Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Uncle wasn’t going to stop.  Freak didn’t know what he was going to do.

“Please,” he begged, over and over and over again.  But it did no good.

Uncle tore into Freak over and over again and Freak screamed but there was nobody to hear him.  Or nobody who cared.  Those that could hear him were amused by his pain, if not aroused by it.  He didn’t want to scream, didn’t want to give them the pleasure.  But he couldn’t stop himself.  He screamed until his throat was raw and none of them cared.  Not his Uncle, not the other men, not the one woman watching.  His blood was hot and slick and free and they revelled in it.

Freak screamed again and then his mouth was full and he couldn’t scream any longer.  He couldn’t breathe either, and tears leaked from Freak’s eyes but it only served to incite the crowd further.  He was choking, he couldn’t breathe, his vision was blacking out around the edges.  And still they laughed and screamed and revelled.  And all Freak knew was pain and anguish.

Later, much later, Freak lay on his cot trembling and shaking and hurting.  The bite marks on his shoulder were particularly painful just then, throbbing and stinging as sweat dripped into them.  He was filthy, and the room stank of his filth.  But he couldn’t bring himself to move, to try to tidy up.  Not that there was any way to tidy up, what with him being so weak and pained and broken and pathetic.  And the stairs were creaking as one of Them went up or came down or just danced to make the dust fall into his eyes.  It irritated, but Freak blinked it away.  It wasn’t so bad as the pain in his shoulder, which was easier to focus on than the pain in the rest of his body.

Then the door to his cupboard rattled and the handle to the door turned.

Freak froze.  No.  Not again.  He couldn’t.  He hurt too much.  He couldn’t.  Not again.  But the cupboard door was opening and that meant only pain and hurt and fear and no.  No.  His Uncle peeked in through the gloom of the cupboard, a sickening leer on his face.

“Come here, Freak,” Uncle snarled, his voice thick with want.

Freak whimpered.  It hadn’t been so long since the last time.  Not even a full day, he didn’t think.  He was still sore, still injured.  Normally they would have faded before Uncle came to him again.  “No, please, Uncle,” Freak begged, his voice shaking.

“Shut up, Freak, and do as you’re told,” Uncle snarled, his lips curling frightfully.  Uncle stepped into the cupboard and reached for Freak.

Freak let out a broken, desperate little cry and closed his eyes.  He couldn’t... he couldn’t!  And then he felt like he was being pulled apart, squeezed into a straw and twisted and when it stopped and he opened his eyes...

...there was a monster staring down at him.  It was massive, bigger than a house, bigger than a jet even, with huge and intelligent eyes that mesmerized Freak.  It had wings, massive wings, and scales that shimmered in the moonlight.  Freak was enchanted.

He reached out one hesitant, shy, shaky little hand and pressed it against the impossibly warm nose that was lowered to sniff at him.

“~Hi~,” Freak whispered, staring at the majestic monster.  It was too dark for him to make out the color of its scales, but Harry thought the creature was beautiful all the same.  He thought that if the monster was going to kill him, he would be happy for having seen it just this once.

The monster let out a small huff of air, and Freak smiled as the hot air rushed over him. “~You’re lovely,~” he whispered, his voice shaking still in the pain of just being on his feet.  It was easier to forget about now, with a lovely monster staring down at him.

“~A Singer,~” she rumbled, and Freak thought that maybe she sounded pleased.

“~Is that a good thing?~” Freak asked, hopeful.  How could he not be?  Nobody said nice things about him, at least not nice things that didn’t hurt.  He’d been told that he felt lovely, that he was a good fuck, that his mouth was nice, but they hurt him as they said it.

“~It is a wonderful thing, little Singer,~” she said, and even her whisper felt like a roar to Freak.  It was wonderful.  Here was a creature that wouldn’t be pushed around by his Uncle.

“~Thank you,~” Freak whispered.  He was tired and hurting and dizzy with blood loss, but he was so happy to have had a nice word said about him.  He thought that he could truly rest in peace, now.

“~And you’ve found us so young,~” the monster murmured, her massive snout nuzzling against Freak’s cheek.  “~Would you like to stay with us, little Singer?~” she offered, and the rumble of her voice radiated through Freak’s fragile body.

“~Oh, please,~” Freak whispered, his tone pleading.  He was certain that Uncle couldn’t hurt him if he were here with the lovely monster.  She would keep him safe, somehow he just knew it.

The monster let out a roar, shot flames into the sky, and Freak was suddenly buffeted by hurricanes of wind and surrounded by many of the massive monsters, all as large and hot and warm as the first.

“~It will hurt, little Singer,~” she cautioned, her tone warm and affectionate, “~but you will have your home with us in the end.  And we will never allow another to hurt you again.~”

Freak’s eyes widened at the thought.  He was already so tired, so hurt.  But one more hurt to be able to have a home wouldn’t be so bad, right?  He bowed his head and something strange, powerful, dangerous rose within him.  “~Please,~” he whispered once more, unable to say anything else.

A claw, unexpected, slashed at his back.  It tore through his clothing, tore through his flesh, maybe even tore through his bone.  He screamed, broken and desperate and anguished, and another claw struck his chest in the same way.  He fell to his knees, but it didn’t stop.  Other claws tore at his arms, his leg, even his face at one point.  The world dissolved into a haze of pain and confusion.

“~With our claws we rend what was,~” a thousand voices said in a chorus as Freak writhed in pain on the ground.  He could feel himself dying, giving in to the loss of blood that clawed at him even as the monsters did so as well.

“~With our blood we restore that which was lost,~” the voices continued.  Freak felt a slick wet coolness mingling with the heat of his own blood, and realized that the monsters were sharing their blood with him in some crude manner.

“~With our fire we forge what was torn!”~ the voices finished with a triumphant roar.  Freak was engulfed in the heat of their flames.

As Freak began to truly lose consciousness, the thousand voices chorused in tones that screamed satisfaction and joy, “~Singer, we welcome you!~”

ooOOooOOoo

At midnight on March the third, in the year of 1987, Albus Dumbledore woke up feeling as though somebody had crossed over his grave.  Or, more appropriately, as though somebody had walked over his grave but stopped just before they left it, leaving shivers running down his spine and his nerves jangling with the feeling that something was very, very wrong .  Fawkes was shrieking, only adding to the feeling.

He made his way swiftly to his office where he froze.  The instrument on his desk that had moved steadily for five years wasn’t twirling.  It wasn’t moving, it was in fact entirely unresponsive.  Its lack of motion and response could mean only one thing, and it wasn’t a good thing.

The wards were down at Number Four Privet Drive.

Albus Apparated immediately to the house the moment he’d made it out of the boundaries of the school wards.  He banged rudely on the door, not caring at all for the time or the propriety of the matter.  It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, not if the Potter boy were gone.  If Harry was gone then there was a good chance that nothing would matter at all.

“Are you-  No.  Absolutely not,” Vernon Dursley blustered, and tried to slam the door in Albus’ face.

Albus had his wand out and in the Muggle’s face before the door could close.  “Where is Harry?” he demanded.

“Listen, we won’t have any of your freakishness in our household!  We’ve only just managed to get rid of the Freak you saddled us with; we don’t need anything more out of you!” Vernon roared, his face going purple.

The “ Stupify! ” came out before Albus could stop it, and Vernon slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Albus entered the house, but could see no sign of anything wrong.  It was a perfectly normal house, just as the outside had implied.  At least, what little of the outside he could see in the barely-there moonlight.  Except that... there were no pictures of Harry on the walls, he realized as he entered the living room, Vernon’s body floating easily behind him.  There were dozens of their other child, Dudley, but none at all of Harry.

“Vernon, dear, who was at the-” Petunia stopped at the sight of her husband unconscious, hovering in midair, and Albus Dumbledore in her living room.  “What are you doing here?” the woman bit out, her gaze narrow and pinched.

“Where is he, Petunia?” Albus asked, his voice shaking.  There was no evidence that two children lived here.  And yet, Harry had to have lived at least at one point, otherwise the wards would have fallen long ago.

“He should be in his cupboard.  That’s where Vernon normally puts him when there isn’t a party,” Petunia responded, then looked horrified, as though she hadn’t meant to say that.

“His... his cupboard?” Albus asked, confused.  Never mind that Vernon apparently only brought the child out for parties, something else which made little to no sense.  Realization dawned, at least partially when Petunia pointed to the partially opened small door just under the stairs.  The cupboard under the stairs, which most houses would use to store cleaning supplies and the like.  “You kept him in a cupboard?” he snarled, his wand coming up once more before he could stop it.  The thought was horrifying.

Petunia let out a frightened little shriek and crumpled into a dead faint without Albus ever having to utter so much as a syllable of a word.  He felt vaguely guilty for inspiring that sort of fear but that feeling vanished when he actually approached the partially opened cupboard.  Even several feet away he could smell the sharp scent of waste along with the iron tang of blood and the musk of arousal.

Warily, he opened the door.  The tiny cupboard was every bit as disgusting as it had smelled from a distance.  There was a thin, tiny little cot shoved up against one wall, covered in blood and waste and something white that horrified Albus all the more.  The cot looked as though it had been slept on fairly recently, but Harry wasn’t there.  And now that Albus was actually in the cupboard, even if only partially, the magic saturating it made his senses tingle.

Harry Potter wasn’t in the house that night.  Albus knew, as he left, that Harry Potter would never return to Number Four and Albus thought that perhaps he couldn’t even blame the child.  Now he just had to find the boy before anything could happen to him.  Not that Albus thought there was much worse that could be done to the child.

He prosecuted the Dursleys for all that they were worth, had them thrown in jail and their son taken away.  He did all that he could to get justice for Harry even though the child wasn’t there.  Albus knew that the boy was alive, but no matter what he tried he couldn’t seem to find the boy.

It would, in fact, be another seven years before Albus Dumbledore saw the boy once more.  By then, Harry would be something entirely unrecognizable, something that the wizarding world was in no way ready to face.

Chapter Text

Charlie Weasley’s entire body was sore and he couldn’t be happier about it.

He’d been at this job all of a week and he loved every minute of it, even the boring and mundane physical labor that sometimes came with it.  His mother had cried, oh, how she’d cried, but Charlie had loved dragons ever since he’d been just a little boy and he hadn’t been able to imagine doing anything else with his life.  When Professor Kettleburn had recommended him to the Romanian reserve, Charlie had seized the chance gleefully.

“Still glad you came all the way out here, boy?” Jacques asked, and thumped Charlie on the back, hard enough that Charlie’s sturdy frame rocked forward a bit.  Jacques had run the reserve since before Charlie had even been born, and it showed in every inch of the old man’s weathered body.  He had short, wiry gray hair and a scraggly scruff of a beard, coupled with a bright, vibrant grey eye that sparkled with entertainment at the world.  Jacques was incredibly spry at the ripe age of eighty.  He was also missing two fingers, one leg, and an eye, all apparently lost in various scuffles with nesting dragons in the past forty years.  Despite the injuries, Charlie thought he was amazing and hoped to look half so good as he did when he’d been working at the reserve for forty years.

“Sir, there’s not a thing in this world that could make me regret this,” Charlie said with an honest smile.  He always had a smile for Jacques.  The man was as close to a hero as Charlie had.

“Oh, yes sir,” Anna chimed in teasingly as she settled across from Charlie, her tray of food striking the table with a familiar clatter that blended well with the din of the mess hall.  Her long red hair was pulled into a tight bun, meaning that she’d only just come from working around one of the dragons, and her blue eyes were filled with laughter.  Charlie was always making her laugh, be it accidentally or on purpose.  “C’mon, Char, call him Jacques like the rest of us!” she chided with a good-natured smile.

“Whatever,” Charlie said with a roll of his eyes.  He couldn’t help it if he was so used to calling authority figures ‘sir’.  He didn’t think there was anything wrong with a little bit of politeness, anyway.

Jacques laughed loudly, raucously, and slapped Charlie on the back once more.  “Let him do what he’s comfortable with, Anna.  He’ll learn soon en-” he cut off rather abruptly.

Charlie realized then that the entire hall had gone eerily silent.  He had only a moment to wonder what had made all the conversation cut off, and then he heard it.

There was a sound coming from outside, soft at first, but growing louder with every second.  A sound like... like singing, Charlie realized.  It was the sound of the dragons on the reserve lifting their voices in a haunting, lovely, sorrowful song that tore at his heart and filled him with grief and sent shivers down his spine all at once.

“Might’ve been old Benezza going,” Anna said quietly as the conversation in the mess hall gradually picked up once more.  But Charlie couldn’t help but notice that everything seemed much more subdued than it had been, and how could it not?  That eerie sound hadn’t stopped.

“What... what is that?” Charlie asked, more than a little unsettled by the noise from outside.  Nobody seemed as though they were going to talk about that unsettling noise, and he wanted answers rather desperately.

“Haven’t you heard of Dragon Singers, boy?” Jacques asked, then shook his grizzled old head.  “Never mind.  Not surprised you haven’t, especially with the way you British wizards look down on Parseltongue in general.  They’re something I always thought was a myth till we got our own Singer.”

“It’s a shame what schools aren’t teaching these days,” Anna said with a nod of her head.  “Don’t be embarrassed not to have heard of them, Char; I hadn’t either ‘till Singer showed up five years ago.”

Charlie grinned, a rueful thing.  “If there’s one thing that being out here’s taught me, it’s that I don’t know anything.  So yeah, I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have no idea what the two of you are talking about.”

Jacques smile didn’t fade at all as he explained quietly, “Dragon Singers are half-man, half-dragon.  Nobody knows where they come from except the dragons, and they ain’t talking.  There’s only two others out there right now, a man out in Southern America, and a woman somewhere in Asia.  Neither of them were particularly willing to talk to us when we sent feelers out to their reserves.  One thing that all Singers apparently have in common is that they speak Parseltongue.  It’s how they communicate with the dragons.  As far as we can tell, Singers lead the dragons in... well, in their religious rites.  That particular song is a funeral song; you learn to recognize the different ones.”

“So you’re saying that the dragons have... priests?”  Charlie asked.  He wasn’t really all that sure why he was surprised by the fact.  He’d known that most dragons were as intelligent as humans; it was a fact that all keepers came to acknowledge after a time, but he’d never considered that they might have a religion.

“Sort of.  Best way to describe it, I guess,” Jacques said with an uncomfortable little shrug.  Charlie knew the man well enough to know that he didn’t hold too much with religion.  Most wizards didn’t.  “Singer also acts as a voice for the dragons.  When they need something, Singer comes to us.  He’ll be by tonight to let us know which of the dragons went, most likely.”

“I just hope that it was Benezza, and not an unexpected one,” Anna murmured into her soup.  “The hatchlings are always the worst when it happens.”

“Can’t be a hatchie this time,” came Sean’s thick Irish accent.  Charlie turned to look at the smiling, black-haired man.  “Aren’t any nesting mothers that we know of, and Singer always warns us when we need to stay clear of one of them for a while.”

“So what’s the Singer’s name?” Charlie asked, curious.  He was a bit lost in the conversation, but he was used to that.  He’d only been employed at the reserve for a week, after all.

Anna, Jacques, and Sean all burst into loud and raucous laughter.  This was something else Charlie was used to, and he didn’t take offense.  He was still learning and they did always make sure to answer his question once they’d gotten over their amusement.  And he’d learned quickly that dragon keepers as a whole were more likely to be loud and raucous off duty.  Something about grabbing life by the horns before you got a dragon’s horn or some such nonsense.

When they’d finally stopped chortling at him, it was Sean who said cheerfully, “If Singer’s got a name other than Singer, not a one of us knows it.  He pretty much only talks to Jacques.”

“His English is... difficult to understand at times,” Jacques admitted easily.  “He spends most of his time talking to the dragons in Parseltongue, after all.”

“Huh,” was Charlie’s only response.  After that the conversation shifted away from the peculiar topic of Dragon Singers and Charlie, despite his extreme interest and the thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, let it happen.  He would have plenty of time to learn more about Dragon Singers, after all.

ooOOooOOoo

It was much later in the evening, after most of the reserve had gone off to bed and the only light left was the light of the full-moon and the stars.  Charlie was out alone by the lake, watching a young female Ridgeback bathe in the moonlight.  She was a majestic sight that took Charlie’s breath away.  All dragons could take Charlie’s breath away, as a matter of fact, and he hoped that he never lost the feeling of awe that overcame him when he looked at the incredible creatures.

“Sariya is lovely, yes?” came a quiet, shy, unfamiliar voice.  Every ‘s’ sound was strangely lengthened into a peculiar hissing noise and there was a strange, almost melodic rhythm to the words.

“She is,” Charlie agreed, and turned to look at his new companion.  He didn’t recognize the accent; maybe it was a handler from another reserve?  “Charlie Weasley,” he said, just before his breath left him in a startled gasp.

The strange voice belonged to a child, no older than Charlie’s own youngest brother, possibly much younger if Charlie went by the size of the little one.  He had long, wild black hair that fell to his waist.  His green eyes were rimmed in gold and bright enough to glow in the semi-darkness of the night.  He wore only a pair of dragonskin breeches, no shoes or shirt which revealed the fascinating swirls of emerald green scales on his chest and arms and face.  He was exotic and beautiful and breathtaking.  And a child, a fact which Charlie had to remind himself of rather forcefully.

“They call me the Singer,” the boy offered, a small smile revealing just a hint of abnormally sharp teeth.  A fang, really, if one were being accurate.   “Well met, Charlie Weasley.”

And then the Singer vanished into the night and Charlie was left staring and feeling like the worst kind of pervert for the spike of attraction the young child had inspired.

ooOOooOOoo

“~I think I met Him today,~” Singer whispered, curled against Marlis, a massive and beautiful and deadly Hungarian Horntail.

“~Did you?~” he asked, entirely uninterested.  Though he did shift around a bit so that Singer was just a little bit more comfortable.

Marlis was a wonderful example of why Singer loved the dragons.  They were all so uninterested in mortal affairs.  Singer knew that he could say anything to anyone of them and they would do the dragonic equivalent of patting him on the head.  It was a freeing thing, and Singer adored his freedom after the years spent with the human monsters.

“~He’s older than me.  By a lot.~”  Not by dragonic standards, of course, because the seven years that would stand between him and Charlie Weasley were nothing in the long run, but right now they seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle.  If he had some kind of flashback during the Heat...

“~You’ll be fine,~” Marlis rumbled.  “~Your body will remember who he is to you.~”

“~Do you promise?~” Singer asked, curling even closer to the Horntail for comfort.  Marlis’ scales were warm and soothing and Singer needed that just then.

“~Nobody can promise that, little Singer.  But you will be fine,~” came the more gentle voice of Tyara, the lovely Antipodean Opaleye that had taken Singer under her wing when Benezza had become too ill to care for him.  She’d been sick for a very long time before she’d finally passed.

Tyara crept closer while Singer was turning that thought over in his mind and nosed at him, her breath warm against his bare chest.  Singer laughed and wrapped her arms around her snout and shrieked with joy as he was lifted and tossed gently into the air.  He landed on her neck and then they were off, soaring through the night sky and Singer was no longer concerned with much of anything at all.

ooOOooOOoo

It was noon the next day and, despite the uncomfortable heat, Charlie was helping to dig out the funeral pit for old Benezza, the Welsh Green that had gone last night.  Her body would be laid in the pit by a dragon, then burned by Fiendfyre until nothing was left of her but the bones, at which point Singer would arrive and take the skeleton for a rite that no human had ever witnessed.  After that, her bones would be free for the wizards to use as they saw fit.

Sean was digging beside him, quiet and calm in a way that the volatile Irishman so rarely was.  Charlie was reluctant to disturb him, but...

“I spoke to the Singer last night,” Charlie said hesitantly as he heaved a shovel of dirt over his shoulder.  This would be so much easier if they didn’t have to dig out a new pit by hand each time a dragon passed.  But apparently the ritual demanded it.  Charlie supposed he should just be grateful that dragons didn’t die all that often and that his reserve had enough keepers that this was actually easy compared to other reserves.

Sean had stopped digging and was staring at him.  “Singer actually spoke to you?” the Irishman asked, shocked.

“Is that rare?” Charlie asked.  He’d gotten the idea that it was, but he didn’t think it was that shocking.  Surely Singer would have spoken to others before him.  Other than Jacques, of course.

“You... you could say that.  He’s pretty... unfriendly, I guess.  He flamed a keeper just last month,” Sean said with a small shrug.

“He can... he can flame?” Charlie squeaked.  Singer was beautiful and wild and dangerous, and the knowledge that Singer could flame him was just... terrifying.  Dragonfire was frightening enough without a child having access to it.  Young dragons didn’t generally get their flames until they reached maturity.

“Oh, yeah.  He’s got claws, too, nasty ones.  He doesn’t use them that often, though.  In fact, the only time I can remember him using them was on that keeper just last month.  Jacques fired the man, for what we don’t know, but we all saw the claw marks and the burns.  Bastard’ll be lucky if he ever recovers full use of his legs after that mess.  I wouldn’t want to be the one to piss Singer off.”  Sean shrugged and went back to digging.  “But if he spoke to you of his own volition, you ought to be fine.”

After a moment’s consideration, Charlie went back to digging as well.  The funeral pit wasn’t going to dig itself, after all, and Charlie had things other than Singer to worry about.

ooOOooOOoo

Later that night, Charlie was out by the lake once more.  The pit had been dug and Benezza’s body had burned in a terrifying spectacle of heat and flame.  Charlie could do with the cool peace of the lake right about then.  The area was pretty well empty; all of the dragons had gone off with Singer to an undisclosed location to complete the ritual.  They were slowly trickling back to their normal haunts now, but none were currently in the lake.

“She was mother to me,” came Singer’s quiet, oddly accented voice.

Charlie startled.  “Who?” he asked, then wanted to smack himself on the forehead.  He wasn’t such an idiot, really.

Before he could retract his ridiculous query, Singer was answering, “Benezza.  She brought me... gave me this...”  Singer was obviously struggling to say what he wanted, then just as obviously gave it up as a lost cause.  “Without her I would still be lost,” the Singer finally settled on.

Singer still sounded a bit lost, if Charlie were going to be honest.  And a bit sad, and Charlie couldn’t blame him for that.  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Charlie murmured, and turned to face the Dragon Singer.  The boy appeared even more alien in the moonlight, and Charlie forced himself to push the thought aside.  It was clear that Singer needed comfort, not curiosity.

Singer was shaking his head, his long black hair dancing with the motion.  “She’s gone... to the stars.”  When he spoke, he halted oddly as though trying to think of the right words.  “Is better place.”

“But you must still miss her,” Charlie said gently, and before he could re-think the action, he reached out and rested a gentle hand on Singer’s shoulder.

Singer started, stared at him through wild green eyes and Charlie thought for a moment that he was going to learn first-hand the touch of a dragon’s flame, then the boy relaxed all at once.  “Kind words,” he said quietly, and shifted slightly closer to Charlie.  “Is kindest any human has ever been to me.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed.  That didn’t seem...  that didn’t seem right.  Singer was young, very young.  “Where are your parents?” he asked.

Singer’s head fell to one side in a distinctly animal gesture.  He shifted a bit, then shook his head.  “Have never had parents.  Had... had monsters.  Then had the dragons.  Am happy with dragons.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charlie said honestly.  He couldn’t imagine growing up with a family comparable to monsters.  Even as much as he loved dragons, he couldn’t really imagine growing up with a family that made growing up with the massive reptiles seem preferable.  He loved his parents.

Singer shifted awkwardly and stepped back a few steps.  “Is fine,” he said.  “Am happy here.  Beautiful dragons, am left alone, am free .”

The emphasis placed on that final word was impossible for Charlie to miss, and he smiled.  “Is that important to you?  Being free?”

Singer stared him in the eye until Charlie grew genuinely uncomfortable, then said quietly, “Is not important to everyone?  Am free .  Am safe.  Can protect... not hurt here.  Can retaliate if attacked.”

Charlie felt his heart break a little.  “You certainly can,” he said agreeably.  “I heard about your flaming ability.”

Singer’s lips curled into a vicious grin.  “Had it coming,” he said with a distinctly proud tone.  “Was... was a monster.  Lucky he got what he did.  Lucky he lived.”

“What was he doing, anyway?  That you felt threatened enough to flame him, that is.”

Singer let out a small hiss, a lick of flame curling from between his lips.  “Was attacking someone,” he said shortly.  His nails lengthened into sharp, vicious looking claws and he clenched his hands into fists.  “Made him stop.”

“That was very good of you,” Charlie said hesitantly.  Singer seemed very agitated now, and Charlie didn’t really want to do anything to make that agitation worse.  That struck him as a potentially terrible idea.  He knew as a dragon keeper he was always in some measure of danger; that didn’t mean that he had to actively court it.

“Was decent,” Singer said flatly.  His head fell to one side again and his eyes went distant, as though he were listening to something only he could hear.  “Must go,” he said after a moment in the strange stance.

“I guess I’ll see you later, then,” Charlie said.

Singer nodded once, sharply, and then stalked off into the night.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie hesitated before tapping on Jacques’ door.  The Head Keeper’s office was located in one of the few permanent buildings on the reserve, the others being the medical wing, the bathing facilities, and the mess hall.  The keepers all lived out of their tents, although with magic to assist their tents were, in several cases, more impressive than the Burrow.

When he finally did knock, Jacques immediately called out, “Get in here, then, and don’t give me any bad news!”

Charlie grinned as he ducked into the room.  “I don’t think I have any bad news, sir.”

“Charlie, Charlie, I hear you’ve been talking to our Singer.  He’s not normally a social one, so you understand my surprise.”  Jacques dropped his quill onto his desk and studied Charlie.  “But that’s not what you’re here for.  What are you here for?”

“Actually, I was kinda here to talk about Singer, if you have a few minutes.”

“Of course I do.  Anything to avoid this Merlin-damned paperwork, and talking about my favorite half-dragon?  I can handle that.”  Jacques shoved back from his desk, then, and leaned back in his chair in a picture of relaxation.

Charlie hesitated once more.  Was this really his place to start with?  How long had Singer even been at the reserve?  Maybe his questions had already been answered.  But then, if they had been, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have them answered once more.

“Has anyone tried to figure out where he came from originally?  What he’s doing here?  How he even got here, for that matter?”

Jacques sighed softly.  “We’ve looked into it, of course, but Singer isn’t exactly talkative.  We can’t even get his real name out of him, much less information about his family.”  Jacques rubbed at the bridge of his nose, then, and slumped forward.  “And believe me, I tried.  I first saw Singer five years ago.  Do you know how young he was?  He was this little slip of nothing and he looked like he went through a meat grinder.”

“And you didn’t do something then?”

Jacques’ eyes narrowed.  “You think I didn’t try?  I’d have done just about anything to figure out who’d messed him up like that.  The dragons treated him like a hatchling of their own, though, and it was impossible to get near him for a year or so, and then all of a sudden he just took up his duties.  He would talk to me then, but not much and not often.”

“We had a full conversation last night,” Charlie said, and leaned back in his chair.  It seemed like he would never has his questions answered, because Singer himself might not even know.  If he’d been that young, and if things had been that terrible for him wherever he’d come from, he might have forgotten on purpose.

“Yeah?  Some of the other keepers mentioned seeing you with him.  You making a friend out of our most antisocial resident?”

Charlie grinned.  “I might be,” he said agreeably.  “Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

Jacques’ laugh was loud and raucous.  “A bad idea?  Oh, no, I think it’s the best damn idea I’ve heard in forever.  If anyone could use a friend it’s Singer.”  He studied Charlie for a moment then added, “And I think you could be a good friend to him.  You’re steady, and I think Singer needs that.”  And then he waved a hand at Charlie and said, “I know you have work to be doing.  Get back to it.  See if your new friend will help you with it.”

Charlie stood up and nodded to Jacques.  “Yes sir,” he said, his grin not leaving his face.  He left the office with his concerns... not gone, but at least addressed.  And they probably never would be gone, so that was the best he could expect.

ooOOooOOoo

Albus had known, in his head, that Harry Potter was most likely dead.  Despite the fact that the Dursleys had never confessed to murder, not even under Veritaserum, he’d known the boy was dead.  The world had known.  But some part of him, some small part, had held out hope that the boy would surface in time for to attend Hogwarts.

But no.  No such luck.  The boy was dead and gone and, Albus hoped, at peace.  It was the least the child deserved after the terrible hand fate had dealt him.

Albus would simply have to find a new way to defeat Tom once and for all.  A way that, perhaps, did not involve luring the madman to Hogwarts with the Philosopher’s Stone.  Morosely, he put the Stone back into its plain brown sack and began to write the missive to Nick, knowing that the other would understand why the plan had to be tabled.

What good did a villain do without the hero to save the day, anyway?

Chapter Text

His parents were coming to visit him, and they were bringing Ginny with them.

On the one hand, Charlie was excited to see them.  He’d been away now for about a half a year, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing them over Christmas like he’d done every year at Hogwarts.  It would be nice to still be able to see them as he always did.  On the other hand…

“Are you really going to sulk about this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his young friend.

Singer had become a regular fixture in his life, and often showed up in his tent when he was off duty.  That wasn’t a problem at all.  The problem was that Singer remained incredibly antisocial with other people, and seemed to greatly resent that others still had claims on Charlie’s time.  When he’d learned that Charlie’s parents were coming to visit, Singer had curled into a little ball in the far corner of the tent and ignored Charlie’s every attempt to coax him out of it.

This had been going on for an hour.  Charlie would have been amused if it weren’t for the fact that Singer was, apparently, quite upset.  “You can still come and see me, you know.  I’d be happy to introduce you to my parents.  I’m sure they’d love you.”

Singer hissed at him, and emerged from his little ball with a curl of flame.  “No!”

“Okay,” Charlie said, and raised his hands in surrender.  “You don’t have to meet them.  It was just a thought, because you seemed so upset.”

Singer hissed at him once more, his delicate features twisted into a fearsome scowl.  “Not want them here,” he snarled.  “Don’t like them.”

“You don’t even know them!” Charlie protested.  “How can you not like them if you don’t know?  That’s not fair, Singer.”

“Don’t like people,” Singer said.  He began to pace, back and forth and back and forth, his fingers clenched into fists.  “Don’t like people.  Don’t want to meet new people.  Can’t make me, Charlie.  Won’t!”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” Charlie said immediately.  “You’re my friend, Singer, but I’m not going to hold you down and force you to meet people.  It’s okay not to like others, but you can’t be upset that I do.  That’s not fair either.”

Singer froze in place and turned to look at Charlie.  There was something in his gaze, something alien, and Charlie had the distinct impression that he was being assessed.  Singer’s head fell to the side, he let out a small noise, and then a smile bloomed across his face.  “Fair,” Singer said, and nodded once, sharply.  “Will be fair to Charlie.”

