"What Familiarity Breeds" (Harry/Charlie, Rated NC-17)
Title: "What Familiarity Breeds"
Author: skellywag
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Charlie
Rating NC-17
Warnings: Harry-as-an-animagus, really hardcore bestiality, made-up and uncorroborated dragon anatomical details.
A/N: Written ages ago for hp_kinkfest. Specifically prompt #270, submitted by mistress-ashley. Beta-ed by the always-wonderful fitz-y.
There was one person Harry could think of, who would appreciate his accomplishment the most. And though showing off was a bit of a childish thing to do at the age of twenty-five (and Harry knew full well that was what he was doing), the afternoon found him in the Portkey Office, buying transport to a very small town in Romania whose name he couldn't pronounce.
The town was still a fair distance from Harry's final destination, the Romanian Longhorn breeding grounds, but he'd been prepared for that. The magic involved in making the area unplottable, in keeping muggles away, and even preventing aeroplanes from entering the airspace also made magical travel into or out of the area damned unpredictable. The town Harry had come to (when he attempted the name, he sounded as if he'd a bit of treacle lodged in his throat and was trying to cough it up) was the nearest safe point for portkey travel or apparition.
He'd brought his broom to get him up into the mountains, and a rucksack with some spare clothes in case he decided to do some sight-seeing before he returned to London. Ready for a bit of a manhunt, Harry was gobsmacked to find Charlie Weasley at the portkey depot, apparently waiting for him.
"How'd you know I was coming?" Harry blurted. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going."
Charlie grinned. "Travel to any town this close to a dragon preserve is carefully monitored, even though most poachers will risk apparating straight in. We're informed of any non-personnel entering the area, and Mum would give me hell if she heard you'd come all this way and I wasn't at the depot to meet you, even if you aren't here to see me." There was a question or two in Charlie's voice, and Harry scrubbed through his hair sheepishly.
"I am here to see you, actually," he admitted, which was only part an answer, because of course the more significant question was, 'Why?' After all, even though Harry had been de facto adopted into the Weasley family, Charlie really only visited on holidays, so he was the one Weasley Harry didn't know as well. But, Harry told himself, that isn't for a lack of interest. At those holiday dinners, Charlie always had the most fascinating stories to tell. "I wanted to show you something," Harry added bashfully, when Charlie didn't speak up and ask. "I figured you'd have the most personal interest, of anyone I could show."
"How mysterious," Charlie murmured, with enough underlying laughter that Harry was certain he was being teased, though good-naturedly. "Must be pretty big, to bring you on an unexpected visit to Romania."
A laugh bubbled in Harry's throat at that, because Charlie didn't know how right he was. "Big enough that I can't show you here," Harry agreed. "Is there somewhere private we can go?" He glanced around the depot's small waiting room briefly. "Somewhere bigger or more open than this room?"
"Sure," Charlie replied. "There are a number of caves up in the mountains we have warded against the dragons. The lads and I use them for shelter in cases of bad weather." He held the door for Harry, and they stepped out into a clear, pleasant fall morning that was about ten degrees cooler than London had been. And then Charlie caught Harry by the shoulder, turning him about-face to look him in the eye. "What's this really about, Harry? Do you need somewhere to hide? I've got no problem with it, but I'd like to think you'd tell me if something was wrong."
Harry's eyes widened, both at the suggestion he might have some reason to hide out as well as at Charlie's unexpected generosity-which he almost wished he had need of. "Nothing's wrong," he insisted. "I really think you'll like this, but I can't show you in public. I promise, that's all this is."
"Well, that's good. You know, if the public eye ever did get to be too much for you, though, you can always hide out here for as long as you want. No one need know, so long as you don't take it into your head to poach dragons or smuggle eggs." Charlie winked, and Harry felt his cheeks heat for no discernible reason. "I see you've brought a broom. That'll save us the trouble of renting you one." Charlie took up his own broom, which he'd left leaning against the outside of the building. "Before you took the portkey, they'd have cast a charm to acclimate you to the much higher elevation here, the thinner air. But it might still affect you while we're flying, so if you feel light-headed, let me know immediately and we'll land."
Charlie's warning was unfounded. Harry noticed the air was more difficult to breathe while they were moving through it, and up into the mountains, but they made an easy pace and other than being a bit chilled and windblown, he had no troubles on the half-hour flight to the cave. And, as caves went, the one Charlie brought him to was rather a nice one.
The tunnel opening was narrow-too narrow, Harry thought, for anything close to a full-size dragon-and took a few sharp turns before opening into a large cavern. There wasn't a trace of the wind once they were inside, and Harry couldn't tell if it was wards, or the natural buffer of the shape of the tunnel, but either way it was nice. While Harry set his things down against the wall near the cave opening, Charlie cast a couple of illumination charms, lighting half a dozen sconces driven into the rock with soft white flame. He thought there must once have been a larger entrance (or maybe still was, since the sconces did not illuminate every corner of the cave), because there was room enough for several dragons to sleep without touching one another.
"There's all kinds of things in storage in the back of the cave," Charlie supplied, taking a few steps further in, towards the middle of the cave, and then turning to face Harry. "Food, water, clothes and sleeping bags, Potions supplies in case of sickness or injury. These mountains can see some severe storms, especially during winter." He spoke with an air of distraction, his eyes locked on Harry's face, and Harry thought he could feel Charlie trying to read him, or his intentions, or maybe just his reactions to the cave, he supposed. It looked like Charlie wasn't going to ask what had brought them to the cave, even if he did appear to be curious.
And Harry wasn't sure how to broach the subject. He wanted to tell the other man the reasons he'd thought of Charlie first; he knew that a warning would not have been ill-advised, either. But the childish impulses that had brought Harry to Romania in the first place took over, and without a word or even a sound to herald what he was doing, without touching his wand, Harry cast a non-verbal spell.
There was no popping of joints, contortions of the body. No shredding of clothes, and especially no screaming. The transformation wasn't painful, wasn't distinctly pleasant or unpleasant, really. The closest approximation to the sensation was ten minutes' thorough stretching condensed into a second and a half.
