallowed again, and forced himself to approach the body that looked most like a body. When he turned it over, he doubled over and gave in to the demands of his stomach. Whichever of the dragons had done this had torched the first two wizards, but it had saved this one for meat.

He wanted to run. He wanted to lead Pansy back the way they had come, make her promise to keep silent, and not ever have to return to this scene. But it wouldn't do, not with three -- no, four -- dead wizards to account for. He forced himself to check the charred pockets of the dead man until he found something that might help to identify the victims.

There was a wallet containing a couple of Romanian galleons. In another pocket was a small, silky bag that, when Charlie pulled it out, expanded to the size of a rucksack. He pulled it open, checked inside, and gingerly pulled out a slim, pale unicorn horn.

He held it out wordlessly to Pansy, who turned it over in her hand. She looked as if she was about to cry.

"It's the mother's, I suppose?"

She nodded.

"So the foal might still be alive. It might not have been here when..." When one of his dragons fried this lot. Please let it have been gone, he prayed. He could deal with a dragon knocking off a gang of illegal poachers. He wasn't so sure about it eradicating a rare unicorn.

She pulled out his wand and bent to inspect the ground, which had been scorched free of snow. As Charlie leaned down to help, his ears picked up the familiar beat of a dragon's wing. He looked up in time to see Norberta's black muzzle rearing over the top of the nearest pine.

He snatched the wand from Pansy, who gave an angry exclamation, but Norberta flew on as if she had not seen them. Charlie watched, open-mouthed, and grabbed Pansy. "Come on!"

They took off while she was still getting her balance, and she clutched at him anxiously, but he had no attention to spare for her. Not now, not when Norberta was escaping. All he could think of as he streaked after the dragon was that he had to get to her before the EWU did.

Pansy's from the EWU.

Yes, he reasoned, but she's here; she's not some bureaucrat in an office in Brussels.

Ahead of them, Norberta's tail flipped and she plunged toward the mountainside and the caves in which the dragons occasionally hibernated. Charlie turned the broomstick to land at a safe distance from the dragon, who waited with nostrils flaring.

He moved forward slowly, keeping up a soothing murmur but alert to any sign of attack. To his knowledge, Norberta hadn't attacked a staffer in a decade, but she was still a wild creature and, he was miserably certain, responsible for the little scene in the clearing they had just left.

"Come on, girl," he said quietly. "It's all right, now. Let's just get you back where you belong, and we'll get this straightened out."

She was standing in front of one of the caves. Charlie moved around to approach her from the side but stopped when she snorted and tossed her head. He was suddenly aware of Pansy alongside him. "Get back," he murmured to her fiercely, but she shook her head.

"Charlie -- your wand!"

The tip was glowing purple again; presumably Pansy's tracking spell was still active. As he moved the wand from side to side, sparks shot from it, illuminating Norberta's black scales in shimmering silver, and streaked behind her into the cave.

Pansy jerked, as if about to dart past Norberta and into the cave. Then Norberta growled, a sound so menacing that it rippled the hairs on Charlie's arm, and Pansy sagged.

At that moment, a faint light appeared behind Norberta, who shifted slightly, keeping her muzzle turned toward Charlie. Pansy clutched his arm.

A few metres away, in the cave mouth, was a small, golden unicorn.

Charlie and Pansy returned to Headquarters once a patrol had arrived to keep watch over the dragon and the unicorn. There was no question of moving Norberta now; not when the unicorn might be hurt in the struggle. Charlie wondered if that was why she had gone missing from the sanctuary in the first place, drawn by the innocence of the unicorn foal.

"I'll tell them what the dragon did," Pansy said as they stood on the steps of the old castle. "I'll tell them she was protecting the unicorn."

Charlie nodded his thanks. Whatever Pansy said, it was unlikely to mitigate Norberta's fate with the Committee for the Control and Preservation of Dangerous Magical Creatures. Not with four dead wizards on the balance sheet. He felt the arguments formulating in his mind: they were in her territory, in a clearly marked dragon sanctuary, they were hunting unicorns... None of that would help if the EWU committee decided to make an example of Norberta. Or of the sanctuary as a whole.

Pansy touched his arm and his skin tingled despite his layers of clothing. The air flashed white around them, as if something bright had been reflected in the snow. He looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Let me know if I can do anything," she said.

She was biting her lip; as he looked down at her, she flushed, but held his gaze. This was the first time since Sibiu that they'd had a moment's respite, he realised. The first time they'd faced each other as Charlie and Pansy, not dragon sanctuary versus EWU. For an instant, he was tempted to follow her upstairs, undress her and forget his troubles for a while. She looked as if she could have done with that, too.

A dragon bellowed in the distance and she dropped her hand.

"You get some rest," he said. "And food -- the kitchen's down on the right. I'll show you, and then I need to check on my dragons."

As they turned on the step, there was another flash, and a strange figure wearing khaki green robes and a deerstalker emerged from behind a tree. "Mr Veasley, I presume." He hurried forward with hand outstretched.

Charlie kept his hand by his side. "Who the hell are you?"