Singer left the tent, then, leaving Charlie with the strange idea that some sort of bargain had been struck.  Singer didn’t bother him again about the time he spent with his other friends, though when his family showed up, Singer stopped visiting him entirely.  Charlie still caught the occasional glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, but Singer didn’t speak to him at all.

He only began visiting once more after the holidays were over, and even then it was more of a tentative thing than it had been, as though he was uncertain of his welcome.  He visited Charlie’s tent only for an hour or so, and only sporadically.  He ran away whenever Charlie brought up the visit and Singer’s stalkerish behavior, even when he mentioned either in a teasing way, and Charlie had no idea what had gone wrong.  He resolved to figure it out before Singer stopped visiting him entirely.

ooOOooOOoo

The strange behavior had continued for a month after the new year before Charlie was able to corner Singer.

And by corner, he meant that he coaxed him into settling down next to him on his couch.  The two of them sat in silence for several moments before Charlie asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you?”  Most days, the question would send Singer running, and this day was like all the others.

Singer stood and stalked towards the entrance to the tent, only to find that he couldn’t get out.  He could open the flaps of the tent, but he stopped every time he tried to step outside.  He tried for several moments before hissing in frustration and whirling around.  “What did you do?” he asked, smoke curling from between his lips.

“My brother works for the wizarding bank doing curse-breaking and some warding.  I asked him if he knew any wards to keep somebody in a place, and set them up once you came in tonight.”  Charlie stood as well.  “I wanted to talk to you, and you keep running away when I try to do so.”

Singer hissed at him.  “Will flame,” he warned, a lick of flame slipping out.  “Let me out.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Charlie answered, and offered him a smile.  “Is the thought of telling me what’s been bothering you really so bad?”

Singer’s scowl grew even more fierce, and he let out an annoyed snarl.  “Loved you,” he said finally, frustration bleeding into his voice.  “Loved you very much.  Missed you.  Were happy to see you.  Not… not monsters.”

It took Charlie a few minutes to figure out what Singer was saying, and when it hit him his knees gave out from under him.  “You thought that my parents were like… whoever was taking care of you before this.  You were worried about me, and then you were embarrassed because there wasn’t any need to be.”

Singer shrugged, an awkward and graceless motion that didn’t suit him at all.  “Not… don’t know human families.  Wasn’t… wasn’t sure.”  He ducked his head and looked away, his irritation gone as though it hadn’t been.  “Should have known.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Charlie said gently.  He managed to regain his feet and crossed the tent to place his hands gently on Singer’s shoulders.  Singer flinched back, but didn’t try to draw away.  “You don’t know that much about humans.  About people.  And what few experiences you’ve had, other than with myself and Jacques, have been bad.  Of course you would be concerned.”

Singer looked up, his alien eyes wide and a little bit watery.  “Not mad?” he asked, hopeful.

“Not at all mad,” Charlie confirmed, then had the breath knocked out of him as Singer bowled him over in an enthusiastic hug.

Things returned to normal after that, or at least, as normal as things could be on a dragon preserve.  Singer visited him more and more often, and soon winter was turning to spring and then to summer, and Charlie had never been happier.  Even if Singer still refused to socialize with other humans.

It was a work in progress.  Charlie was confident that they’d get to it eventually.  Maybe.

ooOOooOOoo

“~He spends too much time with his humans,~” Singer complained softly.  He was curled up in the nest with Yseira and her young hatchlings, who had made their way from their eggs only a month ago.  Singer had been to see Charlie only a few hours ago, or rather, had been in search of him.  When he’d found his Intended, Charlie had been coming from the building that smelled of food with the redheaded female and the male with the strange markings.  Singer hated them both.

“~Do not complain,~” Yseira chastised, and nosed at Singer until Singer curled in on himself with a small giggle.  “~Your Intended adores you; he merely wants time with his own people.  And you have been busy with me while we waited for my darlings to stop being so lazy.~”

Singer hissed.  “~We are his people,~” he protested.

“~We will be,~” Marlis answered, even as he crept up to the nest with an offering of meat.  When Yseira didn’t snap at him, Marlis settled himself at her side and leaned into her briefly.  “~We are not yet his people.  He cannot understand our songs yet.  I doubt he even realizes that he’s your Intended.  You should allow him time with his people while he can still walk unnoticed among them.~”

Singer scowled.  Marlis was being logical.  It had to be a side effect of his own mate finally clutching for the first time.  Singer was very glad that his Intended had turned out to be male, and there would be no clutching for him to deal with.  It seemed to do very odd things to dragons who had been perfectly irrational once upon a time.

Singer let out a haughty little sniff and hopped up, then.  He crept from the nest to the disappointed cries of the hatchlings and said, “~I should go and see him,~” before darting off into the night.

But no matter how fast he moved, he couldn’t outrun the sound of Marlis and Yseira laughing at him.  That was okay.  Singer would have his revenge at some point, it was just a matter of finding a good time for it, that was all.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie loved every part of working at the reserve, but he couldn’t deny that one of his favorite parts was socializing with other people just as mad about wild and dangerous creatures as he was.  Anna and Sean had quickly become his two favorite people to hang around with, and he enjoyed meeting up with them for meals and occasionally after work was over for the day.

The best times to do that were during the fall, when there were bonfires almost every Friday and Saturday night all through the camp.  The crisp air was fended off by the heat of the fires, and the other keepers could stay up most of the night drinking and laughing and talking.  Cider and alcohol flowed freely, though Charlie was always very careful never to drink too much.

He’d made the mistake once, at the start of the season, of having too much to drink and returning to his tent.  He’d frightened Singer, and Singer had nearly burned him to a crisp.  Singer hadn’t explained, but Charlie hadn’t needed him to.  Every bad reaction Singer had with regards to people could generally be traced back to whoever he’d stayed with before coming to the reserve.  He hadn’t made that mistake again.

It wasn’t hard to stick to cider after one or two cups of the hard stuff, anyway.  And Sean and Anna were great to sit with, because they didn’t tease him for not drinking anymore than that.  They may not understand it, but they didn’t tease him for it.  They picked on him for other reasons, but never for that.

It was during one such bonfire, on a Friday night in early October, when Anna asked him, “So how come you never show any interest in any of the ladies around here?” in her typical blunt way.

Charlie choked on the drink he’d just taken.  

Sean pounded him on the back until he stopped coughing, then said through his laughter, “Dying won’t get you out of answering, lad.”

Charlie flushed.  “I wasn’t trying to get out of answering, I just wasn’t expecting the question.”  He took another quick drink of his cider, then looked around the camp.  There were other fires glowing in the distance, more crowded and rowdy than their own small one.  

“So?” Anna pressed, and she leaned in.  “There are some lovely ladies here, you know.  I’d be happy to hook you up with some of my friends.”

Charlie’s flush deepened and he shook his head.  “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said, and hoped he didn’t sound as embarrassed as he was.

Sean nudged him with an elbow.  “Some of my friends, then?  I know some very handsome men who would just love to get a bite of you.”

“Sean!” Charlie protested, even as he chuckled.  “I don’t…  I mean, I guess I’m just not interested, that’s all.”

“Just not interested?” Anna echoed, incredulous.  “Charlie, you’ve been here for over a year.  You haven’t left to go visit anyone.  You’re twenty.  I refuse to believe that you’re ‘just not interested’.  Are you hung up on someone?” she pressed.

Charlie shrugged, a bit uncomfortable.  “No, not really.  I’ve just never really been interested in romance or anything, that’s all.”  He took another drink of cider and hoped that his blush would recede.

“It doesn’t have to be about romance, you know,” Sean said, and nudged him again.  “In fact, jumping tents is pretty common around here.”

“I’ve never really been interested in that, either,” Charlie said, and something in his tone killed the conversation.  He would have felt bad about that, but the entire topic was making him a bit uncomfortable.  Okay, a lot uncomfortable.

He finished his cup of cider and poured himself more as the silence gradually grew more comfortable.  It was a few minutes later when Anna tensed and stared somewhere off into the darkness at the edge of the camp.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked, turning to look at whatever she was seeing.  It took him a few minutes, but eventually he realized that Singer was at the edge of the camp and moving slowly in their general direction.

“I hope nothing’s happened,” Sean said.  They had all grown more used to seeing Singer around the reserve, but he very rarely came into the camp itself while there were still so many people out and about.

Normally he snuck into Charlie’s tent late at night and woke him up, or Charlie would find that he’d snuck into his tent while the keepers were all out at work with the dragons.  Or he kept to the shadows, but he didn’t seem to be making an effort to do that this time.  In fact, while he wasn’t walking very confidently, he wasn’t dodging the light thrown by the different bonfires either.

It took several agonizing minutes for Singer to actually reach their circle, where he stood awkwardly for several minutes.  “Can…  Can join?” he asked finally, staring down at the ground.

Anna’s eyes widened.  “Sure,” she said, hesitantly.  “We’d be happy to have you.”  She scooted over on her log and patted the empty space she’d left.

Singer shifted uncomfortably, and Charlie nudged Sean.  “Go sit next to your girlfriend,” he said.

Sean glanced at him, but shrugged and switched logs.  Singer immediately settled into the space he’d vacated beside Charlie.

“Cider?” he offered, and when Singer nodded carefully, he poured him a cup.

As the night wore on, conversation picked up again between Charlie, Anna, and Sean.  They spoke of small, inconsequential things, and Singer gradually relaxed beside Charlie.  He didn’t speak any more that night, but he did smile occasionally when Sean made a joke and when Anna attempted to sing for them.

Charlie wasn’t sure what had triggered the visit, but he was glad that it had happened.  Singer needed to get to know more people.  More humans.  Not that the dragons weren’t great, because they were, but Singer should know more about the people that he’d come from.  He deserved to learn that they weren’t all monsters, and he couldn’t think of a better group for him to interact with.

ooOOooOOoo

“~We are approaching a holiday of great significance for the humans,~” Tyara murmured to Singer as she nosed at his stomach until he giggled.

He had just overseen the Mating of two youths, Singing them into a peaceful Heat.  One of them was one of Tyara’s own hatchlings, and it had been a pleasure to see her Mated happily.  The camp would be a peaceful one for several weeks due to the feelings of peace and contentment the new Mates would spread.

“~This is their... Winter Solstice?~” Singer asked hesitantly.  He was unfamiliar with the human holiday, though he knew that last year Charlie’s parents had visited him for the holiday.  Singer hadn’t understood then that not all human families were made up of monsters, and Singer had been very cross with him as a result.  He was very glad that to have been proven wrong on that front, although he’d been mortified by what he’d thought of Charlie’s parents before he’d watched them interact.  He was very happy that Charlie hadn’t had to deal with monsters like Singer’d had to before… before.

“~I think they also call it... Christmas?  The humans all seem to be very happy during this time of year,~” Tyara responded contemplatively.  “~Will you and your Charlie do anything for the holiday?  I believe it is a human custom to exchange gifts.~”

Singer’s head fell to one side as he considered.  Charlie had been very happy as of late.  He’d hummed strange songs as he wandered about the tent in the morning, and just the other day his tent had acquired an oddly decorated tree.  Singer thought that maybe Charlie was planning to celebrate whether Singer was or not.

He considered for a moment more, then asked, hesitantly, “~What do humans typically give one another as gifts?~”

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie woke to the smell of something on fire.  He groaned and his eyes flew open, to find Singer staring in dismay at a flaming piece of... something. Was that some form of meat?  He extinguished the flame with a well-sent Aguamenti , then asked, “What was that supposed to be?”  He just wasn’t up to waking up to Christmas morning in flames yet.

“Breakfast,” Singer said mournfully, and poked at it.  “For you.  For... for Solstice?” he asked tentatively.  “Or Yule.  Christmas.  Winter holiday.”

Charlie’s eyes widened.  “You were making me a Christmas breakfast,” he clarified.  “And it caught fire?”

Singer let out a disappointed hiss.  “Important human holiday, yes?  And now ruined.”  He hung his head, then, and Charlie couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him.  “Not funny!” Singer protested.

“Oh, Singer, a little bit of fire isn’t nearly enough to ruin Christmas,” Charlie said soothingly.  “If it was, my family wouldn’t have had a successful Christmas after my brothers Fred and George were born.  It was sweet of you to try and cook something, but I know you don’t know how.  And I’m not entirely sure how you were going to do that without a stove, anyway.”

“Flamed it,” Singer said absently.  Then, the little one brightened.  “Got you something!” he chirped, and pulled out a package wrapped clumsily in leaves woven together.

Charlie smiled softly, took the present, and pulled Singer into a loose hug.  He’d found that Singer enjoyed such friendly displays of affection, probably because he’d never really had them from humans before.  And as nice as the dragons were to Singer, they couldn’t really hug him.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  He opened it slowly, carefully, with one arm still around Singer’s shoulder, and found a pair of black breeches like Singer’s own, as well as a pair of black boots.  There was a shirt as well, more like a tunic really, made of a deep green that shifted colors in the light.  Altogether it was a lovely set.  “They’re perfect,” he murmured.

“Yes?” Singer asked sweetly, hopefully.  “Thought hard, had to poll other dragons and eventually asked Jacques,” he confessed.

“Jacques gave you fantastic advice,” Charlie answered quietly, and squeezed Singer once before releasing him.  “Got something for you, too,” he confessed.  He was glad now that Jacques had given him a heads up.  Otherwise he would have been caught empty handed.  He’d never considered that his friend, raised by dragons, would even think of giving him a Christmas present.  He just hoped that Singer didn’t take it badly.

Singer took the present with shaking hands.  He hesitantly slid one sharpened nail under the paper and opened it delicately.  There was a book in there, Charlie knew, a book on all the different dragon breeds of the world.  It even, in one brief little blurb, mentioned Singers and their seeming connection with the dragons.  Singer ran reverent fingers over the ancient book before looking up and breathing, “Is lovely,” in a sad tone.  “But cannot...”  Singer stopped then and dropped his head.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said quietly, having guessed as much.  When would Singer have learned?  “I’d like to teach you.”

Charlie found himself knocked onto the ground with an armful of enthusiastically grateful Singer.  Charlie mentally shrugged and hugged him back.  He was getting used to being knocked over by Singer, and hoped that Singer didn’t get too frustrated as he taught him to read.

That night, Christmas night, was the first night that Singer sang for him.  The sound was beautiful, haunting, and Charlie lost himself in the music as he watched the little one.  Eventually, he heard the other dragons on the reserve begin to join in.  They always knew when Singer was singing, and always knew the right song somehow, and that night they provided a hauntingly beautiful melody for the rest of the camp.  It was, according to later gossip procured from Anna and Sean, one of the most magical moments in the Romanian reserve’s history.

ooOOooOOoo

The letter had arrived shortly before the start of summer.  Charlie read it through once, twice, three times, countless times, his eyes roving desperately over the words over and over and over.  If he kept reading it, then maybe the words would change.  It was ridiculous.  It was absurd.  Hogwarts was one of the safest places on Earth.  So how could it be that he’d lost both his little sister and his little brother in one cruel blow?

A sob, broken and desperate, escaped him.  It didn’t matter, he supposed, how it happened.  His parents’ letter said something about little Ronnie trying to save sweet Ginny, and both of them getting lost in the process.  They were gone.  They’d never come back.  That was the way that death worked.  He’d never see Ginny, who had been so excited to go to Hogwarts, again.  And Ron would never see the Chudley Cannons win a game.  And he knew, he knew that there was nothing he could have done to stop it, no way he could have seen it coming, but Merlin, if he’d only been there... if only...

He crumpled the parchment, now damp in places with his tears, into a little ball and flung it as far away from him as he could.  He curled in on himself, rolled away from the bit of light sneaking in from the bright day outside, and cried.  He had work to do, he should be getting up, but Merlin, his little siblings... gone...

At one point, he was pretty sure that Anna came to check on him.  He remembered the tent flap opening, heard her find the parchment he’d thrown away, heard her let out a small noise of sympathy and then duck back out.  But he couldn’t have said how long he lay like that before he felt small, strong arms curl around him and a tiny body press against his from behind.

Charlie let out a broken noise and shifted, turned so that he was clinging to Singer.  “They’re gone,” he whispered softly, harshly, his body wracked by sobs.

Singer let out a small, sympathetic little croon, and then quietly began to sing.  It was a soft, mournful tune, one that Charlie recognized as the funeral dirge the dragons had sung for Benezza.  He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew when the other dragons heard it and lifted their voices as well that it almost made him feel a little bit better.

He fell asleep that night to the funeral dirge still being sung, and when he woke up in the morning, somehow he knew that it was going to be okay.

ooOOooOOoo

Albus let out a heavy sigh.  Ginny and Ronald Weasley, dead, and for what?  He still didn’t know.  He didn’t understand.  Something had happened, something must have, but what?  How could Ginny Weasley, who had never shown any signs of parselmagic, have made it into the Chamber of Secrets?

Something had happened.  Dark undercurrents were stirring, and Albus greatly feared that he was powerless against them.  He had no hero to save them, not again.  The child of the prophecy was lost.  And Neville was... well, Neville wasn’t really going to be much of a replacement.

He could see nothing but dark times in their future, not without the Chosen One.  And he was dead, which meant that very dark times indeed lay ahead.  He just hoped that he could do something, anything, to stop this madness before it drug the rest of the world down as well.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be so stupid.  He wasn’t… he should know better, right?

How could he not have seen them?  Sirius could see them, plain as day, and he hadn’t even looked that hard.  Somebody had put Blood Wards around the Dursley house, once upon a time.  Probably Dumbledore himself, considering who had placed Harry with the Dursleys in the first place.

There were still remnants of those wards in place.  There wasn’t enough… there wasn’t nearly enough left of them to actually do anything to keep somebody safe, but the remains were still there.  The house had fallen apart due to years of lack of maintenance, but the remains of the wards were still there.  A Death Eater would feel some mild discomfort walking past this house, but nothing that would truly do any harm.  There was certainly no need to remove them.

But… maybe Dumbledore didn’t know?  Surely, if he’d realized, he would have done something long ago.  Harry had been missing for more than five years, now, and it was assumed that he was dead.  It was one of the first things he’d learned after escaping Azkaban.  And as soon as he’d realized that, that his godson was missing and presumed dead, Sirius had given up all thoughts of Pettigrew.

He’d escaped that damned prison to try and find him, after seeing him on the shoulder of a young man who was entering his fourth year at Hogwarts.  One of a set of twins, he thought.  His memory was a bit fuzzy where that was concerned.  But he’d wanted to find Pettigrew, to kill him for betraying Lily and James the way he had.  And then he’d learned that Harry was gone.  Presumed dead.  Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys, and then he’d lost him.

What did revenge matter if Harry were dead?

But the fact that the Blood Wards still stood, or that there were at least remnants of them… Harry couldn’t be dead.  It was a fact of magic.  If a Blood Ward still remained, even in the smallest part, then the person it was meant to guard couldn’t be dead.

Which meant that his godson was still alive, which meant that he still had a chance, however small of one, to fix things.  To meet him.  To apologize for being so very stupid and going after Pettigrew and getting himself arrested.

He could find Harry.

All that he had to do was… well.  That might be why Dumbledore couldn’t do anything with the remains of the wards.  It wasn’t exactly light magic that he was about to perform, was it?

What did it matter, though?  He’d already done his time in Azkaban.  He’d done thirteen years and he’d never even committed a crime.  He might as well commit a few crimes to make it worth his while, right?

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and drew the wand he’d taken off an unsuspecting wizard in Diagon Alley.  It wasn’t as good as his own, but it worked and that was really all he could ask for.  He drew his power to him, and cast.

The remains of the Blood Wards shattered around him with a sound like a thousand windows breaking.  He opened his eyes and a vortex appeared before him, swirling dark and black and red and angry.  He didn’t even hesitate before stepping through.

He was going to find his godson, and Merlin help the person that tried to take him from Harry’s side again.

ooOOooOOoo

It was the middle of summer when the dog wandered into his life, stinking of magic.  He’d felt the strange magic earlier in the day, but hadn’t understood what it meant.  Now he did.  It had brought this dog here, to him.  Why?

Singer stared at the giant, black, shaggy beast and wondered why it had chosen now to appear.  It wasn’t… there was something about the dog…  It wasn’t a dog.  But it was a dog.  

“~Be careful around that, Singer,~” Marlis warned, shifting his great body to glower at the dog.  “~That isn’t a dog.  Can’t you feel the magic around it?~”

Singer closed his eyes and concentrated.  There it was, beyond the magic that had brought it here.  A feeling around the dog much like the humans of the Reserve.  It wasn’t a dog at all, as he’d suspected.  It was a human pretending to be a dog.  How… interesting.  “~Is it dangerous?~” he asked Marlis.

“~Maybe yes, maybe no,~” Marlis answered.

Singer’s eyes narrowed at the unhelpfulness of the answer.  “~Like dragons, then,~” he muttered.  “~Dangerous, but not dangerous at the same time.~”

While Marlis sputtered indignantly about how no dragon was dangerous to Singer, Singer knelt next to the dog who had sat patiently in front of him.  “Hello,” he offered.

The dog offered him a paw, and Singer couldn’t help but smile.  That was an entirely human custom, shaking hands.  He reached out and hesitantly took the dog’s paw in his hand.  The dog waited a second before barking once, joyously, and bouncing around him in an excited circle.

“~I’m keeping him,~” Singer decided.  “~Human or not.~”

He could understand not wanting to belong to the race that had birthed him.  After all, he hadn’t always been what he was.  Perhaps this not dog had been through something similar in his life.

ooOOooOOoo

“Say, Charlie,” Sean began as they carefully wrapped a baby dragon’s broken wing.  She’d fallen while trying to fly for the first time, and the results were… rather painful.

Singer had cried when he’d brought Charlie and Sean to her.  Charlie hated it when Singer cried.  He would have done just about anything to make it stop.  Binding a dragon’s broken wing was certainly the least of what he would have done.

“What’s up?” he asked, holding his hands steady and not looking at his friend.  The bones in the poor baby’s wing were quite delicate, and he didn’t want to do anything to keep them from healing properly.

“Have you noticed any… new additions to reserve?” Sean asked, his voice wavering.

Charlie snorted.  “You’re talking about the Grim,” he said, not doubting it for a second.

It had happened about a month or ago, earlier in the summer.  A Grim had shown up on the property, though nobody had died.  And the Grim hung around Singer almost constantly.  Charlie had grown used to the sight of him, but the other keepers who didn’t spend as much time with Singer still hadn’t quite adjusted to its presence.  Sean was the fourth or fifth person to ask him about it.

“Of course I’m talking about the damned Grim,” Sean grumbled.  “What else would I be complaining about.  Has Singer said anything about it?”

Charlie shook his head.  “He hasn’t,” Charlie answered.  “He seems to be treating it as a… as a pet, actually.  It’s… sort of amusing.  I caught the two of them playing fetch the other day.”

“Sorry, you caught them what?” Sean asked, his voice jumping a bit in shock.

“Playing fetch.  Singer had a stick he was throwing for the Grim, and the Grim was going after it and bringing it back.  They seemed like they were having fun.”  Charlie carefully snipped the bandage on the wing and held his breath.  When the bandage held his breath left him in a relieved sigh.  That was done at least.

“Playing fetch with a Grim,” Sean was muttering, shaking his head.  “I think there’s something not quite right in Singer’s head.”

Charlie bristled.  “He’s fine,” he said shortly.

“Oh, don’t get all offended.  You know that I’m right.  Kid has to be a little bit off his rocker to spend all his time with the dragons the way he does.”

Charlie raised one eyebrow.  “The way that we do?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Sean protested.  “He doesn’t have any human friends, not really.  Not… I mean, okay, I think you might be his friend.  He seems to like you.  He certainly spends a lot of time with you.  Did you think we wouldn’t notice the way he creeps into your tent at night?”

“So you’re saying he’s crazy because he spends time with me,” Charlie said.  “Thanks, Sean.”

His friend groaned and shook his head.  “That isn’t what I meant either.  It’s just that you’re the only person he ever spends time with.  Sometimes he’ll visit Jacques, sure, but we’re all pretty sure that’s work related.  And other than that, it’s you or nothing.  He comes to you when there’s a problem with the dragons.  He comes to you when he wants to spend time with a person.  He never even talks to the rest of us.  Don’t you think that’s… odd?”

Charlie hesitated.  He knew why Singer didn’t spend much time with humans other than himself, though he still wasn’t sure why Singer had chosen him to befriend.  He just didn’t know how much he should tell Sean.  But… “He’s not crazy,” Charlie said finally.  “He just… he didn’t have many good experiences with humans before coming to the Reserve.  He’s just a little shy.  That’s all.”

Sean eyed him for a few minutes, then shrugged.  “I guess.  So… the Grim.  Do you think we could convince Singer to stop playing with it so that it goes away?  It’s freaking us all out a bit, you know.”

Charlie closed his eyes and laughed softly.  “If you want the Grim gone,” he said through his chuckles, “then you ask Singer.”

There was nothing more said on the subject of getting rid of the Grim, as Charlie had suspected.  Nobody was quite brave enough to approach Singer and ask him to get rid of it.

ooOOooOOoo

“Are you ever going to stop being a dog?” Singer asked quietly.

It was late, very late, and the Reserve was all but asleep.  He was in Charlie’s tent with the dog who was not a dog and Charlie, who looked rather surprised when the question was asked.  Dog had been with him a long time now, for the better part of a year.  It had been summer when they’d met, and now it was after Christmas.

Singer had to say, he found winters to be much more enjoyable now that he had Charlie’s tent to sleep in.  Not that he didn’t love sleeping with the dragons, and not that they weren’t warm, but Charlie’s tent always seemed so very inviting after a long day spent in the cold with the dragons.  And Charlie’s bed was soft and comfortable, and Singer liked sleeping next to his Intended.

“Sorry, Singer, what did you say?” Charlie asked hesitantly.

Singer shot him an irritated look.  He hadn’t stuttered, and he hadn’t missed any words.  He and Charlie had been working on that, and now his English was almost as good as his Parseltongue.  He still stammered and searched for words here and there, and he still tended to hiss on ‘s’ sounds, but he was perfectly understandable.

“Asked if he was ever going to stop being a dog,” he repeated.  He didn’t like repeating himself.  Charlie knew that.

“Singer… he’s a dog.  They don’t generally stop being dogs,” Charlie said, sounding confused.

“Not a dog,” Singer said.  He shifted a bit on the couch and prodded Dog with his toe.  “Human.”  He was getting short in his irritation, and he really should stop that.  Charlie didn’t deserve his irritation for being confused.  Charlie couldn’t feel the magic, not yet.  And if he could, he probably had no idea what to feel for.  Singer hadn’t until Marlis had mentioned it.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie studied the dog in the tent with them.  Apparently not a dog, actually, which meant that he’d had a strange man, or woman, sleeping in his tent for the past few months.  And that was… disconcerting, to say the least.  He opened his mouth to say something, anything, then closed it again.

“Singer,” he finally began, and waited until Singer looked away from the not dog to look at him questioningly.  “The next time you know that something isn’t what it appears to be, do you think you could tell me a little sooner?” he asked weakly.

Singer’s brow furrowed.  “Why?” Singer asked, his head falling to the side.  “Dog hasn’t hurt anybody.”

“We don’t know that.  There aren’t… there aren’t many reasons for somebody to abandon their identity and become something else, Singer.  Most of those reasons aren’t exactly good.”

Singer’s expression shuttered.  “I did,” he said quietly.  “I don’t remember much, but I know that I did.”

Charlie slipped off couch and knelt in front of Singer.  “And your reasons weren’t good, were they?” he asked gently.  He carefully took Singer’s hand in his own, only to have Singer jerk his hand away.

Singer glowered at him, then looked away and shrugged.  “He didn’t answer me,” he said instead, steering the conversation away from his past.  As Charlie settled back onto the couch, Singer asked, “Are you ever going to stop being a dog?”

Dog let out a small huff and looked away.  There was a moment of silence, and then in the blink of an eye there was a man sitting on the floor before them, unshaven and unkempt and oddly familiar to Charlie.  Where had he-

“I didn’t do it,” the man said hoarsely, and Charlie realized.  This was Sirius Black.  The criminal who’d escaped from Azkaban.  The Ministry was going mad trying to find him, but they’d had no luck.  Charlie supposed they wouldn’t have, considering that the man was spending his time as a dog on a Romanian dragon reserve.

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” Charlie asked, his eyebrows raising.  “You killed fourteen people, Black.  You’re the reason the Potters died.”  He reached for his wand, then thought better of it.  He wasn’t exactly the most accomplished duellist, after all, and Black… well, Black had been an Auror.

Sirius Black let out a wounded noise.  “I am,” he agreed, and looked down.  “It was my idea to switch Secret Keepers, after all.  I thought that I would be the obvious choice.  So I…”  He shook his head.  “I told them to change it.  To switch to Peter, because nobody would ever suspect him.  But Peter was a Death Eater, and the little shit turned them over to Voldemort, and when I confronted him, he turned into a rat and escaped and pinned the deaths of everyone on me.  They were so angry, they threw me into Azkaban without so much as a trial.”

Charlie considered the story.  It was… interesting.  Plausible, maybe even likely.  He certainly never remembered reading about any trial of Sirius Black.  But…  “Why come here?  You could have gone anywhere.  Why choose here?”

Black looked confused.  “Why not come here?” he asked.  “Everything I could ever care about is here.  Why would I go anywhere else?”

“You came here for me,” Singer said quietly.  “You’ve never left my side since you came here.  Why?”

“You… you don’t know.  Of course you don’t know.  How could you?  You were just a baby when your parents died.  When I went to prison.  You don’t even know your real name.”  Black shook his head and let out a mournful little noise.  “When I found out that you were missing, that they thought you were dead, I wanted to kill Dumbledore.  More than anything else, I wanted him dead.  But I went to your last known location, and I found the Blood Wards.  And they couldn’t be standing if you were dead, so I…  I used some magic I probably shouldn’t have and used the last traces of the wards to track you here.”

Charlie froze and turned his head ever so slightly to stare at Singer.  Singer, with his wild black hair and bright green eyes.  Singer, who couldn’t possibly be who Sirius Black was implying he was.  And yet… and yet…  Hesitantly, Charlie reached out and brushed aside the fringe of bangs that perpetually hid Singer’s forehead and his eyes from the world.  There it was.

It was thin, mostly gone really, and Charlie never would have seen it if he weren’t looking for it.  The scar.  Harry Potter, here at the reserve while the Ministry had lost their minds trying to find him in time for his first year of school.  Charlie’s breath left him in a rush.

