Kept of the Keeper

Title: Kept of the Keeper #28
Rating: NC-17 (my first attempt at darkfic)
Email: RavynFayre@aol.com
Site: http://www24.brinkster.com/slashhaven/default.htm
Author: Ravyn
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling ander per parties too numerous to name. I, clearly, am not one of those other parties. No copyright infringement or harm is intended.
Distribution: Merrywizards for now.
Spoilers: Minor for GoF
Summary: Oliver\'s summer job involves duties he couldn\'t have imagined in his worst nightmares.
Pairings: Charlie Weasley/Oliver Wood
Author Note: Written for the Merrywizards Secret Santa challenge 2003. #28. Words within //-// indicate thought; words within *-* indicate emphasis. I\'ve never written a pairing specifically for someone, so I hope this is okay!
Requested: Pairing - Oliver Wood/Charlie Weasley (delivered); Type - Romance or darkfic (darkfic delivered)
Special Request(s): None given



This wasn\'t how the summer was supposed to go. True, he hadn\'t bothered to get a concrete job description from the recruiter, but he was sure he would have asked more questions if the man had told him the job entailed anything remotely like this.

At least, he thinks he would have asked questions. He really can\'t be sure of anything anymore. He forgets his own name, unless he\'s called by it on occasion.

Well, he knows he\'s lost his place on the Puddlemere team by now. Without question, they\'ll have looked for him. But they can\'t delay the season forever, so Benoit has no doubt already had his chance to show he should have been chosen as starting Keeper all along.

He\'s fairly certain it\'s nighttime now. He\'s become more adept at judging the subtle shifts in temperature, seeing as neither daylight nor moonlight reach this far back. He\'s never in the dark, though. The torches are kept burning all the time. It\'s done by magic, of course. He knows this, but on occasion he does marvel at the very thought of magic. He could do magic himself once, but he would need his wand, and his wand is . . . he no longer has his wand. He wishes for it sometimes. Not so much to improve his present condition, but that it was always just long enough to reach that spot in the middle of his back that itches so.

Or *he* could do it. If *he* comes again, that is. And only if he asks very nicely. *He* doesn\'t like cross words or raised voices.

He knew who *he* was immediately. He\'d know that red hair anywhere. He\'d gone to school with five of them.

But not this one. He\'d never met this one before. And now he knew why.

Because, clearly, this one was crazy. Not merely eccentric or flighty, as his fellow students liked to think of Professor Trelawney. This man was certifiably insane. Not that *he* had ever or would ever go to a doctor to provide such certification. That, in itself, would be crazy. So, maybe *he* wasn\'t crazy after all.

But he knew he would be soon. If he didn\'t die first, which didn\'t always seem like such a bad idea.

He was sure he\'d looked just like all the others before him, trudging up the path under the weight of his duffel bag. *He* had been right there watching the whole time, cleaning under fingernails with a nasty looking silver knife.

The man\'s stocky frame filled the doorway of the bunkhouse. While not necessarily tall, what was lacking in height was more than made up for in sheer, physical power and presence. Arms crossed, brow furrowed, mouth twisted in a menacing scowl. For a moment, Oliver chuckled at the thought of the man practicing such a scowl in front of his mirror.

Oliver hadn\'t laughed since.

~*~*~*~*~*

\"I\'m Charlie Weasley. Who are you?\"

\"Oliver Wood.\" Oliver was proud of himself, finding his voice strong and surprisingly calm under the older man\'s scrutiny.

\"Wood,\" Charlie repeated, rifling through the contents of his brain. He knew that name. From where?

Oliver sensed confusion and moved to clear the air. And hopefully save himself some humiliation in the process. \"I went to Hogwarts. I was Quidditch Captain and Keeper. I played with your brothers Fred and George. I also knew Ron and Ginny.\"

\"Right.\" Charlie nodded knowingly, rubbing his chin in thought. \"Quidditch. What are you doing here then?\"

\"My parents,\" Oliver offered, shoulders slumping a bit. \"I\'ve been hired by Puddlemere United, but we don\'t start training for the season for several more months. They want me to keep busy until them. Make a bit of money. They wanted me to take a nice, safe desk job at the Ministry. I had other ideas.\"

\"I see. So your first thought was Dragon Reserve?\"

\"No, but I met your recruiter at Hogsmeade. It sounded exciting. And I need to keep physically active during the off season.\"

\"Right. You\'re the one Mendoza set over. Good.\" Charlie nodded enthusiastically, a quick grin catching Oliver by surprise. \"Well, keeping physically active won\'t be a problem.\"

~*~*~*~*~*

Charlie hadn\'t lied about that. Oliver ached in places he couldn\'t have imagined. Except for his arms; they went numb long ago, seeing as they took most of his weight. On occasion, he grabbed the chains and pulled himself up, trying to get a moment\'s relief. Why he kept trying that he couldn\'t be sure, seeing as he no longer had the strength.

