Charlie the Dragon Chaser - 1/1 - All Ages - Charlie Weasley
Title: Charlie the Dragon Chaser (1/1)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: It's hard keeping track of Charlie, especially when he's off chasing dragons in the garden.
Word Count: 777.
A/N: Written in response to 7spells prompt cold hands, cold feet.
Horrified, Molly ushered her son into the kitchen. She had found him barefoot out in the garden and had to go out chasing after him, leaving six-year-old Bill to watch after baby Percy for a moment.
“Mummy, I was looking out the window and I saw a dragon in the garden and I went to go and chase it and it ran away.”
“It’s the middle of December, Charlie! How could you just go running outside like that! It’s freezing and your lips are turning blue.” When he sneezed, she sighed and gave him a light swat to the backside. Charlie had just turned four and was bundle of energy, always on the go. It was hardly surprising that he had gone out into the garden, chasing after his imaginary dragon, but she wished that he had at least put some shoes on; she would not be pleased if he was ill over Christmas.
“Alright, Charlie. Go and put your jumper and some warm socks on, okay?” He sneezed again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He ran off to his bedroom, bare feet pattering on the floor. “And get a hanky while you’re at it!” she called after him.
Charlie was definitely the most active of her sons. Percy was a very quiet baby, more placid than either of the others had been and Bill was so laid back that it was surprising that he didn’t fall over. If any of them were likely to turn up with mystery bruises, it was Charlie. They never seemed to bother him, though, and he barely stayed still long enough to let her apply a healing ointment.
Sighing, she put the kettle on. Charlie chasing after creatures in the back garden was nothing new, and she had a feeling that it would occur a lot more regularly now that he was tall enough to open the back door. “Bill do you want some hot chocolate?”
Her oldest son nodded, not looking up from his colouring. Molly wasn’t sure what he was drawing, but it was very colourful and his crayons were spread out across the table: a few had even rolled onto the floor.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, please, Mummy.”
“Good boy.” She bent down to check on Percy, who was sitting peacefully in the little play area that she had set up, propped up by several cushions. He was chewing on his fist, quite content in his little world.
Charlie came running back into the kitchen. “Did you see the dragon, Mummy?” he asked, still tugging his jumper on.
“No, Charlie. What did it look like?”
“It was green.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Charlie beamed at her. “Do you want me to draw you a picture, Mummy?”
Molly bit back a laugh. “That would be lovely, Charlie.” She ruffled his hair, turning to sort out the drinks. “Do you want a hot chocolate?”
“Yes.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly wondered if trying to teach her boys any manners was completely futile. They were as bad as each other and it all seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Maybe Percy would be different. “What do you say, Charlie?”
“Thank you.”
“No, stupid,” Bill said sharply, “it’s please, not thank you.” Charlie gave a cry of annoyance; Bill yelped as a blue crayon struck his face. “Mum! Charlie threw a crayon at me!”
Molly took a breath. She didn’t like shouting at her sons. “Charlie, don’t throw crayons at your brother. And Bill, don’t call your brother stupid. He’s only little.”
She knew she had made an error when Charlie protested, “I’m not little! Percy’s the little one.”
“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “Percy is tiny. He doesn’t do anything.” He wrinkled his freckled nose. “What’s the point of Percy, Mum?” Percy took his fist out of his mouth, looking up at his brothers when he recognised his own name.
Molly busied herself finding mugs for the boys. “Honestly, Bill. What sort of question is that?”
“A good question,” Charlie piped up.
Placing the two mugs of hot chocolate down on the table, careful not to spill any on their drawings. “So,” she said, trying to change the subject, “tell me about your dragon, Charlie.”
Charlie sighed heavily, almost like this was a chore. Molly knew, however, that he loved talking about dragons and if she could get him talking - it was difficult to get him to stop - then she would be able to avoid any sort of fight between the boys.