“What?” Singer asked, irritably.  He shifted back and tugged on Charlie’s hand until he dropped it.  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“He can’t go to Hogwarts, not like this,” Black said quietly.  “He’d hate it there.  They’d have no idea what to make of him.  It would be a disaster.  And he’s happy here, Charlie.  You see that.  You can’t possibly-”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Charlie snapped.  “I’m not interested in taking advice from a man on the run.”  He closed his eyes, then, and took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry.  You didn’t deserve that.”

Singer let out an irritated hiss.  “Tell me what you’re talking about,” he demanded.

“Sirius is your godfather,” Charlie said softly.  “If it weren’t for the fact that he was imprisoned, apparently falsely, he would have cared for you growing up.  You were supposed to go to a school called Hogwarts when you turned eleven, which would have been… two years ago?  Three?  Anyway, when you never showed up, people went crazy trying to find you.  They never did.  If they knew that you’d been found, they would likely demand that you go to school there.”

Singer growled, the sound low and dangerous.  “I wouldn’t leave the reserve!” he hissed.  “Have duties here.  I’m happy here.  They couldn’t make me.”

“They would try,” Black said softly.  “They would do just about anything to get you under their control.  There’s…”  He shook his head.  “There’s a prophecy.  I don’t know if they think it’s been fulfilled or not, but there’s a prophecy.  If they believe that it hasn’t been fulfilled, they’ll do anything to get you under their control.”

“Then Charlie won’t tell them where I am,” Singer said reasonably.  “Right, Charlie?”

Charlie took another deep breath and let it out slowly.  He could see what would happen if they tried to force Singer to go to Hogwarts.  He would kill whatever wizard was stupid enough to try.  He was young, yes, but he had all the power and the temper of a fully-grown dragon.  And when he killed the wizard who tried to force him to go to Hogwarts, the Ministry would come after him.  They would see him locked away forever, or worse.  The Ministry wasn’t exactly known for trusting things that were different, after all.

“I won’t,” he said softly, and ruffled Singer’s hair.  Singer brushed his hand away irritably.  “I won’t turn you in, either, Black.  But if you put one toe out of line,” he began, then shook his head.  What could he do?  Singer likely wouldn’t let him turn Black in anyway.  And Black could probably kill him faster than he could draw his wand.

“I won’t,” Black promised quietly.  “For what it’s worth, I swear on my magic that I wasn’t the Potter’s Secret Keeper, and that I didn’t kill those Muggles, and that I have no intention of hurting H… of hurting Singer.”

There was a faint glow as Black’s magic lit up with the binding vow, and Charlie relaxed a little bit.  It was something, at least.

“Do me a favor,” he said quietly as he stood and stretched.  “Don’t be a dog when you’re in my tent.  It’s weird.”

Black let out that strange, barking laugh.  “If you’d like.  I guess I could get used to being human again every now and again.”

Charlie nodded and yawned.  As exciting as this all was, he had an early morning tomorrow.  He was on duty to watch over a particularly irritable nesting mother, and he started his shift in only a few hours.  He needed to go to bed.  He settled into his bed and curled up under the covers, his back to Singer and Black.

So… he knew the locations of Harry Potter and Sirius Black, the two most sought after people in England.  And there was nothing he could do with the information.  Nothing he would ever do with the information, because he didn’t want to hurt Singer, and Singer was obviously quite attached to Black.

Charlie closed his eyes and wondered just when Singer had become so important to him that he was willing to harbor a fugitive for him.  He was still wondering that as he dropped off to sleep to the low murmur of conversation between Singer and Black.

ooOOooOOoo

“Why Charlie?” Sirius asked hesitantly once the aforementioned dragon handler had dropped off to sleep.  Charlie snored, making it relatively easy to tell when he was actually sleeping.

“Sorry?” Singer asked, studying him in turn.

“Why did you pick Charlie?  He’s nice enough, but there were any number of people you could have made friends with here at the reserve,” Sirius clarified.  His godson was… nothing like he’d expected, to be honest, when he’d come after him.

It had been a shock to see the human-dragon hybrid when he’d found him, and Sirius had no idea of what to make of him at first.  But he’d stayed because Singer was his godson, and he wanted to get to know him.  He’d had a feeling from the beginning that Singer had known he wasn’t what he pretended to be, but as the months passed he’d begun to relax.  Singer had nearly given him a heart attack earlier tonight when he’d called him out.

Still.  Singer was happy, and healthy, and if he was a little isolated that was okay.  It was more than Sirius had hoped for when he’d first realized that his godson wasn’t as dead as people assumed he was.  It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it would do.  Except for the strange obsession his godson seemed to have with Charlie, that was to say.  He’d never seen Singer spend time with any human other than Charlie, unless Charlie was with him.  It was weird.

“Will be my Mate,” Singer said finally, after several moments of quiet consideration.

Sirius froze.  “What?” he asked.  That was ridiculous.  Charlie was far too old for his godson.  There had to be at least a few years difference between the two of them.  There was no way in hell that he would let his godson… wait.  No.  That wouldn’t do him any good.  Singer didn’t like being told what to do, Sirius knew that.  He’d seen ample examples of his godson’s stubbornness in his months at the reserve.

“There’s a bond between us, though Charlie doesn’t realize it yet,” Singer was saying quietly.  He was staring at Charlie, an expression on his face that took Sirius’ breath away.  

He knew that look.  James had looked at Lily like that, and he’d… he’d used to look at someone like that too.  Not that he’d ever noticed, of course.  And now it was far too late for anything like romance.  There would be no keeping Singer from this, Sirius knew.  That expression… it meant forever.

“Have you thought about telling him?” he asked instead of protesting.

Singer shook his head.  “Not time yet,” he said cryptically.  “But soon.  When Heat comes, it will be time.  And Charlie will have to decide.”

“Shouldn’t you tell him before that?  Give him some time to decide?” Sirius prodded carefully.  “That isn’t exactly something people like having sprung on them at the last minute, after all.”

Singer shrugged.  “Maybe,” he said quietly.  “It’s late.  We have an early morning tomorrow.  Arlina wants to try flying again now that her wing is better.”

Sirius recognized the brush off for what it was and shrugged.  When his godson climbed up onto Charlie’s bed and went to sleep, he settled in on the nest of blankets Singer had left behind and tried to sleep himself.  It was easier than he’d thought.

ooOOooOOoo

After finding out who Singer was, and who the Grim was, time passed quickly and quietly.  Before Charlie knew it, it was summer once more.  It would have been the end of Singer’s third year at Hogwarts, not that it mattered.  Singer would never go to Hogwarts, of that Charlie was certain.  He would never tell, after all, and neither would Sirius.

And then, just as he was beginning to relax with that knowledge, the wizards from the Ministry of Magic arrived on the reserve.  They were holding some kind of tournament at Hogwarts next year, and they wanted to use some of the dragons.

Somehow, Charlie didn’t see this ending well at all, because he doubted that Singer would let that happen without a fight.

Chapter Text

“No.”

Jacques groaned.  “Singer, we can’t… we can’t just say… we can’t just say no.  It doesn’t work like that.”

Singer’s head fell to the side.  “Why?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t work like that!” Jacques exploded.  He took a deep breath, then, and let it out slowly.  “Do you understand why the reserve is here?”

Singer shifted a bit.  “Keeps the dragons safe,” he said finally after a moment of consideration.  He didn’t understand why Jacques was upset.  Of course he would say no to such a ridiculous request.  It didn’t even deserve to be dignified with that much of an answer, but Jacques had followed him when he’d stormed from his office.

“Yes, but how do you think we afford to do that?” Jacques asked through gritted teeth.  The frustration in his voice wasn’t something that Singer was used to, but that didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to change his mind.  “Not my problem,” he said shortly.

“It will be if the Ministry decides to stop granting us funds,” Jacques said plainly.  “We get private donations, but those aren’t enough to run this place.  The Ministry pays the bulk of our bills, allowing us to hire workers who treat the dragons properly.  What do you think we’ll get if we can’t afford to pay the same amount for keepers?”

“The same workers,” Singer retorted.  He wasn’t stupid.  People like his Charlie, who loved dragons, they would work for the reserve no matter how much money they were being offered.  But…  Singer could sort of understand where Jacques was coming from.  That didn’t mean that he was willing to let them have nesting mothers, though.  What if one of the eggs were damaged?  It would be a disaster.  Nesting mothers and their eggs were too fragile to move around like that.

“You…”  Jacques trailed off.  “Singer, please, I need you to talk about this with me.  I can’t just tell them no.  I have to be willing to work with them at least a little bit, or we could lose all of our funding.  And the dragons won’t cooperate with us unless you tell them to.  I’d really rather avoid as many injuries as possible with this.”

Singer took a deep breath and held it for a moment and forced himself to think past his knee-jerk response of no as he breathed it out.  If he didn’t allow any dragons to go to this… tournament, the Ministry could make things very difficult for the reserve.  And he did understand why that was a bad idea, as little as he liked to admit it.

Finally, quietly, he said, “I will not allow nesting mothers to be used in sport.  But we could send them male dragons.  They could pretend that they are nesting mothers if they would like.  I can encourage the dragons chosen to act as such.  And they can make fake eggs, because I will not risk real ones.”

Jacques wilted in relief.  “I’ll present it to them.  But, Singer, that means that you would have to be one of the handlers to travel to the site of the tournament, wouldn’t it?”

Singer stared at him for a moment and, once the ridiculousness of the question had sunk in, said, “Of course.  I’ll also be the one choosing which handlers go with me.  Those are both non-negotiable.”

“They’ll probably want to meet you,” Jacques said.

Singer shrugged.  “Don’t care,” he said shortly.  “I’ll meet them if I must.”

He stalked off, then, all patience for humans gone for the day.  Humans other than his dogfather and his Charlie.  He always had patience left for them at the end of the day.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie fell back on the bed with a groan when he realized what Singer had done.  “Are you out of your mind?” he asked.

“What?” Singer asked, voice low and irritable.  “What else could I do?”

“You can’t go to Hogwarts, Singer.  That’s the last place you should be going!” he said, staring up at the ceiling of his tent.  Maybe if he stared at it for long enough this whole mess would go away.

“I can’t send dragons to this place to be used in a tournament where they might get hurt without being there myself, Charlie.  I thought that you would understand that.”  Singer sounded… hurt.  He sounded hurt.

Charlie felt like the worst person in the world then.  He generally tried to keep from hurting Singer.  Despite his gruff exterior and his genuine dislike of most humans, Charlie knew that he was more vulnerable than he appeared.  He sat up and said quietly, “I do understand,” he said, and was rewarded by Singer peeking up at him through his wild black bangs.  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be,” Singer said quietly.  “You’re coming.  I told Jacques that we could only do this if I chose the handlers, and you’ll be one of them.  So will Sean and Anna, because I trust them to treat the dragons well.  And… maybe one or two others.”

Charlie’s breathing came a little easier.  “I’m glad I’ll be coming with you for this,” he said softly.  He was worried, very worried, that this would lead to Singer being discovered, but at least if he was there, he could… what?  Deflect some of the suspicion?  Help Singer avoid notice?  Like that was even possible…

“I’m going to come along too, then,” Sirius said from the floor of the tent.

Charlie groaned.  There went the relief he’d been feeling.  “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t exactly stop me,” Sirius pointed out.  “I want to go to Hogwarts.  See if I can’t clear my name.  That’s the whole reason I originally broke out, you know.  Peter’s at Hogwarts somewhere.”

“This is a disaster waiting to happen,” Charlie informed them.  “I hope you know that when you both get caught, I’m going to say that I told you so.”  He knew that he couldn’t stop them.  He could only go with them, and hope that there wasn’t a disaster.

Singer flopped on the bed next to him and offered him an impudent grin.  “Won’t get caught, Char,” he said quietly.  “We’ll both be careful.  Won’t we?” he asked, looking at Sirius.

“Careful is my middle name!” Sirius said cheerfully.

Charlie groaned again.  This was going to be an absolute disaster, he just knew it.

ooOOooOOoo

Discussions with the Ministry went well enough for Singer.  As Jacques had suspected, they did indeed want to meet with the handlers that were going to be escorting the dragons, as well as with the mysterious Singer.  They spent the majority of the meetings staring at him, but dropping their gazes whenever he looked at them.  It was amusing for Singer, and he made a game of it to pass the time during the otherwise boring discussions.

The dragons were chosen.  Marlis wanted to go, but Harry didn’t want to risk the ire of his mate.  So, in the end, Singer wound up choosing a Swedish Short-Snout by the name of Ingaron, a Common Welsh Green named Erynian, and a Chinese Fireball named Garnis.  The three of them seemed almost amused by their tasks and swore to Singer that they would be the fiercest nesting mothers the wizarding world had ever seen.  

The Ministry wizards looked incredibly discomforted by Singer’s communication with the three dragons.

And then, shortly after the discussions concluded, it was time to get the dragons prepared for transport.  With Singer able to talk to them and keep them calm, things were much easier than they might have been, and in the end he decided to only take the three handlers he knew the best.

At least he knew that he could trust them to trust him to handle the dragons.  And they would listen to him if he told them to get away, or to help him with something, unlike the idiots from the Ministry who still seemed shocked every time they saw him.

The journey was brief enough, and soon enough they were ensconced within the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.  Sirius slunk off in his dog form almost as soon as they arrived after swearing to Singer that he would stay safe, much to the relief of Sean and Anna, who still apparently weren’t used to the giant Grim who followed Singer everywhere.

ooOOooOOoo

“I really do wish you would have brought more than three handlers,” Ludo Bagman said nervously next to Singer.

Singer frowned at him and shifted away.

Charlie, sensing his friend’s irritation, stepped into the conversation.  “Why?” he asked Bagman quietly.  “Singer will keep everything under control.”

“But what happens if the dragons get out of control?” he asked.

Charlie studied the three calm dragons who were nosing at each other and letting out huffs that sounded suspiciously like laughter.  “They won’t, not with Singer here.  They love him more than anything.  They’ll listen to whatever he tells them to do.  They wouldn’t do anything to upset him.”

“But what if there’s an accident?  The three… four of you can’t possibly hope to contain even one dragon, much less all three of them.  What do you intend to do if something goes wrong?” Bagman pressed.

Charlie fought down his own irritation.  He didn’t understand.  None of the wizards here would understand.  None of them had seen Singer with the dragons.  Bagman had never seen Singer get in between two fighting dragons and have the fighting break off instantly.  He’d never heard Singer lead them in a song, never seen the way they almost bowed to him.  He had no idea how important Singer was to them, that they would likely hurt themselves before ever doing anything to upset him.

There really was no way to explain it.  Not in a way that would make sense to the wizards in the Ministry.  So he didn’t try.  Instead, he walked over to Singer, who was now standing with the three dragons.  “Do you think they might want to sing tonight?” he asked quietly.  He slung an arm around Singer’s shoulders.

Singer glanced up at him, a wicked grin curling his lips.  He burrowed in against Charlie and said, “I know what you’re up to.”  But he still opened his mouth and let out the first notes of song.  

Immediately the three dragons perked up and bowed their heads.  They allowed Singer to get through the first minute or so of the song, and then they lifted their heads and opened their mouths and joined in the music.  

It was every bit as haunting and beautiful with only three dragons as it was with the whole reserve and, when Charlie looked over at Bagman, he was staring with his jaw dropped.  Charlie fought the entirely appropriate urge to say that he’d told him so and instead enjoyed the music, and tried not to enjoy the feel of Singer pressed so close to him.

He was a child, and Charlie knew exactly how old he was now.  Such thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

ooOOooOOoo

This was possibly the worst idea Sirius had ever had in his life.  And, considering the way his life had gone, that was saying something.  He could only thank Merlin that Moony wasn’t at Hogwarts anymore, even though he felt awful for thinking it.  Moony being there would have made things so much worse, though.  He would almost certainly have been caught.

As it was, creeping around Hogwarts as Padfoot was a terrible idea.  He should be ashamed of himself.

But he had a rat to catch, damn it.  He wasn’t going to let that stinking traitor get away from him, not now.  Not when he was so close.  And not when Harry was…

Harry didn’t need him.  Not really.  He loved Harry, adored him, but Singer had no need for a human godfather who spent most of his days as a dog.  He had no need for a godfather period, not when he had an entire reserve full of dragons looking after him.  And that hurt.  But, Sirius supposed that part of it was his own damn fault for letting his temper get the best of him all those years ago.

He heard the sound of footsteps and froze in the shadows of the hallway, hoping that it would be enough.  That if whoever it was did spot him they would just assume he was somebody’s pet.  

“I’m telling you, George, it says that Harry Potter’s on the grounds!”

“And I’m telling you that there must be something wrong with the damn thing, because it’s also saying that Charlie’s here, and what would Charlie be doing with Harry Potter?”

Oh.

Well.

That couldn’t be good.  The two redheaded boys walked past him, heads bent over a painfully familiar scrap of parchment.  And then they both froze, and Sirius knew.  He just… he knew that he couldn’t possibly have been so lucky.

“Brother mine, do you see what I see?”

Sirius began to carefully move back, move away from the boys.  It wouldn’t do any good, of course.  They were watching his dot.  They had to be.

“That’s impossible.  Where would he be-”

Sirius didn’t wait for them to finish talking.  He turned and fled, his claws scrabbling for purchase against the stone of the floor.  He heard their shout of surprise, and heard them moving to follow him.  He was faster than they were, but he couldn’t quite manage to escape and found himself cornered in a hallway that he’d thought he remembered had another exit but apparently didn’t.  Or maybe it had, once upon a time, but the exit wasn’t there when he went to find it.

Shit.

“You’re Sirius Black,” one of the redheads said, quite confident in his statement.  Considering that the other one had the Marauder’s Map in hand, Sirius figured it was a fair assessment.  He considered just cocking his head to one side and playing the dog, but from the way he was being stared at it probably wouldn’t do any good.

With a sigh he transformed, wand held loosely in his hand.  Not that he was planning on attacking either one of them.  At most, if he had to, he’d stun them both to get away.  And then he caught a hint of movement in one of their pockets and froze.  Just as the rat poked his head out of said pocket, he shot off a stunner and the rat went limp.

“I need that rat,” he said quietly.

The redhead pulled the rat out of his pocket and studied it.  “You tried to kill him once before.  You’re saying we should just let you finish the job?”

Sirius’ breath left him in an annoyed huff.  “I’m not going to kill him.  I want to turn him over to the authorities to get my name cleared, dammit.”

The two of them looked at each other, then back at him.  “You’re saying that you didn’t do it?  You didn’t kill all those Muggles?”

Sirius shrugged.  “I didn’t.  Peter betrayed my friends, our friends, and then when I confronted him, he… well, he framed me.  Nobody knew that we’d switched places as Secret Keepers and the little rat made it look like I’d killed him.  I never would have thought he’d have it in him, to take off his own finger, but I guess he managed it.”

The redheads shared another look.  “And why should we believe you?”  This they asked together, and he wondered if they spent time practicing it or if it was just a natural part of their being twins.

Then he shrugged the thought off.  This really wasn’t the time for that thought.  Instead he should probably be worrying about how to make the twins believe…  Ah.  Well, that was an option, he supposed.  Charlie might never forgive him, but…

“Well, your older brother believes me.”

“Our older brother?”  The twin on the left raised one eyebrow, and the twin on the right raised the other.  Seriously, did they practice this?

“You are Weasleys, aren’t you?”

And that’s how he wound up leading the Weasley twins out to see Charlie.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie saw the shadow of Sirius’ grim form outside of his tent, but was rather surprised when he transformed outside where Anna or Sean could, theoretically, have seen him.  “Wait here,” he heard Sirius hiss, and then the man was ducking into the tent.

“What did you do?” he asked, feeling a headache starting to form.  Singer made a tiny little noise beside him and sat up from where he’d been sprawled on Charlie’s bedroll.

The expression on Sirius’ face could only be described as sheepish.  “Well.  You know how I was coming after Peter?  I… found him.  But only after your brothers found me.  Did you know that he was pretending to be one of their pets?”

Charlie closed his eyes.  Oh, yes, that was definitely a headache.  “Sirius.  Are my brothers outside of the tent?”

“Yes.”  Sirius winced and looked away.  “I didn’t want to hurt them!  And… I figured that they would believe things coming from you more than they might believe them from me.  And it isn’t like they didn’t know you were here!  They have the Map, so they know…”  Sirius blanched suddenly.

As if on cue, he heard one of his brothers ask, “Wait.  If the Map is right about Sirius, and it’s right about Charlie, does that mean that it’s right about Harry Potter?”

“Both of you get in here right now!” Charlie barked.  This was a nightmare.  He was going to kill both Sirius and Singer for putting him in this position.

ooOOooOOoo

The twins that entered the tent were of little interest to Singer.  They looked like his Charlie he supposed, more than all humans looked alike that was to say, but other than that they meant nothing to him.  He turned his back on them and curled up on the bed once more.  He was tired, and tomorrow was going to be a long day.  Tomorrow he had to make sure the dragons didn’t get too violent with the contestants.

It was difficult, sometimes, for dragons to understand what ‘too violent’ was when humans were involved.  They often didn’t realize their own strength.

“Is that really Harry Potter?” he heard one of the twins ask, and Singer let out a tiny little hiss.  It seemed that name was coming up more and more often, and he didn’t like it.  He was Singer.  He was not this Harry Potter whose name he once bore.  He was his own creature.

“That is irrelevant,” Charlie answered quickly.  Singer smiled.  This was why he loved Charlie.  Charlie didn’t care that his name had once not been Singer.  He didn’t get bogged down with the things that most humans did and tended to accept things as they were.  He was practical, and would be an excellent mate when the time came.

“No, I’m actually pretty sure that’s relevant.  If you know where Harry Potter is, then shouldn’t you tell someone?  They think he’s dead, you know.”

What did it matter if silly humans thought he was dead?  Their affairs weren’t his problem.  He was Singer.  He worried about dragons, not about humans.

“Does it really matter?” Charlie asked.  “If they find out about him, they’ll want him to go to Hogwarts.  Fred, George, he can’t.  It would kill him.  He’s not… he’s not like we are.”

All true.  But Singer didn’t like the distress in his Charlie’s voice.  It made him unhappy, so he turned and hissed at the twins.  They weren’t Speakers, they couldn’t understand the threat in his words, but they certainly understood the tone.

One of them blanched while the other looked intrigued.  “Sorry, but are you really Harry Potter?” the brave one asked.

“Am Singer,” he said shortly.  They were beginning to irritate him.  This was why he didn’t generally bother with people.  They were all so… annoying.  He stood, then, and stalked from the tent.  Charlie wouldn’t appreciate it if he flamed at his brothers, after all.

He would keep the dragons company.  They were probably lonely, being so far from the Reserve.

ooOOooOOoo

Fred frowned at his brother, who was staring after the boy who was or was not Harry Potter.  There was something in his eyes that made Fred a little uneasy, and he cleared his throat to draw Charlie’s attention back to themselves.

“We won’t tell anyone,” he offered, because George was still a little unnerved.  He knew that he’d made the right call when George nodded emphatically.  Besides, telling someone really wouldn’t do any good.  The wild thing that had been in the tent with them may have once upon a time been Harry Potter, but there wasn’t really any resemblance left besides a little of the physical.  That thing was more animal than human.

Charlie let out a relieved sigh.  “Okay.  That’s the first thing dealt with, at least.  Now let’s talk about Sirius.”

“We won’t tell anyone about him, either,” George volunteered.  He looked much less shaken now that the thing had left the tent.

“Okay, but I still need your rat,” Sirius said, sounding somewhat impatient.

“I’m sorry, but why do you need their rat?”  Charlie shot Sirius a puzzled look.

“It’s Peter.  Their rat, I mean.  Is Peter.  And I’d like for him to be turned over to the authorities so that I can maybe be free.”  Sirius glanced down at his hands.  “Because, you know, if it ever does come out that Harry is Singer, if I’m free then I’ll have legal custody of him.  And I’ll have a say in what happens to him.”

“Which means he won’t necessarily end up at Hogwarts.”  Charlie took a deep breath, and Fred watched as he relaxed a bit.  “Okay, that seems reasonable.  I assume you two don’t mind if Sirius takes your rat who isn’t really a rat off your hands?”

Fred frowned.  That could work.  But… he had a glimmer of a thought.  “Wouldn’t it be better if somebody who isn’t related to the situation at all turns him in?”

George, as always, caught on quickly.  A champion at that, George was.  “We could take him to the Headmaster ourselves.  Maybe… say that we’re concerned that he’s lived so long, or maybe we saw him transforming or something.  Then Sirius wouldn’t be put at risk.”

They could see the hesitation on both their older brother’s face and on the escaped convict’s, so Fred continued with, “Maybe we’ll even bring the Map into it.  Mention how weird it was that our pet rat had the name of a dead man.  We might lose it, but maybe it would be worth it.”

Sirius let out a small bark of laughter.  “If you do lose it, and my innocence is proven, I’ll let you have my copy.  It’s somewhere in one of my vaults.  I’m sure I could find it for you.”

Fred’s eyes widened.  “Your copy?” he asked eagerly.

Charlie groaned and stood up.  “I’m leaving before I hear any more of this conversation.  I’ll be out with Singer if you need me.”

He left the tent, and Fred and George both stared at Sirius with eager eyes.  “Your copy?” George repeated.

Sirius swept into a low bow.  “Padfoot, at your service,” he said, and there was a grin on his face.

Fred felt the smile bloom on his face.  This was great.  Padfoot, the Padfoot, and they had the chance to help him prove his innocence.  And, not telling the world that Harry Potter was alive and well?  That was sort of like a prank too.  This school year was going to be the best!

ooOOooOOoo

Albus wasn’t entirely certain what he thought of the developments thus far this year.

When the Weasley twins had come to him he’d been shocked to find that they had Peter Pettigrew in custody.  He’d known, of course, that Sirius hadn’t ever received a trial, but he’d never suspected that the Potters had switched their Secret Keeper.  He’d been furious with Sirius, and perhaps that was why he’d allowed the man to be imprisoned without a trial.

He’d done a lot of harm with that, apparently, that he would now have to work very hard to undo.

Something was still strange about the story the twins had told, however.  They spoke of a map that showed all of the people within Hogwarts, and they’d shown him the enchanted piece of parchment, but they’d refused to activate it.  He couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t show him, but he’d let it slide.  The fact that the stunned rat had turned into Peter Pettigrew when forced to do so was really all of the proof that he needed.

But still…

“It is a most curious thing that they wouldn’t show me that map of theirs,” he told his bound prisoner.  Peter was glaring at him and had refused to answer any of his questions thus far.  Aurors were on their way to the school already, and then Peter would have no choice but to speak.

“You know why they wouldn’t show you that map of theirs, Albus?” Peter asked suddenly.

“Do you?” he asked, because if Peter was willing to speak of anything then he should be encouraged to do so.

“Because that map would tell you that Harry Potter was here on Hogwarts grounds,” Peter said, and then he started to laugh.  Much like Sirius all those years ago, he was still laughing when he was taken away by the Aurors.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned to the sound of three incredibly unhappy dragons.

Charlie groaned.  “They’re your dragons,” he muttered to Singer, not opening his eyes.  When he received no response, Charlie forced himself to wake up.  Singer wasn’t in the tent, and the dragons sounded… angry.  They sounded angry.

That couldn’t possibly be good.

Charlie untangled himself from his sleeping bag and got up.  He put his boots on, because walking barefoot among dragons was almost always an awful idea, and left the tent.  The fact that he was still in pajamas didn’t really matter.  He would deal with whatever was upsetting the dragons, and Singer most likely, and then get dressed.

It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with an emergency in his pajamas, and it probably wouldn’t be the last either.  Dragons didn’t exactly like to wait for humans to get dressed, after all.  From what Singer said, they didn’t quite understand the point of clothing anyway.

He’d only just left the tent when he heard one of the dragons let out a shriek of utter rage.  Charlie didn’t even think about it; he broke into a run.  It took only moments for him to reach the dragons, and what he saw almost made his heart stop.

Singer was backed up against the Swedish Short-Snout, Ingaron.  His eyes were wide enough that Charlie could see the whites all the way around them, and his hands were clenched into fists.  His breath was leaving him in curls of flame.  Charlie had never seen him so very panicked.  And the reason for the panic was the man standing just a few feet away, in obnoxiously bright robes.

“Headmaster,” Charlie said quietly, and closed the rest of the distance between himself and the odd standoff.  He placed himself deliberately in between the Headmaster and Singer, because he was sure that Singer would at least hesitate before charring him.

Pretty sure, anyway.

“Ahh, Mr. Weasley,” the Headmaster said.  He had the faintest twinkle in his eyes.  “Do you know what I learned last night?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Charlie answered evenly.

“Charlie, move,” Singer hissed at him.  “Can’t get him with you there.”

“Sort of the point, Singer,” Charlie muttered.  “Headmaster, you can’t possibly think that he’s in any condition to attend Hogwarts.”

“Now, Mr. Weasley, I think that’s hardly your concern.”

Charlie gritted his teeth.  That sentence made an art form out of condescension.  “As it happens, I’m one of the few people that Singer speaks with.  All of his other friends are dragons, and I don’t think they’ll answer your questions.”

The Headmaster focused on him, then.  “And how long have you known that he was Harry Potter?” he asked.

Charlie shook his head.  “That’s irrelevant,” he said shortly.  “If you make him attend Hogwarts like this, it’ll be a bloodbath.  He doesn’t like people, Headmaster.  He can and will defend himself, violently if he has to.  I’m standing in between you so that he doesn’t kill you.”

“Should move,” Singer grumbled behind him.

“I’m not going to move so that you can hurt him, Singer,” Charlie said patiently.  He turned his back on the Headmaster.  “He means well.  He just doesn’t understand that you aren’t the boy he lost all those years ago, and that forcing you to be will only get somebody hurt.”

“I’m not lost,” Singer said, his nose scrunching up in a way that Charlie refused to think of as adorable.

“Not anymore, no,” Charlie agreed instead.  One of the dragons let out another little shriek and Charlie winced.  “Why don’t you concentrate on settling the dragons down while the Headmaster and I talk?”

Singer’s head fell to one side as he considered the offer.  Finally, his eyes narrowed.  “Fine,” he hissed, and turned his back on them both.

Charlie returned his attention to the Headmaster.  “He isn’t human anymore,” he tried.

“We’ve had werewolves attend the school before.  And Veela, right now, with the Tournament.”  The Headmaster didn’t look impressed with his argument.