The photographer swept off his deerstalker and bowed. "Stelian Balescu of the Vrăjitorie Ziarul," he said in accented English. "Can you confirm rumours that your dragons are running wild? That innocent people have been slaughtered?"

"No, I can't," Charlie snapped, and repeated it in Romanian for good measure.

Balescu leaned closer, his breath puffing white around Charlie's face. "They are saying," he whispered, "that one of your dragons is a killer. They say it hunts down humans like rabbits. Can you confirm this?"

Pansy stepped forward. "You know who are killers? People who hunt animals to the brink of extinction for the sake of a few galleons."

Balescu smiled. "And you are?"

"Pansy Parkinson. I work for the EWU, and you can quote me." She stalked inside the castle, leaving Balescu looking pleased. He turned to Charlie.

"But a dragon is a wild animal, yes? Should they be kept so close to human activity?"

"There is no human activity round here," Charlie snapped. "Not normally, anyway. That's the whole point. Now get lost, please. I've got dragons to see to and a report to write."

There was no sign of Pansy inside the castle. He looked from his open office door to the staircase, wondering if she was in her room, slipping off her clothing or heading for the showers. His body urged him to go after her. But he really did have a report to write, if he had any chance of convincing the EWU to let Norberta go.

With a shrug, he turned into his office.

Next morning, Charlie was on the front page of the Vrăjitorie Ziarul, along with a photograph of an unknown dragon belching fire at the reader. When he turned the page, four wizards stared out at him. He recognised one as the man who had been gored by the unicorn.

SLAUGHTERED, screamed the headline. Below it in smaller lettering, Stelian Balescu asked, "How many more of us must die?"

"Shit!"

"Bad news?" Pansy asked. She was poring over a map in the corner of the office, making notes on a piece of parchment.

He shrugged. "Fucking press." This was not going to help Norberta's case with the EWU.

There was a small 'pop' from the fireplace; turning sharply in case a reporter had somehow obtained access, Charlie came face to face with Ron -- or at least, with his head, which was sitting in the grate.

"All right, mate?" With an effort, he dragged his attention from the newspaper. It wasn't Ron's fault that he was exhausted and irritated, and he didn't see enough of his family.

"All right," answered Ron. His gaze travelled around the room, mouth twisting as he saw Pansy, and Charlie sighed inwardly. He had already deduced that there was some history between them. He hoped it wasn't about to blow up in his face.

"How's it going over there?" he asked, hoping to head Ron off with a bit of family gossip.

"Well," Ron said slowly, "there was a bit of a funny story about you in the Prophet this morning."

Oh, Merlin. He hadn't expected the dragon disaster to get that far, at least, not that quickly.

"Look, it's not as bad as it sounds," he said. "I mean, yeah, the story's got something to it, but...don't worry, okay?"

"I can see it's got some truth in it." Ron's eyes drifted to Pansy, a little to Charlie's left. "What's she doing here?"

"Work stuff," Charlie said, glancing at Pansy, who had gathered the map to her as if it were armour. "Listen, Ron, whatever the Prophet says, it's not as bad as that. You know what they're like." He forced himself to focus. "In fact, I'm glad you called, because we could use some damage limitation over there." Support from the UK might be crucial in counteracting the inevitable outcry in Europe about Norberta's misdemeanours. He considered the candidates who might turn public opinion in the dragons' favour: not Hagrid, there was too much prejudice around, but perhaps Grubbly Plank? Or maybe... "Could you get onto Herm-"

But Ron was already speaking, still glaring at Pansy. "I should think you do need damage limitation." He was flushed. "Seeing as you're shagging the girl who tried to sell out Harry the night Fred died."

"I'm not..." Charlie began, but Ron ignored him, ploughing on through what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech.

"I mean, of all the people you could've picked, did it have to be bloody Malfoy's leavings? His wife's just had a son, I bet that's why she's after you. On the rebound."

In the seconds that Charlie took to process this, Pansy turned, her face bloodless, and Apparated away.

He looked back at Ron, who was still scowling. "Better you heard it from family than in the press," he muttered.

Charlie imagined, very precisely, punching Ron's head out of the fireplace. "What the hell was that about?" he demanded. "What right do you have to say that sort of shit in front of her? I don't care if it was true," he added as Ron opened his mouth. "You've never done anything you're ashamed of? Right, well, don't expect any forgiveness from me next time you do."

Ron's hand appeared, running through his hair while his head spun from side to side amid the flames. "I just thought you should know," he said eventually. "Wasn't expecting her to be here, was I?"

"Why not, if you thought we were shagging?" Charlie asked savagely. "Which we're not, but she was my best bloody chance of saving this sanctuary, so thanks very much for ballsing that up."

Ron's eyes were wide. "You mean you're not...?" He glanced down. "Shit, the photo made it look so real, but I should've known what they can do. Shit."

Charlie deliberately did not think of the night he and Pansy had spent together. One-offs didn't count.

"Shit," Ron repeated. His head was turning from side to side again. "I'm sorry. Shit, I knew I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions...sorry, mate." With an agonised glare at Charlie, he disappeared.