In between Auror training (and then actual cases when he was later promoted to a full Auror), it had taken Harry six years to master the difficult process that was auto-transfiguration, but he'd done it. He was an Animagus, and a registered one, too. He'd done it as a tribute to his father and to Sirius, but also because he'd thought the whole thing was ridiculously cool ever since he'd first seen McGonagall transform and learned that anyone could do it, given enough practice.
But now that he'd done it, he wasn't sure of the utility of the spell. There was no way of deciding one's animal form, and very little research on what qualities might affect a witch's or wizard's alternate form. Harry had decided all the Animagi he'd ever run across had all been lucky in their forms for, at the very least, being inconspicuous. A dog, cat, rat, or beetle were all very ordinary animals, would not attract a great deal of attention. And while his father's stag had not been as commonplace, it had still had its uses.
Harry had been hoping for a form that would aid in his reconnaissance. Some sort of small bird would have been optimal, though cat, rat, or beetle certainly would have served. But Harry's form had no use for his occupation at all, and, in fact, the only purpose for it that he could think of was to show off. And so showing off was exactly what he'd thought he would do.
~~~~~~~~~~
Charlie was face to face with a dragon, a place instinct, training, and experience all told him was a phenomenally bad place to be. He'd drawn his wand without conscious intent to do so, and in the next moment he recognized it wouldn't do any good-the dragon was so close it could take his arm off or incinerate him before he finished a spell, and anyway dragonscale was notorious for reflecting half the spells cast at it.
Seconds ticked by, however, and Charlie remained whole and untouched, and he took the opportunity to truly look at the dragon. It was a breed that didn't belong in the mountains of Romania: a Hebridean Black. Native to the Hebrides Islands of the UK, and usually a great deal larger than the specimen before him. This one was only about three meters long, and most of that neck and tail, but well-proportioned. This was no juvenile, with overlarge wings it hadn't grown into, nor more tail than it knew what to do with. No, this was a full-grown adult, albeit the smallest, lithest one Charlie had ever seen.
The most remarkable thing, though, was the fact that this dragon was staring at him, not with cold violet lizard eyes, but with eyes that were as soft and warm as any human's, and these startlingly green. Perhaps more startling because otherwise, the dragon was a void of colour. It was covered from snout to tail with glossy midnight scales, except for one small imperfection in the brow ridge where no scales grew, and the dark grey hide was scarred white.
It was the scar that jogged Charlie's memory, reminded him that he hadn't come to this cave alone, and there had certainly not been a dragon inside when he'd arrived. "Harry?" he hissed in wonder, and the dragon nodded-something he'd never seen one do-eagerly, eyes lit up. Charlie thought Harry might be trying to smile, also, but the expression didn't translate well to a dragon face; teeth bared, he looked more hungry.
All the same, it was reassuring, and Charlie pocketed his wand and stepped closer. He'd never been so near to an adult dragon when it hadn't been stunned or incapacitated in some way. Charlie reached out a hand towards the dragon's face-it was difficult to think of this creature as Harry, even knowing his identity-and was met halfway when the dragon dipped his head and bumped his snout up under Charlie's fingers.
It was so different, to touch a dragon and know it posed no threat. There was no taming dragons, no matter how young you got them. They would kill and eat a human if they were hungry, and many breeds actually preferred the taste of human flesh. Charlie recognized the gift he was being given, and wasn't about to waste it.
When the dragon-Harry, he reminded himself sternly-accepted that first touch, Charlie couldn't stop himself crowding up close. He examined the delicate texture of the tiny scales on Harry's face with his eyes and with his roughened fingertips, even daring to trace the leathery, scaleless folds of skin at the corners of his mouth, his jaw, and throat. Harry's eyes had lidded, nictitating membranes sliding across to mute the vibrancy of their colour and give him a sleepy look. Charlie smiled to himself, and as the dragon's head drooped a little further, he raised both hands to wrap around the bases of Harry's long, arcing horns where they grew from the back of the skull. Harry startled under the touch, but Charlie fearlessly stroked up their length, comparing their smoothness of texture to that of the scales and hide. Their points were sharp enough to gore, sharp enough to find gaps between scale to impale a rival.
He stroked back down the horns, traced the odd, bony ridge where they protruded from the skull, and then caressed down the length of the dragon's sinuous, graceful neck. The scales there were larger, but seemed to have more give. Which made sense, to give the neck a full range of motion. When Charlie reached the back, he wanted instantly to move to the wings. But he forced himself to wait, fingers trailing along the dragon's sides, instead. The scales were large and hard, overlapping and interlocking to protect vital organs. Harry's breathing felt deep and slow, and Charlie thought he could make out the heavy throb of the heart beating beneath his fingers. And then it was Charlie's turn to startle when the dragon's tail crept up his body to snake loosely around his waist. It was the thicker part of the tail, thankfully, since it was spiked at the end.
Charlie had been taking liberties without much thought for how Harry might feel about being touched so extensively, but he thought he could infer from the dragon's form of embrace that his actions had not been unwelcome. "Feels good, hmmm?" Charlie mumbled softly, palms dropping to the length of muscular tail where it draped his abdomen. Harry gave him a sleepy nod, and Charlie grinned. "I'm going to touch your wings now." He pressed closer to Harry's side, and the tail moved with him, to remain wrapped around his body. It felt good; like a pair of strong arms, but better, more thorough.
Charlie found the joint where the wing sprouted from the shoulder blade, and it was just leathery dragonhide, no scales to speak of. The bones beneath were thin, further narrowing the longer they were. He knew they were strong, but they were also delicate. Where the bones tapered to points at the tips of the wings, Charlie knew he could snap them between his hands if he'd a mind to. And so his touch was very gentle indeed as he caressed the warm, leathery folds of the wing membranes. "Spread them for me," he murmured softly, reverently.
The dragon's wings shivered, and his tail tightened briefly around Charlie's waist. Charlie barely managed to duck back out of the way in time as Harry snapped his wings open, flapped them once experimentally, and then held them stretched to their extremes. His wingspan was greater than his length, and Charlie had the wildest impulse to crawl onto his back and be flown wherever the dragon willed.