“You had one werewolf attend the school and that wasn’t open like Singer would be.  And the Veela isn’t actually in your school.  She’s in Beauxbatons.”  Charlie’s grin was a bit toothy as he asked, “How do you propose to hide what Singer is?”

“I don’t,” the Headmaster answered.  “Charlie, there are matters that you don’t understand.  Dark forces are on the move, and they will target Harry.”

Charlie sighed.  “You know he doesn’t answer to that?  His name is Singer.  He won’t be Harry Potter for you.  He doesn’t have it in him.  Trying to make him… it won’t end well for anyone.”  He locked eyes with the Headmaster, hoping that he could make the man understand.

There was a tense moment of silence, broken up only by Singer’s soft, crooning hisses to the dragons.  Finally, the Headmaster dipped his head in acquiescence.  “You may have a point, Mr. Weasley,” he said quietly.

Charlie let himself relax.  “Thank you, sir,” he said.

The Headmaster turned and headed back to the school, and Charlie sagged as the tension left him.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he believed the Headmaster’s surrender, but it was something.  He would have more time to try and convince him once Singer was safe again at the reserve.

“Gone?” Singer asked quietly, coming to stand at Charlie’s side.

“Gone,” Charlie confirmed, and slung an arm around Singer’s shoulders.  “Gone, and you didn’t even have to singe him.”

Singer snorted.  “Would have had it coming,” he muttered, and ducked Charlie’s hold.  “Come.  We must prepare the dragons for their task later in the week.”

Charlie rolled his eyes.  “I’m pretty sure they’re prepared,” he said to Singer, but went with him anyway.  It wasn’t like he minded working with Singer, and helping the dragons prepare to pretend to be nesting mothers was sort of fun.

ooOOooOOoo

This wasn’t his brightest idea.

He’d already been caught sneaking around once, so doing it a second time probably wasn’t wise.  Especially during the day, when all of the students were out and about.  And the professors, too.  Which might be why he was sneaking around during the day.  And it wasn’t like any of the other students would probably have the Marauder’s Map on them, since the twins had it and they already knew he was there.

Sirius was relatively sure this was still a really horrible idea.

He stuck to the shadows, crouched low, his tail waving irrepressibly behind him like a banner.  One of the difficulties in being a dog was the lack of control he had over his tail.  Even though he knew this was a bad idea, it was still exciting.  He supposed that was why he’d always been in trouble, this tendency of his to find dangerous situations exciting.

And this was probably the most dangerous of all situations, right now.

Classes were in the process of letting out for the day, which meant that the hallway was filled with students.  There were a few of them that looked somewhat familiar, including the one with platinum blonde hair that could only belong to a Malfoy.  He was sure that he should know a few of the other students, but honestly he couldn’t be bothered.  His focus wasn’t on them, after all.

It was on the man who had just emerged from the classroom behind the students.  Sirius had hoped that he would come out of the room considering that this was his last class before lunch, and he was pleased to see that he’d been right.  He just wanted to see him, that was all.  And now he had, and Severus looked every bit as miserable as he always had every other time Sirius had seen him.

Great.  He’d seen him.  He should go.  He really, really needed to leave.

He took a step forward before he could stop himself.  His nails clicked against the floor and, somehow, Severus heard him through the din the students made.  His eyes narrowed as he stared at Sirius, and Sirius went still.  Oh yeah, this was an awful idea.

Severus took a single step forward, and Sirius didn’t wait around to see what was coming next.  He bolted, paws scrabbling on the floor for purchase.  This was his second time fleeing in as many days.  Really, he should have known better.

Unlike the last time, however, he made it back to his godson without being followed.  Maybe Severus hadn’t realized that he was an animagus.  Maybe he thought he was someone’s familiar, or a stray that wandered into the castle somehow.  Maybe it didn’t matter, since he hadn’t been followed.

Sirius let out a weary sigh and flopped onto the ground next to Singer, who was humming quietly as he put some finishing touches on the fake dragon’s eggs they were using.  He was surrounded by the three dragons that had come with them, and Sirius relaxed even further because even if Severus had followed him, there was no way he’d dare approach three fully grown dragons.

“What did you do this time?” Singer asked him, a bit of disapproval in his voice.

Sirius rolled onto his back and let his tongue loll out of his mouth in a doggy grin and didn’t answer.

Singer snorted at him, but gamely rubbed his belly before returning to his work.

Much later in the day, Charlie came to join them.  Sirius wasn’t sure where the young man had been, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know, given the murderous edge to his tiny little smile.

“It’s very strange,” Charlie said as he settled on Singer’s opposite side.  “Fred and George tell me that a black dog was spotted roaming the castle halls again today.  And since he got caught the last time he did that, I thought for sure that he wouldn’t have been so foolish a second time.”

Sirius let out a small huff and didn’t transform.  This whole being a dog thing was really quite useful for avoiding adult conversations.

“Showed up here earlier running.  Was scared,” Singer said.  “Got in trouble again?”  This, Sirius assumed, was directed at him since Singer was looking right at him.

He very deliberately shook his head.  Nobody had recognized him, even if he’d been seen.  To him, that was the very definition of a successful trip.

Charlie sighed, a long-suffering expression on his face.  He leaned over and grabbed Sirius by the jaw, forcing him to look up at him.  “Be careful,” he said, voice firm.  “You’re close to being cleared.  The Headmaster has already sent Pettigrew off to the Aurors.  Getting caught now would be nothing more than stupid, and Singer would be very unhappy to see you hurt.”

Sirius jerked his head away and let out another small huff.  He nodded, though, because Charlie had a point.  Singer was more important than checking in on his stupid childhood crush, anyway.  And Singer might need him soon, anyway, now that the Headmaster knew who he was.

Sirius would just have to be more careful.  Which meant that he probably shouldn’t go sneaking around Hogwarts anymore.  And that was fine, anyway, because he’d already seen what he wanted to.  He’d managed to get Pettigrew turned over to the Aurors, and he’d seen Severus, who probably still hated him for that stunt he’d pulled when they were children.  That was enough.  This chance at real freedom was more than he’d ever thought he’d get, anyway.  Charlie was right.  He shouldn’t mess that up.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer was glad that his time at the school was almost over.  He was tired of being surrounded by so many humans and being so far away from his dragons.  It was awful.  It didn’t help that his dragons were also restless.  They wanted to go home, too.  The forest was too closed in for them to be comfortable for any long period of time.

Even the arena that they were now waiting in was too small for them.  And there were wizards everywhere, staring at his dragons like they were some kind of spectacle.  How dare they?  Singer hissed in their general direction, but he couldn’t be heard over the noise they were all making.  Rude things.

“Don’t do that,” Charlie said, but his voice was choked with something like laughter so Singer couldn’t take him seriously.

He hissed again.  “Staring at us,” he muttered.  He could feel the weight of their gaze on him.  He hated it.  It made him want to disappear.  It was awful and obnoxious.

“Of course they are,” Charlie said, and slung an arm around his shoulders.  He either didn’t notice the way that Singer tensed or didn’t care because he left it there as he said, “They’ve never seen something like you before, so they’re curious.  Don’t be angry about that.”

Singer’s lip curled in a snarl.  “Can try,” he said grudgingly.  Then to his dragons he said, ”~Remember, make the task hard but not impossible.  We don’t want to be here all day because you didn’t want to let them through.  These aren’t trained handlers, after all.~”

Three hisses of agreement later and the task was beginning.

First up was Ingaron, the Swedish Short-Snout.  He really was quite distracted when his opponent, a young man, turned a rock into a dog for him.  “~Where did that dog come from?~” Ingaron was hissing, following it with his eyes.  When the dog barked and moved away, Ingaron got up to go investigate.  “~No, seriously, where did it come from?  I thought I was supposed to be watching for a human.~”

“~The egg?~” Singer muttered softly as the Champion approached the egg.

Ingaron remembered the task at the last minute and the Champion escaped with the egg and with a bit of a scorched face.  The Champion would be fine, but Ingaron’s dignity would never recover.

“~It was so real!~” he insisted as he returned to Singer’s side, petulance in every step he took.

“~I won’t be fooled by any silly conjured dogs,~” Erynian hissed, sounding smug.

And he was right.  He wasn’t fooled by any dogs at all.  Instead, the pretty little girl who came out after the next egg sent him to sleep.  Unfortunately, she apparently hadn’t counted on Erynian being a snorer, or the gout of flame that emerged as he let out a particularly violent snort.  The silly girl’s skirt would never recover.  But honestly, who wore a skirt for working with dragons?  How foolish.

“~Well, you weren’t distracted,~” Ingaron said, chortling, when Erynian returned.

“~You’re right, I wasn’t.  I didn’t think she’d know any enchantments like that,~” Erynian muttered.

“~You’re both idiots,~” Garnis hissed.

“~Let’s see you do better,~” Ingaron said.  “~I bet you’ll do worse than both of us!~”

“~I would feel horrible taking treasure from such a fool,~” Garnis murmured.  “~No bet.~”

He entered the ring with great dignity and settled himself in front of his fake eggs.  What happened next was something of a nightmare.  Singer would forever remember the sight of him flailing about, shrieking in terror about being blinded.  It was awful, especially when he started crushing the fake eggs.  Had they been real, had Garnis really been a nesting mother, he likely wouldn’t have survived the loss of so many of his children.

A true nesting mother would have grieved herself to death over the loss.  It would have been devastating.

When Garnis came back, he was shaking in fright.  “~You did well,~” Singer said soothingly, running a hand over Garnis’ trembling leg.  “~It’s over now.  We can go home soon.~”

Ingaron and Erynian made tiny noises and pressed against Garnis in an effort to soothe him.  It wasn’t until an hour or so later, long after the scores had been given and the stands had emptied out, that the three dragons had settled enough to move back to the forest.

Singer stayed with them the whole time, though Charlie left to begin preparing their transport home.  The faster they could get out of there, the better.  His dragons needed the rest of their friends and family after having seen that.

ooOOooOOoo

“How was the tournament?” Sean asked as he helped Charlie break down the campsite.  Anna was off on the other side of the camp doing the same thing.  They were all more than ready to get back to the reserve, and the breakdown was happening quickly as a result.

“The first two weren’t bad.  Ingaron got distracted by a dog and Erynian was put into an enchanted sleep.  Garnis…  his Champion blinded him, and he crushed about half of his eggs.”

Sean winced.  “Bet Singer’s glad we didn’t use real eggs for it, then.”

“He didn’t say.  He was too busy trying to comfort Garnis.  But I’m sure we’ll hear about it,” Charlie said cheerfully.  Singer had, after all, been very vocal about protesting the tournament from the beginning.  Dragons weren’t made to make spectacles of themselves.

The fact that they hadn’t been real eggs that were crushed was enough reason for Charlie to willingly admit that Singer had been right.

“You’ll hear about it.  He still doesn’t talk to us that much,” Anna called to them.  “He’s better than he used to be, though.”

Charlie shrugged.  Singer just wasn’t very social with humans.  There wasn’t anything wrong with that, really.  He got on quite well with the dragons, and was more than capable of having full conversations with them.  It wasn’t like he was totally misanthropic, either.  Singer would join them at the campfires more often than not these days.  It was a great deal of progress for the young man who’d once never spoken to anyone other than Jacques at all.

The rest of the work was finished quickly, and by the time Singer returned with the three dragons Charlie was sitting on a rolled up tent with Sean and Anna, waiting for them to return.  Sirius lounged at their feet in dog form, which had the humorous side effect of unnerving both Sean and Anna, since they didn’t realize he was a human pretending to be a Grim.

“Not used to him yet?” Singer asked as he approached.

Anna shot him a glare.  “He’s a Grim,” she said.  “I keep expecting someone to drop dead around him.”

Singer’s lips twitched into a smile.  He would find it funny that Sirius’ presence bothered so many people.  Charlie found Singer’s mean streak rather amusing.  He was positively vicious when he wanted to be.

“Won’t,” Singer said.  “Ready?” he asked Charlie.

Charlie looked around the camp.  Everything was packed up, they’d just been waiting on the dragons.  “I think we’re good,” he said.  “We can send the dragons on first.  Jacques said they’d have a set of handlers ready for most of the day since we weren’t sure when we’d be back.”

Singer nodded, then hissed at the three dragons.  Charlie, Sean, and Anna helped harness the three dragons together, then activated the portkey that would send them back to the reserve.  They didn’t seem thrilled as it activated, but Charlie would have been surprised if they’d enjoyed it.  Portkey travel wasn’t pleasant under the best circumstances, and international portkeys were even worse.

They sent their things ahead with the next portkey, and finally it was just the four of them standing around.  They linked hands and Charlie murmured the words to activate their own portkey.  Just as he did so, he felt Singer’s hand ripped from his own and then the world blurred around the sound of Singer’s startled cry.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer let out a hiss of rage as he was violently jerked away from Charlie just as the awful portkey activated.  He spun around, a curl of flame on his lips and his fingers shaped like claws.  The vile old man who’d harassed him earlier stood there, his tiny little wand pointed at Singer.  Singer opened his mouth to let the flame out when a bright red light hit him in the chest and the world went black.

When the world had color again, Singer sprung to his feet hissing.  He was in a stone room with a wooden floor and a bed in the middle of the room.  There was a sturdy wooden table and chair pressed against one wall of the room.  There were doors on two of the other walls, and the fourth wall had one small window.  The window, when Singer looked out of it, didn’t show anything he remembered from around the castle.

“Let me go!” he snarled to the window.  He could feel the magic radiating from it.  He wasn’t stupid, after all.

The door closest to the window opened and the old man stepped inside.  “I had hoped that we could speak,” he said carefully.

“Let me go,” Singer demanded once more.  “Dragons need me.  Will be angry.  Might attack,” he warned.  His dragons wouldn’t tolerate his absence for long.  They would be very distressed by this.  And Charlie would worry, and that was just unacceptable.

“While I’m sorry that your friends will miss you, I’m afraid that I can’t release you just yet.  Harry, the world needs you, now more than ever.”  The old man spoke slowly, carefully, as though Singer couldn’t understand him.

Singer’s eyes narrowed.  “Not my name,” he said shortly.  “Let go.”

“But Harry is your name,” he said, and smiled.  His eyes twinkled.  “You were born Harry Potter, to Lily and James Potter.  And you’re a hero, Harry.”

“Am not Harry,” Singer snarled.  He went back to pacing, wondering if he would be able to escape the room if he killed the man in front of him.  He wasn’t an animal.  He wouldn’t allow himself to be caged here for the stupid wizards.

“You won’t be able to leave here even if you do manage to injure me,” his captor said.  “The room is warded.  Only myself and a handful of trusted others are allowed in and out.  You, regrettably, cannot be on that list yet.”

Singer let out an irritated hiss.  He could feel the flame building inside of him and let it out in the old man’s general direction.  It didn’t hit and the flames damaged nothing in the room, but Singer felt better for having let them out.  “Will end you,” he snarled to the old man.

“It’s not me I need you to end,” he answered.  “The man that murdered your parents will come after you, Harry.  You’re the only one who can defeat him.  We need you to do that.”

Singer’s nose wrinkled.  “Am not a murderer,” he said flatly.  “Am a Singer.  Am a guardian.”  Perhaps this old man simply didn’t understand what he was?  Maybe, if Singer could educate him-

“I know what you are,” the old man said, interrupting his thoughts.  “I understand that you think you have a duty to the dragons, but your duty should be to us.  We need you, Harry.  They can find another Singer.”

The old man claimed to know what he was, then said something like that?  Stupid.

Singer let his flame loose once more, this time deliberately aiming for the old man.  It did no good, and Singer let out a wordless shriek of frustration.  Humans couldn’t ward against dragonfire, so he had no idea how the old man was doing that.  But he would find out and he would escape so he could return to his dragons, and Charlie.  He had to.

“I can see that you’re not in the mood to discuss this right now,” the old man was saying, ignoring Singer’s shrieking.  “I’ll leave you to settle in here.  There are some books you might want to look through.  They should tell you a bit more about who you are.  Someone will bring your meals to you, Harry, and I’ll be back in a day or so after you’ve had time to think.”

Singer snarled at him.  “Will get out,” he promised as the door closed behind the old man.  He wouldn’t be caged here like an animal.  He wouldn’t let them use him.  He wasn’t a thing.  He wasn’t a freak.  He was Singer.

ooOOooOOoo

Severus couldn’t imagine what Albus wanted in this dusty, disused corner of the dungeons.  It was off limits to students and had been since Severus had been a student.  There had been rumors even then about what the area was used for, but not even the infamous Marauders had found out what was down there.  Upon joining the faculty, Severus had been somewhat disappointed to learn that the only reason it was sealed off was because the protective wards that surrounded the majority of the castle didn’t quite make it down that far, so there was no way of knowing if a student was in danger.

“Ah, Severus, thank you for coming,” Albus said.  He was staring at a window that hadn’t been there the last time Severus had come through the area, a pensive frown on his face.  “Please, join me.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, but stepped up to the window beside Albus.  He looked into the room and his breath caught.  “I’m sorry, Albus, but is that the Dragon Singer that came to attend the dragons during the tournament?”

He’d been shocked when one had arrived with the three dragons.  Singers were little more than myths, but Severus had always been somewhat fascinated by dragons in his youth.  He’d only found a handful of references to them in his studies, but what he’d read had been fascinating.  Seeing one in person had been… interesting, to say the least.

“It is,” Albus said quietly.  “It’s also Harry Potter.”

“Albus, are you sure?” Severus asked.  He watched the Singer as he paced back and forth in front of the window hissing to himself.  He supposed, if he really studied him, he could see some resemblance to what Harry Potter might have looked like had he grown up.  The hair was the right shade and was probably just as wild as James Potter’s would have been had he ever let it grow that long, and his eyes certainly looked like Lily’s.  But… “He doesn’t have the scar, Albus.”

“He doesn’t,” Albus agreed.  “And I don’t know how to explain that.  Nothing should have gotten rid of that scar.  But I am absolutely positive that it’s him, Severus.  And we need him now more than ever.”

It was true that they weren’t doing well in their efforts to contain Voldemort.  Since he’d regained his form a year and a half ago, the situation in England had been gradually worsening.  And there was the matter of the prophecy that bound Harry Potter and Voldemort together.  But still…

“He doesn’t seem particularly inclined to work with us,” Severus pointed out.

Albus’ frown deepened.  “No, he isn’t.  He thinks that he needs to return to his dragons, but I think I can convince him otherwise.”

“You asked me here for a reason, I assume?” Severus asked.  “Other than to inform me that you’ve found him, of course.”  Because honestly, with his precarious position, it would likely have been safer for him to not know about Harry Potter being found.  Voldemort would be quite eager to have that information, after all.

“We need to see if we can’t undo whatever’s been done to him.  I need Harry Potter for this war, not… that.”  Albus nodded towards the Dragon Singer.  “If he isn’t human, people will claim that it isn’t really him.  We need them to have faith in him, Severus.  We need them to have faith that the prophecy can be fulfilled.”

Severus shook his head.  He’d never agreed with releasing the prophecy, but Albus had done so in an effort to encourage Augusta Longbottom to allow her grandson to be trained.  It had worked, and Longbottom had done his best, but he wasn’t enough.  It had become painfully clear at the end of last year that the prophecy never could have shifted to him when Voldemort murdered him during the final Hogsmeade visit.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Severus finally said, reluctantly.  It was true that they needed Potter, and if the Dragon Singer was really Harry Potter…  but the whole idea felt very wrong to Severus.  Perhaps they didn’t need Harry Potter, but instead this Dragon Singer could save them?  How could Albus really know that whatever powers a Dragon Singer possessed weren’t the powers that the Dark Lord knew not?

“Thank you, Severus.  Feel free to go in and interact with him.  He’s harmless so long as he’s in that room.  Even his fire won’t affect you.”  Albus nodded to him, then turned and walked away.

Severus watched the angry young man for several long, silent minutes before approaching the door and taking a deep breath.  If he was going to try this, he would probably need some samples from the Singer.  He just hoped that he could convince the Singer to give them to him, because torturing children had never been his thing (no matter what some idiotic Gryffindors might think).

And despite his strange appearance, Singer was most definitely still a child.  Severus wondered if Albus even realized that in all of his scheming, or if he’d acknowledged that fact and discarded it as unimportant.

With another deep breath, Severus opened the door and stepped into the room.

Chapter Text

The door opened and Singer spun to face it, his lips curled into a snarl.  The man that entered was not the same as the obnoxious old one, however.  This man was tall and thin with greasy hair and a sallow complexion.  Singer’s eyes narrowed.

“Let me go,” he commanded.

The man sighed.  “I really can’t,” he answered.

Singer hissed at him, a curl of smoke emerging from his lips.  “Why?” he demanded.

“Because it isn’t as simple as just releasing you,” the man said, with a great deal of exasperation in his tone.  “For one thing, I doubt that I’d be able to get you through the door.  There are a significant number of wards on this door that I would need time to research.  For another, the Headmaster isn’t likely to just let you go.  Even if I could remove you from here, he would undoubtedly find you once more.”

“My job,” Singer said.  “Let me go.”  

It was his job to deal with the old man if he came after him again.  And Singer would.  He’d made a mistake not handling the old man the way he’d wanted to the first time, but Charlie had made the man go away.  Singer had, mistakenly, thought that was the end of things.  He’d been wrong, and wouldn’t make such a mistake again.

This man in front of him sighed.  “I would like to,” he said.  His lips twitched into something like a bitter smile.  “Unfortunately, I owe the Headmaster my loyalty.”

Singer’s lip curled into a snarl, but he said nothing.  It was clear that this man, despite whatever loyalty he felt he owed to the Headmaster, was probably his best bet to get out of here.  Arguing with him wouldn’t change his mind.  Not yet, anyway.

“Albus would like me to take some samples from you, to see if we can’t reverse the process that turned you into what you are now.  Are you going to make things easy on me?” the man asked.

Singer’s eyes narrowed.  “No,” he said.  Just because he wasn’t going to argue with the man right now didn’t mean he’d make it easy for them to get samples.  The very idea was offensive.  Samples were taken from sick dragons to figure out what was wrong with them.  He wasn’t sick, and there was nothing wrong with him.

The man sighed.  “I didn’t think so,” he said tiredly.  He rubbed at his eyes.  “I’m not terribly interested in taking them from you by force, you know,” he said.

“So don’t,” Singer answered.  “Doesn’t have to know.”  The Headmaster would only know that Singer hadn’t given up samples if the man told him, after all.

The man’s eyes jerked up.  He let out a small, bitter laugh.  “No, I suppose he doesn’t.”  He backed up, headed for the door of the room.  “I’ll have to work on it, though, with or without samples from you.  Eventually, he may compel you to give them to me.”

“Like to see him try,” Singer hissed.  He would kill the old man if he touched him.

“No,” the man said.  “You really wouldn’t.  Don’t let him know that I didn’t touch you, please.”  He turned to go.

“Wait!” Singer said.  “Name?”

The man turned to look at him for one long moment.  “Severus,” he said finally, then left the room.

Severus.  He was Singer’s best chance to get out of this place.  He would just have to make friends with him, that was all.  Convince him that he should let Singer go.  Right.  Because Singer was so good at making human friends.  Dragons were easy.  Humans?  Charlie was the only one he’d really succeeded with, and he was pretty sure that was all Charlie’s doing.

ooOOooOOoo

It took a few minutes for Charlie to realize what had happened, but the minute he did he knew that he had to go back to Hogwarts to retrieve Singer.  Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who thought that way.

“Charlie, you can’t just go storm Hogwarts,” Jacques said patiently from the entrance to his tent.

Charlie glared at him.  “I can.  I bet the dragons would go with me, too,” he said.  Because the three who had gone with them in the first place had immediately gone to tell the other dragons that Singer hadn’t arrived with them, and Charlie was pretty sure that the roaring he could hear in the distance was the dragons responding to the news.

Jacques let out a frustrated noise.  “Of course they’d follow you,” he said with a roll of his eyes, like it was obvious.  “But they shouldn’t.  Charlie, what do you think would happen if dragons started attacking human settlements again?  There’s a reason they’re almost extinct now.  And if they attack a school?”

Charlie took a deep breath.  “I understand that,” he said.  “But we can’t just leave Singer there.  Who knows what they’ll do to him?”

Jacques’ eyes narrowed.  “You know something,” he said.  “About who Singer is, maybe, and about why Albus Dumbledore cared enough to kidnap him in the first place.”

Charlie looked away.  “I know who he is,” he said after a silent, tense minute.  “And I can understand why the Headmaster took him, but that doesn’t make it right.  Singer won’t be able to do what he wants him to.  I know that he won’t.”

“Who is he?” Jacques asked.

Charlie shook his head.  “It’s probably better if you don’t know,” he said.  “Then you can’t turn him over if I manage to get him back.”

“Bloody hell,” Jacques muttered.  “Don’t think that I won’t knock you out to knock some sense into you, Charlie.”

“The Headmaster wants him to do something that Singer isn’t capable of!  You know him, Jacques, you know that he can’t be a normal human.  He’s not one, and he hasn’t been since he got here when he was, what, seven?  Six?  Younger?”  Charlie drew his wand and pointed it at Jacques.  “I can’t just stay here and let him be tortured.  Because that’s what this will be for him.”

Jacques’ breath left him in an irritated sigh.  “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just drew your wand on me because you’re under emotional duress,” he said.  “Charlie, you aren’t thinking.  What can you, alone, do at Hogwarts?  And even if you rescue him, which I don’t think you can, how will you keep him?”

Charlie froze.  “What do you mean, how will I keep him?”

“The Headmaster knows who Singer is, and where he came from.  And I can’t imagine Albus Dumbledore kidnapping a child who he has no claim to.  Which means that, to the Ministry, Albus didn’t kidnap him at all.  He rescued him, or found him, or something, and the law is on his side.”  Jacques stared at him, a frown on his face.  “It isn’t that I don’t want to help Singer, Charlie, it’s that I don’t see a way to do it.”

Charlie lowered his wand by inches.  He didn’t want to, but Jacques wasn’t wrong.  “You aren’t wrong,” he said once he’d lowered his wand all the way.  “Dumbledore has the best claim to him imaginable, and even if he didn’t the Ministry would probably back him up.”

“Okay, so you agree that we can’t go after him?” Jacques asked.  He relaxed a bit as well, though Charlie was startled to realize that he’d both drawn his wand at some point and wasn’t putting it away yet.

“I agree that we can’t go without a better position to start from,” Charlie said.  “I don’t agree to leave him there forever.”

Jacques snorted.  “Why you think it’s forever, Charlie, I don’t know.  Hogwarts isn’t a fortress.”

“Because I know who he is, and I know what the Headmaster wants from him, and I don’t know that Singer can manage it,” Charlie said shortly.  “But it’s fine.  I’ll see if I can’t find other people to help me get him back.  Without using the dragons.”

Jacques stared at him for a long, silent minute.  “I believe you,” he said, and finally sheathed his wand.  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do that doesn’t involve wrangling dragons to storm a school full of children.”  He turned to go.

“Jacques, wait,” Charlie said.  “When you said that the dragons would follow me, you sounded like you thought I should know what you were talking about.  I don’t.  What did you mean?”

Jacques bowed his head and let out a small snort of laughter.  “I’ll tell you when you’re older, kid,” he said, and left the tent without explaining.

Charlie stared after him, perplexed.  He’d tell Charlie when he was older?  What the hell did that even mean, anyway?

“You can’t seriously mean to leave him there,” Sirius said.

Charlie jumped.  He hadn’t noticed Sirius transforming.  “Of course I don’t mean to leave him there,” he snapped at the animagus.  “But Jacques is right.  If we take him now the Headmaster will just come after him again, and we won’t be able to defend ourselves from him.  And I can’t take the dragons to attack a school full of children.”

“Then what are we going to do?  Because he won’t do well at Hogwarts, Charlie, you know he won’t.”

Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he thought.  “Two options,” he said finally.  “Option one involves hoping that you get a trial sooner rather than later, and being declared innocent so that you can take custody of Singer.  Obviously that will take forever, even with Pettigrew in the Ministry’s hands.”

“And the second?” Sirius asked.  “Because I don’t see the first working fast enough.”

“There are two other Singers out there.  A man in South America and a woman in Asia.  I don’t know their names or too much about them, but I know what reserves they work out of.  We can try contacting them and see if they can do anything about this mess.”

“Do you think that’ll work?” Sirius asked.

Charlie shrugged.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Jacques said he wrote to them when Singer first showed up but he never got a response.  So they probably won’t respond this time, either.  But I have to try, before I try leading the dragons in an assault on the school.”

“And if they don’t respond?” Sirius asked.  “If I can’t get cleared in time?  Then what?  Because all of your plans seem like long shots, Charlie.”

“Then we go back to plan one, because I’m pretty sure the dragons would back me up.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter.  “They aren’t the only ones.  I’d go with you, Charlie.  And I did manage to break out of Azkaban.  Breaking into Hogwarts can’t be much harder.”

“Which, of course, you know from personal experience,” Charlie said with a sly smile.

Sirius shrugged, unrepentant.  “Which I know from personal experience,” he agreed.

“Right,” Charlie said.  He took a deep breath, then sat down at the small table he kept in the tent for eating at or writing on.  “Care to help me write this letter?”

Sirius settled across from him to offer his advice.  Charlie didn’t know if this would work, but he hoped so.  Even though he really would take the dragons and go after Singer, he didn’t want to endanger the students after the school.  And the dragons weren’t exactly well behaved.  So this had to work.  It had to.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer waited a day before making his first attempt at escape.  It failed miserably, and Singer was left hissing and snarling at the filthy dirty mean old man in a fit of rage.  He couldn’t even bring himself to speak English during the fit, so great was his anger.

The old man didn’t seem to take it personally, nor did it seem to bother him the next tim Singer tried to escape the following day.  This second time Singer made it as far as the end of the hall before he was caught and held, frozen, until the Headmaster arrived to take him back to his cell.

“Hate you,” Singer snarled at him.

“I know you do, my dear boy,” the old man said.  “But you’ll understand eventually.  In fact, I’d like to introduce you to someone who’s going to help you understand why we need you.”

Singer glared at him as his hands and legs were carefully bound and he was forced to sit on the bed.  He was left alone for an hour, maybe longer, and then the door opened again.  It wasn’t the old man, and it wasn’t Severus (who hadn’t been back to see him yet).  It was a girl.  She had bushy brown hair and looked older than she probably was.  It was all in her face, and her eyes, which seemed very sad.

“The Headmaster told me that he found you,” she said to Singer.  “But I didn’t believe him when he said that it was the Dragon Singer who was at the First Task.  I’m Hermione.  We would have been in the same year at Hogwarts.  I’d like to think that we could be friends.”