“It’s not my dragon,” he said, as though this was obvious. Charlie flung his arms out, nearly hitting Bill. “It was this big…”
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: It's hard keeping track of Charlie, especially when he's off chasing dragons in the garden.
Word Count: 777.
A/N: Written in response to 7spells prompt cold hands, cold feet.
Horrified, Molly ushered her son into the kitchen. She had found him barefoot out in the garden and had to go out chasing after him, leaving six-year-old Bill to watch after baby Percy for a moment.
“Mummy, I was looking out the window and I saw a dragon in the garden and I went to go and chase it and it ran away.”
“It’s the middle of December, Charlie! How could you just go running outside like that! It’s freezing and your lips are turning blue.” When he sneezed, she sighed and gave him a light swat to the backside. Charlie had just turned four and was bundle of energy, always on the go. It was hardly surprising that he had gone out into the garden, chasing after his imaginary dragon, but she wished that he had at least put some shoes on; she would not be pleased if he was ill over Christmas.
“Alright, Charlie. Go and put your jumper and some warm socks on, okay?” He sneezed again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He ran off to his bedroom, bare feet pattering on the floor. “And get a hanky while you’re at it!” she called after him.
Charlie was definitely the most active of her sons. Percy was a very quiet baby, more placid than either of the others had been and Bill was so laid back that it was surprising that he didn’t fall over. If any of them were likely to turn up with mystery bruises, it was Charlie. They never seemed to bother him, though, and he barely stayed still long enough to let her apply a healing ointment.
Sighing, she put the kettle on. Charlie chasing after creatures in the back garden was nothing new, and she had a feeling that it would occur a lot more regularly now that he was tall enough to open the back door. “Bill do you want some hot chocolate?”
Her oldest son nodded, not looking up from his colouring. Molly wasn’t sure what he was drawing, but it was very colourful and his crayons were spread out across the table: a few had even rolled onto the floor.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, please, Mummy.”
“Good boy.” She bent down to check on Percy, who was sitting peacefully in the little play area that she had set up, propped up by several cushions. He was chewing on his fist, quite content in his little world.
Charlie came running back into the kitchen. “Did you see the dragon, Mummy?” he asked, still tugging his jumper on.
“No, Charlie. What did it look like?”
“It was green.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Charlie beamed at her. “Do you want me to draw you a picture, Mummy?”
Molly bit back a laugh. “That would be lovely, Charlie.” She ruffled his hair, turning to sort out the drinks. “Do you want a hot chocolate?”
“Yes.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly wondered if trying to teach her boys any manners was completely futile. They were as bad as each other and it all seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Maybe Percy would be different. “What do you say, Charlie?”
“Thank you.”
“No, stupid,” Bill said sharply, “it’s please, not thank you.” Charlie gave a cry of annoyance; Bill yelped as a blue crayon struck his face. “Mum! Charlie threw a crayon at me!”
Molly took a breath. She didn’t like shouting at her sons. “Charlie, don’t throw crayons at your brother. And Bill, don’t call your brother stupid. He’s only little.”
She knew she had made an error when Charlie protested, “I’m not little! Percy’s the little one.”
“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “Percy is tiny. He doesn’t do anything.” He wrinkled his freckled nose. “What’s the point of Percy, Mum?” Percy took his fist out of his mouth, looking up at his brothers when he recognised his own name.
Molly busied herself finding mugs for the boys. “Honestly, Bill. What sort of question is that?”
“A good question,” Charlie piped up.
Placing the two mugs of hot chocolate down on the table, careful not to spill any on their drawings. “So,” she said, trying to change the subject, “tell me about your dragon, Charlie.”
Charlie sighed heavily, almost like this was a chore. Molly knew, however, that he loved talking about dragons and if she could get him talking - it was difficult to get him to stop - then she would be able to avoid any sort of fight between the boys.
“It’s not my dragon,” he said, as though this was obvious. Charlie flung his arms out, nearly hitting Bill. “It was this big…”