FicWad

Part 4 – Field Shelter #38, that evening. (Title: “Goodnight, Charlie Weasley”)




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In the early part of the 20thcentury, the socio-political climate of Japan made the continued operation of the Japanese Dragon Preserve on the island of Hokkaido unfeasible. A prime reason was the fact that the military tried to find a way to press the dragons and their riders into service for use against the Russian military.

Weeks before military action actually began between the two nations, cargo ships set out from Abashiri Town, headed for the Romanian Seaport of Constanta, on the Black Sea, carrying personal goods, construction materials, food stuffs and supplies. In the days following, setting out at night, the Japanese Dragon Wardens, each and everyone a Dragon Rider, flew their mounts, the Hokkaidan White Hellion Dragons, from Japan, towards the distant Romanian Dragon Preserve in the Carpathian Mountains.

Over a period of aweek, sixty three dragons migrated; the single largest undertaking of its kind, ever.

During the next nine decades, a strong and thriving community of Japanese ex-patriots, named 'The Enclave', was established. All members, be they Dragon Riders or not, are dedicated to the survival of the Hokkaidan White Hellion Dragon species.




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“You have five brothers, a sister, and everyone has red hair, including your mother and father?”

“Sure do!”

Mayumi just could not grasp the idea of nine red headed people. To her, Charlie was unique, even a rarity. Granted, one that she'd felt attracted to the moment she saw him.

“I'm sorry, Ijust cannot picture the nine of you living under the same roof, all with red hair.”

“Wait, maybe this will help.” Charlie puts down the dish towel, and walks over to the table next to his bed. Mayumi puts her own dish rag down. They had just been washing their dinner plates and the cooking pots in alarge tub of heated water next to the fireplace.

May crosses over to Charlie's sleeping area to see what he wants to show her.

Charlie, seeing her approach, stands at the side of his made bed, making room for Mayumi to join him.

“This picture was taken a few years ago and appeared on the front of 'The Daily Prophet'. Our family had won a contest. We all went to Egypt, where my brother, Bill...”

“..The older one?”

“Yes, that's right. At the time, Bill was working for Gringotts bank as aCurse-breaker, on assignment in Egypt. Our whole family traveled to Cairo to meet him and vacation.”

Unlike the monochromatic image on the front of 'The Daily Prophet', Arthur Weasley, as a member of the Ministry, had obtained full color copies of the wiz-o-pix. Charlie had had his framed, and keeps it near his bed. It is one of the few personal items he displays. He hands the framed picture over to Mayumi for her consideration.

“Go ahead and sit, May,” he says softly as she looks at the family of red-heads.

She absentmindedly lets Charlie guide her to a seated position. She is fascinated by the image-in-motion, the key feature of the wiz-o-pix image. She lets her fingers gently trace over the warm and friendly faces of the Weasley clan, all with hints of red hair beneath bizarre hats and headpieces. She can see the freckles and the close resemblance they all share with Charlie. Their smiles and demeanor tell May that they are aclose knit family, full of love and caring, with silliness and charm. A small wall begins to crumble deep inside May.

Charlie, fascinated by her reaction, keeps quiet, not wanting to interrupt her experience. Looking at the picture in her hands, he is surprised as tear drops began to fall and splatter on the glass over the print. He reaches over and grabs a tissue from the box next to his bed and offers it to May.

With a wet sniffle, and an unexpected sadness in her eyes, May accepts the tissue. Charlie watches as sadness then turns to embarrassment; embarrassment then turns into a small, defensive smile.

Softly, Charlie asks,“May, what's wrong?”

Daubing at the small splashes on the glass with her tissue, May replies, “It's nothing, Charlie, please, just forget it.”

“Mayumi, I may be a slow git sometimes, but I'm not an insensitive one. I think you know that I'm developing feelings for you. It pains me, May, to see you upset. Please, talk to me.” As he finishes, he turns and reaches out tentatively with his left hand, and covers her left one, as it holds the frame.