Charlie paused only to grab his jacket before going in search of Pansy. She wasn't in her room -- or if she was, she wasn't answering. Nor was she to be seen anywhere near the cave in which the unicorn was sheltering, now guarded by Ilie and several other handlers. He even checked the lake where they'd found the dying mother, before giving up and heading off on his patrol shift.

After work, he set up camp next to Norberta, ostensibly to do his part in the job of guarding the unicorn. Somehow, the press hadn't learned of its presence, and he intended to keep things that way for as long as possible.

Norberta seemed to have realised that the dragon handlers were protecting the unicorn, too. She now allowed them to approach the cave, and Ilie told Charlie that she had disappeared for a while, probably to hunt. It looked as if she was gradually resuming her normal habits; Charlie only hoped that those would not include eating wizards.

It was dark when Pansy finally appeared, and she didn't meet his gaze. She spent a few minute talking quietly to the foal and muttering calming charms, although if anyone seemed to need these it was Pansy and Charlie, not Norberta or the unicorn. As she walked away, she glanced at Charlie and gave a little sigh when he fell into step beside her.

"I suppose," she said in a clipped voice, "you want to know about me trying to betray Harry."

"None of my business," Charlie said. "Although," he added, "I was a bit curious." Had she been at Hogwarts on the night Voldemort fell? Charlie's memories of it were confused -- confused and veiled in the black despair of Fred's death. For parts of that night, he could have seen Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle and not really noticed.

"What you have to understand," Pansy said in a small, hard voice, "is that I grew up hating Harry and your brother. At school, they thought they were so cool. The Potters had been killed by the Dark Lord, and back then Harry was...Harry. Everything was black and white for them. My best friend was Draco Malfoy, and they were always picking on him, always fighting." She paused. "I can see now that it wasn't all black and white from our side, either. Anyway, there was Harry, who I'd always despised, and who my parents and their friends hated because...because they supported the Dark Lord. And then suddenly, he was back, and my parents were terrified." The darkness hid her expression, but not the tears in her voice. Charlie remembered sitting in the hospital wing with his family, listening numbly as Dumbledore told them of Voldemort's resurrection.

"So I hated Harry, and Ron and Hermione," Pansy continued, "but I soon realised that my parents' feelings about the Dark Lord were even stronger than their feelings about Harry. These were people who supported the movement, but they were terrified of him! And at school, there was Draco, who was risking his life, doing all sorts of awful things, because he'd ordered it. Draco was terrified, too, and so was I, and then, that night, Harry turned up, and suddenly the Dark Lord was speaking in this voice that seemed to see right inside you." She shuddered. "Telling us that if we didn't hand over Harry we'd all die."

Charlie waited, watching the snowy ground so that he did not have to look at her.

"I'm not proud of this," she went on, "but I'm not exactly ashamed, either. I only said what half the others were thinking. I said, why didn't we hand him over, he was right there." She shook her head. "Well, you know it didn't happen. And much as it pains me to admit this, I am actually glad, because now I don't have to live in fear of the Dark Lord. But that's what I said." She faced him, her arms folded. "And I'd probably say it again. It made sense."

"Slytherins," Charlie said, shaking his head, and she turned away. The stupid thing was, he could see her point entirely. Except that it had been Harry she'd tried to hand over, and while Charlie was not as attached to Harry as the rest of his family was, not having had much to do with him, he could well imagine how the others would have felt about Pansy's suggestion.

This did not bode well for a cosy introduction to his family. The thought shocked him; since that first, admittedly fantastic, night, they hadn't even kissed. And here he was, imagining taking her to meet his mum?

"As for the other thing your brother said..." Pansy's voice was hard, and Charlie turned to her quickly.

"None of my business," he said, and meant it this time.

Pansy was shaking her head. "What right does he...he has no idea how... just because the one boy I went out with happened to be his worst enemy..."

"I don't care," Charlie said. He longed to touch her, to show her how little he cared, but she seemed so wrapped up in her own memories, he didn't know how to reach her.

"Well, I do," she burst out. "Because that's what people think, isn't it? People like your brother, and everyone else who was on the right bloody side of that stupid war. They just go around saying stupid things, because it makes them feel better to imagine that they were all completely righteous and we were completely wrong. My father died in Azkaban!" She was sobbing now, her breathing deep and jagged. "He stood up for what he believed in, and I did what I thought was right, but no, we were on the wrong side, so we have to suffer, because if you punish us, you'll have proved, somehow, that the war was worth it, that all the people who died did it for something worthwhile, instead of it just being a stupid waste of suffering and misery."

"It was worthwhile," Charlie said sharply. Fred's face loomed in his mind, and George's, afterward. "Voldemort was a blight on the world; we had to get rid of him. Your father went to prison; my brother died, so don't say my family hasn't suffered."

They glared at one another, their breath misting between them in the darkness. Charlie was puzzled as well as angry; a moment ago he'd longed to kiss her, to comfort her, to make up for Ron's behaviour. No longer.

"I knew this was stupid," Pansy muttered, and turned away.

An Owl from Ron was waiting for Charlie when he got back to Headquarters, along with a clipping from the Daily Prophet.