"Can you fly?" Charlie asked. Harry wouldn't even look at him as he shook his head in the negative. Nonetheless, as Charlie skirted the dragon's wings to look him in the eye, the tail stayed wrapped around him. Charlie took the dragon's head gently in his hands to force their eyes to meet, and he smiled. "It's nothing to be embarrassed of," he told Harry warmly. "Every dragon has to learn; they aren't born in the air." Harry's nictitating membranes slid away and Charlie was again stunned by the vibrancy of those green eyes against a backdrop of jet scales. Harry gave him another of those disconcerting smiles, and Charlie dipped his head and dropped a kiss on the end of the dragon's snout.
"Fold your wings," he murmured, "and lay down on your side. I want to have a look at your feet."
The dragon obeyed without question the command to fold his wings, but grew more hesitant to expose his belly, it seemed. He offered Charlie one of his front feet-the 'thumb' was so dexterous it nearly qualified as a hand. Charlie looked the appendage over briefly, but this wasn't what he wanted. The dragon had been so very accommodating, before.
"Don't you trust me, Harry? I'm not going to hurt you." Charlie's fingers walked a path along the dragon's tail as he spoke. He had already had much simpler opportunities to do harm if that had been his goal, and why would it be?
With the greatest reluctance, the dragon crouched down, stretched out on his side. His head was up, however, and he watched Charlie avidly. It only took Charlie a few seconds to understand the reason for all the hesitation, and every thought of talons and toe webbing flew right away.
Harry was aroused, and there was no hiding it. His cock was near half a meter in length, and protruded from a slit between his hind legs. Charlie couldn't tear his eyes away. This was one thing his experience with wild dragons could never show him. Dragons mated in flight, and it was impossible to arouse sedated dragons-they had several failed attempts at artificial breeding programs to show for it.
"This is nothing to be embarrassed of, either," Charlie murmured, thoughtlessly stroking the length of the tail around his waist as he stepped closer. The dragon's cock was so dark a red it nearly looked as black as his scales, and it glistened wetly with its own lubrication. There was a thick knot at the base, but the head had enough of a bulge that it appeared to be a second, slightly smaller knot with only a single bulbous lobe instead of two.
Charlie wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch and stroke as he had with so much of the dragon's body, and wished he could explain away the desire as professional curiosity, but he couldn't-not entirely.
Harry's eyes had lidded again, his irises somewhat milky through the translucent membrane though the narrow pupils followed Charlie's every movement. The scrutiny made Charlie shiver, because though this was a creature that could kill him, it was also Harry. Harry, who seemed to visibly enjoy his touches beyond any expectations Charlie had had.
"Did you know," Charlie rumbled, "that male dragons' wings have more flexibility, rotation, and sheer strength than females'? Males can fly upside-down and backwards." Harry shook his head quickly, and Charlie licked his lips. "Dragons don't usually get aroused on solid ground-they mate in flight." He watched, and the dragon's cock twitched a little, seemed almost to pulse for a moment. A groan escaped his lips, and Charlie felt himself harden in sympathy.
And he watched the dragon's nostrils flare, puffs of smoke expelling from both as Harry's eyes widened and he stared. Delicately, Harry leaned in and Charlie stayed very still as the dragon sniffed him from head to toe and then back up to hip level. "Can you smell that I'm excited?" he whispered, and the dragon's forked tongue flicked out and in as he nodded.
Harry's face was very close, his tail was wrapped firm around Charlie's waist. Charlie wasn't going anywhere unless Harry let him. He crouched and wrapped a hand around the dragon's cock. His fingertips couldn't touch, even at the narrowest part of the shaft, but his palm followed the contours of the curved length from the head all the way down to Harry's pelvic slit, and Harry emitted a sound that was half groan, half growl in response. His hips bucked in a way that appeared quite involuntary, and as Charlie's hand was soaked by more of the dragon's self-lubrication, the tail tightened around his waist near to painful.
It took Charlie's breath away-nearly literally-how strong Harry was, how powerful. He had nowhere near the strength of a full-size dragon, and yet he was still impressive, formidable. "Ease up," Charlie breathed, his voice thick and hoarse. "I'm not going anywhere." And once the coils of tail slackened at his hips, Charlie began stroking in earnest, though he was forced to go slow for the sheer length of the dragon's cock and his desire to be thorough.
Slow, however, did not seem to be what the dragon wanted. The tail dropped from Charlie completely, and Charlie released him and backed away a few steps as Harry writhed to his feet. He was staring at Charlie, and his eyes were wide, bright, and clear. Eager, even. Then, in a distinctly human gesture, the dragon slipped a talon just inside Charlie's collar, as if Harry meant to direct him by the grip. Charlie was very still as Harry drew the claw back towards himself, and the talon was so very sharp that instead of hooking into Charlie's robes and holding fast, it parted the fabric from neck to navel. And then even further because Harry didn't stop once he saw what he'd done, and maybe this had been the real goal after all. Charlie's clothing hung loose and open and Harry reached out again to gently brush the tattered remains from his shoulders as if they had all the significance of a speck of lint.
Charlie shivered, and not only because the cave wasn't especially warm and he was standing in it wearing only a pair of trainers. The look Harry was giving him was more dragon-like than any of the previous ones. The look told him he was delicious, and Charlie remained frozen in place as the dragon's tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting the air between them like a snake might. It was all Charlie could do just to stay standing when that questing tongue wrapped around his cock. The tongue was warm and wet, but the best part was that there was a lot of it-enough to envelop his entire length. He bucked his hips into the sheath the dragon's tongue created, and the tongue constricted a little to give him a better fit.
It was the most amazing sensation, as if this dragon's tongue was designed for him to fuck it. No, Harry's tongue, Charlie reminded himself, but he'd gone too far to effectively convince himself his arousal didn't have a lot to do with the fact that Harry was currently a dragon. He didn't think about why Harry was going along with this, why Harry wasn't repulsed-after all, even with the outer form of a dragon, the mind within was still human, with human sensitivities. But Charlie supposed it didn't really matter why Harry was going along with it-not just going along, but eager-just as long as he did.