May is silent, looking down at the picture, and at the hand that easily covers hers. It is astrong hand, she thinks. Freckled and covered with fine hairs that remind her of spun brass or copper. She can feel the callouses on the undersides of his fingers and palm, on the back of her hand. She lightly flexes her left hand so as to conform it better to his. She closes her eyes as a warmth begins to spread within her. There is no electric spark, but there is fire.

Then, in the softest of whispers, May begins to open up.

“For the last seven generations, the Zark family members have been Dragon Riders. Amale Zark, has always beget one male child, and no other.

“My mother's side of the Sato family tree is just the opposite. In her branch of the tree, a female child, at least one, has always been born unto the family.

“When my father met my mother, both of them members of the Enclave, with generations of dragon care-takers, riders or not, behind them, they knew that they were meant to be with each other. My mother introduced my father to her parents first, and there was much joy in their household, for my father was well known and respected, even at his relatively early age. Of course, the Zark family name was also well respected, being one of the oldest of the so-called 'Pure-blood'families.”

Hearing that phrase, Charlie involuntarily lets out a small moan. May pauses, wondering why he should do so.

“I'll explain later, May. Please, continue.”

“As much as my mother's family welcomed her relationship with my father, the Zark family was against it. Although there was no doubt of the quality of her family, as the Sato's are one of the oldest of the Hokkaido bloodlines, and as I said before, are well respected, the fact that marriages to that line tend to bear a female child, and no males, was seen as 'undesirable' to the 'family'.

“Being a proud man, my father was torn. For he was very much in love with my mother. At the same time, his sense of duty to family honor tore at him. To his credit, though my mother and her parents had learned of the difficulty, he never treated her any less than he had before. He maintained a positive relationship with her parents.

“With great difficulty, he chose love over duty.

“His parents chose not to turn away their only son. They accepted my mother formally into the family. Secretly, of course, it was hoped that their first born child would be a male, and that family honor would be salved.”

May starts to sob and shake, as she looks up into Charlie's eyes. “Obviously, I am not.” With that admission, she begins to cry in earnest.

Charlie wraps his right arm around her back, pulling her close. May manages to safely set aside the picture of the Weasley family before reaching out to pull Charlie's left hand and arm around her. She grasps at his left arm as she leans her head against his chest, crying out several years worth of pent up emotions.

As Charlie reflects on everything she has said, he begins to project in his mind what her life may have been like as she grew up. He hugs her a little bit closer, trying to comfort her. He places his right hand on the back of her head, stroking her shiny black hair and its braid.

Minutes later, May begins to regain control. Charlie reaches for the package of tissues, letting her dry her tears as she needs. She stands up and excuses herself, heading for the lavatory.

Charlie walks back to the fire and pours two cups of hot water. Having learned to appreciate green tea these past few days with May, he readies the ingredients.

Mayumi returns with only a few lingering sniffles evident. Charlie ushers her to the big sofa. She sits, pulling her legs up against her chest. Charlie places the hot cup of tea in her hands. She accepts it with a small smile and a whispered “Arigatou”.

Charlie gets his own cup of tea, adding a dollop of honey, before sitting down next to May on her left. He puts his right arm up on the back of the sofa behind May, and she leans over slowly, protecting her cup, until she is resting against Charlie. He pulls the afghan that is draped over the back of the sofa and wraps it protectively around her.

The two sit watching the fire, comfortable in the silence of the room, though there is the occasional hiss from the burning logs. Outside, they can hear an occasional wind gust, or the moan of a tree trunk bending in the wind, or from the weight of the snow upon it.

May finishes her tea, handing the cup to Charlie, who places it next to his on the table beside the sofa. She snuggles down further in the comfort of the sofa, until her head rests in Charlie's lap, facing the fire. He readjusts the blanket to keep her covered, then rests his hand on her shoulder, gently caressing it and her arm.

