Gravity Happens
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,364
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,364
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Somnus
Charlie Weasley gripped the gray-tipped scales tightly as the massive Finnish Frosttounge beneath him grumbled in its sleep, “GIVE HIM ANOTHER BLAST OF DREAMS, HARK!”
“You got it, boss man,” called the other man, a long-limbed, lanky giant of a man with a messy crop of brown hair under a worn Stetson, “Somnus!”
The colossal dragon let out a deep sigh and sunk back into deep sleep. Charlie adjusted his seat on the dragon’s back and resumed hacking off the worst of the scale rot with a small pick, “You’re damned lucky to have that busted arm, Hark, or it would be your ass up here. Old Derrides here grows more and more resistant every day.”
“Yeah, well, my arm is busted and you are up there so you’d better stop complaining and worry about staying up there, Charlie,” Hark guffawed, watching Charlie swallow his grin, “So what’d you expect this new gal’s gonna be like? Ol’ Magoon’s over the moon about her coming.”
Charlie slowed his work for a moment, confused. Then he remembered, Magoon had been talking about some new lady Draconologist being assigned to his camp. Had been talking about it this morning—about her being set to arrive today, “Shit. Man what do you think she’s going to be like? She’s going to be like every other woman who’s ever worked a dragon camp. Ugly. Angry. She’s gonna be taller than you and bigger than me and be more spotted than Magoon and hairier than Mikhail. She’s gonna have an unholy attitude because she’s the only woman around and she’s gonna drive us all mad and then file a pile of sexual harassment charges against the lot of us, and she’s gonna do it all with a self-righteous smirk on her hag-face. Just like they all do.”
Hark let out a great whoop of laughter and slapped his knee, “Boss man, you sound mighty sure of yourself,”
“I am sure of myself. They’re all the same. Loads of trouble and little reward,” Charlie trailed off, concentrating on a particularly nasty scale.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Hark said softly as he noticed Magoon and a woman walking down the road into the rocky dragon pits. They were a ways off, but Hark had sharp eyes and he saw a head of smooth dark curls, a small, curvy frame in a loose white blouse and a pretty skirt in the breezy, flowy style girls like so much, “Maybe she’s a right peach, boss, ever think of that?”
“Not bloody likey!” Charlie snorted, not looking up.
* * * * *
Magoon was regaling Eve with tales of the men she would eventually meet when they made their way back from the breeding haunts as they entered the main bowl of the dragon pits. More quarry-like than anything else, the pits were a gigantic collection of rock and gravel beds in the middle of a valley. They were called “pits” because of the hollow holes the dragons created when they rolled around in the exposed rocks to scratch themselves. They were usually close to a hot spring or geyser where dragons could wallow in the heat. Pits were almost always found at the center of dragon territory, and anyone with eyes could find their caves scattered throughout the surrounding mountains.
There was only one dragon in the pits at that moment, a truly monstrous bull which she immediately recognized as a Finnish Frosttongue. Given how gray he’d turned, Eve put him at around 850-900 years old, definitely due for a hibernation. The keepers had probably deliberately kept him out of the breeding this year so that he wouldn’t try to mate all the cows and shove the rest of the bulls out of the territory. Only two men were in the pits, too, which wouldn’t be the case in a few weeks when the rest of the keepers followed the spent bulls back. Both men were shirtless in the summer heat. The man on the ground was a denim-clad giant with brown hair and what looked suspiciously like a cowboy hat. The other man, who straddled the ancient bull’s back, had longish, fiery red hair and a generous scattering of freckles over his muscled chest and arms. Eve felt her blood run cold, “Magoon!” she interrupted whatever he was saying, “Magoon, who is that red haired man?”
“Heh? Oh, that’s the boss. Charlie Weasley, he’s the primary keeper here.”
“Charlie…Weasley?” Eve swallowed, eyes wide, “Shit.”
* * * *
“Lads, I’d like ye to meet our addition,” Magoon addressed Hark and Charlie as he and Eve drew up alongside Derrides. Charlie grunted without bothering to lift his eyes from the dragon.
“Ma’am, it’s a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Hark drawled, tipping his hat to Eve, “Name’s Hark. ‘Course I got a longer one, but it’s best we just leave it at that.”
Eve’s heart was fluttering wildly in her chest but she didn’t show it. She resisted the urge to stare at Charlie and forced herself to train her eyes on Hark and her ears on his words, she laughed softly, “the pleasure is all mine, Hark, I’m so glad to finally be here. I’ve been trying to get Carpathian approval for ages!”
That voice. Charlie went still as stone. That laugh. He lifted his head so slowly he may as well have not. Her hair was longer, but that was all that had changed, it was still dark as sin and delicately curled. Her skin was still creamy as milk, with the lightest dusting of freckles over shoulders and cheeks. Her eyes were the same clear gray, expressive as liquid silver. She was tiny, compact and lithe, but he knew just how strong she could be. And she was here.
Eve knew the moment Charlie recognized her. Hark was still talking but she could feel Charlie’s eyes moving over her. She wouldn’t have come if she’d known…she turned to him, raised soft, curious eyes to meet his dark gaze, “Hullo, Charlie,” her voice huskier than she’d intended.