Charlie brushed his fingers lightly along the sides of Harry's face and jaw, and then up, to grip the dragon firmly by the base of his horns. And as Harry stared up at him, Charlie began to thrust in earnest, grunting as the dragon's tongue squeezed him gently. There was no notion of self-control, even though some part of Charlie's brain dimly recognized that the sensations would be better if they were prolonged. Charlie came in moments, and Harry's tongue milked him until he was clinging to the horns to hold himself up, his legs quivered so badly. "Bloody hell," he panted, watching Harry's tongue slither back into his mouth.
The dragon grinned, and then it quickly became evident that he wasn't finished. Charlie was given only a few moments to gather himself before he was carefully shaken free of Harry's horns. Harry's every move was impossibly delicate, but when he reached out to lightly grasp Charlie at the waist, he still drew tiny pinpricks of blood where his claw-tips touched flesh. The talons were so sharp Charlie didn't really feel any pain from the punctures; quite the contrary, the touches sent shivers up and down his spine, raised gooseflesh on his arms. And Harry's eyes were focused, intense as he pulled Charlie even closer, turned his body slowly enough that Charlie could have squirmed from the grip if he'd wanted to.
Harry reared up to sit back on his haunches and Charlie was certain the dragon's cock looked even bigger before he was turned fully to face the opposite wall. He knew what Harry wanted; he'd seen it in the clear green eyes, the careful touches, and the way Harry was giving him every opportunity to refuse. But, looking at that large, exotic cock, having felt it and knowing the power a dragon could have, Charlie knew that refusing was something he would not do. He turned easily under Harry's guidance, and when he wormed his way free from those talons, it was only to saunter across to the nearest cave wall, plant his palms against it, and bend over to offer the dragon his backside.
A soft growl sounded behind him, and Charlie rested his chin on his shoulder to look back at Harry. The dragon was not staring at his arse, as he'd expected, but higher. One of Charlie's Longhorns had torn four deep rents in the muscles of his back, and one across the back of his right thigh. The scars were a thumb's width and ugly, yet Charlie had never felt so conscious of them as he did with a dragon staring at them. Harry crept up behind him and laid his talons carefully over Charlie's back, but the dragon that had left the marks had dwarfed him and he couldn't line up his claws with the scars.
Charlie bowed his head and groaned as the dragon began lightly flicking a forked tongue across his back, arse, and down the backs of his thighs. And then back up, teasing the cleft of his arse, the tight pucker of his opening. Charlie spread his legs farther, tried to relax as that long, clever tongue wormed its way inside him. It went deep, too, so much deeper than anything ever had been, and then kept going until Harry's snout was nestled between his cheeks. When Harry began moving his tongue, it was in a slow, sinuous thrusting that was as much an internal massage as it was a thorough tongue-fucking. There had been little enough resistance in Charlie's muscles to begin with, post-orgasm, but by the time the dragon withdrew his tongue and raised his head, Charlie was a sweating, quivering mess. Ready for anything and almost half-erect. And Harry crouched behind him, hesitating, and Charlie hoped that this was not the moment the dragon had chosen to second-guess what they were doing. "Fuck me," Charlie begged. "Please."
Charlie got a face-full of smoke when Harry growled, and then his body was showered with rock dust when the dragon reared onto his hind legs and dug the talons of his forelimbs deep into the cave wall at either side of Charlie's head, and about a foot above. Harry's tail slipped snugly around Charlie's hips again, and he eased his lower body forward, pressed the wet, tapered tip of his cock into Charlie's arse.
The cock's self-lubrication helped, but Charlie still groaned as the first, bulbous knot popped past his tight ring of muscle. His last coherent thought was that its purpose must have been to keep the dragons from separating in flight. As Harry drove deeper in one slow, luxurious slide, Charlie lost all sense of his surroundings, who he was, everything but the exquisite pressure of opening himself up to this massive cock.
That was only the beginning. The dragon began fucking him. Hard. Dragons had a higher internal body temperature than humans, and Harry's cock seemed almost to sear Charlie from within as it plunged into him again and again. The tail was better leverage for the thrusts than the set of Charlie's hands and feet, and though he knew he was going to have a band of bruising around his body later on, he'd only be grateful it wasn't abrasions to his face and chest he could otherwise have expected from such rough sex in a cave. Charlie felt impossibly full, and there was still more cock delving into him, invading his body even further. Harry's cock continued to create its lubricant, and it dripped down Charlie's thighs, and then Harry met with resistance as the second, larger knot ground against Charlie's arse. The dragon began thrusting long, and harder, withdrawing to the first knot and then slamming himself in until the second knot bumped Charlie's opening. And Charlie could do nothing but ride it as Harry fucked him open, fucked him apart, nearly screaming with every inward thrust. It was the most intense sex he'd ever experienced and any minor discomfort caused by the girth of the cock inside him was overshadowed completely by its reach, how deeply it stroked him.
And then, with one particularly hard thrust, Harry forced in the second knot and Charlie howled as his arse swallowed it up. Their bodies locked together, Harry could only fuck him by quick little jerks. It was more than enough, though. Mere seconds after the dragon had fully sheathed himself, with a coughing roar he came, expelling a gout of blue flame that scorched the roof of the cave as he pumped Charlie full of semen.
It was more than Charlie should have been able to take, and the feel of it surging into him left him breathless and groaning, and he spattered the rock wall in front of him as he climaxed a second time. He let himself droop bonelessly against Harry's stomach, moaning as the movement caused the cock trapped inside him to shift. Harry dislodged his talons from the rock to cradle Charlie carefully in his forelimbs.
"I saw you packed some things," Charlie told Harry after a half-hour that might have been a trance or a brief nap. "Tomorrow I am going to take you to watch the real dragons, see if we can teach you to fly." Charlie tilted his head back, found Harry's veiled eyes. "Maybe we can do that again, the way dragons are supposed to do it."