May uses her right hand to grasp Charlie's, pulling it down beneath the cover, where she can hold it more easily.

Just as he becomes convinced May has fallen asleep, she begins to softly talk again.

“When I was small, I was too young to realize how much of a sheltered life I was living. My parents often kept me away from other children, to protect me. It wasn't until years later that I learned that many other families began to talk about the “disgrace” of the Zark bloodline. About how my father, and his parents, lost face in the social circles they kept. Those prejudices, never displayed openly in public, of course, were nevertheless parroted by the children, who of course, can be very mean.

“My father suffered greatly, and still does to this day. To his credit once more, I never saw him treat my mother with anything but love and respect. He never mistreated me, either, but yet, there has always been a tension between the two of us.

“My mother's family has always been open and kindly, though I did not see them much when I was young.”

“What good things do you remember about growing up?”

May stops to think about that for a bit, then begins again.

“The dragons-learning about the dragons from my father's father. And archery.

“The relationship between my father and his father was very strained for quite some time. They often refused to see me when one family or the other would travel to visit.

“Then one day- I must have been eight years old or so, I asked my Obaasan, my Grandmother, about dragons.

“Well, my Grandfather, being prideful, and a Dragon Rider, stepped in and answered my question. Then I asked another, and another.

“By the time Iwas ten years old, my Ojiisan told me I knew as much about dragons as he did. It turns out my inquisitiveness had helped to heal a lot of the hurt between father and son.

“Together, my father and my Grandfather taught me archery. It turns out, though Iknew it not at the time, that the female name 'Mayumi' can be translated as 'True Bow' or 'True Aim'.

“The bow just seems to suit me- I don't know why, and I don't ask.”

“But you are good! I saw that first shot this morning. That was your shot, wasn't it?”

“Hai.”

Charlie gave her hand asqueeze. She replied by lowering her head and kissing the back of his hand.

“Did you go to Magic School, May?”

“Age eleven, they packed me up with a relative, took a train to Bucharest, flew to Paris, Tokyo, and then to Sapporo. From Sapporo, another train to Kushiro sub-prefecture, where I was gathered and taken to the School of Magic. I was there from 1985 – 1990.”

“Only five years?”

“Most students stay for seven; those of us from the Enclave, especially the ones earmarked to become Dragon Riders, stay only five. When they told me I would not be staying for a sixth year, I thought it was because Iwas a poor student.”

“A poor student?”

“Those years in Magic School were not happy ones for me, Charlie. When I was registered for first year, the name given on the forms was 'SATO Mayumi'. It was decided to use the matronymic, as the SATO name is very prominent in Hokkaido.

“After I arrived, my poor social skills with others my age hampered my acceptance in the social cliques. I became very standoffish to Japanese my age; still am, to be truthful. Those who did know the truth about me did not try to befriend me, as they were afraid of having to answer awkward questions.

“Although I did as well as most in my academic studies of magic, my shy and defensive nature kept me from performing practical magic at the accepted levels. Thus, I was further separated from my peers.

“Then there was the problem with my hair. A few boys, finding my long hair exotic, thought to try and win me over, as if I was a prize in some male-ego contest. With the girls, it was jealousy. Many of these negative feelings still linger inside of me, Charlie.

“Back at the Enclave, though the number is few, there have been suitors who have sought to claim me as some sort of 'trophy' wife, as a way to improve their own lower standing within the community. Even my parents have tried to find 'suitable' matches for me in the past.”

“I take it they have been unsuccessful?”

May's voice, steadily rising in intensity the last few minutes, now takes on some heat.

“I will NOT marry for convenience or suitability. I will NOT be some man's trophy. I AM a Dragon Rider! Nothing matters more.”

Softly, to diffuse her heat, Charlie bends forward slightly, saying, “That's the way it should be, May. Never sacrifice your dreams, your desires, for anyone else, unless you do it of your own free will.”

