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Author: Lady Chi Story: Dragons from Charlie Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 2 Words: 1,805 Written at the request of Chocolate Muse, who wants a story for every brother of Ginny's. I'll see what I can do. (Yes, even Percy, the git…) For the men in my life: My dad, my brother, and my cat. How sweet is it to be loved by you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Christmas Eve is one of my favorite times of year. The presents, the fanfare, the dragons… Okay, so maybe the "dragons" part only applies to me. You see, I have an older brother who spends most of his time with them. No, he does not reside in St. Mungo's spell damage ward, but thank you for asking. He spends most of his time training them, for some reason. I realize that most normal people would like to stay as far away from dragons as humanly possible, particularly the wild ones my brother Charlie is fond of. But then, Charlie's a Weasley. Normalcy is relative, as far as we're concerned. As in, we have relatives who are normal, but we don't interact with them. I remember once, when I asked Charlie what he did… "What do I do?" he asked, a bit confused. "As in, to make your living," I clarified. "Oh, I try to get killed," he laughed, "it's very rewarding." As you can see, my brother is just a teensy bit insane. Back to the Christmas Eve thing. When I was little, Charlie could never really come home. Romania is a very long ways away, and the pay for dragon trainers, while more than adequate, simply can't support a trip home to England every year. A lot of people don't understand bond between my brothers and me. I'll try to explain it to you. Even with the older ones, who have always had younger siblings to look after, I was the first girl. The first female that they had to protect, as they saw it. I love all of my brothers with a fierceness that some of my friends can't understand, but Charlie and I love each other for very particular reasons. I've gone off track again. Let me go back and tie everything together. One Christmas, when I was missing Charlie and Bill so much that it was really a physical ache in my heart, Charlie sent me an owl, just for me! "Ginny, dear, you've got an owl." "What, Mum?" I'd been daydreaming. "You've got mail." "There must've been a mistake. No one ever sends me mail. It's always for the family." Mum made a show of looking over the envelope. Then she read it out loud. "Ms. Ginny Weasley, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, United Kingdom…" "It's for me!" I jumped up from my sitting position and began to dance. "It's for me!" "There's a package to go with it, dear." "It's for me!" I whirled around and stopped just in front of my mother. "A package?" This was doubly wonderful! Someone was paying me special attention! "It looks like it's from Charlie." I stopped in my tracks. "I don't want to read it. I'm still mad at him." "Ginny Weasley," my mother said in her no-nonsense voice, "stop acting like a spoiled child. You know your brother wanted to come see you." "If he wanted to come see me, he could've. He's a grown-up. He can do whatever he wants." My mother laughed. "If only that were true, Ginny. He just doesn't have the money, darling." I sniffled. I hated that phrase; still do, as a matter of fact. "Just don't have the money" is something I'd heard over and over again in my childhood. It took a while for me to really understand what it meant. "Nobody ever has the money for anything," I sobbed. My mother pursed her lips. "That's a terrible attitude, young lady. If it doesn't change soon, you'll be staring at the inside of your bedroom for a week and a half. Do you understand me?" "Yes, Mum." "Now, you read this letter that your brother sent you, and then you write back to him and tell him how nice it was to hear from him. Have I made myself clear?" I nodded my head. I wasn't sure I could read the letter with my eyes filled to the brim like they were, but there was nothing I could do about it. I'd reached my braking point. "I just wanted them to come home," I sobbed, my true sorrow showing itself to my mother without my permission. "I know, I know. We all wanted them to come home. Someday, dear. Someday." "I hate someday," I told my mother. "It never gets here." Again, my mother laughed and shook her head. "Come here, dear." With that, she enfolded me in her arms, and my world righted itself just a bit. If you know about my brother Bill, then you know I'm something of a letter saver. So, naturally, I still have the letter that Charlie sent to me. Dear little one, How's it going, kid? Happy Christmas. I'm sure you're dying to know what's in the package, so you're not really reading a word of this. Just wanted you to know that I wish I could be there, more than anything. I hate missing Christmas. Your favorite brother, Charlie I