Shit, I'm sorry, it began. Ron rarely went in for formalities when it came to letter-writing. Charlie rolled his eyes, and continued reading.

I jumped to conclusions there -- after reading the article you'll see why, but I've seen enough stupid crap printed in that paper to know that it was rubbish. Like you'd ever take up with Pansy Parkinson!

What's she doing there, though? Because seriously, she was a right bitch at school, I'll tell you that for free. She was slightly better than Malfoy, but only because Malfoy's family were Voldemort's lapdogs. Apart from that, there wasn't much to choose between them.

She's been out of the country ever since it happened; apparently she's been working in the States. Too embarrassed to show her face around here, probably. She's not working at the sanctuary, is she? At school, she used to make a right fuss about Hagrid's lessons. Except for the unicorns, but everyone liked the unicorns, so that doesn't count.

Anyway, be careful of her. Especially because in the international news I found what I think you were actually talking about when I thought you were talking about shagging Pansy Parkinson: looks like one of your dragons ran amok and killed someone, yeah?

Hermione said to tell you she's on the case right now. She did loads of research when Hagrid's hippogriff was tried for hurting a student. (Oh, yeah, and the student? Draco Bloody Malfoy, ex-boyfriend of the lovely Miss Parkinson. He barely had a scratch, but he milked it for all he was worth and you know how that worked out.) Anyway, Hermione'll be in touch about that, and in the meantime I'm really sorry if I put my foot in it this morning. I hope Parkinson doesn't have too much to do with your dragons.

Ron

The last few lines were full of deletions and revisions. Charlie sighed and unfolded the article.

It was illustrated by a large photograph of Charlie and Pansy, standing on the steps of the castle. As he watched, Pansy touched his arm and they stared at one another. There was no kissing, no embrace, but to Charlie, the attraction between them was palpable.

The headline read: "Wounded war vet finds love in adversity", and continued: "After losing his brother in the Battle of Hogwarts, Charlie Weasley retired to Romania to nurse his wounds tending dangerous magical creatures. Now he has found love with Pansy Parkinson, who once fought against him at Hogwarts."

He put it down in disgust, but was drawn back to it by the photograph. Pansy's eyes softened as she looked at him, and each time she reached for him, he could almost feel his arm tingling.

She was probably in her room; he could go up there and try to make things right.

But could he? If she hadn't turned up here looking for unicorns, the dragon sanctuary would be safe. Those poachers might not have got through if they'd been patrolling the area as usual, instead of being tied up with keeping the dragons off half of their territory. Besides, he and Pansy might be attracted to one another, but the chances of them actually making a relationship work were zero; they had established that not half an hour ago.

Charlie threw Ron's letter into the fire, and stared at the photograph in his hands.

Next morning, he woke to the news that an EWU patrol had arrived to guard the unicorn -- and Norberta. The fact that nobody had seriously suggested moving her worried Charlie more than anything else. But this was wiped from his mind when Ilie mentioned that Pansy had departed for Brussels.

"What?"

"As soon as we showed the patrol where to go." Ilie eyed him knowingly.

"Right." Charlie glugged his tea so as not to look at his friend. So it was over with -- not that it had even begun. He emptied his mug, annoyed with himself for thinking otherwise. At least now he could focus on ensuring the survival of the dragon sanctuary, and of Norberta.

He sighed inwardly when he saw his post: an Owl from his mother, several requests for interviews and two letters bearing the stamp of the European Wizarding Union.

After skimming and discarding the interview requests, he opened his mother's letter with some trepidation. As he suspected, it referred to yesterday's Prophet article. Which he had hidden carefully in his room before any of his colleagues could see it, and which he had pulled out several times during the night. Of course, he knew exactly where it had been taken, and when. What he didn't understand was how he could feel such longing to be back there on those steps, with her reaching for him, so that this time he could pull her close. He couldn't shake the suspicion that if he'd done that, yesterday's scene might have been avoided.

His mother had included several pieces of news, but the focus of her letter was obvious. As I gather you know, she had written, a story is circulating over here about your love life. I understand from Ginny that this Pansy wasn't exactly friends with Ron and Harry at school, but we all change, so I'm sure if you like her she must be a nice girl. Of course, there may be nothing in it! But if the story is true, I look forward to meeting her next time you're home.

Charlie smiled despite himself. His poor old mum; she'd been hoping he would bring someone home to meet her for fifteen years now. He was a little touched that she still found time to worry, given that all his siblings were happily partnered up and producing babies.

He set the letter aside, made himself another cup of tea and, unable to put it off any longer, unrolled the first EWU parchment.

Dear Mr Weasley, it said in narrow, careful writing.

With reference to the events that have recently taken place regarding the creatures under your care, we hereby request your presence at a meeting of the Committee for the Control and Preservation of Dangerous Magical Creatures tomorrow, 15 December, in Brussels. We have sent a Portkey for this purpose; you may activate it at 11.00 CET tomorrow morning.

Please ensure that your animals are adequately sequestered and in reliable hands before leaving. No more tragedies will be accepted.