May turns and shifts her lithe body, ending up on her back, looking up directly into Charlie's eyes.

“The yanks have asaying, May. 'Live free or die!'

“My twin brothers, Fred and George, are a pair of brilliant, silly blokes. They've opened a joke shop. Didn't even finish their sixth year. They stormed out of school on their brooms before the end of last year. Set off fireworks and spells in the castle never seen before. All as a protest against the fascist who had supplanted one of the greatest wizards of our time, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“My mother, god bless her, always had to keep an eagle eye on them as they grew up. Always pulling pranks, they never showed a bit of seriousness about life, until the idea of the joke shop took hold.

“She raised all seven of us until it was time for each of us to go off to school. Even now, she makes sure that we never forget we have a mother and father, and a home, to return to when we are away.

“My father, on the other hand, a bit of a loon himself on occasion, bless him, always admired and encouraged Fred and George's individuality, even though they are twins. He has never once tried to stifle /any/of our dreams, desires, or eccentricities. Though his'eccentricities' and his moral value system has kept him from taking, or attaining, greater status and wealth at the Ministry of Magic, he refuses to give in to the 'system'.”

May listens to Charlie intently, still holding his right hand in hers, close to her chest.

“Even though our mother can be strict and controlling at times, we know that deep down inside that there is a quality that admires the spark we all have. After all, she married our father, knowing quite well all of his foibles and fantasies. And, she did give birth to us all, meaning that there is some of her in here also.” Charlie thumps his chest lightly to make his point.

Mayumi closes her eyes and is quiet for many minutes. The only sign that she is awake is the soft stroking of her thumb across the back of Charlie's hand as she holds it close.

Charlie finds himself falling deeper for the soft mannered, lithe, raven haired, Dragon Rider, whose head rests on his lap. He stares down at her, memorizing her face. The curve of the length of her nose, the color of her lips, and the delicate lids and lashes over her smoky gray eyes. He traces the line of her nose to her lips and chin, then sweeping up along her jaw to the lobes of her pink ears. He admires the contrast of her skin to the black bangs that hang down loosely. He decides, that though her skin is not flawless, as if it would be for someone who works outside as much as she does, it is the type of skin he could spend the rest of his life touching and caressing.

After sometime, he finds himself beginning to succumb to the gentle sounds of the hearth, the smoky scent of pine sap, and the warmth of Mayumi. As he begins to nod off, a sudden squeezing of his hand brings him back. He opens his eyes. May has a soft smile upon her relaxed face.

With a gentle, throat clearing rumble, Charlie says, “Guess it's time for bed, huh?”

May reluctantly replies with a gently spoken “Hai”, and lets go of Charlie's hand. She pulls herself up into a sitting position, turning and placing her feet of the floor.

Charlie stands up first, turns, and extends both of his hands to help May get up. She accepts the gift and allows herself to be pulled up. Now standing, she finds herself chest to chest with Charlie, who attempts to step back to give her space. May, however, refuses to release his hands, and pulls him back.

With each others hands, forearms, and clothing being the only thing between them, May looks up, leans in, pauses, and then briefly kisses Charlie on his lips. Leaning back, she releases his hands, drops her gaze, and turns slowly to her sleeping area. She enters and reaches up to let the silk curtain fall.

Charlie, having held his breath, lets it out, reaches up to touch his lips, and turns towards his own area. He has no curtain yet to pull down. The suspended tatami is still the only thing between the two sleeping areas.

He sits upon his wooden chest and slowly pulls off his boots and socks. He tells himself that it's time to revisit the hot spring tomorrow, which is their day off.