Singer stared at the girl.  “Singer,” he said shortly.  Maybe she could be an ally as well.  “Want to go home.”

She smiled, but it was strained around the edges.  “But Harry,” she said earnestly, “You are home.”

“Not home.  Home is with dragons,” Singer said forcefully.

She shook her head.  “I know that’s what you think, but that’s only because you don’t know any better.  You haven’t had the chance to be with members of your own species.”

Singer’s eyes narrowed.  “Other Dragon Singers not interested in meeting me,” he said.

She let out a small huff.  “But that’s the thing, Harry.  You aren’t a… well, I’m sure that you are a Dragon Singer, but that’s not what you started your life as.  You started out as a human, and you need to spend time with humans.”

“Spend time with Charlie,” Singer muttered.  “And with Charlie’s friends.  With Anna and Sean.  And Jacques, sometimes.”  He didn’t mention Sirius, because Sirius was a dog most of the time, and also he didn’t trust this one.  This one probably wouldn’t be an ally.  She didn’t seem to doubt herself at all, unlike Severus.

“And I’m sure that those four are wonderful, but none of them are your age, are they?”  She smiled brightly at him.  “I am.  There are other children your age at the school.  You can make friends with us, Harry.”

“Name is Singer,” he hissed.  A lick of flame curled from between his lips.

She jerked back, eyes wide.  “Right,” she said.  “Singer.  But that’s the thing, isn’t it?  It’s not your name.  It may be what you called yourself for years, Harry, but that’s not your name.  And that isn’t who you are.  I’d like the chance to teach you about who you really are, and who you should be.  So that we can be friends.”

Singer stared at her.  He opened his mouth to argue with her, then shook his head.  It was clear that she wouldn’t listen to anything he said.  She didn’t even think he was smart enough to know who he really was.  So he let her talk at him, and said nothing.  She seemed content enough with that.

The old man came in a few minutes after he stopped responding, though, and took her away.  Singer supposed that he wasn’t happy with Singer’s total disengagement, and that was fine.  Maybe if he was unhappy with Singer then he would let Singer go.

He didn’t think so, but it didn’t hurt to try it.

ooOOooOOoo

It was only two days before Severus was called before the Headmaster.  He went reluctantly, knowing that it could only be about the progress he wasn’t making on changing Singer back to a normal human.

“Have you made any progress, Severus?” Albus asked quietly.  “I know that you’ve barely had any time, and ordinarily I wouldn’t ask you to rush, but this is incredibly important.”

Severus shook his head.  “The samples that I took are proving to be incredibly resistant to any methods I employ to attempt to alter them.”  He darted his eyes up to meet Albus’ stare and added, “I think that at this point we might need to consider that the changes are permanent.”

Albus heaved a sigh.  “It is something that I’ve considered,” he said.  “I was just hoping…”  He trailed off and shook his head.  “I do know that you’re doing your best, of course.”

“Thank you,” Severus said with a twinge of guilt.  He wasn’t doing his best.  But he didn’t think that Singer deserved whatever it was that Albus had planned for him.  “I can continue trying.”  It wasn’t like lying to someone far more powerful than himself was something new to him, either.  And Albus was at least likely to not torture him if he found out what Severus was doing, unlike his other master.

“Please, do so.”  Albus smiled at him, but it was a tired thing.  “I attempted to introduce Ms. Granger to him, since they’re about the same age.  I was hoping that she would be able to engage him, maybe make him understand what he’s lost, but he wouldn’t speak with her at all.”

Privately, uncharitably, Severus thought that was because Ms. Granger was an annoying, obnoxious child who hadn’t improved when her two friends died in her second year.  Aloud, he said, “Perhaps you should try introducing him to another student.”  Draco would probably be a good student to try.  Or the Weasley twins.

Albus positively beamed at him.  “I had considered that,” he said.  “I was thinking that I might bring him out to have dinner with the students.  Perhaps if he’s surrounded by them he’ll make some friends.”

“Albus, with all due respect, that’s a terrible idea,” Severus said, his eyes wide.  “If you send him out there, if you tell the students who he is, how do you intend to control the information?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Albus said.  His grin was somewhat manic.  “Right now, if his dragons came for him we would have little standing.  He’s a Dragon Singer, after all, not Harry Potter.  But if the Ministry is made aware that he’s here, if Voldemort knows it too, then he can’t be removed from Hogwarts.  The Ministry would support any and all efforts to reclaim him if he were taken, and Voldemort would be such a threat that removing him in the first place would be incredibly foolish.”

“You’ll put him in danger,” Severus said quietly.

“Severus, please.  You know what the boy is.  He’s going to be in danger for what remains of his life.”  Albus stared at him.

Severus didn’t dare meet his gaze because his thoughts were most assuredly not complimentary.  “I think you’re making a mistake to try introducing the boy to the school.”

“I have to try something, Severus,” Albus said with a sigh.  “If Voldemort came for him now, I fear the boy would just burn him.  He wouldn’t do what we need him to do.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed.  “Have you considered that the boy isn’t what you think he is?” he asked.  “I’ve been doing some research into Singers, Albus, and some stories allude to a purification ritual that takes place as they are changed.  Surely a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul wouldn’t have survived such a ritual.”

Albus shook his head.  “We cannot rely on myths, my dear boy, though it is tempting to do so.”

Severus bit down any response other than, “You are, of course, correct.”

“Well then.  I’ll see you at dinner Severus.”

Severus stood and left the room.  He almost hoped that the Headmaster was foolish enough to try and send Singer to dinner in the Great Hall.  It would be a disaster, and Severus almost hoped that he managed to escape in the chaos that would doubtlessly ensue.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he didn’t think he was being set free.

The Headmaster had come to him and snapped a collar around his throat.  A collar!  Like he was some kind of animal.  Singer had hissed and spit and clawed and tried to flame him as he’d done it, but none of it had worked.  And as soon as the collar was around his neck he couldn’t even try any of those things any longer.  He didn’t want to.

A calm, sweet and soothing settled over him.  Everything was fine.  This was how things were supposed to be.  He relaxed and allowed himself to be led to wherever he was being led.

And then he was in a room with children.  And adults.  And all of them were staring at him like they’d never seen him before.  They hadn’t.  He was Singer!  He wasn’t like them.  He wanted to get angry, to hiss and let them all know what he thought of their greedy eyes but the calm wasn’t letting him get angry.

He didn’t like the calm.  He hated it.  He could hear the awful old man speaking, saying things about him, heard the name that had once been his mentioned, heard the people in front of him react.  Saw them react.  Saw them staring at him with hungry, hopeful eyes and talking at him with needy, desperate voices.

Singer hissed at them all, the false calm the old man had placed on him shattering.  He jerked away from the Headmaster’s hold and lunged away from the crowd of people.  The old man made a startled noise but Singer was already running.

Someone, a woman, tried to stop him, but Singer was done with this.  He let out a roar and his flame exploded from him and engulfed her.  She let out a shriek and fell, burning, and Singer kept running.  He had to go.  He had to get out.  He had to run.

He heard the Headmaster shout, felt something hit him from behind, and the world went black.

When he woke, he was back in his cell.  Nobody visited him for days after, and his food appeared as if by magic.  Singer was well and truly trapped, and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.

ooOOooOOoo

“It would seem that Potter has been found,” Voldemort said to the masked group seated before him.  His inner circle, his most trusted, arrayed before him ready to follow any command he gave.  It was a heady feeling, one that he appreciated.  He’d worked hard to convince them that he was the same man he had been, just younger.  In the end, they followed him much as they would have followed his older self.

“My lord, what do you intend to do with that knowledge?”  Oily and polite, the voice clearly belonged to Lucius.

Voldemort smiled.  “Intend?  Why, Lucius, I intend to do what I’ve always intended to do.  The brat vanquished my elder self when he was but a child.  I cannot let that insult go unanswered.  I intend to remove him from the playing field before he can become a problem.”

If it wasn’t too late.  His older self had gone after the boy for some reason, though he couldn’t imagine what that reason was.  Why had he felt the urge to attack a child?  It made no sense.  What power did the boy have that he could have defeated him, one of the most powerful wizards in the world?

“My lord, not to dissuade you from taking action, but how certain are you that the Potter boy is, in fact, at Hogwarts?  I’ve heard nothing of the sort.”

Voldemort glowered at Bellatrix.  “Could it be that you’re frightened of attacking Hogwarts?” he asked of her.  She was his most loyal.  Surely she wasn’t afraid of something so simple.  Surely none of them were afraid.

“My lord, no,” Bellatrix said quickly.  “Of course I’m not afraid.  I, for one, would enjoy the chance to get at some of the children.  They scream so beautifully.”  She let out a giggle, but it didn’t sound genuine to Voldemort.

He glared at her.  “As it happens, I’ve received a number of reports detailing Potter’s presence at the school.  Apparently he’s turned into some sort of half dragon.  He killed McGonagall when Dumbledore tried to show him off in the Great Hall five days ago.”

Lucius snorted, then cleared his throat and straightened.  “Are we certain that the boy could not be swayed to our side?” he asked.

Voldemort glared at him.  “Do I want the boy on my side?” he asked.  “Because I’m not inclined to think that I do.  He’s dangerous, Lucius.  I want him neutralized.”  He tapped his fingers against the table.  “We’ll attack the school in two days.  Make everything ready.”

Then he stood and swept from the room, not giving any of his followers the chance to argue.  His older self had attacked the Potter boy for a reason, and Voldemort was determined to do the job right and finish him off.

ooOOooOOoo

“I don’t like this waiting,” Sirius was muttering.  He was pacing back and forth and back and forth and Charlie was almost certain that he was going to snap and kill him in a minute.

“You think I do?” he asked.  He was staring at the most recent edition of The Daily Prophet .  Sirius hadn’t seen it yet, and he’d blow a gasket when he did.  Rightfully so.

Lost Hero Found! Of course the article had made the front page, and at the very top of it was a picture of Singer, looking confused and frightened in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, with some kind of collar around his neck.  The article was all about Harry and how he was now safe and sound at Hogwarts, though he’d apparently been mutated into something monstrous.  The article was full of saccharine concern for Harry overlaid with a sort of expectation that now that The Boy Who Lived had been located he would save them all.

It was disgusting.  They were relying on a child… well.  A mostly child to save them from a monster.  Sometimes Charlie wondered how his fellow countrymen lived with themselves when this was how they behaved.  Charlie burned almost with the need to go rescue Singer from all of that.  He didn’t deserve any of it.

“What are you staring at?” Sirius asked.  He crossed the tent and Charlie hastily rolled the newspaper up.  Sirius glowered at him.  “Seriously?  You think I’m afraid of a rolled up newspaper?  I’m not an actual dog, you know.”

“It’s not that,” Charlie said.  “It’s just that I don’t know that you’ll like what you read in this article.”

Sirius glared at him and reached for the newspaper anyway.  Just as he’d almost grabbed it there was a deafening roar from outside the tent.  It sounded like every one of the dragons was roaring at once, and Charlie’s eyes widened.

He hurried out of the tent.  They didn’t roar like that unless there was some kind of attack.  He looked to the skies, because that’s where everyone was looking, and his jaw dropped.  Dragons.  Eight of them, entirely unfamiliar to the reserve.  Two sets of four, really, flying in two diamond formations.  As the dragons got closer, Charlie realized that the two dragons in the lead both had two people on their backs.

The strange dragons landed in the middle of the reserve, and Charlie knew that he had to go to them.  He didn’t know how he knew, but he just knew.  He didn’t even think about it.  He went to them.  By the time he arrived, Jacques was already there trying to speak with the humans who’d been on the dragons’ backs, but as Charlie approached he realized that ‘humans’ was probably something of a loose description.

There were four of them, and none of them looked anything like humans.  They ignored Jacques, but when they spotted Charlie one of them, the only man in the group, stepped forward.

“Greetings,” he said, his voice low and sibilant.  “I am Javier.  I hail from the Argentinian reserve.  You wrote to us about your Singer’s abduction.”

The other two Dragon Singers.  Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Yes,” he said.  “I want to get him back.”

Javier smiled, the expression baring his teeth and looking more like a threat than an expression of joy.  “We’d like to help with that,” he said.

Chapter Text

It seemed like everyone started talking at once, but Charlie could barely hear them over the rushing in his ears.  Finally.  Finally someone was willing to help him, other than Sirius.  “What do you need from me?”  His voice shook, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.

“A place to speak privately, for now,” one of the three women said.  She appeared to be more human than Javier, or the woman who could only be the other Singer, but even she had something of an alien quality to her.  When she turned her head just so, Charlie realized that he’d been wrong.  He could only just see the shimmer of scales on her cheek.  They practically blended in with her bronze skin.

“My tent,” he offered.  “It’s small, and there aren’t many places to sit, but it is private.”

“Charlie,” Jacques started, but Charlie cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“They’re willing to help me, and I… I need to go after him, Jacques.”  Charlie couldn’t have said why he needed to go so badly, but he knew that it wasn’t just the need to save Singer from a fate that no child should suffer.  It was something more than just a need to see his young friend not be used as a weapon.

Jacques side and scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Whatever,” he finally muttered into the silence that now surrounded them.  “You do what you need to, Charlie.  Just… try not to get my dragons in trouble?”

“Your dragons will be in no danger,” one of the women said.  Her scales were vivid and red against her skin, almost burning in the sunlight.  “I am Jia, of the Chinese reserve.  I have been a Singer for far longer than Javier, or your Singer.”  She bowed to Charlie.  “You will show us where we may speak?”

The words were more command than question, but Charlie didn’t mind.  He nodded and turned, and the crowd of dragon keepers parted before him with little protest.  His tent wasn’t nearly big enough for the four strangers, plus himself and Sirius, but it would do for the conversation they’d be having.  Charlie just hoped that it wouldn’t take long, and not for the comfort of his guests, but rather because he wanted more than anything to get to Singer.

“First, I believe introductions are in order,” Jia said, her words careful and precise.  “As I said, I am Jia of the Chinese reservation.  My mate, Brooke, hails from England.  She came to me when I called for her over three hundred years ago.”

The third woman, with red hair very much like Charlie’s own and scales to match it, stepped forward and bowed.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I’m certain we all wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie echoed, staring at her.  “I’m sorry, but you said that she was your mate?”

Jia’s brow furrowed and she shared a glance with Javier.  “You mean that you don’t know,” she said, the words falling between them like lead.

“Know what?”  Charlie glanced from one Singer to the other, then to the other two with them.

“You feel pulled to your Singer, don’t you?” the second woman, the one whose scales blended with her skin, asked gently.  “Feel drawn to protect him, keep him safe.  You’re going a little mad right now because he’s in danger and you’re not with him, right?”  Her accent was thick, but her words were clear enough to Charlie.

“Yes,” he said, drawing the word out as he considered what the question was actually asking.

“Dragons mate for life, Charlie,” Brooke said, her words infinitely gentle.  “It’s a fated thing.  A Singer always has a mate, much like a regular dragon, and from the tone of your letter, you’re it.”

Everything fell into place and Charlie let out a small sigh of something like relief, because things finally made sense.  How drawn he was to Singer, how eager he was to guard him and keep him safe, everything seemed so much more logical now that he had a word for it.

Then he realized something and he turned to Sirius, who was currently hiding in his Grim form.  “Did you know?” he asked the man.  There had been that time, briefly, when nothing he’d done was right to Sirius.  Could it have been related to that?

The dog let out a small huff and nodded once.

“You know that I would never hurt him,” Charlie promised Sirius.  “I can’t say that I’m happy that he didn’t warn me, but I will never hurt him.”  He knew too much about what Singer’s home life had been like, though he barely knew anything at all, to consider hurting the fragile young man.

“While I’m curious about your conversation with a dog,” the second woman said, “We have more important things to deal with right now.  Maria, by the way, Javier’s mate.”  She held her hand out to Charlie, and Charlie shook it.  “We need to get you your Singer back.”

“But how?”  Charlie looked down at the ground.  “Jacques is right.  We can’t just storm Hogwarts, even if the dragons would be able to handle it.  It would be a disaster for reserves everywhere.”

Javier snorted.  “Please.  No government would stop funding reserves.  Then where would the dragons go?  Back to preying on livestock and disrupting their neat and orderly societies?  Besides, though we are reclusive and rare, we are technically a protected species.”

Charlie’s head shot up and he stared at the man.  “You’re what?”

Jia smiled, the expression more a baring of her teeth than anything else.  “We can command dragons in war.  We choose not to, because most of the time dragons see no need to involve themselves in human affairs, and we Singers are mostly dragon.  We are more of a threat to human governments, be they magical or mundane, than they care to acknowledge.  As such, because we can encourage dragons to attack when we please, there are laws in place about holding us against our will.”

“After all,” Maria said, her smile softer,  “Would you want a Singer to be held hostage by a private citizen until they agreed to send their dragons to war?  Think of the potential damage to everyone if such things were allowed.”

Charlie let out a small, relieved sigh, then the relief vanished.  “Yes,” he said slowly, “But what if the Singer in question is something of a celebrity?  What if there were a prophecy in place that certain government officials might be interested in making him fulfil?”

“You refer, of course, to his identity as Harry Potter,” Jia said with a sigh.  She shook her head.  “What your government fails to realize is that Harry Potter ceased to exist when he became a Singer.  Any prophecy that once bound him would have been nullified during the purification ritual.”

“But if they won’t let him go-”

“We won’t give them a choice,” Javier said with a small snarl.  “We will not allow a Singer to be so badly used, and I think that you will find that they will back down from our dragons if not from us ourselves.”

Charlie wasn’t so sure that he agreed, given that he was more than aware of the stupidity of Cornelius Fudge and his supporters.  But he hoped that they were right.  “Then what do we need to do?”

“Your Singer has four dragons that he is incredibly close to, whether you realize it or not,” Brooke said.  “Those four are his guardian dragons.  As soon as we arrived, they will have joined our own guardians.  They will accompany us on our mission to recover their Singer.”

“In your Singer’s absence, you will direct them.”  Maria raised one eyebrow at him.  “I know that you’ve only just learned of the fact that you are mated to your Singer, but are you up for the task?”

Charlie didn’t even hesitate.  “If they’ll follow me, I’ll lead them.”

“Good.”  There were satisfied glances all around from all four of the visitors, then Javier said, “What do you need to do to prepare for battle?”

Charlie glanced down at himself.  He already wore the dragonhide gifts he’d received from Singer for Christmas, and could think of no better gear for battle.  “I’m ready,” he said quietly.  He glanced at Sirius.  “You coming?”

Sirius sat up straight and looked from him back to the other Singers and their Mates before barking once and standing.  He pranced to the entrance to the tent and danced in place, glancing back at them.

When Charlie stepped out of the tent, there were indeed four new dragons waiting with the other eight.  Marlis, Yseira, Tyara, and Garnis, if Charlie wasn’t mistaken.  Yseira wore a strange contraption that Anna was fiddling with, Sean by her side.  It looked like some kind of saddle, which Charlie couldn’t help but be grateful for.

“You’re going to get him back, right?” Sean asked as Charlie approached.

“We’re going to do our best,” Charlie said.  He studied Yseira, wondering how he was going to get up on top of her, when the dragon knelt for him and extended one leg as a stepping stone, helping him in his endeavors.

“Okay, good,” Anna said with a shaky laugh.  “This place is so sad without him.  It’s awful.”

Sirius danced around by Yseira’s leg and Sean said, “Tell me you’re taking the Grim,” in a pleading tone.

Sirius barked once, then transformed and hopped up behind Charlie.  “They’re taking the Grim,” he said to the two stunned keepers still on the ground.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything more, Yseira took to the air with a lurch that had Charlie grabbing onto the saddle and Sirius grabbing onto him.  Then they were off in the direction of Hogwarts, surrounded by eleven other dragons, all on a mission.

Charlie didn’t think that the Headmaster would know what hit him when they all arrived.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer had never been so lonely in all the time that he could remember.  There had been the time before the dragons, when he’d been with the monsters, but even then he’d been around people.  Cruel, horrible people, but they’d still been there.  Besides, he could barely remember that time.  It came back to him in nightmares sometimes, but for the most part all he could remember were the dragons, and Charlie, and Sirius.  And now he had none of them.

He’d been without contact with anyone for eight meals now, and it was beginning to get to Singer.  There was nothing for him to do, though.  He’d tried everything he could to escape, and nothing had worked.  So he stayed in the bed in the middle of the room, curled up around himself, and told himself that things would be fine.  That someone would come for him.  That Charlie would come.

But as the meals and, presumably, the days passed, Singer realized that nobody was coming.  That he was alone, that not even his dragons would come for him.  He stopped eating.  Why should he eat?  This existence was no existence at all.  Two more meals came and went, but Singer ignored them.  He wasn’t hungry.

Instead, with nothing left to do, he sang.  The wordless song was one that was intended to mourn a death, but Singer found that it didn’t help.  No dragons joined him in his lament, and his voice seemed so small and sad and lonely on its own.

The notes died off and Singer curled in on himself.  There was nothing more for him to do but wait and hope, but hope was in scarce supply.

ooOOooOOoo

If the song that Harry had been singing had been heartbreaking, the silence was even worse.  Severus leaned against the glass of the two-way mirror, his forehead pressed against it, and stared at the pathetic figure on the bed.  Curled in on himself after letting out that mournful song, Harry Potter looked more broken than Severus had ever imagined.

Lily’s son .  The words echoed inside of Severus’ mind, over and over again.  How could he leave the Singer to suffer in such misery?  How could he let any child be tortured with this isolation?  How could he let Lily’s son be treated like that?  What kind of man was he, that the lesser of two evils involved turning a blind eye to this?

Severus wasn’t a good man.  He knew that.  He was… he’d done terrible things in the past, first in the name of the Dark Lord, then in the name of Albus.  It was his fault the Potters were dead, his fault that this child had been left an orphan and had wound up with the dragons in the first place.

Potter stood, then, and paced towards the mirror.  He stared at it with his head cocked to one side, his eyes glowing oddly.  “Know that you’re out there,” he called, his lips twisting into something like a snarl.  “Can feel you.  Watching.”  Potter shuddered.  “Don’t like it.”  A curl of flame left his lips, only to fade into smoke as soon as it touched the open air.  Potter turned his back on the mirror.  “Could at least come in and stare.”

Severus closed his eyes.  He was a terrible person, yes, but he wasn’t this terrible.  Albus… would know if he broke the wards, if he let Potter… no, if he let Singer go.  He would have broken faith with the Headmaster, and likely would wind up in Azkaban as a Death Eater, assuming that the Dark Lord didn’t kill him once he realized that Severus had been a spy.

“Then I’ll die doing the right thing for once,” Severus whispered.  He drew his wand and began dismantling the wards Albus had left on the door, his voice not shaking at all as he blasted through each one.  Once the last one fell, he slammed open the door, making Singer jump.  “Come,” he said, holding out a hand to the Dragon Singer.

“Where?”  Singer stared at him, his head cocked to one side again.

“I’m getting you out of here.”  Severus left his hand up, as patient as he could be.  They had only seconds, likely, before Albus arrived, and they had to use each of those seconds wisely if they were going to get away in time.

Singer’s lips curled into a fang-baring smile.  “Thank you,” he said to Severus, and took his hand.

Severus tugged him into motion just as a resounding BOOM shook the castle down to its foundation.  Either Singer’s dragons had come for him or Voldemort was attacking.  Either way, the dungeons was a dangerous place to be.  Severus just hoped that they could get out in time.

ooOOooOOoo

Albus felt a shiver go down his spine just before several instruments on his desk started to whirl and shriek alarms all at the same time.  The wards around Harry’s room were falling.  Albus scowled, wondering how the brat had managed to get out of them.  It should have been impossible without outside help, but Albus couldn’t imagine who in the castle would help the boy after what he’d done to dear Minerva.  Perhaps the Weasley twins?

Albus was just standing to start making his way to the dungeons when even more alarms started to sound, waking the portraits in their paintings and causing a terrible racket.  Albus didn’t even have time to be annoyed before the BOOM of wards falling echoed around his ears and through his magic.

Hogwarts was under attack.  Voldemort had taken the bait and was coming for Harry.  A slow smile slid over Albus’ face.  He hadn’t wanted it to be so soon, but since it was, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.  Well.  If Harry wanted to escape, he’d have to escape through Voldemort’s forces.

That was just fine, then.  Perhaps Harry would learn why it was so important that he stay and do his duty.  It wasn’t the way that Albus would have preferred, of course, but it would have to do.  Albus settled at his desk and started issuing orders to the heads of houses, telling them to keep the students in their dorms, not that he thought it would do much good.  The older ones, at least, would want to try and fight, and Albus couldn’t blame them.  

It was going to be a long night, but hopefully a successful one.  If he was lucky, Harry would at least understand what it was that he was supposed to be fighting for after tonight.

ooOOooOOoo

It was dark by the time they reached Hogwarts, but Charlie was okay with that.  It would give them a few minutes before the students noticed the horde of dragons sweeping down upon them, or at least that was what he thought until he saw the Dark Mark hovering in the sky.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Charlie muttered, staring up at it.  

“Does your castle always have this mark flying over it?” Javier called to him.  “I find it to be most unattractive.”

Sirius let out a barking laugh behind him.  “No!” he called back to the Singer.  “It’s the mark of the dark lord currently terrorizing England.  He’s probably here for our Singer.”

Javier muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse under his breath.  “Then we cannot take him with this chaos.  We’ll have to get rid of these nuisances first.”

Charlie had heard Death Eaters described in just about every way possible, but he was almost certain that he’d never heard them called nuisance before.  Still, Javier was right.  “Is it ethical to use the dragons in this?” he asked, even as two of the dragons went into a steep dive at a hissed command from both Javier and Jia.

“Of course,” Brooke answered.  “If these monsters pose a threat to your Singer, then we are obligated to allow the dragons to handle it.”

Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he was nudged by Sirius.  “What’s up?” he asked the animagus.

“They’re right about taking care of these Death Eaters, but they’re after Harry,” Sirius said urgently.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed.  “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out.  He wasn’t sure where Sirius was going with his concerns.

“How do we know some of them aren’t already inside the castle?”  The question, whispered quickly, was enough to make Charlie’s heart stop.

“You think some of them are?” he asked.  What if they were?  Singer could defend himself, Charlie had heard more than enough evidence of it, but would he even think to?  Would he understand, depending on which Death Eater found him first, how much danger he was in?  Some of them were unbelievably good at slithering their way through loopholes, and certainly such talents would lend themselves to swaying a young man into believing them to be allies.

“I think that’s a chance we really shouldn’t take,” Sirius said.  “I want to go in there.  I’ll find him and work on getting him out.  Just get me on the ground and I’ll manage.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, swallowing.  He patted Yseira on the neck, aware that the dragons understood more English than they normally cared to pretend.  “You understood that?” he asked her.

He got his answer when she started to descend, a much slower motion than the dive the two dragons had executed earlier.  “Where are you going?” he heard Maria call after him.

“I’ll be back!” Charlie shouted.  “Sirius wants to get on the ground, and I agree with him!”

The ground came up far too quickly, then they were landing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, where the dragons had been kept during the tournament.  “Stay safe up there,” Sirius said to Charlie, sliding off of Yseira’s back.

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve got the dragons taking care of me.”  Charlie took a deep breath.  “You stay safe, too.  I don’t want to have to tell Singer that you got hurt trying to rescue him, okay?”

Sirius grinned at him, the expression eerie in the gloom of the night.  “Don’t worry, Charlie.  I’m well-versed in sneaking around Hogwarts.”

Charlie nodded, and before he could think to say anything else, Yseira was taking to the air once more and Sirius had disappeared into the forest.

ooOOooOOoo

It wasn’t difficult at all to get into the school in all the chaos the Death Eaters were causing.  It was, in fact, easier sneaking in that night than it was when the school was running in an orderly fashion.  More important than that, though, was the fact that he found the Weasley twins relatively quickly.

Most of the older students were out of their dorms, from what Sirius could tell, helping the professors defend the school.  The Weasley twins were no exception, and the tricks they were playing on the Death Eaters seemed to be doing some good.  Sirius was certain that he’d made the right choice in coming into the school, given that he’d already skirted past a few battles by the time he found them.

“I need the map,” he said with little preamble as he approached them.  “I have to get my godson out of here.”

Neither twin argued, they just handed it over.  Sirius took it, then bowed quickly to them.  “I’ll make sure you get it back,” he said, and took off before any of the others with the twins could realize who he was.  His name still wasn’t cleared, after all.

He found a quiet alcove and activated the map with a shaking voice.  It didn’t take long to find Singer’s dot, and what he saw made his heart stop.  Severus was with the boy, but Voldemort was closing quickly on them, along with several of his Death Eaters.

They were close, but Sirius wasn’t sure that he was close enough to be able to get there in time to make a difference.  Still, he had to try.  He took off running, and turned the corner and almost ran into Severus himself.

“Black!” Severus snarled, brandishing his already-drawn wand.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but before he could he heard a high, cold voice cry out, “ Crucio! ”

The spell raced towards Singer, but Severus knocked the boy out of the way before it could hit.  Severus dropped, writhing in agony, just as Voldemort appeared at the other end of the hallway, flanked by several of his Death Eaters.

Sirius drew his wand.  “Singer, stay behind me,” he said quietly, stepping forward.

Singer let out a small hissing noise.  “No.  Stay behind me,” he commanded, and shoved Sirius back with a strength Sirius had never realized he had.  “Will handle this.”

Chapter Text

“Harry Potter,” the abomination before him hissed, and Singer bared his teeth at the thing.  

It stank of death and decay, and Singer hated it on sight.  “Not my name,” Singer told the thing.  “Am Singer.  Am not Harry Potter.”  He hated that none of the wizards here in this school seemed to be able to acknowledge that.  And the one who had was currently writhing on the ground after being cursed with stinking wizarding magic.

Singer would make him pay for hurting the one person who’d been kind to him since that idiotic old man had stolen him from his dragons and his Charlie.

“You are Harry Potter,” the abomination said, his voice a long drawl.  “And I’m finally going to get the chance to kill you the way I wanted to all those years ago.”

Singer blinked at him.  “Never hurt you,” he said, a bit confused.  That was the one thing he couldn’t understand.  He’d never heard of this wizard before coming to this stupid castle, so why did everyone seem to think that he wanted to fight him?

“Oh, you did, I can assure you,” the thing said.  “You tore me from my body when I was a younger man and you were just a baby.  I have no idea how you managed it, but you did.”

Behind him, Severus finally stopped screaming.  Whatever spell had been on him had worn off, and Singer wasn’t about to wait to find out what happened if the spell was cast again.  He took one slow step forward.  “In the past,” he said to the abomination of a wizard in front of him.  “Should let the past go.  Is healthy.”