~Fin.
Author: skellywag
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Charlie
Rating NC-17
Warnings: Harry-as-an-animagus, really hardcore bestiality, made-up and uncorroborated dragon anatomical details.
A/N: Written ages ago for hp_kinkfest. Specifically prompt #270, submitted by mistress-ashley. Beta-ed by the always-wonderful fitz-y.
There was one person Harry could think of, who would appreciate his accomplishment the most. And though showing off was a bit of a childish thing to do at the age of twenty-five (and Harry knew full well that was what he was doing), the afternoon found him in the Portkey Office, buying transport to a very small town in Romania whose name he couldn't pronounce.
The town was still a fair distance from Harry's final destination, the Romanian Longhorn breeding grounds, but he'd been prepared for that. The magic involved in making the area unplottable, in keeping muggles away, and even preventing aeroplanes from entering the airspace also made magical travel into or out of the area damned unpredictable. The town Harry had come to (when he attempted the name, he sounded as if he'd a bit of treacle lodged in his throat and was trying to cough it up) was the nearest safe point for portkey travel or apparition.
He'd brought his broom to get him up into the mountains, and a rucksack with some spare clothes in case he decided to do some sight-seeing before he returned to London. Ready for a bit of a manhunt, Harry was gobsmacked to find Charlie Weasley at the portkey depot, apparently waiting for him.
"How'd you know I was coming?" Harry blurted. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going."
Charlie grinned. "Travel to any town this close to a dragon preserve is carefully monitored, even though most poachers will risk apparating straight in. We're informed of any non-personnel entering the area, and Mum would give me hell if she heard you'd come all this way and I wasn't at the depot to meet you, even if you aren't here to see me." There was a question or two in Charlie's voice, and Harry scrubbed through his hair sheepishly.
"I am here to see you, actually," he admitted, which was only part an answer, because of course the more significant question was, 'Why?' After all, even though Harry had been de facto adopted into the Weasley family, Charlie really only visited on holidays, so he was the one Weasley Harry didn't know as well. But, Harry told himself, that isn't for a lack of interest. At those holiday dinners, Charlie always had the most fascinating stories to tell. "I wanted to show you something," Harry added bashfully, when Charlie didn't speak up and ask. "I figured you'd have the most personal interest, of anyone I could show."
"How mysterious," Charlie murmured, with enough underlying laughter that Harry was certain he was being teased, though good-naturedly. "Must be pretty big, to bring you on an unexpected visit to Romania."
A laugh bubbled in Harry's throat at that, because Charlie didn't know how right he was. "Big enough that I can't show you here," Harry agreed. "Is there somewhere private we can go?" He glanced around the depot's small waiting room briefly. "Somewhere bigger or more open than this room?"
"Sure," Charlie replied. "There are a number of caves up in the mountains we have warded against the dragons. The lads and I use them for shelter in cases of bad weather." He held the door for Harry, and they stepped out into a clear, pleasant fall morning that was about ten degrees cooler than London had been. And then Charlie caught Harry by the shoulder, turning him about-face to look him in the eye. "What's this really about, Harry? Do you need somewhere to hide? I've got no problem with it, but I'd like to think you'd tell me if something was wrong."
Harry's eyes widened, both at the suggestion he might have some reason to hide out as well as at Charlie's unexpected generosity-which he almost wished he had need of. "Nothing's wrong," he insisted. "I really think you'll like this, but I can't show you in public. I promise, that's all this is."
"Well, that's good. You know, if the public eye ever did get to be too much for you, though, you can always hide out here for as long as you want. No one need know, so long as you don't take it into your head to poach dragons or smuggle eggs." Charlie winked, and Harry felt his cheeks heat for no discernible reason. "I see you've brought a broom. That'll save us the trouble of renting you one." Charlie took up his own broom, which he'd left leaning against the outside of the building. "Before you took the portkey, they'd have cast a charm to acclimate you to the much higher elevation here, the thinner air. But it might still affect you while we're flying, so if you feel light-headed, let me know immediately and we'll land."
Charlie's warning was unfounded. Harry noticed the air was more difficult to breathe while they were moving through it, and up into the mountains, but they made an easy pace and other than being a bit chilled and windblown, he had no troubles on the half-hour flight to the cave. And, as caves went, the one Charlie brought him to was rather a nice one.
The tunnel opening was narrow-too narrow, Harry thought, for anything close to a full-size dragon-and took a few sharp turns before opening into a large cavern. There wasn't a trace of the wind once they were inside, and Harry couldn't tell if it was wards, or the natural buffer of the shape of the tunnel, but either way it was nice. While Harry set his things down against the wall near the cave opening, Charlie cast a couple of illumination charms, lighting half a dozen sconces driven into the rock with soft white flame. He thought there must once have been a larger entrance (or maybe still was, since the sconces did not illuminate every corner of the cave), because there was room enough for several dragons to sleep without touching one another.
"There's all kinds of things in storage in the back of the cave," Charlie supplied, taking a few steps further in, towards the middle of the cave, and then turning to face Harry. "Food, water, clothes and sleeping bags, Potions supplies in case of sickness or injury. These mountains can see some severe storms, especially during winter." He spoke with an air of distraction, his eyes locked on Harry's face, and Harry thought he could feel Charlie trying to read him, or his intentions, or maybe just his reactions to the cave, he supposed. It looked like Charlie wasn't going to ask what had brought them to the cave, even if he did appear to be curious.
And Harry wasn't sure how to broach the subject. He wanted to tell the other man the reasons he'd thought of Charlie first; he knew that a warning would not have been ill-advised, either. But the childish impulses that had brought Harry to Romania in the first place took over, and without a word or even a sound to herald what he was doing, without touching his wand, Harry cast a non-verbal spell.
There was no popping of joints, contortions of the body. No shredding of clothes, and especially no screaming. The transformation wasn't painful, wasn't distinctly pleasant or unpleasant, really. The closest approximation to the sensation was ten minutes' thorough stretching condensed into a second and a half.