Yours faithfully,

Malin Widegren
Minister for the Care of Magical Creatures

pp
Arnold Whump

Well, that was that. Charlie eyed the second package; the fact that they had bothered to send a Portkey did not bode well. They wanted him at this meeting. Probably so they could sack him and the rest of the handlers and disband the sanctuary altogether.

Well, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

Charlie's Portkey dumped him in a slushy alley behind a row of art deco buildings one street back from the river. Staggering to his feet, he found himself face to face with a dilapidated shed and a voice saying calmly, "Bienvenue à l'Union européenne des communautés magies. Welcome to the European Union for the Magical Community. Velkommen til-"

"English," Charlie said and the voice broke off.

"Please state your name, destination and business."

When he did so, the door swung back to allow him entry. Only when it closed behind him did the room brighten with candlelight, revealing a plain interior and an arrow beside a doorway on the far side of the room.

He knew where he was now, and toiled up the stairs, mentally rehearsing his speech. He had to play this right. He was not good at sweet-talking -- at any kind of talking, really. He was good at dragons. But if his dragons were going to have a home by this afternoon, he would need all his verbal skills, along with a hefty slice of luck.

The door was open when he reached the room; several people chatted in the corridor, obviously waiting for the meeting to begin. A couple of them nodded at him, but they looked sober, and nobody spoke to him.

Charlie leaned against the wall in an attempt at nonchalance. He had known some of these people for five years, ever since he had taken over management of the sanctuary. He was on friendly terms with a couple of the younger witches -- or thought he was -- and Malin Widegren, once an inspiring anthropologist and now a minister in the EWU, was one of the reasons he was working in dragon conservation in the first place.

At that moment, Madam Widegren strode through a doorway at the opposite end of the corridor, shook hands with several people, and nodded formally at Charlie. "Let us go in," she ordered.

Inside, the committee members arranged themselves around three sides of the table, leaving Charlie to sit opposite the minister. He focused on pulling out his notes because it was better than pretending that all these people weren't preparing to take away his livelihood and his dragons' home.

A rangy wizard in dark green robes was closing the door when it was pushed open again and Pansy stepped inside. "I apologise," she said breathlessly. "I had urgent business elsewhere."

Various members of the committee nodded or smiled at her. She was perfectly attired in magenta robes that outlined her curves without flaunting them. Looking at her, Charlie would never have guessed that two days previously she had been running all over the Romanian countryside after dragons and unicorns. She gave Charlie a small, firm nod, and took a seat on his left.

"You're on the committee?" he muttered.

"Adjunct member," she said. "Called in when specialist knowledge is required."

Called in to hammer the nail into his coffin, more likely. He looked down at his notes again, running a finger down the parchment, but his mind was on Pansy. He was grateful when Madam Widegren coughed and said in her musical drawl, "Well, I think we can get started, don't you?"

The chatter subsided and everyone looked at her expectantly.

"Today's meeting was called to discuss the recent tragedy involving a dragon in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary." She looked down her nose at the parchment on her desk. "Also the very positive discovery of a unicorn foal, close to the same sanctuary. In fact, the land on which the unicorn is currently accommodated was part of the sanctuary until its protected status was changed a few days ago, due to the suspected presence of the unicorn. All correct, master secretary?"

The young man on her left muttered an assent, and she leaned over her parchment again. "Two days ago, a dragon escaped from the sanctuary and killed three wizards who were pursuing the unicorn. This is more than a regrettable incident; it is a tragedy that must never recur." She glared at Charlie for a moment, and he nodded, biting back his protests. He had to handle this correctly.

"Mr Weasley, you may now explain how this happened." Madam Widegren sat back and looked at him.

He took a deep breath. "Minister Widegren, you know -- all of you know -- that the land on which the dragon attacked those men was the dragons' own land just a few days earlier. We had to move them -- we had to move nesting mothers, and you remember from the Triwizard Tournament how difficult the logistics of that are. We had to do it with almost no notice." Beside him, Pansy shifted in her seat. "The sanctuary also houses several young dragons, who are notoriously unaccommodating and extremely territorial." He glanced down at his notes to make sure he was saying everything in the right order. "The dragon in question had been based in that part of the sanctuary for ten years. Except for the dragon handlers, humans had always been kept well away from the area."

"And yet," Madam Widegren eyed him over her glasses, "several humans were allowed to trespass deep into this area."

"They were poachers, Madam Widegren," Pansy put in before Charlie could speak, "hunting the unicorns. They were used to evading attention from wizards and animals alike."

A plump woman on Charlie's right leaned forward. "Do I understand that they actually succeeded in murdering the adult unicorn before they were...before the tragedy occurred?"

"Yes, Madam Grittmeier." Pansy's voice was calm, with no trace of the anguish she had exhibited a few days earlier. "They killed the mother for her horn and tail. The horn was found in an Impervious Pocket on one of the bodies."

Charlie held his breath amid the rustling that followed. There was no way of telling whether this would count for or against Norberta and the sanctuary. Madam Widegren seemed to think he should have kept the poachers off the land, even though it had been taken out of his control.