“Eve,” Charlie simply said, and then the great dragon hiccupped under him. And then he was sliding. And then everything went black.
“You got it, boss man,” called the other man, a long-limbed, lanky giant of a man with a messy crop of brown hair under a worn Stetson, “Somnus!”
The colossal dragon let out a deep sigh and sunk back into deep sleep. Charlie adjusted his seat on the dragon’s back and resumed hacking off the worst of the scale rot with a small pick, “You’re damned lucky to have that busted arm, Hark, or it would be your ass up here. Old Derrides here grows more and more resistant every day.”
“Yeah, well, my arm is busted and you are up there so you’d better stop complaining and worry about staying up there, Charlie,” Hark guffawed, watching Charlie swallow his grin, “So what’d you expect this new gal’s gonna be like? Ol’ Magoon’s over the moon about her coming.”
Charlie slowed his work for a moment, confused. Then he remembered, Magoon had been talking about some new lady Draconologist being assigned to his camp. Had been talking about it this morning—about her being set to arrive today, “Shit. Man what do you think she’s going to be like? She’s going to be like every other woman who’s ever worked a dragon camp. Ugly. Angry. She’s gonna be taller than you and bigger than me and be more spotted than Magoon and hairier than Mikhail. She’s gonna have an unholy attitude because she’s the only woman around and she’s gonna drive us all mad and then file a pile of sexual harassment charges against the lot of us, and she’s gonna do it all with a self-righteous smirk on her hag-face. Just like they all do.”
Hark let out a great whoop of laughter and slapped his knee, “Boss man, you sound mighty sure of yourself,”
“I am sure of myself. They’re all the same. Loads of trouble and little reward,” Charlie trailed off, concentrating on a particularly nasty scale.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Hark said softly as he noticed Magoon and a woman walking down the road into the rocky dragon pits. They were a ways off, but Hark had sharp eyes and he saw a head of smooth dark curls, a small, curvy frame in a loose white blouse and a pretty skirt in the breezy, flowy style girls like so much, “Maybe she’s a right peach, boss, ever think of that?”
“Not bloody likey!” Charlie snorted, not looking up.
* * * * *
Magoon was regaling Eve with tales of the men she would eventually meet when they made their way back from the breeding haunts as they entered the main bowl of the dragon pits. More quarry-like than anything else, the pits were a gigantic collection of rock and gravel beds in the middle of a valley. They were called “pits” because of the hollow holes the dragons created when they rolled around in the exposed rocks to scratch themselves. They were usually close to a hot spring or geyser where dragons could wallow in the heat. Pits were almost always found at the center of dragon territory, and anyone with eyes could find their caves scattered throughout the surrounding mountains.
There was only one dragon in the pits at that moment, a truly monstrous bull which she immediately recognized as a Finnish Frosttongue. Given how gray he’d turned, Eve put him at around 850-900 years old, definitely due for a hibernation. The keepers had probably deliberately kept him out of the breeding this year so that he wouldn’t try to mate all the cows and shove the rest of the bulls out of the territory. Only two men were in the pits, too, which wouldn’t be the case in a few weeks when the rest of the keepers followed the spent bulls back. Both men were shirtless in the summer heat. The man on the ground was a denim-clad giant with brown hair and what looked suspiciously like a cowboy hat. The other man, who straddled the ancient bull’s back, had longish, fiery red hair and a generous scattering of freckles over his muscled chest and arms. Eve felt her blood run cold, “Magoon!” she interrupted whatever he was saying, “Magoon, who is that red haired man?”
“Heh? Oh, that’s the boss. Charlie Weasley, he’s the primary keeper here.”
“Charlie…Weasley?” Eve swallowed, eyes wide, “Shit.”
* * * *
“Lads, I’d like ye to meet our addition,” Magoon addressed Hark and Charlie as he and Eve drew up alongside Derrides. Charlie grunted without bothering to lift his eyes from the dragon.
“Ma’am, it’s a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Hark drawled, tipping his hat to Eve, “Name’s Hark. ‘Course I got a longer one, but it’s best we just leave it at that.”
Eve’s heart was fluttering wildly in her chest but she didn’t show it. She resisted the urge to stare at Charlie and forced herself to train her eyes on Hark and her ears on his words, she laughed softly, “the pleasure is all mine, Hark, I’m so glad to finally be here. I’ve been trying to get Carpathian approval for ages!”
That voice. Charlie went still as stone. That laugh. He lifted his head so slowly he may as well have not. Her hair was longer, but that was all that had changed, it was still dark as sin and delicately curled. Her skin was still creamy as milk, with the lightest dusting of freckles over shoulders and cheeks. Her eyes were the same clear gray, expressive as liquid silver. She was tiny, compact and lithe, but he knew just how strong she could be. And she was here.
Eve knew the moment Charlie recognized her. Hark was still talking but she could feel Charlie’s eyes moving over her. She wouldn’t have come if she’d known…she turned to him, raised soft, curious eyes to meet his dark gaze, “Hullo, Charlie,” her voice huskier than she’d intended.
“Eve,” Charlie simply said, and then the great dragon hiccupped under him. And then he was sliding. And then everything went black.