//He\'ll be here//, Oliver thought. //He has to be here tonight.//

Anyone looking in from the outside would think Oliver crazy, too. Clinically speaking, they wouldn\'t be too far off the mark. His sanity was questionable, at best. He alternately wished for death and prayed for Charlie to come to him. It didn\'t matter who he prayed to, though. No one was listening. Charlie would come when he wanted to. If he wanted to.

//He\'ll come tonight.//

Oliver knew he was running out of time. Charlie had said so himself.

~*~*~*~*~*

\"You don\'t want me to lose interest,\" Charlie had said, panting breaths harsh on the back of Oliver\'s neck. \"If I lose interest, I don\'t come to see you anymore. Do you know what happens then?\"

\"No,\" Oliver had whimpered, his sweaty fingers slipping on the chains. His shoulders had felt ready to pop from the sockets with every thrust.

Charlie had conjured a table. The chains had been lowered and Oliver laid face down upon it. Still stretched across the room, though, to near breaking. Charlie seemed to know where that breaking point was and stopped just short of it every time.

\"If I don\'t come see you, you lose my scent,\" Charlie grunted, his fingers like claws of iron on Oliver\'s hips. He was nowhere near completion. He had only just begun. He continued, taunting, \"If you lose my scent, you become Max\'s next meal.\"

\"Max?\" Oliver asked, twisting his head to the side. He had ceased caring if Charlie saw him cry.

Charlie\'s eyes were closed, his head thrown back, his mouth twisted in pleasure. \"Maximillian,\" he panted. \"Your roommate. Be glad you haven\'t met yet.\"

Oliver shivered, leeching a moan from Charlie. He\'d never seen Max, but he\'d heard him. Lumbering around in his own darkness. Oliver was sure he\'d been watched more than once. For all he knew, the creature got off on watching Charlie with his recruits. They probably had some bizarre telepathic connection.

Luckily, Charlie didn\'t need him to make all the appropriate noises that came with the act of sex. Oliver had turned around, resting his forehead on the table, and considered all the possible ways he might die.

Burned alive. Could be fast or slow, depending upon how direct a hit he took.

Squashed to death. Again, could be fast or slow, depending upon which part of his body the dragon decided to squash first.

Eaten alive would probably be the fastest. Chances are, the creature would start with his head, and if he bit down hard, it might really be quite painless.

His own penis no longer got hard. His body jerked, his flesh rubbed raw against the wood underneath him as the older man abused him. Charlie cried out at his climax, his body stiffening as he buried himself deep within Oliver before collapsing on the boy\'s broken body.

\"I won\'t be able to see you for a little while,\" he had whispered, as his tongue traced lazily in the dirt and sweat clinging to Oliver\'s neck.

\"A little while?\" Oliver cried, remembering Charlie\'s words from earlier. \"Why?\"

\"Busy, busy, busy,\" Charlie sighed as he pushed himself upright, his cock slipping free.

\"But . . . what you said?\"

Charlie\'s hands slid up the crack of Oliver\'s ass, pulling the boy\'s cheeks apart to reveal his long-abused anus. He smirked, watching his own come trickle out. \"You may want to keep some of that,\" he said. His finger dashed out to catch a drop and leaned over Oliver to shove the digit in the boy\'s mouth. \"Exercise some cont Re Release a little of that each day, and you\'ll be fine.\"

Charlie hadn\'t explained how Oliver was supposed to use the bathroom and keep the come up his ass at the same time.

So he\'d asked for another small favor, just before Charlie\'s departure. He rarely asked for anything, so Charlie had magnanimously agreed.

But now he knew even that wasn\'t enough. He hadn\'t been able to make it last.