was only a little miffed. I wrote him back and told him that Bill was my favorite brother, and he's only just recently forgiven me. I still feel terrible. But I suppose that you, just like I was at that time, are dying to know what was in the package. It was a dragon. Not a real one. It's porcelain, and it blinks at me sorrowfully on my desk as I write this. Emerald green and golden eyes captured my heart the first time I held it, just as it does right now. It's a "pretty", as my mother used to term things in the store I wasn't allowed to touch. The first gift I was ever given that didn't really have a purpose. I loved it. I used to carry it around with me everywhere I went. Of course, Charlie sent me a little packet describing the kind of dragon it was, it's usefulness to the wizarding world, and other mindless bits of information, but that didn't matter to me. My mother must have told him how much I loved it, because I got another one on my birthday. Dear little one, Seems like I've missed another Really Important Day. You know how much I hate that, so I don't have to tell you, right? Okay, I really hate missing big occasions like your birthday. If I could be anywhere in the world, I would be at your party, eating Mum's cake and watching you tear into presents as if they'll disappear before you get a chance to open them. This dragon is special to me. His name is Mick, as he's Irish in origin. The artist who made him made him especially for me, well, especially for you. He won't breathe fire, or lay eggs, or anything remarkable, but he sure would appreciate it if you would let him stretch his wings sometimes. Hogwarts isn't that far away, is it? It seems that way to me, but two more years must seem like forever to you. Don't worry, it'll fly by. Much faster than you want it to, I reckon. I love you, but I've got to go. One of the dragons has taken to trying to dig herself out of the cage we've put her in… Your favorite brother, Charlie All in all, my brother's not a bad sort. But I guess you know that already. For appearances' sake, I told him that Bill was still my favorite brother. I don't think he bothered to dignify that with a reply. Mick the Dragon, as he likes to be called, is preening himself right now. He sits on my right shoulder, occasionally nipping my ear affectionately. I have no idea how Charlie Charmed him to be so wonderful, but I'm eternally grateful to him. He was, and still is, an attentive listener, and a good friend, for something that's not remotely living. So, we're up to two dragons, aren't we? The third dragon to join our happy family happened along without a reason. Dear little one, I saw this little blighter and thought of you. I know you have the right amount of care and devotion to bring his wings back. His name is Todd, by the way. Your favorite brother, Charlie In case you're wondering, it's true. Todd had his wings broken off by some graceless child that knocked him over in the shop that Charlie saw him in. Before that, I imagine he wasn't stunning, either. He has these deep, pitiful blue eyes and gray scales. His head is forever drooping, and sometimes he cries. The rest of us call him Miserable Todd, but we all feel a real love for him. He seems truly happy whenever I hold him in my arms. Lord Voldemort entered my life before Harry the Dragon did. It's no secret that I always had a crush on Harry Potter, which changed a bit in my fourth year, but this Harry doesn't have a scar, and isn't quite so- melodramatic. My brother Ron came home from Hogwarts full of stories of the mishaps he and his new famous best friend had got into. Of course, Ron told me that Harry didn't like to think about how he was famous, and didn't seem to like the extra attention he was getting. That only made my preadolescent heart adore him even more. I went to Hogwarts, with Tom Riddle's diary securely in my trunk. If only I'd known the damage it would have inflicted. If only I hadn't written in it… But it's too late for "if only" now. Harry Potter saved my life. Harry the Dragon helped me recover. Dear little one, I've heard about your recent exploits. I'm overjoyed to know that you are all right. I've sent you someone to make you feel better. I haven't named him. Your favorite brother, Charlie Harry the Dragon was wonderful. He could fly, just like Mick could, but he could make noises deep in his throat, so at least it sounded like he was paying attention and cared about my well-being. Which was more than I thought the real Harry would ever do. I've kept all of my wonderful dragons from my wonderful brother. They're with me even now as I write this. They followed me everywhere I went, except Hogwarts, where I was afraid they would be broken. There's four of them, all in a little row. Perfect, they're not, but who is? They're my dragons from Charlie, and that's all the perfection they'll ever need. The End |