"And where is the foal now?" It was the rangy man who had closed the door on Pansy; his nametag announced him as Stavius Pinchback, a name Charlie recognised from his correspondence with the EWU.

"It's under guard." Pansy glanced at Charlie. "In the sanctuary. I mean, the land that was part of the sanctuary until a few days ago."

"Is it safe?" It was Madam Widegren again.

"For the moment." She took a quick breath. "The dragon killed those poachers to protect the unicorn. That's pretty clear from the evidence. We found it guarding the foal."

"Circumstantial evidence," said Madam Grittmeier.

"And yet," Madam Widegren remarked, "it is compelling, yes?"

"I have a suggestion," Pansy said, raising her voice. "We could turn the situation to our advantage if we presented a PR campaign and implied that the poachers had killed all the known unicorns in the area. That would almost guarantee public support, while diverting attention from the presence of the remaining unicorn." Charlie stared at her, but she was looking urgently at Madam Widegren.

"Thus also deflecting attention from the men who died," Madam Widegren mused, "or rather, deflecting the blame back on them. A nasty thing to do, Ms Parkinson." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"My job is to preserve endangered creatures and their habitats," Pansy said. "I've no time for poachers. With that mother, they took out two years of my work and it's possible they set the Carpathian unicorn population back beyond repair."

"Hmm." Madam Widegren frowned. "Well, we can certainly consider that approach once we've settled the immediate problems, which concern the carnivorous dragon. We can't have your creatures attacking humans." She glared at Charlie. "It will not do, Mr Weasley."

"I also believe Norberta was protecting the unicorn," he said loudly. "She's never been known to attack wizards before -- well, not to kill. All dragons will attack if faced with a threat to themselves or their young. Norberta was reacting exactly the way I've seen dragons do with their yearlings."

"There is the question," Stavius Pinchback said, "of whether the sanctuary should be allowed to continue operating." He did not look at Charlie, but kept his gaze fixed on Madam Widegren. "Or whether it should be moved to a more remote area."

"That sanctuary is the remotest area suited to dragons," Charlie retorted. "That's why it's there. If you want any more remote you'd have to take them out of Europe." He shut his mouth with a snap; that was exactly what he had not wanted to say.

Madam Widegren adjusted her glasses on her nose. "There are, of course, other dragons in Europe. Other dragon populations."

"Yes," Charlie said, "but not in a protected area like this one, not where they can breed in peace, free of predators." He did not add that the main predator for dragons was wizards. "Dragon populations are declining right across the continent; I have the figures here." He scrabbled for his notes, but Madam Widegren wagged a dismissive hand at him.

"We will be analysing the figures after this meeting, Mr Weasley," she said. "You may communicate them to Master Secretary Whump, if you like." She indicated the man on her left, who straightened.

"But I've got all the details here," Charlie said desperately. "The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary has the only horntail dragons left in Europe; they've died out elsewhere. We have a nesting pair, plus a yearling and another egg on the way." With any luck, assuming Hattie's egg survived the trauma of being moved in the middle of winter.

"Pass it on to Master Secretary Whump after the meeting," she said, and he nodded helplessly.

It was clear where this was all heading. He should have done something about it months ago, instead of blindly trying to ignore the facts. Pansy's unicorns had only hurried matters along.

"Now, I hope," Madam Widegren added, "that you will explain precisely how it will be ensured that humans will never again be targeted by your dragons."

This was easy. Charlie slid his parchment to the appropriate place and reeled off a list of steps, ensuring that he emphasised the fact that the land on which the poachers had died had been taken out of his control, and how, if the land were returned, he would ensure that it remained free of humans for the foreseeable future.

Stavius Pinchback interrupted to ask how his measures would be affected if the land were not returned to the sanctuary. Charlie answered reluctantly: "In time, we can train the dragons to see anywhere as home. But they don't willingly abandon their habitats, and dragons have inhabited that land for centuries. Since before humans existed, maybe."

There were a few more questions, and then Madam Widegren eyed her parchment once more. "Now we shall turn," she announced, "to the matter of the unicorns."

There was a distinct air of excitement in the room; several committee members leaned across the table, as if to move closer to Pansy.

Charlie was too depressed to listen to the discussion. It was obvious that the committee was much more interested in preserving unicorns than dragons. If they were going to prioritise one over the other, he had already lost the battle. He longed for the meeting to end, so that he could return to his dragons and care for them for as long as he was allowed. Perhaps he could move some of them to Norway, to join the colony already inhabiting the northern reaches of the country.

Pansy's voice was suddenly shrill, and he looked up at her. "I'm not sure we should," she was saying, and again rustling fluttered through the room.

"Ms Parkinson, let me get this straight." Madam Widegren's voice was cool. "We have what is possibly the only unicorn left in mainland Europe in our grasp, and you are suggesting that we should simply let it go?"

"Not...exactly." Pansy's expression was calm, but her dark eyes flashed.

"Well? What exactly are you suggesting, then?"