~*~*~*~*~*

//He\'ll be here tonight.//

It wasn\'t so bad, really. He was fed on occasion. He was even allowed to use the toilet. Of course, the cave floor under his feet usually served this purpose when he simply couldn\'t wait. Charlie no longer scolded him for making such a mess. He said he could understand and would probably do the same if he were in Oliver\'s position.

Oliver never thought to ask what happened to the boy who held this job before him. He wondered how long the boy might have lasted. And wondered how long he, himself, might expect to live. Not that time has any real meaning anymore. Except every second he\'s counting, waiting for Charlie\'s return.

//Come on.//

Oliver felt and heard the approach before he saw anything. Heavy, dull thuds shook in the chamber, the magical flames dancing perversely. A chuffing sound, like an animal tracking a scent, echoed all around him.

A shadow in the corner shifted. Hardly noticeable, except to someone who had spent the last . . . he actually had no idea how long he\'d been here. It simply didn\'t matter anymore. The snow-white snout edged its way into the room first, nostrils flaring as it scoured tloorloor.

~*~*~*~*~*

\"Can I suck you off?\" he\'d asked, eyes downcast in submission.

Charlie crouched down in front of the table, nose to nose with his captive. He grinned maniacally. \"I\'m not as young as I used to be,\" he quipped. \"What makes you think I can get hard again so fast?\"

\"Please,\" Oliver begged, the need in his voice unmistakable.

\"Give it your best, Oliver.\"

Charlie unzipped, slipping into the waiting mouth. Oliver gagged, tasting a part of himself no one should never know. But he worked, just like he\'d been taught, his heart soaring when he felt Charlie harden in his mouth. Charlie had to know what he was doing, but Oliver didn\'t care. He needed every chance he could get. He wasn\'t quite ready for death-by-dragon.

When Charlie came, he said nothing. Merely patted Oliver on the cheek, promising to return as soon as he could. Oliver nodded, watching the figure retreat.

He spent the next several minutes scraping Charlie\'s seed from inside his mouth and gathering it under his tongue.

~*~*~*~*~*

But he\'d run out two days ago. He\'d been thirsty. He\'d swallowed some of it by accident, desperate for a drink of water. When he realized what he\'d done, he\'d forced himself to vomit, hoping some trace of a scent would still be evident in the muck at his feet.

The snout paused for only a moment at the chamber entrance, nostrils flared. The creature snorted, rushing into the room, frantically searching every inch for some trace of its master. Oliver watched, his fear growing every second.

He knew nothing of dragons, and was surprised to find himself fascinated and repulsed at the same time. He\'d never seen such an animal, and took a few moments of what might be his last to study the layers of snow-white scales that covered its immense, muscular body. Its wings were held close at its side, twitching periodically as the creature\'s search intensified. It lumbered about, its own peculiar grace evident. He marveled at what such a creature would look like in flight.

//It must be some breed from Siberia,// Oliver thought, his eyes following the dragon as it crisscrossed the room, leaving no millimeter untouched.

\"He\'s coming back, you know,\" Oliver told it, sounding more sure than he actually felt.

The dragon turned toward the voice and studied Oliver, turning its head left and right as its red eyes took in the poor creature chained to the wall. Oliver could have sworn he saw tears in its eyes, then cursed himself for his own silliness.

//It\'s the torches, you stupid git. The heat\'s making its eyes water. That\'s all.//

It stepped closer, nose nudging Oliver\'s foot. Wanting just a taste, the forked tip of the dragon\'s tongue, thick as a man\'s arm, traced up Oliver\'s leg, stopping just above his knee. Oliver screamed as the skin was scraped from his leg.

\"Max!\"

The creature cowed, its head dropping like a scolded puppy. It pulled its tail between its legs and backed out of the room.

\"Not just yet, boy,\" Charlie coopattpatting the dragon\'s nose. \"Not just yet. Why don\'t you have a nap.\" Charlie smiled like a proud papa, scooting his baby out of the chamber.

//Not *yet*?//

\"Well.\" Charlie examined the leg wound, clucking his tongue. \"Can\'t have you dying on me, so I suppose I\'ll have to heal that,\" he murmured, running his fingers along the raw, open wound. Oliver screamed again. Charlie smiled.

\"Mendoza hasn\'t found your replacement yet.\"