As he disrobes further, he can barely see through the tiny spaces in the woven bamboo mat that there is a diffuse glow from one of the paper lanterns on the corner table in May's room. He thinks he can see a faint silhouette of her body as she moves about within. He squints his eyes, trying to see better. The image is faint at best. Charlie then stands and removes his pants and long johns. Deciding to forgo undergarments for the night, he pulls a loose pair of pajama bottoms on. Sitting back down, now facing May's room, he continues to remove the last shirt, and the undershirt, that he is wearing. He pauses, looking once more towards the undefined silhouette of May, who he now believes is also sitting on her trunk, facing him. She seems to be un-braiding her hair, he thinks. For several minutes, he sits there, bare chested, in his pajama bottoms, watching her ghostly silhouette. He knows that she knows he is watching her. Though there is no back light source behind him, the faint orange glow of the fire in the hearth does illuminate his body to some degree. He doesn't care.

Several minutes more go by, then the chill in the air finally drives him to get up and move to the side of his bed, pulling back the blankets and sheet. He sits and slides in between the covers. He lays back, his hands behind his head, as he thinks about all that has happened this day, and of the woman on the other side of the divider.

A slight rippling of the tatami, followed a moment later by the extinguishing of the lamp, tells him she is done. He closes his eyes as a degree of resignation and empty loneliness creeps into his heart, wishing for...

“Charlie?”

His eyes snap open, surprised to find May standing at the far side of his bed, arms hugging a pillow to her chest and stomach. Her hair, longer than he had expected, is loose and hangs like a black blanket all about her. Her legs are bare, but any other detail is hidden by a fall of her hair.

“May?”

“I do not want to be alone tonight, Charlie.”

Charlie's response is to scoot further over in bed, turning on his side to face her, and hold open the covers for her.

May turns her back to him and sits. She turns and places her pillow where her head will be. Charlie pulls his own closer. May then gathers her long hair and whispers, “Would you hold my hair away from my body for amoment?”

Charlie pulls a leg up and sits up further, reaching with both hands to hold the wavy, un-braided mass of soft hair. He can now see that she is wearing avery small pair of silk panties, and that instead of a bra, she has awide wrap around her chest. As she slowly begins to undo it, Charlie can see why she needs to have her hair held.

As more and more of her back is exposed, Charlie sits entranced, as a large tattoo of a White Hellion Dragon on her back is revealed. Though it is evident that much of the tattoo is unfinished, the White Hellion looks incredibly lifelike and detailed. He cannot help but reach out with his right hand and touch it.

May, now finished with unwrapping herself, feels his touch, and covers her unbound breasts with her hands and arms. She closes her eyes and sighs at the calloused touch of his fingertips on the skin of her back. The warmth in her body, banked earlier as she undressed, begins to flare again. She experiences a tightness in her nipples as they harden, and amoistening in the cleft between her legs.

She moves back and begins to lay out on her right side, her back to Charlie.

Charlie, still holding her shiny black hair, lets her settle before releasing the mass. He settles himself, pulls the covers up over his shoulder, then as he reaches to do the same for May, she takes his hand in hers. She lifts slightly and slips back further, until her bare back is pressed against the bare skin of Charlie's muscled chest. She whispers that she wants his right arm beneath her. As he gladly complies, May sets her head down on the junction of his right shoulder. She releases his left hand long enough to pull her hair over her left shoulder. She reclaims his hand from its resting place on her left arm, pulling it over her body and slipping it beneath her hair to cover the handful of erogenous flesh that is her right breast. He can feel the slightly swollen circle of tissue of her areola, with the hardened nipple, in the palm of his hand.

Charlie closes his eyes and finally relaxes, as he accepts the real gift she offers; her trust. He hugs her closer with his right arm, letting the hand rest on her left hip. She acknowledges her acceptance, as she covers his arm possessively with her hand. He takes another deep breath, letting the floral scent of her hair fill his senses. The involuntary arousal of his penis is evident to May, as her own involuntary reaction is to push back against it, feeling its length and thickness pressing against the silk of her panties.

Following a soft sigh of sensual happiness, May turns and whispers, “Goodnight, Charlie Weasley.”