In between Auror training (and then actual cases when he was later promoted to a full Auror), it had taken Harry six years to master the difficult process that was auto-transfiguration, but he'd done it. He was an Animagus, and a registered one, too. He'd done it as a tribute to his father and to Sirius, but also because he'd thought the whole thing was ridiculously cool ever since he'd first seen McGonagall transform and learned that anyone could do it, given enough practice.
But now that he'd done it, he wasn't sure of the utility of the spell. There was no way of deciding one's animal form, and very little research on what qualities might affect a witch's or wizard's alternate form. Harry had decided all the Animagi he'd ever run across had all been lucky in their forms for, at the very least, being inconspicuous. A dog, cat, rat, or beetle were all very ordinary animals, would not attract a great deal of attention. And while his father's stag had not been as commonplace, it had still had its uses.
Harry had been hoping for a form that would aid in his reconnaissance. Some sort of small bird would have been optimal, though cat, rat, or beetle certainly would have served. But Harry's form had no use for his occupation at all, and, in fact, the only purpose for it that he could think of was to show off. And so showing off was exactly what he'd thought he would do.
~~~~~~~~~~
Charlie was face to face with a dragon, a place instinct, training, and experience all told him was a phenomenally bad place to be. He'd drawn his wand without conscious intent to do so, and in the next moment he recognized it wouldn't do any good-the dragon was so close it could take his arm off or incinerate him before he finished a spell, and anyway dragonscale was notorious for reflecting half the spells cast at it.
Seconds ticked by, however, and Charlie remained whole and untouched, and he took the opportunity to truly look at the dragon. It was a breed that didn't belong in the mountains of Romania: a Hebridean Black. Native to the Hebrides Islands of the UK, and usually a great deal larger than the specimen before him. This one was only about three meters long, and most of that neck and tail, but well-proportioned. This was no juvenile, with overlarge wings it hadn't grown into, nor more tail than it knew what to do with. No, this was a full-grown adult, albeit the smallest, lithest one Charlie had ever seen.
The most remarkable thing, though, was the fact that this dragon was staring at him, not with cold violet lizard eyes, but with eyes that were as soft and warm as any human's, and these startlingly green. Perhaps more startling because otherwise, the dragon was a void of colour. It was covered from snout to tail with glossy midnight scales, except for one small imperfection in the brow ridge where no scales grew, and the dark grey hide was scarred white.
It was the scar that jogged Charlie's memory, reminded him that he hadn't come to this cave alone, and there had certainly not been a dragon inside when he'd arrived. "Harry?" he hissed in wonder, and the dragon nodded-something he'd never seen one do-eagerly, eyes lit up. Charlie thought Harry might be trying to smile, also, but the expression didn't translate well to a dragon face; teeth bared, he looked more hungry.
All the same, it was reassuring, and Charlie pocketed his wand and stepped closer. He'd never been so near to an adult dragon when it hadn't been stunned or incapacitated in some way. Charlie reached out a hand towards the dragon's face-it was difficult to think of this creature as Harry, even knowing his identity-and was met halfway when the dragon dipped his head and bumped his snout up under Charlie's fingers.
It was so different, to touch a dragon and know it posed no threat. There was no taming dragons, no matter how young you got them. They would kill and eat a human if they were hungry, and many breeds actually preferred the taste of human flesh. Charlie recognized the gift he was being given, and wasn't about to waste it.
When the dragon-Harry, he reminded himself sternly-accepted that first touch, Charlie couldn't stop himself crowding up close. He examined the delicate texture of the tiny scales on Harry's face with his eyes and with his roughened fingertips, even daring to trace the leathery, scaleless folds of skin at the corners of his mouth, his jaw, and throat. Harry's eyes had lidded, nictitating membranes sliding across to mute the vibrancy of their colour and give him a sleepy look. Charlie smiled to himself, and as the dragon's head drooped a little further, he raised both hands to wrap around the bases of Harry's long, arcing horns where they grew from the back of the skull. Harry startled under the touch, but Charlie fearlessly stroked up their length, comparing their smoothness of texture to that of the scales and hide. Their points were sharp enough to gore, sharp enough to find gaps between scale to impale a rival.
He stroked back down the horns, traced the odd, bony ridge where they protruded from the skull, and then caressed down the length of the dragon's sinuous, graceful neck. The scales there were larger, but seemed to have more give. Which made sense, to give the neck a full range of motion. When Charlie reached the back, he wanted instantly to move to the wings. But he forced himself to wait, fingers trailing along the dragon's sides, instead. The scales were large and hard, overlapping and interlocking to protect vital organs. Harry's breathing felt deep and slow, and Charlie thought he could make out the heavy throb of the heart beating beneath his fingers. And then it was Charlie's turn to startle when the dragon's tail crept up his body to snake loosely around his waist. It was the thicker part of the tail, thankfully, since it was spiked at the end.
Charlie had been taking liberties without much thought for how Harry might feel about being touched so extensively, but he thought he could infer from the dragon's form of embrace that his actions had not been unwelcome. "Feels good, hmmm?" Charlie mumbled softly, palms dropping to the length of muscular tail where it draped his abdomen. Harry gave him a sleepy nod, and Charlie grinned. "I'm going to touch your wings now." He pressed closer to Harry's side, and the tail moved with him, to remain wrapped around his body. It felt good; like a pair of strong arms, but better, more thorough.
Charlie found the joint where the wing sprouted from the shoulder blade, and it was just leathery dragonhide, no scales to speak of. The bones beneath were thin, further narrowing the longer they were. He knew they were strong, but they were also delicate. Where the bones tapered to points at the tips of the wings, Charlie knew he could snap them between his hands if he'd a mind to. And so his touch was very gentle indeed as he caressed the warm, leathery folds of the wing membranes. "Spread them for me," he murmured softly, reverently.
The dragon's wings shivered, and his tail tightened briefly around Charlie's waist. Charlie barely managed to duck back out of the way in time as Harry snapped his wings open, flapped them once experimentally, and then held them stretched to their extremes. His wingspan was greater than his length, and Charlie had the wildest impulse to crawl onto his back and be flown wherever the dragon willed.