The wizard, Voldie something, did not seem pleased with Singer’s wisdom, judging by the way his fingers clenched on his wand.  “You insolent little brat,” the thing snarled at him.  He drew his wand, as though planning to curse Singer.

Singer didn’t stand still and wait.  He was tired and he wanted to go home to his dragons, and these stupid wizards were in his way.  He’d had enough of playing nice, and enough of talking.  He opened his mouth and let loose his flames, lighting the thing in front of him on fire.  There was a shriek off to one side and a woman with wild hair rushed him, but Singer slit her throat with his claws before he could react.  He cocked his head at the third wizard in his way, a man with long, pale blonde hair, and waited to see what that one would do.

He showed the only sense out of all of them, turning and fleeing the minute Singer took a step towards him.  Singer checked the still-burning body of the abomination and was pleased to see that he wouldn’t be getting back up.  The wild-haired woman was gurgling on her own blood, though there was a chance she might survive if help got to her in time.  Singer didn’t care one way or another, honestly.

He turned to Sirius, who was staring at him with wide eyes.  “Should take him with us,” Singer said, nodding to Severus, who was unconscious on the floor.  “Is friend, I think.  Is unhappy here.”

Sirius’ eyes brightened.  “I can do that,” he said, and did something with his wand so that Severus’ body levitated.  “Shall we get out of here before the Headmaster finds a reason to keep us?”

“Yes,” Singer said shortly.  He wanted to leave this pile of rocks and get back to his dragons.  They had to have missed him, hopefully not as much as he’d missed them, though.  He hated the thought of his dragons in distress.

“I know the quickest way out of the castle, so why don’t you let me take point?” Sirius suggested.  Without waiting for Singer’s response, Sirius did exactly that.

That was fine.  Singer wanted him to take the lead.  The last thing he wanted was to accidentally lead them further into the castle.  The place was like a maze, and that was just one more reason for Singer to hate it.  Why couldn’t human buildings be laid out more logically?

It didn’t take them long to reach the outdoors with Sirius leading, and it took even less time for Singer to realize that his dragons were here and were in the process of wreaking havoc upon whatever remained of those who had apparently been attacking the school.  They stopped when they saw him, though, and Singer was almost blown off of his feet by four loud roars of greeting, echoed by eight other dragons still high up in the sky.

His four landed in formation around him, and Marlis nosed at his stomach immediately.  “~Tell us that you’re okay,~” the normally gruff dragon begged, his hot breath running over Singer with each word.

“~I’m fine.  It was lonely, but nobody hurt me.  Someone tried to, but Severus took the curse for me, so I’m bringing him back with us.~”

“~A worthy idea,~” Yseira murmured, nosing against him as well.  “~We missed you, little Singer.~”

“~And we aren’t the only ones to have missed you,~” Tyara said with a hissing little laugh.  “~Your Charlie was ready to storm the castle the minute he realized you were missing.~”

“~He was?~”  Singer was a little embarrassed by the breathy way that his voice came out, and his cheeks heated when he got four answering chuffs of laughter from his dragons.

“~Ask him yourself,~” Garnis suggested, and nodded his big head towards Yseira.

Singer, confused, turned to look at her, and found himself face to face with Charlie, who was watching him with a smile on his face.  “~Charlie!~” Singer shouted, then flung himself forward into Charlie’s arms.  The dragon keeper immediately wrapped him in a hug and Singer burrowed as close as he could.  “Missed you,” he said, slipping back to English.

“I missed you too,” Charlie whispered to him, his face buried in Singer’s hair so that the words were muffled.  “So much, Singer.  I wanted to come sooner, but Jacques kept convincing me that I should wait and try something other than using the dragons to storm the school.”

“But you came,” Singer said.  “Thought maybe you wouldn’t,” he added, his voice tiny.  “Was frightened.”

Charlie’s arms spasmed around him.  “I’m so sorry that you were scared,” he said.  “I was always coming; it was just a matter of how and when.”

Singer reached out and hesitantly curled his arms around Charlie’s waist, holding tightly to him.  He was warm and sturdy and strong, and Singer felt safe in his arms.  He’d worried, given his past, that he wouldn’t like being confined in an embrace like this, but it seemed like he didn’t really need to be afraid.  Charlie was safe, and he knew that.

The sound of all four of his dragons letting off angry roars jarred him away from his moment of happiness, and Singer jerked back with a frustrated hiss.  The old man was standing there, close to Yseira but not quite within the circle of dragons.  He wasn’t anywhere near close enough to touch Singer again, which was the important thing.  If he couldn’t touch him then he couldn’t kidnap him again.

“What?” Singer snarled.  He was tired of the old man and wanted nothing more than to go home, and he planned on making sure that the old man realized it.

ooOOooOOoo

Albus knew that he was playing with fire by even approaching Harry while the boy was surrounded by dragons, but he couldn’t let the boy go without trying to keep him.  There were so many things that Harry needed to understand, and he would never learn any of them while working with the dragons.

“My dear boy,” he started, “If I could just have one moment more of your time.”  It wasn’t likely that the boy would indulge him, but he had to make the attempt.

Sure enough, Harry’s teeth bared the moment he spoke.  “Have no time for you,” the boy said in his strangely lilting accent.  “Will go home.  Do not follow.”

“Harry, Hogwarts could be your home,” Albus pointed out.  “It’s home to many students, and wouldn’t you like to get to know some people of your own age?”

Harry’s nose wrinkled.  “No.”  He glanced away, already dismissing Albus from his thoughts.  “Am ready to go,” he said to Charlie Weasley, of all people, who stood with one arm still hooked around his waist.

“Sounds like a plan,” Charlie said, and headed over to one of the dragons who seemed to be wearing a saddle of some kind, though it looked like it could seat multiple people.

“Harry, please,” Albus started.  “There’s the matter of the Dark Lord who’s after you.  He’ll want to kill you whether you fight him or not, you know.  He’s rather fixated.”

“Burned him,” Harry said with a shrug.  He climbed up onto the dragon’s back.  “Fried him when he tried to curse me on my way out of the castle.  Had it coming.  No regrets.”

Albus went still.  “You… killed him?” he squeaked.  Just like that?  Surely it hadn’t been that easy.  There had to be more to Voldemort than just that.

“Was easy,” Harry said.  “Killed the woman, too, if no help came.”

“Harry,” Albus started, and Harry cut him off with a hissing snarl that had all four of the dragons rearing.

“Not my name!” the boy shouted, and then the dragons had taken flight, leaving Albus standing on the ground, staring up at them.  

There was nothing more to be done.  It was clear that the boy wouldn’t stay at Hogwarts of his own free will, and warding him into a room hadn’t worked, so Albus would just have to use the Imperius or something.  There had to be a way to make the boy do as he was told, for the good of all wizardkind.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the other eight dragons surrounding him until he’d walked into one of their legs.  Albus froze in place, then slowly looked up.  There was a woman on the back of the dragon with fiery red scales that caught the moonlight.

“Yes?” Albus tried.  He offered the woman a smile.

She did not return it.  “Dragon Singers are protected in every magical government that exists,” the woman said to him.  “You will not pursue the Singer of the Romanian reserve, or you will face consequences.”

“There’s the small matter of a prophecy,” Albus started.

There was a snort behind him and Albus whirled, only to come face to face with another dragon, this one with a man on its back, who was openly laughing at him.  “Silly wizard.  Your prophecies do not bind us Singers.  Once we have been accepted by the dragons, everything that we were bound to is left by the wayside.”

“Your prophecy is meaningless to him now,” another woman said.  “If it ever held meaning at all.  Prophecies are notorious for being difficult to interpret.”

“I wasn’t wrong in my interpretation,” Albus insisted.  “And prophecies don’t just go dormant.  It was made before he was turned into that creature, so it should still be active.”

“Check your government’s Hall of Prophecy,” a the first woman said with a shrug.  “You’ll find the sphere to be dead.  It will no longer repeat the prophecy because it is no longer valid.  The purification ritual we Singers go through ensures that such things can no longer affect us.”

Albus opened his mouth to protest, but before he could the man was off his dragon and approaching him.  “Listen to me,” the man said, getting in Albus’ face the way that no person had in quite a long time.  “You have kidnapped a Singer once and will face no repercussions other than the damage you did to your own reputation by announcing that you had him.  If you do it again, we promise that you will not emerge from the attempt in the same condition that you began it.  If you survive at all.”

“Your threats do not intimidate me,” Albus said, and was embarrassed when his voice shook on the last word.  He wasn’t intimidated by such brutish behavior.  He couldn’t be.  He was Albus Dumbledore, champion of the light.

The man laughed at him, then blew a puff of smoke in his face.  Albus couldn’t help but cough to try and clear his lungs, doubling over with the force of his coughing.  He was buffeted by a great wind, then, and when he was finally through coughing and his eyes had cleared, the dragons were gone.

It was only later, after Albus had begun communicating with the professors to see how the students had weathered the attacks, that he realized that Severus was gone and nobody knew where the Potions Master had disappeared to.

ooOOooOOoo

The flight back to the reserve felt like it took forever, but Singer knew that wasn’t the case.  As soon as he arrived he headed off into the wilds to meet with his dragons, who would be ecstatic to have him back.  Charlie headed in the direction of Jacques’ office, and two of the strangers who had arrived with Charlie carried Severus’ prone form off in the direction of the infirmary.  The other two strangers, who made Singer feel strange and almost growly, followed him into the wilds.

Singer settled his dragons while the two strangers remained at a distance from him.  It was only after the last of his dragons had sniffed him and nuzzled him that they began to approach, and even though they both came close enough to speak, they also remained at a healthy distance.

“Greetings, young Singer,” the woman said.  She had scales like his, as did the man, and Singer found himself wondering… were they also Singers?

“~Hello,~” he said, both to test and because it was always his default language, even after spending so much time around Charlie and Sirius.

“~Your dragons are pleased with you,~” the man said.  “~My name is Javier, and this is Jia.  We are Singers from other parts of the world, with our own flights of dragons, and have no desire to encroach upon your territory.~”

Something in Singer eased with those words and he found himself relaxing.  “~I am glad to hear you say that.  I am Singer.  I have no other name.~”

“~While that is not quite true, we respect the intention behind your statement,~” the woman, Jia, said.  “~We would have left immediately after helping to secure your rescue from imprisonment, but we thought that perhaps you might need more information about what being a Singer is.~”

Singer bristled.  “~I am a friend and a guide to my dragons.  I care for them and sing for them and in exchange they care for me.  I am a good Singer, and I understand my job well!~”

Javier held up one hand and stepped closer, but stilled when Singer growled at him, allowing a lick of flame to curl from his lips.  “~Jia didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing a good job,~” he hissed quickly.  “~What she meant is that there are certain physical aspects you might not be aware of.~”

Singer flushed with shame.  “~I am sorry,~” he said.  “~I’m… on edge.  Being held away from my dragons for so long was nerve wracking.~”

“~Of course it was,~” Jia said warmly.  “~And that is one thing we can tell you.  There is a call that you can let out for your dragons that will let them know you are in distress.  Any dragons in the area will come for you, and your four guardian dragons will come no matter where they are.~”

Singer hesitated.  “~How do I make the call?~” he asked.

Javier hesitated, then shrugged and let out a strange noise.  Immediately every dragon in the area let out a simultaneous roar and jerked to attention, though most relaxed when they realized what was going on.  Four dragons joined them, however, dragons that Singer recognized from the rescue but not from the reserve.

“~Did you get what that sounded like, or do I need to make the call again?~” Javier asked.

One of his dragons nudged him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble.  “~Don’t do that,~” he hissed, irritation making his voice low.

“~He had to learn,~” Javier said, rubbing the dragon’s snout in apology.

“~I think I can,~” Singer said.  Then, hesitantly, he made the same noise, and immediately found himself surrounded by his dragons.  Singer laughed as he got them all settled again, then said to the other Singers, “~Thank you so much for coming for me, and for teaching me that.~”

“~You are more than welcome,~” Jia said.  “~You know that you will take a mate, yes?~”

Singer nodded.  “~Charlie,~” he hissed.  

“~Yes.  He will be good for you,~” Jia murmured.  “~He will take on your gifts and something of your appearance as well.  He will sprout scales that may match yours or may look completely different, and he will take on your longevity as well.~”

“~My what?~”  Singer blinked at them both.  His longevity?  He wasn’t entirely sure that he knew what that word meant.

“~You will live for a very long time, even by wizarding standards,~” Javier explained.  “~We have much to teach you about our physiology, Singer.  Won’t you sit with us?~”

Singer hesitated, then glanced at the sky.  It was already turning light on the horizon, meaning that dawn was near.  Charlie would have work to do during the day, and Singer would as well.  But… “~Yes,~” he said finally, and curled up against Marlis, who grumbled when he did so but shifted so that Singer would be more comfortable.  “~Please tell me everything that I need to know.~”

The conversation that followed was long and informative, and when Singer eventually went about his duties after a quick lunch, he did so with more information than he’d ever had in his life.  The other Singers and their mates departed shortly after the conversation was over, and while a part of Singer was sad to see them go, the more territorial part of himself (totally normal, at least according to Jia) was pleased to see them fly away.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie was almost positive that the day was never going to end.  He’d reported in to Jacques at three o’clock in the morning, which was when they’d made it back to the reserve.  Jacques had been frustrated with Charlie’s behavior, but had eventually understood.  He had, however, given Charlie some of the worst tasks of the day in retaliation, making the day long, tedious, and disgusting since the task in question involved cleaning up dragon dung, which was normally a task for the newest handlers.

He showered, a long, hot shower, then returned to his tent, utterly exhausted.  Sirius was nowhere to be found, hadn’t been all day though Charlie had heard rumor that the Grim had been spotted hanging around the infirmary.  Singer, too, had presumably been busy, but he was sitting on Charlie’s couch when he walked into the tent.

“Hey, you,” Charlie said, and Singer perked up.  “How are you?”

“Tired,” Singer said.  “Was long day.  Dragons were restless.  Am pleased to be home, though.”

“I understand.”  Charlie collapsed onto the couch next to Singer and let himself relax for a few minutes.  Singer curled into him, leaning heavily against his side.  Charlie hesitated, wondering if now was the time to say something.  The other Singers had said…  “Hey, Singer?” Charlie asked, finally deciding to just go for it.

Singer let out a questioning hum, shifting closer to Charlie when Charlie raised his arm to drop it over the teenager’s shoulders.

Charlie considered how he wanted to start this conversation.  “I had an interesting conversation with the other Singers while they were here,” Charlie finally said.  “They told me something about you that I hadn’t realized.”

Singer blinked up at him, his green eyes warm, but confused.  “What did they tell you?”  Singer’s voice trembled a bit, and Charlie realized that he was incredibly nervous, even if he didn’t look it.

“Singer, they told me that I was your mate.”  Charlie jerked back when Singer let out a startled curl of flame.  “Hey, none of that,” Charlie said.

Singer didn’t respond, but instead got up and started to pace, hissing nonsensically in parseltongue, every breath curling through the air with smoke.  “Should not have told you,” Singer finally managed to say in broken English.  “Not their place!”

“Hey, someone had to tell me!” Charlie said sharply.  It came out harsher than intended and Singer stilled, letting out a small, sad noise.  “Singer,” Charlie started.

“No!”  Singer took a deep breath and started to back up.  “Sorry, Charlie, sorry.  Can refuse.  Is fine.”  He backed up until he hit the canvas wall of the tent, then started to inch over like he was trying to go for the exit.

“I could,” Charlie agreed.  “But I don’t want to, Singer.  It’s fine.  You and me, we’ll get through this.  Please don’t run.”  He hesitated, then opened his arms to Singer.  “Come here?”

Singer inched forward until he came to a stop just in front of Charlie.  “Not mad?” he asked, with heartbreaking uncertainty.

Charlie smiled, sad that Singer even had to ask.  “I’m not angry,” he said.  “I wish that you would have told me, but I’m… I’m glad to be your mate.”  Better him than somebody else, because he knew that he would treat Singer well.  Besides, it wasn’t like it would be a hardship, given how sweet Singer always had been to him.  He wasn’t in love with Singer yet, but there was no doubt in Charlie’s mind that he would be one day.

Singer smiled ever so sweetly at him and walked into his arms, clinging with all of his considerable strength.  “Am glad to have you,” Singer said.  He tilted his head up, looking like he wanted to ask something, then bit his lip and closed his eyes.  “Kiss?” he finally asked.

Charlie hesitated.  There was a not so small voice in his head reminding him that Singer was only fourteen, but then… but then it was just a kiss.  Charlie leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Singer’s lips, making the half-dragon beam up at him.

“Am happy you are mate,” Singer sighed as he cuddled closer.

Charlie settled them both on the couch and let Singer curl as close to him as he wanted.  No, he wasn’t in love with Singer yet, but he knew it would happen, and he was okay with that.  He was also incredibly glad that he wasn’t finding this out the day that Singer went into heat, as that would have been awkward, embarrassing, and potentially disastrous.

ooOOooOOoo

Severus woke with a raging headache in an unfamiliar, utilitarian hospital wing.  There was a dog on the bed with him that could only be the animagus form of a certain infuriating marauder, and perhaps more importantly, there was an old man with several missing limbs and an unfortunate number of scars sitting at his bedside, doing some kind of paperwork.

“Awake?” the old man asked gruffly.

Severus hesitated, then nodded and sat up slowly, his head spinning with the move.

Immediately the old man moved to help him, steadying him with surprisingly gentle hands and helping him lean back against his pillows.  The old man handed him a glass of water and waited until he’d taken several sips of it before saying, “Charlie says you took the Cruciatus for our Singer.”

Severus hesitated.  “I did,” he said finally.  “He’s a child.  I couldn’t allow him to be cursed like that.”

The old man snorted.  “Charlie also tells me that you’re one of the best Potions Masters in England.”

Again, Severus hesitated.  “I’m a teacher,” he said finally.  “I attained my mastery at a young age, yes, but I wouldn’t count myself as one of the best.”

“Hmph.”  The old man studied him for several long minutes before sticking out a hand.  “I’m Jacques.  They tell me I’m in charge of this reserve, but really it runs roughshod over me.  Most people don’t last long out here.”

“I can imagine not,” Severus said after another hesitation.  “Living on a dragon reserve takes a certain kind of person.”

“Singer seems to think that you might be that kind of person, given the conversation I had with him just a few hours ago.  He thinks you’d like it here.”

Severus looked down at his hands.  “It might be more peaceful than trying to drill potions knowledge into the thick skulls of students who think there are no worse things in the world.”  Still… he had oaths to uphold.

“I’ll be honest with you.  I probably can’t afford to match whatever you were making at Hogwarts, but I’m willing to try.  We lost our third Potions Master in two months the other day after she made the mistake of trying to get at a nesting mother’s eggs for ingredients.  Singer wants you to stay, and I’m not reluctant to have such an acclaimed Potions Master here in my employ.  What do you say?”

“Your offer is a kind one,” Severus said immediately, still looking at his hands.  “I don’t know that I can accept it, however.”

“Take your time and think about it,” Jacques said, with some amusement.  “But know that if you turn it down, I expect you to be the one to tell Singer.”

Severus blanched, and the old man left, his chuckles trailing after him.

Chapter Text

“Staying?” Singer asked, unable to stop himself as soon as he saw Severus.  He’d wandered into the infirmary, a place he normally hated because of the pungent odors and the general feeling of pain that permeated the place, but he’d wanted to see the man who’d been kind enough to help him get away.

“I haven’t decided,” Severus said.  The man didn’t look up from the book he was reading, a slim volume on the uses of dragon’s blood and scales in potions.  It was over Singer’s head, in spite of the fact that he now knew how to read thanks to Charlie.  He still wasn’t quite up to the level that Charlie and other humans were at.

“Should stay,” Singer said.  He settled in the chair at Severus’ bedside and nodded at the Grim who’d taken to staying with Severus instead of following Singer around.  He wondered if maybe his godfather knew this human, if so, what he thought of him.  Good things, obviously, given the way that he followed him.  Or maybe he was keeping an eye on him…

Severus let out a noncommittal hum.  “It’s certainly an option.  But you know that I had many responsibilities at Hogwarts.  I’m not sure that I’m willing to give them all up.”

Singer wrinkled his nose.  “Old man is a pain,” he muttered.  “Even now.  Should have flamed him.”

Severus snorted.  “I doubt you’d have been able to,” he said.

“Flamed the abomination,” Singer said, a hint of pride entering his voice.  The abomination had died quickly, had burnt well.  “Is dead now.  No one could help him.”

Severus’ head jerked up and he closed his book.  “Nobody mentioned that,” he said.  He glanced down at his arm, oddly enough, then smiled.  “I suppose it is almost gone again.  How interesting.  Albus was so certain that… never mind.  I suppose if the Dark Lord has truly been defeated once more, my obligation to Albus is discharged.”

“So you’ll stay.”  Singer shifted eagerly in his seat.  He didn’t have many human friends, in fact he really had none other than Charlie.  He wanted more, a strange feeling.  He’d never felt the need to be around humans before Charlie, but now he… sometimes he felt strange in his own skin, like he needed to be more human than he was so that Charlie would accept him.

It was ridiculous, and he knew better.  Charlie accepted him as he was.  But…  maybe if he spent more time being with humans, of his own free will and not as a prisoner, maybe he wouldn’t be so awkward when interacting with Charlie’s friends.  He was pretty sure that he was supposed to be able to get along with Charlie’s friends, anyway.

Humans were so confusing.

“I haven’t made that decision yet,” Severus said.  He flipped open his book again.

Singer let out an irritated hiss.  Humans were frustrating, too.  He knew that Severus didn’t want to go back to that filthy, drafty, old maze of a school, so why was he pretending like he didn’t want to stay here?  His irritation was great enough that a curl of smoke emerged from Singer’s lips before he could stop it, not that he was inclined to do so.

“Why?” he demanded.  He climbed up onto Severus’ bed so that he could glare at the human from even closer.  Humans found that intimidating, while his dragons tended to find his glares amusing.

Severus was more like a dragon than Singer had realized, because the man’s lips twitched into a smile.  “Because I haven’t decided.  There are options other than returning to Hogwarts and staying here, you know.  Many options.”

Singer wrinkled his nose.  “But…”  He looked down, surprised to feel as sad as he did at the thought of Severus leaving.  “Will miss you,” he said, his voice small.

“Oh for-”  Severus cut off with an exasperated sigh.  “I didn’t say that I was leaving, I said that I haven’t made a decision yet.  If you must know, I’m leaning towards staying, you insufferable brat.”

Singer perked up immediately.  “Staying then?”

“I didn’t… ugh.  Most likely, yes, I am staying,” Severus growled.  He flipped a page in his book, though it was clear that he hadn’t read the first page he’d been on.

Singer beamed at him.  “Am glad,” he said honestly.  He nodded at the book.  “Can get you lots of ingredients, yes?  Am a Singer, dragons glad to give scales and blood and claws and fangs.  Will help, yes?”

Severus didn’t even glance up at him.  “Yes, yes it will help, you foolish little child.”  He waved his hand at Singer and added, “Don’t you have things to do that don’t involve manipulating a tired old man?  Go on, get to work.”

Singer hopped off the bed and left, because Severus was right and Singer really did have plenty of work to do, and also because he didn’t want to risk Severus changing his mind.  As he left to go visit with a few young dragons who were nervous about the idea of hunting for their mates, he was pleased to hear Severus’ laughter following him out.

ooOOooOOoo

“You should probably just stop trying to visit,” Charlie said to the two wizards and one witch standing before him.  

One wizard was nursing scratches that went all the way down to the bone. Severus had already provided him with a salve that would hopefully lessen the scarring, though Singer hadn’t seen the need to bother.  The witch had lost her lower leg, having been bitten by a dragon when she’d been caught trying to get a peek at Singer.  The second wizard was also scratched, though his scratches were over his throat, and he probably would never speak normally again.  There was a second witch, but she was in intensive care at the moment after Singer’s flames had consumed her when she’d startled him.  There was a chance that she would live, but the chance was only a slim one.

“The people,” the wizard with the throat injury started, then had to cough and clear his throat.  He took a sip of water and said, “The people want to see him.”

“Well, he’s not an exhibition,” Charlie said reasonably.  “You know that you guys are the fourth group of reporters to try and get access to him in as many months?  The first two groups were rebuffed politely, the third group got a little bit damp and had some smoke inhalation issues, and now you.  He’s getting angrier and angrier, and pretty soon there’s going to be a fatality.”  Charlie considered the condition of the fourth reporter and added, “If there isn’t already one, of course.”

“The people have a right to know their savior.  The Boy Who Lived is-”

“Am not Boy Who Lived!”

Charlie jumped.  The snarl had come from just behind him, and Charlie hadn’t even realized he was there.  “Singer, please, let me handle this,” he said, turning his back on the reporters to immediately handle soothing the volatile young man.

“Should burn them,” Singer hissed.  “Irritated Ferri,” he added.

Charlie winced.  Ferri had the dubious honor of being the oldest dragon on the reserve at the moment, and he was cranky at the best of times.  Irritated, he was a nightmare.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said honestly.  “But Singer, you have to let me deal with them.  We can’t kill them because they made a dragon angry.”

Singer blew a lick of flame in their direction, then stalked off towards the wilds of the reserve.  Charlie supposed he’d be hearing about it later, but that was fine.  He could handle Singer, especially when Singer knew that he was right.  Charlie was simply better with people than he was, even if he was getting better.

“He’s…”  The woman swallowed, staring after him.  “He’s… he’s almost feral, isn’t he?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie frowned at her.  “He’s not an animal.  He’s not a curiosity.  He’s a young man who wants nothing more than to be left alone.  If people aren’t willing to honor that, Jacques is going to start pressing charges against trespassers.”

“His dragons attacked us!” The man with the deep scratches said indignantly.  “He attacked us!  If anyone here has the right to sue anyone, it’s us!”

“You have the right to sue a Dragon Singer for defending his territory and his dragons after you managed to successfully irritate one?” Charlie asked mildly, raising an eyebrow at the man.

The expression worked, and the man fell silent.  When they left, they were clearly cowed by their injuries and the news that their companion would survive, but would likely wish she hadn’t given the amount of physical therapy and healing she would have to go through just to attempt living a normal life.

“Hopefully that’ll be the end of it,” Sean said over dinner after the reserve had quieted down.

The reporters had been coming in for months, now, ever since the wizarding public in general had realized that Dumbledore had lost control of Harry Potter once more.  Each group, in spite of the fact that the consequences got worse every time, was bolder than the last.  Charlie was ready to take his wand to them himself just to make it stop, especially since every time they showed up Singer was distressed for days after the fact.

“It probably would have been if the burned one had died,” Anna said.  “Maybe if she had it would have served as a proper deterrent to these idiots.”

“Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?” Sean asked, staring at his wife.

She shrugged.  “They’d have it coming, sneaking onto a reserve like that.  Worse things have happened to people who’ve done such stupid things, you know?”

“She’s right,” Charlie said, tipping his head at her.  “Do you remember the one time we had that group from Durmstrang here, and the little one decided to go exploring on hisr own?”

Both Sean and Anna looked at him, horrified.  “Why would you remind us of that?” Anna asked, her face going a bit green.  She’d been the one to find the body, after all.

“Just thinking about the consequences of annoying a dragon, that’s all,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, but you never annoy Singer,” Sean pointed out.  “In fact, the way you talk to him, I’ve never seen anyone else get away with that.  You managed to talk him out of an awful tantrum the other day.  I was impressed.”

Charlie flushed and glanced down at his cup of water, as though it held the answers to everything.  “There’s a reason for that,” he said finally.  “Singer and I…”  He trailed off.  He still felt like such a pervert, knowing what was coming between Singer and him.  How would anyone else take it?

“Is this about the fact that you’re mated to Singer?” Sean asked before popping a bit of bread from his sandwich into his mouth.

Charlie jumped and looked from Anna to Sean with wide eyes.  “You knew,” he said finally, faintly, his cheeks flushing.  “How long have you two known?”

Anna rolled her eyes.  “Oh, please, Charlie.  Jacques talked to us about it as soon as he figured it out, and he knew as soon as Singer started hanging around you.  We were gonna wait until a little closer to his mating heat to tell you, but since you already know…”  She shrugged.  “I think you’ll be good for each other.  Once he’s a little bit older, of course.”

“Of course,” Charlie echoed, the flush from his cheeks fading.  “Right then.  Since you already know and everything.”

“Oh, hey, that brings me to something else!  We were thinking, now that we know who Singer is…”  Sean cut himself off and corrected himself hastily at the look on Charlie’s face.  “Now that we know who Singer was, I mean, we were thinking that we could have a birthday party for him this year.  What do you think?” Sean asked, his eyes brightening.

“A… birthday party?” Charlie echoed.  “I don’t know how he’d feel about that.  I guess… I guess it couldn’t hurt, right?”

“You don’t think he’d be offended or anything?” Anna asked.

“I think…”  Charlie hesitated, then said, “I think he wouldn’t necessarily know what it is at first, but I think he’d like to know a bit more about human customs and traditions.  So yes, I’d say we can go for it.”  Now that he was really thinking about it, he found himself warming to the idea.  “As long as everyone understands that he might be overwhelmed and might need to retreat.”

“Of course!” Sean said brightly.  “We’ll all be totally polite.  It’ll be the calmest, nicest party we’ve ever had here on the reserve.”

The twinkle in Sean’s eye was already making Charlie regret agreeing that it was a good idea, but he had the feeling it was too late to take back his approval.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer would have his revenge on Charlie for leading him into this mess, he swore it.  And with every minute that passed, his ideas for revenge grew more and more bloody, and more and more creative, too.

This was absolutely the worst.  It was loud and raucous and miserable and he was surrounded by humans wishing him a happy birthday, whatever that meant.  There was food everywhere, and alcohol flowed freely.  It seemed that the entire reserve had stopped working for this one event, and Singer was absolutely miserable.

Still, Charlie seemed like he was having fun, and Singer didn’t want to interrupt.  He was enjoying himself with his humans, and Singer hated to feel like he was coming between them.  So he pasted a sickly looking smile on his own face and pretended like he was having fun.  He wasn’t, though, and Charlie would pay for it later.

Apparently there were many traditions when it came to celebrating birthdays, none of which Singer could remember having experienced before.  Perhaps he hadn’t.  The monsters he’d lived with before becoming himself wouldn’t have given him any of this experience, as he could see how it was meant to be fun for humans.

There was a strange ritualistic singing surrounding the burning of a cake, which was apparently then eaten after Singer tried to stop the burning.  The humans hadn’t thought that through very well, but there was more than one cake so the melted mess wasn’t too much of a disaster.

