“Uncle Charlie?”
From the wrought Goblin iron cage that held a particularly grumpy Romanian Longhorn dragon, Charlie Weasley looked up, unfurling his arms from where they had been set on his chest, glancing around to see his nephew, James Potter, loping towards him with an easy, genial smile on his face. Opening out his arms, Charlie met James half way, wrapping the young man up in a tight hug that he embraced brightly in return. It had been far too long since James had made the effort to go to the Romania Dragon Reserve. He could remember much of his time spent there, no doubt because the majority of that time was pleasant, not marred by upset or difficulty. Often, he could remember going to Romania to avoid all of that – and he was doing the same now.
After falling most spectacularly off of the sobriety wagon, James had woken up in St. Mungo’s rehabilitation wing not for the first time with fussing Healers all around him, badgering him with potions to get the drugs out of his system. Once he’d gotten that far it was a case of sitting through three days’ worth of counselling before they let him go, the Healers determined to figure out the why before giving him something to help him – ironically another drug, coffee. After loading him up with that and the potions he’d need to take to ensure he had everything out of him outside of St. Mungo’s, they sent him home and immediately James booked off time from work to go away. He needed Romania. He needed his uncle.
“What’s up little man?” Charlie inquired affectionately, ruffling the dark Potter hair atop James’ head.
“The worst,” James muttered, ducking out from underneath Charlie’s hand. “I crashed out again.”
Charlie’s face fell a little bit. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, falling into step with James as the pair made their way over to the fireproof tents that were erected a little ways out from the clearing where the dragons were kept.
The tents were set away for obvious reasons and they were slightly ramshackle structures that were larger on the inside. Some were a little charred around the edges where some of the dragons getting treatment had gotten fussy or one passing one had decided to have his revenge on some of the workers. The one that Charlie led James to, however, was fairly new especially for those coming for the summer and Charlie hastily tried to explain to James that there wasn’t going to be much opportunity for alone time if that was what he was after because all of the single tents had been taken, he’d be sharing with someone else.
That was, actually, the last of James’ worries and Charlie promised to have dinner with him before excusing himself to go back to the Longhorn. This left James to his own devices in a tent that appeared as though he was the first one to arrive. So, in typically British fashion, James abandoned his bag on the sofa and strode into the kitchenette, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before putting the kettle on the hob, turning on the flame. Then, once the water began to boil, he turned the hob off, put a tea towel around the handle and lifted it off of the top of the stove, pouring some of the hot water into the cup. Then, having added a dash of milk he sat himself down on the sofa next to his bag, kicking his feet out of his shoes and up onto the coffee table. For now he’d have a break before indeed going out in search of his uncle for dinner.
by 