"Can you fly?" Charlie asked. Harry wouldn't even look at him as he shook his head in the negative. Nonetheless, as Charlie skirted the dragon's wings to look him in the eye, the tail stayed wrapped around him. Charlie took the dragon's head gently in his hands to force their eyes to meet, and he smiled. "It's nothing to be embarrassed of," he told Harry warmly. "Every dragon has to learn; they aren't born in the air." Harry's nictitating membranes slid away and Charlie was again stunned by the vibrancy of those green eyes against a backdrop of jet scales. Harry gave him another of those disconcerting smiles, and Charlie dipped his head and dropped a kiss on the end of the dragon's snout.
"Fold your wings," he murmured, "and lay down on your side. I want to have a look at your feet."
The dragon obeyed without question the command to fold his wings, but grew more hesitant to expose his belly, it seemed. He offered Charlie one of his front feet-the 'thumb' was so dexterous it nearly qualified as a hand. Charlie looked the appendage over briefly, but this wasn't what he wanted. The dragon had been so very accommodating, before.
"Don't you trust me, Harry? I'm not going to hurt you." Charlie's fingers walked a path along the dragon's tail as he spoke. He had already had much simpler opportunities to do harm if that had been his goal, and why would it be?
With the greatest reluctance, the dragon crouched down, stretched out on his side. His head was up, however, and he watched Charlie avidly. It only took Charlie a few seconds to understand the reason for all the hesitation, and every thought of talons and toe webbing flew right away.
Harry was aroused, and there was no hiding it. His cock was near half a meter in length, and protruded from a slit between his hind legs. Charlie couldn't tear his eyes away. This was one thing his experience with wild dragons could never show him. Dragons mated in flight, and it was impossible to arouse sedated dragons-they had several failed attempts at artificial breeding programs to show for it.
"This is nothing to be embarrassed of, either," Charlie murmured, thoughtlessly stroking the length of the tail around his waist as he stepped closer. The dragon's cock was so dark a red it nearly looked as black as his scales, and it glistened wetly with its own lubrication. There was a thick knot at the base, but the head had enough of a bulge that it appeared to be a second, slightly smaller knot with only a single bulbous lobe instead of two.
Charlie wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch and stroke as he had with so much of the dragon's body, and wished he could explain away the desire as professional curiosity, but he couldn't-not entirely.
Harry's eyes had lidded again, his irises somewhat milky through the translucent membrane though the narrow pupils followed Charlie's every movement. The scrutiny made Charlie shiver, because though this was a creature that could kill him, it was also Harry. Harry, who seemed to visibly enjoy his touches beyond any expectations Charlie had had.
"Did you know," Charlie rumbled, "that male dragons' wings have more flexibility, rotation, and sheer strength than females'? Males can fly upside-down and backwards." Harry shook his head quickly, and Charlie licked his lips. "Dragons don't usually get aroused on solid ground-they mate in flight." He watched, and the dragon's cock twitched a little, seemed almost to pulse for a moment. A groan escaped his lips, and Charlie felt himself harden in sympathy.
And he watched the dragon's nostrils flare, puffs of smoke expelling from both as Harry's eyes widened and he stared. Delicately, Harry leaned in and Charlie stayed very still as the dragon sniffed him from head to toe and then back up to hip level. "Can you smell that I'm excited?" he whispered, and the dragon's forked tongue flicked out and in as he nodded.
Harry's face was very close, his tail was wrapped firm around Charlie's waist. Charlie wasn't going anywhere unless Harry let him. He crouched and wrapped a hand around the dragon's cock. His fingertips couldn't touch, even at the narrowest part of the shaft, but his palm followed the contours of the curved length from the head all the way down to Harry's pelvic slit, and Harry emitted a sound that was half groan, half growl in response. His hips bucked in a way that appeared quite involuntary, and as Charlie's hand was soaked by more of the dragon's self-lubrication, the tail tightened around his waist near to painful.
It took Charlie's breath away-nearly literally-how strong Harry was, how powerful. He had nowhere near the strength of a full-size dragon, and yet he was still impressive, formidable. "Ease up," Charlie breathed, his voice thick and hoarse. "I'm not going anywhere." And once the coils of tail slackened at his hips, Charlie began stroking in earnest, though he was forced to go slow for the sheer length of the dragon's cock and his desire to be thorough.
Slow, however, did not seem to be what the dragon wanted. The tail dropped from Charlie completely, and Charlie released him and backed away a few steps as Harry writhed to his feet. He was staring at Charlie, and his eyes were wide, bright, and clear. Eager, even. Then, in a distinctly human gesture, the dragon slipped a talon just inside Charlie's collar, as if Harry meant to direct him by the grip. Charlie was very still as Harry drew the claw back towards himself, and the talon was so very sharp that instead of hooking into Charlie's robes and holding fast, it parted the fabric from neck to navel. And then even further because Harry didn't stop once he saw what he'd done, and maybe this had been the real goal after all. Charlie's clothing hung loose and open and Harry reached out again to gently brush the tattered remains from his shoulders as if they had all the significance of a speck of lint.
Charlie shivered, and not only because the cave wasn't especially warm and he was standing in it wearing only a pair of trainers. The look Harry was giving him was more dragon-like than any of the previous ones. The look told him he was delicious, and Charlie remained frozen in place as the dragon's tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting the air between them like a snake might. It was all Charlie could do just to stay standing when that questing tongue wrapped around his cock. The tongue was warm and wet, but the best part was that there was a lot of it-enough to envelop his entire length. He bucked his hips into the sheath the dragon's tongue created, and the tongue constricted a little to give him a better fit.
It was the most amazing sensation, as if this dragon's tongue was designed for him to fuck it. No, Harry's tongue, Charlie reminded himself, but he'd gone too far to effectively convince himself his arousal didn't have a lot to do with the fact that Harry was currently a dragon. He didn't think about why Harry was going along with this, why Harry wasn't repulsed-after all, even with the outer form of a dragon, the mind within was still human, with human sensitivities. But Charlie supposed it didn't really matter why Harry was going along with it-not just going along, but eager-just as long as he did.