There were brightly wrapped boxes that all had things inside, most of which seemed useless and frivolous, but Singer supposed they were harmless enough.  And… he did rather like the plush Hungarian Horntail that had been in the box that said it was from Charlie.  It was soft and cuddly in the way that most dragons just weren’t.  Singer wasn’t sure how he felt about the clothes that were in most of the other boxes, but apparently it was kind to thank humans anyway, whether or not one needed the things in the boxes.

The alcohol seemed almost ritualistic, too, but Charlie cut whatever that ritual would have been off sharply with a loud, “He’s fifteen, lads!  Absolutely not!”  Immediately the two men who’d been trying to give him a glass backed off with muttered apologies.  Singer fought the urge to flame after them.  He was tired and on edge and it was far too noisy.

He noticed Charlie looking at him, though, a frown appearing on the redhead’s face.  “You’re hating this,” Charlie realized out loud.

Singer immediately shook his head as quickly as he could.  “Am having fun,” he protested, and forced another smile onto his face.  It must have come out wrong, because Charlie’s face fell.  “Really, Charlie, am having fun!”  He tried again.

Charlie just shook his head and pulled him into a careful hug.  “It’s okay if you aren’t,” Charlie whispered in his ear.  “I told Sean and Anna that you might be overwhelmed by such a new experience.  If you’d like to leave, we can certainly do that.”

Singer hesitated.  “But…”  He trailed off and looked at the chaos around him.  “But you were having fun,” he said finally, though he wanted nothing more than to leave.  “Yseira says that we should compromise.”

Charlie laughed.  “She’s not wrong,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the top of Singer’s head.  “But in this, we definitely don’t have to compromise.  I’ll have plenty of chances to party with my fellow dragon keepers.”  Charlie pulled back then and took his hand.  “Let’s go visit your friends.”

Singer hesitated, still.  “Am fine to stay here,” he said slowly.

Charlie frowned at him, then nodded once.  “You know, there’s another rule about birthdays that nobody’s told you yet,” he said.

“What?”

“The birthday boy gets to spend it however he wants,” Charlie said, and tugged on his hand once again.  This time, Singer allowed himself to be pulled away.

The dragons of the reserve were curious about the fuss going on in the human’s camp, but settled easily enough when Singer and Charlie came to join them.  Singer relaxed almost immediately once he was surrounded by the dragons he knew best.  They were curious about the events of the day, and Singer recounted them.

Finally, Garnis asked, “~Should we celebrate your first day with us as a Singer?~”

Singer blinked.  “~Why?~” he asked, honestly confused.  “~Birthdays are pointless, from what I can tell.  I would rather not have two days like that to look forward to every year.~”

Garnis let out a small snort.  “~I suppose you’re right,~” the dragon said, lowering his head once more.

“What were you talking about?” Charlie asked as they settled against Garnis’ warm belly.

“Birthdays,” Singer said, snuggling closer to Charlie without hesitation.  He sighed and let his eyes fall closed.  “Dragons wanted to celebrate the day I came.  That was a good day.”

Charlie’s arm found its way around Singer’s shoulders and his hand found its way to stroking along Singer’s arm.  “I’m glad you’re here, Singer,” Charlie said.  “I don’t tell you that enough.”

Singer’s cheeks flushed and he heard a few of the dragons snorting with amusement at his embarrassment.  “They’re laughing at me,” he grumbled to Charlie.  “Can they do that on birthday?”

Charlie laughed too, the sound light and carefree.  “Pretty sure there’s no rule against that, unfortunately,” Charlie said.  “And certainly, with dragons involved, nobody would try and enforce it if it did exist.”  He dropped another kiss on Singer’s forehead and Singer leaned against him.

This was nice.  Peaceful.  Singer decided then that they should do this more often.  He liked it, even his dragons laughing at him.  Just… maybe without the whole birthday nonsense beforehand.  That had been almost unbearable.

ooOOooOOoo

Sirius had come to the conclusion several weeks ago that hanging around Severus in his Padfoot form was just too easy, and he was never going to stop.  Severus didn’t make it awkward at all, in fact, the potions master seemed mostly inclined to ignore his presence unless he was in the way of something.

Sirius did stay out of the lab, though.  Getting into a potions master’s lab was a very bad idea, especially since he was quite the shaggy dog and would thus get his fur everywhere.  Probably in potions, too, which would be disastrous.

In fact, following Severus around was almost as easy as following Singer around, and there were worse things in life than being a dog.  Especially since sometimes, when Severus was occupied with his reading or something, he would occasionally deign to lean down and scratch Sirius behind the ears.  Like he’d ever touch Sirius were he in his human form.  The thought was laughable.

He supposed it was a bit disingenuous, hanging around Severus in a form designed to make the man forget who exactly was hanging around, but he was almost positive that Severus knew it was him.  He’d known that Sirius was an Animagus since they’re fifth year in Hogwarts, for heaven’s sake.  Of course the man knew it was him.  But still…

Still, it was really nice when Severus forgot himself and started scratching Sirius, as he was doing at the moment.  Then his hands stilled, and Sirius couldn’t help the protesting whine he let out.  Why did he stop?  It was really nice…

“Well, Black, it would seem that you’ve finally been declared innocent of all charges,” Severus said, his low voice dark with amusement.  “The Ministry has issued a full, formal apology and will be calling off the manhunt to find you.  They’ve asked that you let them know if there is anything they can do to support you in this trying time.”

Sirius considered what Severus had just said, then gave the statement all the attention that it deserved: he sneezed, then rolled onto his back to encourage a belly rub.

“I don’t think so, mutt,” Severus said.  “In fact, now that you’ve been declared innocent, don’t you think it’s high time we discussed what, exactly, you think is happening between us?”  Severus leaned over to loom over Sirius, his eyebrows raised.

Sirius didn’t even think about what he was going to do next.  He scrambled to his feet and bolted.  He was very much not ready to have that conversation.  He didn’t know if he ever would be.  He wasn’t the most stable after Azkaban, after all, and had no interest in adding a broken heart into the mess that was his mental state.

He knew when retreating was a good idea, and it had never seemed like a better one than in that very moment.

ooOOooOOoo

“Sirius has been following me a lot lately,” Singer said to Charlie as he entered Charlie’s tent, Sirius trotting faithfully at his heels.  In spite of the fact that he’d been declared innocent, his godfather showed no inclination to start being a human more often than he already had in the past.

Singer didn’t mind.  If Sirius was happier as a dog, Singer thought he should be a dog.  It wasn’t complicated.  It wasn’t like his being a dog was hurting anyone, except for the more superstitious keepers of the reserve.  Even most of them had calmed down around him, especially after Sean had spread the word that he wasn’t actually a Grim.

“Has he?” Charlie asked, not looking up from the letter he was writing.  “That’s interesting.  I thought he always followed you around?”

Singer shook his head, then realized that Charlie wasn’t looking.  “Was following Severus for a while,” Singer said.  “Was following him more than me.  Was wondering why, but Sirius won’t say.”

At that, Charlie looked up.  “Is that so?” he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement that Singer couldn’t understand.  Why was Charlie amused?  “Following old Snape, were you?” Charlie asked Sirius.

Sirius sat curled up on the rug by Singer’s feet and buried his nose under his tail, his ears flicking in a show of disinterest.  Singer had the feeling he was missing something, but couldn’t begin to figure out what it was.

“Well then.  You know that it’s not a good idea to draw out the wondering.  It only makes the answer worse and worse in your head.”  Charlie crossed the room to sit next to Singer, drawing him into an embrace with an arm over his shoulder.  “Isn’t that right, Singer?”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about,” Singer said blankly.  What on earth were they talking about?  None of it made sense to him.

“I just thought that you were more of a Gryffindor than that, Sirius,” Charlie continued as though Singer hadn’t spoken, his tone lamenting, as though he were genuinely sad.  “Apparently I was wrong.  What kind of example are you setting for your godson?”

Sirius let out a disgusted snort and transformed back to a human in the blink of an eye.  “I’ll show you how much of a Gryffindor I am,” he said hoarsely, angrily, and stalked from the tent.

Charlie started to laugh, then couldn’t stop no matter how many times he tried to.  And Singer knew that he was trying, because he always tried to answer Singer’s questions, and Singer needed to understand what had just happened.  It didn’t make any sense.

But Charlie couldn’t answer, leaving Singer with the only explanation he could think of.  “Humans,” he said in disgust, and sank back into the cushions of the couch to sulk until somebody explained themselves.

Chapter Text

Charlie couldn’t help his laughter at the expression on Singer’s face.  The young man was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed, a furious frown making it look like he was going to murder someone.  Charlie, however, knew better.  That frown meant that Singer was sulking because he didn’t understand something that the foolish humans had done.

Charlie stood, stretched, and went to settle beside Singer on the couch.  He froze when Singer swiped out at him with a claw and turned his back on him, burrowing into the side of the couch.  “You’re that angry?” Charlie asked, a bit incredulously.  Singer almost never got physically violent with anyone, much less him.

“Don’t understand humans,” Singer snarled.  “Cannot be good mate if I don’t, so… yes.  Am angry.”  Singer hunched over further.

Charlie hesitated, then tried to sit on the couch again.  When his advance wasn’t rebuffed, he reached out and rested a hand on Singer’s shoulder.  “You know that I was laughing mostly at Sirius, right?” Charlie asked.

Singer turned to glare at him, alien green eyes narrowed.  “Were not,” he accused.  “Were laughing at me.  Saw your face, Charlie.”

Charlie bit his lip, then tried again.  “Okay, so I was maybe laughing at you a little bit,” he admitted.  “But that was because it was a little bit funny, seeing you so confused over something that makes perfect sense to me.”

“Not funny!”  Singer lashed out again, this time with his flames.  The curl of heat licked past Charlie’s cheek, close enough that he could feel it but not close enough to do any damage.

Charlie went still, his eyes widening ever so slightly.  It was times like this that he remembered both how young Singer actually was and how volatile he was.  Singer had been raised by dragons, which Charlie often found himself forgetting, and dragons weren’t known for having the best of tempers.  It hadn’t happened since Charlie had been there, but some of the older keepers still told stories of the two mates who had killed each other after their eggs were accidentally crushed.

Singer, meanwhile, huffed at him and turned his back on him once again, burrowing impossibly further into the couch so that he was just a little round ball of frustration.

Charlie waited a few minutes, then reached out and carefully stroked Singer’s shoulder with gentle fingers.  “I’m sorry,” he offered.  “I shouldn’t laugh at you when you’re trying so hard to understand things and they just aren’t making sense.”

Singer shifted and let out a small, disbelieving noise, but he didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything in response.

“Sirius has a crush on Severus,” Charlie continued finally, when he felt like he’d waited long enough for Singer to say something.  “He’s going about it very foolishly, and avoiding Severus because he’s afraid of what Severus will say to him.  He’s frightened, and he’s letting his fear rule him, which is the opposite of what he should do.  So I called him on it, and now he’s resentfully going to talk to Severus.”

Singer unfurled ever so slightly to turn and give him an incredulous look.  “Really?” Singer asked, his eyes wide.  “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Charlie confirmed, his lips twitching ever so slightly at Singer’s genuine shock.  “That’s all that Sirius has been sulking about.  It’s why he’s been following you around instead of Severus, and it’s why I haven’t been able to look at him without laughing for the past few weeks.”

“That’s stupid,” Singer said.  He shifted on the couch, still visibly irritated.  Charlie was incredibly grateful for the outward signs that Singer always gave, such as the incredibly telling curls of smoke that emerged from between his lips.  “You laughed at me,” Singer finally said into the long silence.  “Don’t like that.”

Charlie’s heart dropped.  Singer was legitimately, genuinely offended.  And, thinking about it, he had every right to be.  Charlie shouldn’t laugh at him, should make fun of him for not understanding the sorts of things that he’d never had the opportunity to learn.  Charlie’s parents had raised him better than that, and Charlie was sure that if his mother were here she’d have some unkind words for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, genuinely, and used his hand on Singer’s shoulder to tug him into his arms.  Singer went easily and cuddled against him, his slender arms curling around Charlie’s waist.  “I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for laughing at you.”  Charlie pressed a quick kiss to Singer’s forehead.

Singer relaxed into his embrace, his arms tightening almost painfully around Charlie.  “I’m trying,” Singer said, his voice muffled by Charlie’s shirt.  “Humans are strange and complicated, but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Charlie said, and lifted a hand to tangle it in Singer’s wild black hair.  Singer let out a small, happy sound and shifted even closer, impossible though it seemed.  “I know you are, and I promise that I’ll do my best not to tease you when you don’t understand something.  Humans are complicated, strange creatures, even to people who are used to dealing with them, and you shouldn’t be ashamed because you aren’t used to us yet.”

Singer hummed softly and hissed something that Charlie didn’t quite understand, but took for assent given the way that he was practically melting in Charlie’s arms.  

The rest of the night was passed in that way, with Singer curled up against him and Charlie just holding him until both of them drifted off to sleep.

ooOOooOOoo

Sirius was well aware that he’d been manipulated as he stalked out of Charlie’s damned tent, but he decided to allow it to stand.  Charlie was right, after all, he was being an idiot.  Whatever Severus’ answer was, it wouldn’t change with time.  At least, not without a conversation or three, or five hundred.

It didn’t take Sirius long to find the potions master, given that he could almost always be found in one of three places: his office, his labs, or his tent.  Occasionally he could be found in the cafeteria, but most times he took his food to go.  It would seem that nothing would change the man’s mostly antisocial ways, for all that he seemed to get along well enough with most of the keepers.

At this time, Severus was normally in his tent, and today it seemed was no exception.  Sirius did the tent equivalent of knocking on his door (flaring his magic and waiting to be noticed) and was granted admittance after only a cursory examination from Severus.  “Hi there,” Sirius offered, knowing that the greeting was lame but not sure of what else to say.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him.  “Ready to have that conversation, Black?” he asked.  He settled in one of the two armchairs that graced the sitting room of the tent and gestured for Sirius to take the other.

Sirius hesitated, then settled gingerly in the chair.  “So, I wanted to start with an apology,” Sirius said, before he could lose his nerve and change back to Padfoot.  Charlie, no matter how much of a brat the Weasley was, was correct.  It was past time for him to do this.

“An apology?” Severus echoed, one eyebrow rising in an expression of polite incredulity.  “I would say that you owe me several.  Which one thing are you apologizing for?”

Sirius winced.  “Everything?” he tried.  When Severus simply stared at him, unimpressed, Sirius said, “I should start with my apology for trying to kill you while we were at Hogwarts.  It wasn’t… I mean, okay, I wasn’t trying to kill you.  I was just trying to get your attention.”

“By sending me after a rabid werewolf?”  Severus’ other eyebrow found its way into his hairline.  “I must say, Black, I’ve heard a great deal of nonsense in my many years as a professor, and that might just be the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet.  Considering that I deal with the Weasley twins, that’s saying a lot.”

Sirius groaned in frustration and scrubbed at his face.  “Okay, look, here’s the thing.  I liked you.  Lots.  And you… you only had eyes for Lily, and James hated that about you, and you hated James, and there was this whole thing of mutual hatred going on at the time and so you never even looked at me.  So I started trying  to get your attention with the pranks, and it worked!  Sort of.  You noticed me, but more like you noticed James, in that you hated me.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t say that you mattered enough for me to hate you,” Severus said bluntly.  “You were more of a pesky irritation than anything else.”

Sirius winced.  “Well, it seemed like you hated me,” he said lamely.  “And I… I really didn’t want you to hate me, so I came up with what I thought was a brilliant plan.  I thought that if you could just see me in a more positive light that you might be more interested in me.  So… so I set you up to follow Remus out to the Shrieking Shack.”

“Where I was almost killed,” Severus said.  He still looked unimpressed.

Sirius was pretty sure that coming here was a mistake.  This was going terribly.  And it should go terribly!  He’d done an awful thing to Severus in the name of getting his attention, and just because he was young and stupid didn’t make what he’d done okay.

“I was going to save you from the big bad wolf,” Sirius said.  He had pretty much deflated in his chair at this point, and was no longer looking up at Severus.  Instead he was closely examining his hands, searching for a good enough excuse for the way he’d behaved when he was younger.  He wasn’t coming up with one, probably because one didn’t actually exist.

Severus sighed.  “You’re an idiot, Black,” the potions master said.  “I liked you then, at least until you tried to kill me, and I like you now.  Not that I’m entirely certain that I understand why, that is, given that I don’t think you’re any less of an idiot now than you were in our youth.  Nonetheless, I’ll accept your apology.”

Sirius couldn’t help perking up at the words, his eyes brightening and his posture straightening.  Had he been in his Padfoot form, he knew that his tail was wagging.  “You will?” he asked, barely able to believe his luck.

“I will,” Severus said with a nod.  “On two conditions.  First, you must promise never to try and get my attention again.  If you want me to pay attention to you, ask.”

Sirius nodded eagerly.  “I can do that,” he said, his words tripping over themselves in his rush to get them out.  “And the second?”

“As you are the more wealthy person by far in this relationship, Sirius, I expect you to take me out to a truly fantastic dinner as an apology.  Several of them, in fact.”  There was a hint of amusement in Severus’ black eyes at his second demand.  

Sirius couldn’t help but bounce to his feet.  “I can do that, too!”  He backed up, headed towards the tent’s exit.  “I can make dinner reservations for tonight, would tonight be good?  There’s a place within safe Apparating distance, we could go there.  I hear the dragon keepers go on dates there all the time.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Severus said with a regal nod.

Sirius backed up again, then nodded and said, “Okay!”  He turned to leave.

“Sirius?” Severus said, his voice definitely choked with laughter.

“What?”  Sirius turned and then stumbled back, because Severus was much closer than he’d been expecting.

The potions master steadied him with a gentle hand on his waist, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  When he pulled back, Severus’ eyes were twinkling and his lips were curled into a small smile.  “Go handle the reservations, you foolish Gryffindor.”

Sirius blinked at him, then took a step back.  “Right.  Yes, of course.  I’ll go do that.  Right now, in fact.”  He turned and left the tent in something of a daze.  Had that actually happened?  It must’ve, because his lips were still tingling where Severus had kissed him.

“Right.  Reservations.  I can do that,” Sirius said to himself.  He set off on his mission, determined not to do anything that would mess up his new relationship with Severus.  He could totally handle reservations for a date.

Not making a fool of himself on the date?  That would be harder.  Then again, Severus already knew he was an idiot, so it probably wouldn’t matter all that much…

ooOOooOOoo

Winter came, and with it another unwelcome visitor.  Singer had honestly thought that the time of strangers intruding on his territory was over after the witch had been so badly burnt at his hands, but apparently that didn’t mean that unwelcome old men wouldn’t still come for a visit.

The obnoxious old man found him while he was having a conversation with Marlis and Tyara, learning more about what he could expect from the heat that was only months away.  It was, ideally, a conversation he would have had with the other singers from the other reserves, but Harry had no interest in contacting them again.  They had been helpful, and had given him information that he would have otherwise lacked, but he didn’t want them on his territory again.

The old man had never been in his territory before, and Singer found his presence to be an immediate threat.  He glared at the old man and hissed at him, “~Get out!~”

“Now, Harry, please.  I need a moment of your time, and nothing more,” he said, and held his hands out as though trying to prove that he was unarmed and therefore wasn’t a threat.

Singer wasn’t fooled.  Wizards, some of them at least, could be just as dangerous without a wand as they were with one.  And he had no doubt that the old man was one of those types.  “Not Harry.  Am Singer.  Leave.”

Marlis was on his feet behind him and above him, looming threateningly over the both of them in the way that only a proper dragon could.  The old man didn’t seem intimidated at all by the dragon’s presence.  “Okay then, Singer.  I’ll call you Singer if I can just have a minute of your time.”

The only way to get rid of him would be to flame him, Singer suspected, and Charlie had already shown that he didn’t want that to happen.  So Singer leaned back against Marlis’ leg and said, “Speak.”

“It’s about the wizard that you so kindly disposed of when you were at Hogwarts last year.”  The old man took a step forward, but paused when Tyara let out a low snarl behind Marlis.  He went very still, then settled himself on the cold ground, not seeming to care about the thin layer of snow that covered it.  “Does this make you feel better?  If I sit?”

Singer nodded once.  “What about the abomination?” he finally asked after the silence had stretched out.  “Is dead.  Flamed him.  Couldn’t have been saved, flamed too much.”  He’d made sure of it.  The thing had made his skin crawl, and it had hurt Severus.  Singer was quite fond of Severus, had been from the start.  His fondness had grown when he’d realized how happy Severus made his godfather.

“That version of him is dead, yes,” the old man said, nodding in agreement.  “You did a great justice for the world when you destroyed him.  But Ha-  I’m sorry, Singer, he’s not dead.”

Singer frowned.  “Is dead,” he insisted.  “Just said so yourself.”

“He is, perhaps, more dead than not at the moment.  But you see, Voldemort found ways to cheat death.  He stored parts of his soul in different containers, and now any one of those slivers could be used to bring him back to life, exactly as he was when you did battle with him at Hogwarts.”

Singer’s frown deepened.  “Not my problem,” he said, and turned his back on the old man.  As long as it wasn’t affecting his dragons, these foolish wizards with their foolish problems were not his problem.  The old man should understand that by now.

“But Singer, it could be your problem,” he said, and Marlis and Tyara both let out vicious growls of warning.

Singer spun and found that the man had moved faster than Singer would have imagined possible, given his advanced age.  He stood right in front of Singer now, close enough that he could have reached out and transported him away with one of those key things.  Singer bared his teeth and snarled at the man, a wordless warning to back away.

The old man didn’t listen.  “You have one of those slivers of soul inside your scar,” he said, and reached out to touch the barely-visible mark.  “It isn’t your fault, of course, but Singer, you could be the one who brings Voldemort back, whether you mean to do it or not.”

“~Impossible,~” Marlis snarled.  “~You were purified when you changed.  A fragment of another person’s soul couldn’t survive the purification process.  Don’t you remember the way you burned?  The way you changed?~”

Singer shuddered.  “~I remember, thanks.  I try not too.~”  In English, he said, “Marlis says impossible.  Says I was purified, that a piece of soul could not survive the process.”

The old man’s face fell.  “I’m sorry to hear that you think that,” he said softly.  “I was hoping that you would understand why I have to do what I have to do.  That you might forgive an old man for doing everything in his power to protect the world from that monster.”

In a flash, he’d drawn his wand and had it leveled at Singer.  Singer froze, but Marlis didn’t.  In a flash the dragon had darted his head down and closed his teeth around the old man’s upper body.  Singer heard a crunching sound, then Marlis shook his head back and forth several times and flung the body as far as he could, which was a substantial distance.

Singer’s eyes widened and he sat down, mostly because his legs weren’t holding him anymore.  “~Charlie’s going to be mad,~” he said, his voice coming out shaky.  “~Charlie wanted the old man alive, and now we’ve killed him and he’s going to be very, very angry with me, Marlis!~”

It wasn’t his fault, Singer knew that, but that didn’t change the fact that Charlie would probably be angry.  He’d gone so far to protect him, and now the man was definitely dead.  How angry would Charlie be with him?  Maybe Charlie would reject him as his mate now.

Singer let out a low, keening wail at the thought.  The sound mimicked the one he’d been shown by the other Singers to use in cases of distress or danger, but it wasn’t quite the same.  He heard Marlis hissing something, but couldn’t quite make it out.  He felt himself being buffeted by wind as one of the dragons took off, but he just continued to let out that anxious, keening noise, unable to bring himself to speak.

What if Charlie rejected him over this?

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie heard it when the dragons started acting up, but he couldn’t imagine what the cause was.  Just because he didn’t know the cause didn’t mean it wasn’t important, of course.  He finished lunch, quickly, as soon as he’d heard the noise start, along with every other keeper who’d been eating at the time.  Whatever was going on couldn’t be a good thing.

Normally Singer would show up and explain what the problem was, but this time when Charlie left the cafeteria Singer was nowhere to be found.  Instead, Tyara was landing in the middle of the settlement, where most of the dragons avoided.  They didn’t mind the tents, but they tended to be spooked easily around the more permanent buildings.  Some of the keepers stepped forward to try and figure out if Tyara was in some kind of distress, but she snorted at them and started walking towards Charlie.

Charlie immediately came forward.  “What’s wrong?” he asked the dragon, who didn’t answer him.  Who couldn’t answer him, and not for the first time Charlie wished that he was a parselmouth.  He would be once he and Singer consummated their mateship, but that was still a few months out.

Tyara shook her head and let out a huffing hiss, then lowered herself to the ground, indicating that she wanted Charlie to mount her.  He hesitated, then shrugged and did so.  It wasn’t the first time he’d ridden a dragon, though he’d only done it once before.  It was the first time he’d done so without any harness, so he hoped she’d be careful.

The flight was a short one, and Charlie immediately realized why he’d been brought.  Singer was on the snow-covered ground, curled in on himself, letting out a low, keening wail every now and again.  There were several dragons nearby, all shifting restlessly and stomping, smoke curling from their nostrils in their irritation.

Charlie paid them no mind.  For once, they weren’t his priority. They would settle once Singer was settled.  He dropped to his knees beside Singer and pulled the young man into his lap, shushing and rocking him until Singer began to settle.  Singer clung to him, his claws tearing into his robes and biting into his skin, but Charlie didn’t mind.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked after an indeterminate amount of time, hoping that Singer would be coherent enough to answer.

Singer shook his head and let out that awful keening sound that tore at Charlie’s heart.  He clung harder and buried his head in Charlie’s robes, tears making them damp.  “Sorry,” Singer sobbed out.  “Sorry, sorry, so sorry, know you’re angry, sorry.”

“Then you know something that I don’t,” Charlie said, keeping his voice as light and gentle as he could.  “Singer, I’m not angry with you.  I’m worried, and your dragons are worried as well, but I’m not angry.”

“Will be,” Singer said, and hissed something to the dragons.  “Wanted him alive, know that.”  Singer curled even closer and whispered, “So sorry.”

Charlie frowned.  He heard a thump to his left and, when he turned to look, he found Dumbledore’s mangled corpse dropped to the ground by an unrepentant Marlis.  Well.  At least Charlie understood why Singer was upset.

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Charlie said softly, stroking Singer’s long hair in long, slow motions that were designed to help Singer calm down.  “I’m not angry that he’s dead.  I didn’t want you to hurt him on the castle grounds because I was concerned that you would get in trouble for doing it, not because I care one way or another about his wellbeing.”

Singer peeked up at him through watery green eyes.  “Really?” Singer asked.  He sounded far younger than his actual years.

Charlie pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “Really,” he said softly.  “We’ll report his body as found, here, and it will just be another in the long string of accidents caused by people trying to get in and gawk at you.  You don’t even necessarily have to be here when the report is made.  You won’t be in trouble, and I’m not mad.”

Singer sagged in his arms and his trembling finally began to ease.  “Sorry,” Singer said again.  “Worked up for nothing.”

Charlie kissed him on the forehead again.  “I can see where you might have misunderstood my earlier requests to not hurt him,” he said.  “In the future, I want you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from a threat here on the reserve in any way possible.  I don’t want you to get hurt because you think that I don’t want you to hurt someone else.”

He’d thought that it didn’t need to be stated, given the way that Singer had been reacting to the reporters, but apparently it did because Singer’s eyes cleared and he nodded once.  “Understand,” Singer said.  “And promise.  Won’t let myself get hurt.”  He hesitated, staring at Dumbledore’s remains for a long minute, before saying hesitantly, “Said I was tainted.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed.  “Dumbledore did?” he asked, though he couldn’t imagine who else would have said it.

Singer nodded.  “Said I have a piece of the abomination inside me.”  Singer shivered.  “Marlis and Tyara said I didn’t.  Said it was impossible, that ritual would have killed it if it was ever there at all.”

“I would suppose that they would know,” Charlie said.  He tightened his arms around Singer.  “What was he going to do about it?”

Singer shook his head.  “Don’t know.  Drew his wand and Marlis killed him.  Think he was going to hurt me.  Or kill me.  Not sure.”

Charlie’s arms tightened even further, entirely against his will.  “I’m glad he didn’t succeed with whatever plan he had for you,” he whispered against Singer’s forehead.  He pressed another kiss to the faded scar, then pulled back slightly.  “Besides, even if there was a piece of another person inside of you, I can’t see how that would counter the entire person that you are.”

Singer beamed up at him for the compliment, then snuggled closer to him and let out a small sigh.  “Can stay for a few minutes?” he asked, shamelessly nestling even closer.

There were things that Charlie should do.  He should report the body to Jacques, should get ready for the slew of paperwork involved when dealing with accidental deaths.  Even if he didn’t want to do that, there were duties he was neglecting.  But Singer was warm, and the dragon they were leaning against was just as warm, warm enough to negate the cold of the ground.  And Singer was relaxed and sleepy against him, and Charlie couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Yeah,” he said, and tilted Singer’s head up.  He kissed Singer’s lips softly, chastely, and said, “I can stay for a few minutes.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t want to,” Singer snarled.  He turned his back on Charlie and went back to helping the dragon shift position, trying to avoid jostling her broken leg too much.  The young dragon had been so eager to fly that she hadn’t quite managed to master landing before trying to go as high as older dragons, and the results had been frustrating for her, to say the least.

“Singer,” Charlie said, sounding utterly exasperated.

“No!”  Singer focused on Ferina’s movements, stopping her before she could jar her leg and injure it even further.  It wasn’t easy; Ferina wanted desperately to be up and moving and wasn’t particularly interested in settling down and doing nothing.

Charlie’s frustrated growl made Singer flinch.  “Singer, please, we talked about this.  You agreed that you would meet my family before…  before.”

Singer’s hands froze.  He had made that promise, several weeks ago.  And it was true that spring was almost over, and summer would be coming quickly.  He didn’t know the exact date of his birthday, mostly because he had no use for human calendars, but it was sometime mid-summer and he would go into heat on the day of it.  His options for keeping his word were… well, they were limited.  Still… “Am busy,” he said flatly.  “Ferina needs watching.”

“I can do that!” Anna said brightly from behind them both, like she didn’t know that there was an argument going on.  Of course she did.  Charlie’s friend was very good at pretending to be oblivious when she wanted to be.

Singer let out a small hiss and backed away from Anna.  “Don’t want to go,” he said to Charlie, plaintively.  He put on his best pleading expression, only to have Charlie pull him into his arms with a small laugh.  “Please, Charlie.”