Pansy's chest heaved. "Unicorns and dragons have lived in harmony for centuries," she said. "A dragon has never been known to harm a unicorn, or vice versa -- unlike wizards, who have hunted both since we became aware of their existence. Hunted them almost out of existence, in fact."

Madam Widegren leaned forward with a frown. "Your suggestion, Ms Parkinson?"

"I suggest that we retain the dragon sanctuary in its existing form." Pansy glanced at Charlie. "I mean, the lands that were part of the dragon sanctuary until last week. My suggestion is that we convert the sanctuary into a sanctuary for dragons and unicorns."

"You don't think it would be advisable to rear the unicorn in captivity?" asked Pinchback.

"No, I do not." Pansy leaned forward. "I believe a model along the lines of the dragon sanctuary, where the animals are monitored and studied but minimally interfered with, is the way forward. Extensive standards are currently in place to prevent unauthorised access to the dragons."

"Then how did these poachers get close enough to be killed?" demanded Madam Grittmeier.

"The protection on the area had been stepped down," Charlie put in, unable to restrain himself, "thanks to the EWU committee decision to...to reassign the land."

Madam Grittmeier closed her eyes with a sigh.

Pansy patted a folder on her desk. "I have a report here, including data from magical and non-magical species. Consistently, as humans have taken the survival of endangered animals into their own hands, those species have died out. We all know about the last Tasmanian tiger, dying neglected in a zoo." Her arresting gaze swept the room, pausing on Charlie. "We have an existing habitat, which is presumably why the unicorns were there in the first place. There may be other families in the area. In a few years, we could try introducing other unicorns from stable populations in the Faroe Islands and Scotland." Her eyes shone. "We could have unicorns in Europe again."

A week later, Charlie was down by Norberta's cave. The unicorn foal had been exploring farther afield, disappearing altogether one night, until to everyone's relief it had returned the following morning. Norberta, on the other hand, appeared to be settling in, bringing stones and dead wood to bank up the entrance.

The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary was restored to its full size, with the blessing of the EWU. The committee had decided against renaming it to reflect the presence of unicorns, since this might attract even more people to the area. Norberta's crime had been excused, but Minister Widegren had told Charlie privately that it had been a close vote. Since then, the dragon handlers had worked hard to re-establish the repelling charms and other protection around the perimeter of the sanctuary. They were taking no risks with their reprieve.

When Pansy appeared over the ridge, Charlie started toward her, hoping that his enthusiasm wasn't too obvious. She had slipped away after the meeting in Brussels, and by the time he had extricated himself from the various discussions she had been out of sight.

His Owls had not been returned. Busy extending the perimeter of the sanctuary back to its previous size, as well as entertaining the EWU unicorn patrols and ensuring that they saw nothing to damage the sanctuary's newfound security, he had put his thoughts of her aside. Until now.

Pansy gave him a half-smile as he approached. Cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in the evening sunshine, she looked as beautiful as she had done on the night he'd first seen her, but this time the effect was entirely natural.

"Fancy a walk?" he asked.

"Just let me check on this one." She nodded at the EWU team and walked past them without a word. With a bland smile, Charlie followed her.

The unicorn was nibbling at a pine tree near the mouth of the cave. It was as beautiful as ever, but Charlie was more interested in Pansy: in the way her hips swayed as she approached the creature, and the way, when it nuzzled her hand, her lips parted in a slightly dazzled smile that transformed her face.

She turned the smile on him, and as he smiled back, he knew that he had to try and make things work with her. Out here, with the unicorn's mane running silkily through her fingers, with Norberta snorting in the background, nothing else seemed to matter: not her past, and certainly not the reactions of his family. There was only Pansy, a woman he wanted and thought he could love.

They wandered into the wood, ignoring the curious glances of the EWU team.

"I always used to feel peaceful here," he told her, his voice loud over the shushing of the wind. "I suppose it was because of the unicorns."

She nodded, and he seized her gloved hand, pulling her to a standstill. "I haven't thanked you properly, for what you said in that meeting. I think you saved the sanctuary."

Her dark eyes were unreadable. "I'm a conservationist -- I was doing my job."

"Well, I hope you'll allow me to show you how grateful I am." He was aiming for a light tone, but his voice cracked on the word 'grateful'.

She leaned up and kissed him; her lips were beautifully warm. "Please," she said, her voice almost gentle, "please do."

He Summoned his Cleansweep from Norberta's cave, and in seconds they were flying over the trees and down into the next valley, where his own private cave lay waiting. He'd done his best with it over the past few days, in the hope that he might bring her here. There was fresh bedding in an Impervious cabinet, and the mattress had a permanent warming charm on it. Candles flickered along the rocky walls, lighting up Pansy's bemused expression.

"You just...happen to have this place here, with a bed, and everything?"

He couldn't repress a smirk. "Probably not for the reason you're thinking of. I like to come out here when it gets too crowded up at HQ. It's good to have somewhere to be private, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, and pulled him toward her.

It was a long time since he'd kissed someone so intensely and yet wanted to take things so slowly. Once she'd slipped out of her parka and gloves, he pulled her onto his knee, fingers arcing around her waist where her clothes parted.