Charlie brushed his fingers lightly along the sides of Harry's face and jaw, and then up, to grip the dragon firmly by the base of his horns. And as Harry stared up at him, Charlie began to thrust in earnest, grunting as the dragon's tongue squeezed him gently. There was no notion of self-control, even though some part of Charlie's brain dimly recognized that the sensations would be better if they were prolonged. Charlie came in moments, and Harry's tongue milked him until he was clinging to the horns to hold himself up, his legs quivered so badly. "Bloody hell," he panted, watching Harry's tongue slither back into his mouth.
The dragon grinned, and then it quickly became evident that he wasn't finished. Charlie was given only a few moments to gather himself before he was carefully shaken free of Harry's horns. Harry's every move was impossibly delicate, but when he reached out to lightly grasp Charlie at the waist, he still drew tiny pinpricks of blood where his claw-tips touched flesh. The talons were so sharp Charlie didn't really feel any pain from the punctures; quite the contrary, the touches sent shivers up and down his spine, raised gooseflesh on his arms. And Harry's eyes were focused, intense as he pulled Charlie even closer, turned his body slowly enough that Charlie could have squirmed from the grip if he'd wanted to.
Harry reared up to sit back on his haunches and Charlie was certain the dragon's cock looked even bigger before he was turned fully to face the opposite wall. He knew what Harry wanted; he'd seen it in the clear green eyes, the careful touches, and the way Harry was giving him every opportunity to refuse. But, looking at that large, exotic cock, having felt it and knowing the power a dragon could have, Charlie knew that refusing was something he would not do. He turned easily under Harry's guidance, and when he wormed his way free from those talons, it was only to saunter across to the nearest cave wall, plant his palms against it, and bend over to offer the dragon his backside.
A soft growl sounded behind him, and Charlie rested his chin on his shoulder to look back at Harry. The dragon was not staring at his arse, as he'd expected, but higher. One of Charlie's Longhorns had torn four deep rents in the muscles of his back, and one across the back of his right thigh. The scars were a thumb's width and ugly, yet Charlie had never felt so conscious of them as he did with a dragon staring at them. Harry crept up behind him and laid his talons carefully over Charlie's back, but the dragon that had left the marks had dwarfed him and he couldn't line up his claws with the scars.
Charlie bowed his head and groaned as the dragon began lightly flicking a forked tongue across his back, arse, and down the backs of his thighs. And then back up, teasing the cleft of his arse, the tight pucker of his opening. Charlie spread his legs farther, tried to relax as that long, clever tongue wormed its way inside him. It went deep, too, so much deeper than anything ever had been, and then kept going until Harry's snout was nestled between his cheeks. When Harry began moving his tongue, it was in a slow, sinuous thrusting that was as much an internal massage as it was a thorough tongue-fucking. There had been little enough resistance in Charlie's muscles to begin with, post-orgasm, but by the time the dragon withdrew his tongue and raised his head, Charlie was a sweating, quivering mess. Ready for anything and almost half-erect. And Harry crouched behind him, hesitating, and Charlie hoped that this was not the moment the dragon had chosen to second-guess what they were doing. "Fuck me," Charlie begged. "Please."
Charlie got a face-full of smoke when Harry growled, and then his body was showered with rock dust when the dragon reared onto his hind legs and dug the talons of his forelimbs deep into the cave wall at either side of Charlie's head, and about a foot above. Harry's tail slipped snugly around Charlie's hips again, and he eased his lower body forward, pressed the wet, tapered tip of his cock into Charlie's arse.
The cock's self-lubrication helped, but Charlie still groaned as the first, bulbous knot popped past his tight ring of muscle. His last coherent thought was that its purpose must have been to keep the dragons from separating in flight. As Harry drove deeper in one slow, luxurious slide, Charlie lost all sense of his surroundings, who he was, everything but the exquisite pressure of opening himself up to this massive cock.
That was only the beginning. The dragon began fucking him. Hard. Dragons had a higher internal body temperature than humans, and Harry's cock seemed almost to sear Charlie from within as it plunged into him again and again. The tail was better leverage for the thrusts than the set of Charlie's hands and feet, and though he knew he was going to have a band of bruising around his body later on, he'd only be grateful it wasn't abrasions to his face and chest he could otherwise have expected from such rough sex in a cave. Charlie felt impossibly full, and there was still more cock delving into him, invading his body even further. Harry's cock continued to create its lubricant, and it dripped down Charlie's thighs, and then Harry met with resistance as the second, larger knot ground against Charlie's arse. The dragon began thrusting long, and harder, withdrawing to the first knot and then slamming himself in until the second knot bumped Charlie's opening. And Charlie could do nothing but ride it as Harry fucked him open, fucked him apart, nearly screaming with every inward thrust. It was the most intense sex he'd ever experienced and any minor discomfort caused by the girth of the cock inside him was overshadowed completely by its reach, how deeply it stroked him.
And then, with one particularly hard thrust, Harry forced in the second knot and Charlie howled as his arse swallowed it up. Their bodies locked together, Harry could only fuck him by quick little jerks. It was more than enough, though. Mere seconds after the dragon had fully sheathed himself, with a coughing roar he came, expelling a gout of blue flame that scorched the roof of the cave as he pumped Charlie full of semen.
It was more than Charlie should have been able to take, and the feel of it surging into him left him breathless and groaning, and he spattered the rock wall in front of him as he climaxed a second time. He let himself droop bonelessly against Harry's stomach, moaning as the movement caused the cock trapped inside him to shift. Harry dislodged his talons from the rock to cradle Charlie carefully in his forelimbs.
"I saw you packed some things," Charlie told Harry after a half-hour that might have been a trance or a brief nap. "Tomorrow I am going to take you to watch the real dragons, see if we can teach you to fly." Charlie tilted his head back, found Harry's veiled eyes. "Maybe we can do that again, the way dragons are supposed to do it."
~Fin.