“It would mean the world to me if you would meet them, Singer,” Charlie said softly, gently.  “My parents are here, and my brothers all managed to make it too.  Do you know how hard it is for Percy and Bill to get time off at the same time?  And the twins got special passes from Hogwarts for the weekend for this.  Please?”

Singer let out a frustrated growl, realizing quickly that he was going to give in whether he wanted to or not.  He’d promised, and Charlie wasn’t asking for much.  And his parents were nice, Singer knew that from their visit several years ago, even if he hadn’t met them before.  They weren’t like the monsters who’d had him when he was little.  There was no reason for him to be frightened.

Singer finally deflated.  “Fine,” he grumbled, and let himself be tugged away from Ferina.  “Watch her!” he snapped to Anna.  “Wants to fly; can’t.  Make sure she doesn’t.”

“Don’t worry,” Anna said quickly, holding her hands over her heart.  Singer was pretty sure that meant something in the human world, though he couldn’t imagine what.  “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”  Her lips twitched into a grin.  “You try to have fun, okay?  Charlie’s family’s great.”

Singer nodded once, sharply, in assent.  He was certain that he wasn’t going to have anything resembling fun, but at least he would try.  For Charlie’s sake, since Charlie wanted him to.

It wasn’t going to be easy, though, a fact made more evident when the first thing the plump redheaded woman tried to do was hug him.  Singer barely resisted the urge to flame her, and instead stood very still and endured the embrace and hoped that Charlie realized how much he owed Singer for this.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie always knew that the meeting between his parents, his brothers, and Singer wasn’t going to go well, but he couldn’t have imagined it going this badly right from the start.  The look of utter irritation on Singer’s face as his mother hugged him tightly would have made Charlie laugh if he weren’t certain that Singer was only seconds away from killing her.

“Mum, please, Singer doesn’t like being hugged,” Charlie said quickly, moving to pull her away from him.  “I thought we talked about this.”

“Oh, of course we did Charlie, but who doesn’t like hugs?”  Molly let herself be guided away by Charlie, however, and settled back in her seat in one of the extra chairs Charlie had added to his tent for the visit.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Harry,” she added.

Singer’s eyes narrowed.  “Not Harry,” he said shortly.  “Am Singer.”

“Well, that’s a title, not a name,” Percy said, rather pompously, as was his character.

Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Singer has gone by the name Singer for several years now, and would rather not be called by his old name.  I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request.”  He forced a smile onto his face and added, “We did talk about this.”

“Of course, of course,” Molly said, again waving off Charlie’s concerns.  “So, Singer, why didn’t you go to Hogwarts?  I’m certain the Headmaster, may he rest in peace, would have taken you in a heartbeat!”

Singer just blinked at her, then turned to the twins, deliberately ignoring the question.  “Making trouble?” he asked, cocking his head to one side.

Fred and George, who had been whispering rather suspiciously in the back corner of the tent, both beamed at him.  “We would never,” George promised.

“Unless you’d like us to shake things up a bit,” Fred added.

Charlie fully expected Singer to say no, or to otherwise protest, but instead Singer stepped towards them.  “Depends,” he said shortly.  “Met Sirius?”

Both Fred and George brightened.  “Only the one time while at Hogwarts,” Fred said, sounding eager and making Charlie even more nervous about their presence on the reserve.

“Why, do you think he’d help us make some trouble?”  George’s eager question was matched by the expression of pleading on his face.

Singer shrugged.  He glanced at Charlie, then back at the twins.  “Come,” he said shortly.  “Will find out.  Sirius plays good pranks.”

Charlie opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap.  Singer had, technically, met his family.  He wasn’t interested in continuing the meeting and, retrospectively, it probably wasn’t the best idea to force him to.  So he smiled and nodded.  “Sounds like a good idea.  I think Sirius is hanging out with Severus right about now, and I’m certain that Severus would thank you for taking him out of his hair.”

Percy stood and headed towards the exit.  “I think I’ll go with them and… keep them out of trouble.  Rather, I’ll try to keep them out of trouble.”  He looked a bit nervous, and honestly, they all should be.  The damage that Fred and George could do with Sirius on the reserve…  Singer wouldn’t let them do too much, but Singer might not realize how destructive the twins could be.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Charlie said quickly.  “Have fun, Singer,” he added to his soon-to-be-mate, who just shrugged and headed out of the tent, three redheads trailing behind him.

This left Charlie alone with his parents and Bill, who looked more amused than anything else.  “So…”  Charlie trailed off awkwardly.  He had to tell them; he knew that.  The fact was that after Singer reached sixteen Charlie wouldn’t even look much like a human anymore, and his family deserved to know what was going to happen.

“You must have needed something to call all of us together like this,” Arthur said reasonably.  “Do you have a big announcement for us?”

Molly’s eyes lit up.  “Like you’ve finally met a girl?  Is that it, Charlie? Have you met someone?  Are you settling down?”

Charlie hesitated, then shrugged.  “Technically, yes, I’ve met someone,” he said carefully.  “And we’re settling down sometime mid-summer, probably around the 31st of July.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, but Molly’s lit up.  “Oh, Charlie, that’s wonderful!  This is awfully soon, though, don’t you think?  Is there… there isn’t a reason it has to happen so fast, is there?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it if there is,” Arthur said quickly.  “Your mother and I know that this isn’t the same era that we grew up in, and if there is an… unexpected reason for the fast ceremony, we certainly won’t hold that against the girl.”

It took only seconds for Charlie to figure out what they were suggesting.  “No!” he said quickly, his cheeks flushing.  “No, there’s no reason like that.”  The thought of Singer, a man, being pregnant… the idea was both horrifying and hilarious all at the same time.

“Well, then, there’s no reason for the rush,” Molly said, folding her arms and frowning.  “Certainly there’s at least time for us to meet the girl, get to know her.  See if she’s suitable for our Charlie.”

“I think we just met the ‘girl’,” Bill muttered, one eyebrow quirking up at Charlie as if to ask if he was right.

He was right, of course, and Charlie nodded at him in assent.  Over his parents’ immediate confused objections, Charlie said, “Bill’s right!”  When the tent fell silent, Charlie continued with, “There isn’t a girl.  The fact is that I am apparently Singer’s mate, and at some point over the summer, likely on July 31st, Singer will go into heat and he and I will bond.”

The tent went painfully silent, broken after a few minutes by his mother’s strained laughter.  “Charlie, really, it’s not like you to play a prank like this,” she said uneasily.  “Getting us all together for something like this is something I’d expect of the twins, not of you.”

“I’m not joking,” Charlie said quietly, firmly.  “Singer and I will be mated on July 31st.  It’s going to happen.”

Arthur bit his lip.  “Have you considered…”  His father hesitated, then forged onward.  “Charlie, the boy will only be sixteen.  Not that we think he doesn’t know his own mind, but he’s awfully young.  He’ll get tired of you, move on, and you’ll be left broken hearted.  I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Charlie sighed.  He’d known this conversation wouldn’t go well, but maybe it could be salvaged with some explanation.  It wasn’t like his parents should know anything about the mating habits of Singers.  “He won’t,” he said quietly, carefully.  “Dragons mate for life, and Singer is no different.  He and I will be bound together for an incredibly long time.”

“And what if you get tired of him?  What if you want children?”  Molly’s eyes were wide and wounded, and Charlie knew that she was disappointed at the thought of not getting grandchildren from him.

That was fine.  Charlie had never planned on having children.  “Then we’ll adopt, if we decide that’s something we want.  But honestly, with Singer’s past, particularly his childhood, I can’t see him ever wanting children, barring extenuating circumstances.”

“I don’t like it,” Molly said shortly.  “Singer’s a sweet boy, but he can find another mate.  You don’t need to burden yourself with a traumatized halfbreed.”

The venomous words coming from his mother, someone he’d never heard say something like that in his life, made Charlie suddenly very glad that Singer wasn’t here to hear them.  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You heard me,” his mother said.  “You deserve a nice wife, or husband if that’s the way you lean.  But that one couldn’t even tolerate a hug!  How affectionate do you think he’ll be to you, Charlie?  You aren’t a therapist; it isn’t your job to deal with his issues.”

“Molly,” Arthur started, but fell silent when she shot him a viciously quelling look.

That was fine.  Charlie didn’t actually need his father to handle this.  “He’s perfectly affectionate with me,” he said calmly.  “He doesn’t like strangers, and I don’t blame him.  He’s told me some of his past, you know, about the monsters who cared for him before he made his way to the reserve.  If he’s a bit touchy about physical contact, I certainly don’t hold it against him.  But he’s always accepted it from me.”

“What about the fact that you won’t be human anymore?” Bill asked.

Charlie’s eyes darted to his brother.  “Sorry?”

Bill shrugged.  “The goblins did some researching into what Singer is after his past identity came out.  They’re holding his vaults for him, by the way, since he never had an official beneficiary nothing was ever done with them.  I doubt he cares for the money, but it is there.”

“What does your brother mean that you won’t be human anymore?”  His mother’s voice had gone shrill, and when Charlie turned back to her she had a white-knuckled grip on his father’s arm.

Charlie hesitated, mostly because he hadn’t been planning on revealing that part of things, not with his mother so antagonistic already.  Then he decided to just put it all out there, because it wasn’t like the meeting was going well anyway and nothing would likely change his mother’s mind.  “It means that the mate of a Singer becomes something very much like a Singer, perhaps even turning into one themselves.”

The visit, which had already been a disaster, went completely off the rails at that point.  Charlie was just glad that Singer wasn’t there to hear the poison coming from his mother at the news, which only grew worse as Charlie revealed that it would be impossible for him to refuse Singer because he didn’t want the young man to die.

Things had devolved to such a terrible state that, by the time an explosion rocked the tent and the entire reserve as a result of a prank gone terribly wrong, Charlie was grateful for the distraction.  Even if it did mean spending three weeks cleaning up the mess his darling brothers had left behind.

ooOOooOOoo

The months after Singer’s disastrous meeting with Charlie’s parents passed swiftly, and Singer wished that they wouldn’t.  He was frightened of what was coming, even as multiple dragons promised him that there was nothing to be frightened of.  Charlie, he knew, could sense his apprehension and was doing his best to soothe him, but he wasn’t having much luck.

Singer didn’t want his heat to come, even if he did want to be fully mated to Charlie.  He didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the needs of his body, didn’t want to be filthy and disgusting like the monsters who’d had him as a child had been.

When he expressed this to Charlie, his intended’s face had fallen and he’d pulled Singer into a hug.  Charlie had held him tightly that night, promising him that he was nothing like the people who had abused him and swearing that Charlie would take good care of him when the heat came.

Singer wanted to believe Charlie, he really did.  He wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have chosen a mate capable of hurting him the way he’d been hurt when he was younger, but he had trouble with it.  In his head, he knew that Charlie was nothing like those monsters.  Even so, as the time of summer that marked his birthday approached, Singer found himself growing more and more skittish around Charlie, going so far as to avoid him more often than not.

He knew that it was coming soon, and he didn’t want it too.

Still, in spite of the fear that wouldn’t quite go away, there came a night in the dead of summer when Singer couldn’t bring himself to leave Charlie’s side.  He needed to stay with the dragon keeper, and couldn’t be budged even when Charlie went to the cafeteria for dinner.  He endured the people nearby, dozens of them, endured his godfather’s gentle questions and Severus’ probing looks, and when it was over he was grateful for the chance to go and hide in Charlie’s tent.

Charlie acted strangely that evening, oddly solicitous of Singer’s feelings.  He held Singer close and whispered to him, “I’m going to take good care of you,” in the gentlest voice that Singer had ever heard.

The words almost made Singer’s heart stop.  “It’s tonight,” he said, his voice shaking.  He wanted to be wrong.  He didn’t want to go into heat.

“It is tonight,” Charlie confirmed, running gentle hands through Singer’s wild hair.  “I promise, Singer, I’ll do everything I can to make this good for you.”

“Don’t want to go into heat,” Singer whispered, even as he burrowed even closer to Charlie.

“I know.”  Charlie continued to stroke his hair, soothing him with each touch.  “I know you don’t, Singer.  And I’m so sorry that this is happening when you don’t want it to.  But I don’t want you to burn out in your heat, either.”

Singer shook his head and buried his face in Charlie’s soft, clean smelling robes.  “Please, no,” he said.  He’d seen a dragon burn out once, when his mate had died before the bonding could complete.  It had been horrible.  He never wanted to see anything like that again.

“Okay,” Charlie said soothingly.  He murmured a soft, “ Tempus ,” then said, “Why don’t we lie down for a bit.  We’ve got a few hours until midnight, and maybe you’ll feel better if you get a little bit of rest beforehand.”

Singer nodded, and allowed himself to be led to Charlie’s bed.  He cuddled up against his soon-to-be-mate, pressing as close as he could, not willing to be separated from Charlie in the slightest bit.  Charlie allowed it, in spite of the sweltering heat that was building in the tent.

Before he drifted off to sleep, Singer whispered to Charlie, “Am frightened, but am glad that it will be you.  Trust you.”

Charlie pressed a kiss to his forehead, and the two fell into silence as they waited.

Singer didn’t know when or how, but at some point he must have fallen asleep, because he woke suddenly with a start, his body burning in a way that he’d never felt before.  It was hot, too hot, and nothing he did could ease the burning pain that seared through him.  He let out a desperate cry, unable to think beyond the burning heat and need that roared through him.

Immediately Charlie was awake and soothing him with gentle hands that were soft and cool and soothed him with every touch.  Singer writhed beside him, only stilling when Charlie covered him with his body, blanketing him in the coolness of it.

“Need you,” Singer gasped out, reaching out to clutch at the back of Charlie’s nightshirt.

“You have me,” Charlie promised, and leaned down to kiss him.  It was more than it had ever been before, and Singer moaned into the kiss as his body sang with pleasure at the feel of it.

Charlie was soft and gentle and careful with him, soothing him and pleasing him and, after what felt like an eternity, taking him.  Singer let go of his fears, unable to hold onto them under the onslaught of his heat, and let himself fall into the pleasures that Charlie offered.

ooOOooOOoo

With Singer’s birthday now known to every single dragon keeper in the reserve, not to mention being known by everyone on the planet, everyone on the reserve knew exactly when his heat would hit.  There were preparations made, of course, not that any of the keepers had the faintest idea as to how the heat would affect the dragons of the reserve, but everyone was prepared for the results to be somewhat spectacular.

“Well,” Sirius said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “The keepers were right.  This is pretty spectacular.”

Severus was standing beside him, his boyfriend’s normally unflappable expression replaced by one of equal embarrassment.  “That’s certainly a word for it,” the potions master said, his voice strangled.

They could all feel the effects of what was happening in Charlie’s tent, and it was intoxicating.  Singer and Charlie were putting out some pretty powerful pheromones.  The dragons themselves were reacting to that, and the entire reserve was alive with the sounds of their… celebrations.  The keepers were being similarly affected, and neither Sirius nor Severus were immune to the lust that was pouring through the camp.

The problem wasn’t in the massive interspecies orgy that was currently taking place, not that anyone was mating with the dragons (or at least, Sirius really hoped they weren’t).  The problem was in the fact that anyone could have used this opportunity to get to Singer at an incredibly vulnerable moment, and Sirius couldn’t let that happen to his godson, who was shockingly more vulnerable than he liked to pretend even at the best of times.

This was what led to the incredibly awkward duty of standing guard outside of Charlie’s tent with Severus, both unspeakably aroused and neither willing to give up on their self-appointed tasks.

“We’re going to give them so much hell for this,” Sirius muttered, doing anything he could to distract himself from his needs.  And from the shows some of the more… exhibitionist keepers were putting on out in the open areas.

“It’s not like it’s their fault,” Severus pointed out, though the words were still coming out strangled.

“Please.  I’m Singer’s godfather.  It’s my job to thoroughly embarrass him about things like accidentally causing an orgy in the middle of the camp.”  Sirius let out a small, strained laugh.  “And besides, plotting my revenge on them is distracting me from… well.  From.”  He shrugged.

“I could use a distraction,” Severus said.  “Tell me what you’re planning.  I might just help.”

Sirius brightened, then his cheeks flushed even darker than before when he heard Singer let out a pleasured cry from inside of the tent.  “It’s going to be a long night,” he muttered, “And I don’t know that there’s any revenge I can get that will make up for this.”

“Night?” Severus asked, and laughed softly.  “Oh, Sirius, you’re in for a surprise.  This could go on for a full twenty-four hours.”

Sirius groaned and slumped, then straightened resolutely.  “Then that just gives me a full day to prepare my revenge,” he said, determined to see this through.  Even if he was pretty sure he was going to hear the sounds Singer was making inside the tent every time he so much as looked at his godson.

ooOOooOOoo

Singer woke as the sun set, his whole body achingly sore but feeling wonderfully relaxed.  Charlie was curled up around him, his arms heavy around Singer’s waist, his breath stirring Singer’s hair with every exhale.  He turned in Charlie’s arms so that he could face his new mate and his breath left him.

Charlie was beautiful.  His scales were dark blue, and Singer reached out to hesitantly caress them with shaking fingers.  They were smooth and cool, and Charlie’s eyes, when he opened them at the touch, had gained a rim of amber around the larger blue iris.

“~Good evening,~” Singer hissed, hesitant to do so.  The other Singers had said that Charlie would gain the ability to speak his language, but what if they were wrong?

A smile bloomed over Charlie’s face.  “~Good evening,~” Charlie answered, the hiss coming out perfectly unaccented, as though he’d been a parselmouth his entire life.  “~How do you feel?  I know how frightened you were.~”

Singer stretched and, as he did so, took stock of the way his body felt.  “~Good,~” he said finally, honestly.  “~You took good care of me,~” he added, ducking his head shyly.

Charlie tilted his head up with gentle fingers under his chin and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.  “~I’m glad,~” Charlie said honestly.  “~That was what I was most worried about.~”

Their conversation was interrupted by a rumble, loud and startling.  It took a second to realize that the rumble wasn’t from a dragon or anything of the like, but instead was their stomachs, protesting their empty state.  Singer wasn’t surprised, they’d been quite active and it was late in the day.

“~Food?~” Singer suggested.

“~Food,~” Charlie agreed.

ooOOooOOoo

Dinner was… an exercise in restraint.  Charlie found that everyone stared at him, and the cafeteria which would normally be empty by this time was almost completely full, so there were far too many people there to stare.  It made him feel self-conscious, and he hated that.  He’d known this was coming, and honestly, they all should have known it too.  He knew that Jacques had started teaching them about what to expect, so he forced himself to behave as he normally would.  They would adjust.

He’d scarcely settled down to eat next to Singer when Sirius and Severus dropped into place across from them.  “So, Charlie, what are your intentions towards my godson?” Sirius asked, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.  His gaze was, however, bright with something like curiosity.

“I’m sorry?” Charlie asked, tired and not quite all there.  It was a struggle to remember to speak in English, the words wanting to come out in parseltongue before anything else.  No wonder Singer still had trouble with English if that was the case.

“Your intentions, my godson,” Sirius said pointedly.  “Name them.”

“I intend to… be his mate?” Charlie tried.  He wasn’t sure what Sirius was after.  He knew the man liked him, so why the sudden interrogation?

“And you’re going to be the best mate possible for my little Singer, aren’t you?” Sirius asked, his tired smile sharpening around the edges.  “Because if not, Charlie, there are things that I can do to get my revenge.  Things like potions in your food that you might never expect, those sorts of things.”

“You… don’t have access to a lab,” Charlie said slowly.

“No, he has access to a me,” Severus said.  “And I’m quite irritated with the both of you, given what happened when you were mating.”

“What happened?” Charlie asked, dreading the answer.

Sirius’ smile faded and his expression turned into something almost traumatized.  “It was horrible,” the animagus said with a shudder.  “Everyone was… ugh.  You two let out some kind of pheromones, and the whole camp reacted,” Sirius said with a shudder.

Charlie flushed brightly.  Singer, beside him, was ignoring the conversation and focusing on his dinner.  “I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, his voice choked with embarrassment.

“The worst was when you made Singer scream,” Severus said, his expression darkening into something almost wicked.  “We all knew how much he was enjoying whatever it was you were doing to him.”

Charlie let his head thunk down on the table, hoping that the wood would swallow him up where he sat.  He let out a strangled noise, but couldn’t quite manage any words.

“Enough,” Singer said sharply.  He let out a small hiss that Charlie understood to mean, “~Stop teasing my mate.~”

Though neither Severus nor Sirius could actually understand the words, they did let up on the teasing enough that Charlie could eat his dinner.  After, Singer grabbed his hand.  “~Go see the dragons now,~” Singer insisted.

Charlie didn’t mind, and allowed himself to be towed out into the wilds of the reserve.  He found himself led to a place he’d never been.  Far into the middle of the woods towards the center of the reserve, a massive rock dominated an equally massive clearing.  The sight would have been impressive enough even without what Charlie was certain to be the entire population of dragons currently sitting in the clearing, obviously waiting for Singer.

And for Charlie, judging by the way he was greeted.  Every dragon that nudged him had a kind word for him, and a few had both a kind word and a threat having to do with what they would do to him if he mistreated their Singer.  Charlie found that he didn’t mind, instead too delighted with the fact that he could actually understand every word the dragons said to him.

Then, Singer grabbed his hand once more and ascended the rock, and Charlie realized what it was for when Singer raised his voice in song.

For the first time, he understood what Singer was saying, even as the song resonated with him in a way it never had.  Almost without thinking about it, Charlie opened his mouth and joined in the song of celebration.  The two sang alone for what felt like forever, then, gradually, the dragons joined in, adding their voices to Charlie’s and to Singer’s.

It was, in a word, magical, and Charlie wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world.  Then Singer turned to smile at him, his eyes bright with joy, and Charlie revised his earlier thought.  He would trade anything in the world to see Singer smile like that.

He leaned down, careful to make sure that Singer would realize what he was doing and to give him plenty of time to back away, and took Singer’s lips in a sweet, gentle kiss.  Singer curled his arms around him and clung to him, letting out a happy noise.

The dragons around them devolved into a roar of happiness, one that resonated through Charlie’s very bones and made his heart soar in a way that it never had before.

This was his life, now, and he thought that maybe he could give Singer the happily ever after he so richly deserved.

Chapter Text

“You done work for the day?” Sirius asked as Charlie entered the office.

Charlie nodded and settled into the chair with a long sigh.  “Yeah.  Tyara’s brat of a daughter thought it would be funny to sneak into a nesting mother’s nest.  She thought that she could pretend to be the mother of the eggs.  It didn’t go well.”

Sirius snorted with laughter.  “At least you emerged with all of your limbs intact,” he said, gesturing with his left hand, which was now missing the littlest finger.

“We all told you not to wear your signet ring around the dragons, but you didn’t listen.”  Charlie shook his head.  “Some rookie dragon keeper you turned out to be.”

Sirius drew himself up in mock offense.  “I will have you know that I was the best rookie ever.  It’s how I got this job, you know.”

Charlie couldn’t help his laughter.  “I’m almost positive that Jacques took you as his assistant so that you’d stop getting injured.”  Once he got himself more under control, he added, “And nobody thought you’d actually like the administrative part of things.  It only made sense to let you run this zoo since you’re so shockingly good at it.”

“And it wasn’t like anyone else wanted it, right?” Sirius asked, shaking his head.  “No, you know I like running the reserve.  It’s never boring, and the Ministry almost always gives the funding I ask for since they still feel guilty for sending me to Azkaban without a trial.”

“Even after forty years?” Charlie asked, incredulous.  He’d known that their funding problems had all but disappeared once Sirius started dealing with the Ministry, but that struck him as a little ridiculous.

“Oh, you know that he has lingering emotional trauma from the prison,” Severus said, entering the office.  He had the slightest of smiles on his face.  “He cries whenever he thinks about the poor dragons not getting what they need, and the Ministry officials fall for it every time.”

Charlie shook his head.  “You’re ridiculous,” he told Sirius, still grinning.  He sighed, then stood and stretched.  “Singer and I are going for a long walk,” he told them both.  “We might be gone for a few days.  There’s something on the edge of the reserve that’s worrying him, though he’s not saying much.”

Sirius sobered immediately.  “What sorts of something? Anything we need to worry about?”

The wizarding world had settled down in the aftermath of Voldemort’s third rise, which had ended just last year, but there was always the danger of something else coming down the line.  There were rumors that Voldemort wasn’t truly dead, even now that he’d died three times, but he’d never gone after the reserve.  Still, Singer had been detecting strange things from the farthest border of the reserve, and wanted to go investigate.  Charlie wasn’t inclined to let him do that by himself.

“Singer… says he’s getting odd vibes from the farthest border, and wants to go investigate.  By ourselves, apparently, without the dragons.  He’ll call them if he needs them, but you know he won’t put them in danger needlessly.”

“Does he think they will be in danger?” Severus asked, straightening.  “I could go with you.”

“Isn’t Anna’s graduation coming up?” Charlie asked.  “She’d be devastated if you missed it.”  He glanced sharply at Sirius, who looked like he was about to volunteer.  “Either of you missed it.  You know she’s still insecure about her place in the family.  Don’t you dare skip her graduation.”

Sirius subsided with a wince.  “I wish she wasn’t,” he said, then raised his hand.  “It’s not her fault, and I love her to death, I just wish she knew that she really is our daughter, even if we aren’t related biologically.”

“She does,” Severus said immediately.  “She’s our daughter, with all of our combined insecurities and neuroses, which is why she’ll probably always have that slight fear.  And if you two think you can handle it, we’ll leave you to it.”

“We’ve got this,” Charlie said immediately, choosing to leave out certain information.  He didn’t mention that Marlis had been missing since before Singer had started getting those strange feelings, nor did he intend to.  It didn’t matter.  He and Singer would sort it out.  Besides, with any luck, the two things were entirely unrelated.

“It’s fine.  Singer and I will be fine.”  

ooOOooOOoo

Famous last words, words that Charlie should know better than to ever repeat.  It wasn’t fine.  The hike was awful, and Singer pushed them both onward like a man possessed.  He seemed convinced that they were going to find something in the wilds, something that demanded their attention as soon as they could possibly get there.

On their own.  Without the dragons.  On the farthest edge of the reserve.  The one that started to move into a mountain, which is why it was the edge of the reserve in the first place.  “~Singer, are we almost there yet?~” Charlie asked, hoping that it didn’t sound like he was whining.  Forty years of adventures like this and he was certain that he still wasn’t used to the insanity of it all.

“~Almost,~” Singer said calmly.  “~I can feel it.  Whatever it is.  It’s hovering on the edges of my awareness.  Can you feel it?~”

Charlie shook his head.  He’d been trying, ever since the first time Singer had asked the question, but he never felt anything.  “~But you think we’re getting close to the-~” Charlie cut off suddenly and closed his eyes.  He’d almost thought that he’d heard… no.  That was impossible.  Then he caught the sound again, a faint, whimpering noise.  “~Are you hearing that?~”

Singer cocked his head to one side.  “~Yes,~” he said.  “~From the same direction as the feeling.~”  Singer fell into a run, and Charlie followed.

What they found had his jaw dropping open.  Marlis was there, on the mountain, curled up around a tiny little slip of a boy who was sobbing helplessly.  Neither Charlie nor Singer could get a very close look at them, because Marlis rumbled a small threat as soon as they stepped into his field of vision.

“~What’s wrong with him?~” Singer asked, stilling so as not to be perceived as dangerous.

Lines of tension in Marlis eased as the dragon relaxed.  “~I didn’t realize it was you two.  I thought it was those horrible people coming back for him once more.~”

“~What people?~” Charlie asked.

“~Don’t know.  Not his family, the only smell of him that’s on them comes from prolonged contact.  They were hurting him, and he cried out, and I came.~”  Marlis sounded defiant when he added, “~I came, and he’s ours now.  They can’t have him.~”

“~What did you do?~” Charlie asked, even though he was almost certain that he didn’t need to ask the question.

“~Hello, little Singer,~” Singer was saying, even as he fearlessly approached Marlis and the boy who was curled into him.  “~Are you injured at all, or just frightened?~”  Singer settled just outside of touching distance from the boy, and Charlie followed his lead.

“~Not frightened,~” the little one whispered.  “~Not hurt.~”

“~We’re so glad to hear that,~” Charlie said, as softly and kindly as he could.  “~It’s not good for children to stay out in the elements, though.  Wouldn’t you like to come someplace more comfortable with us?~”

The little one flinched.

“~They’re not like the monsters who took care of you before,~” Marlis said soothingly.  “~Singer is like you, and Charlie is his mate.  They’ll take good care of you if you let them.~”

Slowly, hesitantly, the little one uncurled and looked at them.  He was pale, and his new scales were dramatic and blood red, almost black, against his skin.  His eyes were the same shade, and there was something oddly familiar about him…

Charlie shook off the strange thought that the child reminded him of someone with a shake of his head.  “~We’d like to take care of you,~” Charlie offered, and held out his hand.

The little boy was obviously frightened, and Charlie had to hold his hand out for what felt like forever, but eventually the little one reached out and took Charlie’s hand.  “~Okay,~” he said softly, uncertainly.  “~Marlis wouldn’t lie to me, right?~”

“~Of course not,~” Marlis said immediately.  “~Singer takes care of all of us, and Charlie helps my own mate with her babies from time to time.  They are good Singers, who will take good care of you.  They will raise you to be a good Singer as well.~”

The little one’s face bloomed into a sudden, startling smile.  “~I’ll be good at something?~” he asked, sounding achingly hopeful for the approval.

“~We promise you will be,~” Singer said.  He reached out and patted the little one on the head.  “~I am Singer, so you need a name of your own that isn’t mine.  Do you have one?~”

The little one looked down.  “~The people who… who took care of me before called me Tom.~”

The name jogged something in Charlie’s memory, but he dismissed it as unimportant.  “~It’s nice to meet you, Tom,~” he said warmly.  He stood slowly and, making sure that he gave Tom enough time to pull away if he wanted to, hefted the child into his arms.  He couldn’t have been older than four.

“~Does this make us fathers now?~” Singer asked later, after they’d started the long walk back to the more populated areas of the reserve. After they’d settled down for the night, sooner than Charlie would have expected.  It made sense, though, given their new burden.

Charlie glanced at Tom, who was sleeping close to Marlis, one hand resting on the dragon’s scales.  “~I think it does,~” he said wonderingly.  “~I don’t know how I feel about this.~”

Singer patted him on the shoulder.  “~You’ll do fine.~”  Singer then leaned in for a kiss.  “~We’ll do fine.~”

Charlie sighed and settled down so that his head was pillowed on his arms and he was staring up at the sky.  Singer curled up against him and cuddled close, his head resting on Charlie’s chest.  “~Yeah,~” he said, “~I think we will.~”