Already hard, he focused on savouring every inch of her, from lips to arse to finely muscled legs, noting the points that evoked those lovely little sighs under his touch. When his hand skimmed across her nipples, her sigh deepened into a moan that made him grin as he pulled off her jumper and bra.

Her breasts were at the perfect height. He supported one gently as he suckled the other and she arched into his touch, one hand sliding under the arse of his jeans in a pleasurable counterpoint to the blood pulsing in his cock. Switching to the other nipple, he closed her free hand over the first one and her breath hitched.

Soon, she was breathing in gasps and tugging at his clothes; once they were naked, he laid her on the bed, taking a second to enjoy the sight of her before he dipped his mouth lower, caressing her soft stomach and softer thighs so that her legs opened invitingly. She was hot there, and as he lazily trailed his tongue across her folds and into the heart of her, her groan of arousal only spurred him on.

He went by sound and feel, focusing on her quick breaths and small movements, until she relaxed beneath him, gasping and quivering as she came. Resting on one elbow, he waited for her orgasm to subside, then licked her to another climax as she clenched around his fingers. Now she reached for him, soft and pliant and panting, and he slid up to meet her, pushed inside while she quivered around him, felt her let go entirely, and pumped to his own climax.

Afterward, they lay beneath the blankets and pointed out the mountain peaks that were visible through the cave mouth. Charlie pulled out the wine he'd intended to open first, before he got carried away, and they drank a glass each. Halfway through the second glass, he felt her stiffen.

"When I told you my name," she said, her eyes fixed on the mountains, "I was expecting you to go off and find out all about me. About what I did."

"Mm." He shrugged. "I didn't."

"Yes, I worked that one out. Why not?"

"Because I don't give a shit about what you did. I mean..." He took a deep breath. "Okay, if I'm honest, I do give a shit. But it was a war. You weren't the only one who came down on the wrong side. Besides, you were seventeen; Merlin, if I was still the same guy I was at seventeen, I'd be pretty embarrassed for myself."

She did not smile. "Your family...your brother doesn't like me."

"Yeah. I don't give a shit about that, either. And nor will Ron, when he comes to his senses. Anyway." He grinned. "My mum wants to meet you. Once you pass her test, the rest is immaterial."

She was silent, swirling the wine in her glass. "And will you come and meet my mother?" she asked.

"Do you want me to?"

She looked away. "I -- no, not yet. Maybe some time."

"Well, I will when you want me to." He hesitated. "While we're, um, clearing things up, you're not on the rebound, are you?"

"No!" She rolled her eyes. "Well, while we're being honest, I will say I was upset the night we met. But it wasn't because of Draco -- at least, not in that way."

"Well?" he asked after a moment.

She sighed. "I've been away for ten years -- you know that, yes?"

He nodded.

"I left because nobody wanted to know me at home." She frowned. "All my old friends were too busy salvaging their reputations, and nobody else would have anything to do with me. So I left." She glanced at him. "I didn't miss home at all, you know. Although that might've been because whenever I went back, I spent half my time in Azkaban. When Father died, I decided I had nothing to go back for."

"Not even your mother?"

She shrugged. "Oh, she's all right. You know what mothers are like. But she's getting old, and I've been worrying about her."

"So you thought you should come back," he prompted, and she nodded.

"I got this EWU job, and I thought it might be time; I thought maybe people were ready to forgive and forget. I can be based anywhere in Europe, really. So I wrote to my old friends -- Draco, a few others -- saying I was thinking of coming back, and would they like to get together -- you know, standard stuff. Or so I thought." She hesitated and he tightened his arms around her, fingers curling on her belly. "I didn't hear anything for weeks -- not from any of them. And then that day, I got an Owl from Draco." She shook her head. "It was the stupidest letter -- full of long sentences about how he'd moved on, got married, and didn't think we had anything to offer each other any longer."

Charlie frowned. "What, like you might taint his reputation?"

"Something like that, yes." Her eyes were full of tears. "We'd been friends since we were in our cradles. Sure, we'd lost touch over the years, but I honestly...I never believed he'd just drop me like that."

"What a complete piece of shit," said Charlie.

"Well, yes." Pansy sipped her wine. "It made me wonder what I'd ever seen in him. Except, I thought, if Draco felt like that, how would everyone else feel? I -- maybe I shouldn't have run away, maybe it made me an easy target. A sort of scapegoat for everyone else."

"It probably did," he agreed.

"What I mean is..." She looked down. "Maybe everyone hates me at home. I mean, really everyone. Not just your brother."

"Then we'll have to teach them the error of their ways." He kissed her shoulder, and let his renewed erection nudge her thigh. "You're good with words." He skimmed a hand over her arse and she gave a little sigh of pleasure. They should've been doing all this weeks ago, he decided. "I've noticed that," he murmured as she arched around to kiss him.

"And you're good with people," she said, and reached for him. "They like you."

"Mmm. Animals're what matter out here," he said unsteadily.

"Animals, too." Taking his wine glass, she balanced it on the stone floor with her own. "Right now, though..." She slid on top of him, her dark eyes soft, and he hooked his hands around her waist. "What matters is this."