SWEDISHA/N + DISCLAIMER: Welcome to another Dramione fic! After Crossing Lines, Laws and Love, I couldn't resist so here we are. This is specially written for Tat1312 who requested this story. She gave me this adorable plotbunny, that she owns, and J.K. owns the amazing characters, whom we all love. And Thanks! to Darkness Approaches for BETA-reading this chapter.

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Oh, and your reviews do warm ones heart but one shall not beg for unworthy ones, feel encouraged though.

With that, enjoy.

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Counting Days
By: Lumos Maximum
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Chapter one:
Romanian Water

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[Day 1]

It was a Thursday night, March the sixteenth when Draco Malfoy arrived inRomania with nothing more than a bag of clothes and his wand. Room number 112 in The Hungarian Bull as the inn was called was nothing of the first class expectations he had when he first arrived. It was dusty, dark and the bed looked so mishandled that Draco shrugged only at the thought of sleeping under the torn sheets this weekend.

"This is your room," the barman who followed Draco up (and carried the luggage for an extra galleon) said. "We could send food and beverages up for you if you're not keen on fraternizing down in the bar, Mister Malfoy."

Draco gazed at the stained table to the left of the mishandled bed and felt immediately ill by actually consuming anything as vital as food by that table.

"I'll be down soon. Have a Butterbeer ready for me," Draco ordered. "But I will not fraternize with those down there."

"Very well, we'll be expecting you soon then," the barman said, did a courtesy nod towards Draco and turned around to leave him alone. He could've sworn that the barman muttered some of the regular curses the servants insisted on muttering before he closed the door.

He started to unpack the few items he had packed by turning his bag upside-down on the bed. Out fell two travel robes made of the softest of silks, a couple of changes, a pair of dragon skin boots with matching gloves, a pair of normal leather boots, four vials of a deep purple substance and a notepad filled with scribbles and notes. He observed the dragon skin boots, thinking if wearing them would endanger his cause because this weekend in Romania came down to finding a dragon good enough to fulfill his purposes. He grabbed one of the vials and swooped it up, not liking the taste judging by his expression, let out a dry cough and decided that he should go down to have that Butterbeer to make the foul taste disappear. After a quick scribble in the notepad and deciding that normal leather shoes would be the way to go in Romania, he locked the door behind him and went down to the bar.

If his bedroom was shabby it was nothing to the bar that was dark, badly lit and smelled of porridge and whiskey. Draco wrinkled his nose, knowing that he wasn't in any possible state of demanding things but wouldn't accept anything less than he could get. He settled down at the end of the long bar table, in the dark corner by the stairs, far away from the huge singing crowd by the fireplace. The barman shot him a forced smile and gave him the Butterbeer he pre-ordered but just as he was going to start sipping he caught a glimpse of a redheaded man.

"I know you," the man shouted as he spotted Draco in his dark corner.

"Charlie Weasley," Draco muttered to himself, recognizing the man from the list of dragon handlers he studied before starting his travel. Whatever the case was, one thing was certain; Draco was in no mood to have a Weasel harassing him during these days so he ignored the short but built man who seemed to approach him casually with one whiskey in his hand and a bowl of bar nuts in the other.

"Hey, Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Charlie asked. "I see you, you know, there aren't many pale, blonds over here in Romania."

Draco cursed his good looks as he always did when obnoxious girls were approaching or in this case Charlie Weasley. "Well, hello Weasley," He started dryly because that's how you handle the Weasleys, "There should be more blondes here; you're an awful looking lot."

"I couldn't agree more, although I get around too much for being ginger," Charlie replied, looking content despite the unhealthy condition of the bar nuts he was promptly stuffing himself with. "Ignoring our family disputes for a moment – how much they might fascinate you – answer this. What are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Draco hissed.

"Very well, if you're playing hard to get, you could at least drink with me," Charlie replied with some untamed bliss radiating from him."It would be a nice change to listen to correct English for a while."

"Who said something about talking?" Draco asked dryly.

"Then drink in silence, this one is from me," Charlie proceeded, unwilling to let Draco leave his company. Charlie tapped on the bar and the barman offered Draco a glass of something Draco recalled as being Romanian Water, like Firewhisky but brutal as his dad explained it as when they sipped it during his 17th birthday. The memory from that birthday was hazy and awful and he was pretty sure that Pansy Parkinson was in that haze of somewhere. After that experience he had problems enjoying the finer liquors such as Firewhiskey and Blue Cognac. Draco chose to observe the glass of Romanian Water Charlie bought him until he decided to sip from his own Butterbeer for a while, preferably all night.

"I always knew yeh Malfoys were sissies, that's why yeh here, yeh prob – probably escaping some lot who're chasing yeh with a fork," Charlie stuttered while butchering the English language with a faked Scottish accent. He had been consuming more Romanian Water than Draco had been consuming Butterbeer in a matter of minutes and according to him they were best friends. "See, see how fun speaking – even in Scottish – can be?"

Draco sighed and prayed that this horrible night would be over. Men who couldn't hold down their liquor were worse than women who drank Draco thought and here was a man, robust and fit and fighting dragons for a living stuttering in Scottish in the shabbiest bar Draco has seen, yet.

"You're embarrassing," Draco told Charlie. "I just wanted to point that out."

"You're embarrassing," Charlie copied and laughed loudly.

"Okay, mature, that's my queue to go," Draco declared and stood up to leave the room in a dramatic matter. He just needed to sleep, that's all, he didn't need this and especially not from a Weasley.

"Hey, sissy, yeh haven't finished the drink yet," Charlie pointed out with his thick finger towards the Romanian Water but Draco had no interest in having a conversation with the drunken red head or accepting the drink that caused the redhead to become a slob.

"Oi – " Charlie continued with a sobering tone, causing Romanians and travelers to turn to him. He stood up and lifted his arms high to hold a speech for the people and they were all ears. "I know what you are doing here, we all do! You're a Malfoy, right. So who is it that wants a pet dragon? Your mum, your dad? No – it's probably your sibling."

"I don't have siblings," Draco pointed out and felt aggravated as the chuckles from the back filled the bar.

"Then tell me, Malfoy, why are you here in Romania? There are no beaches, not that you could do anything with that lack of tan you already sport," Charlie mocked in classic English. "You're here for the dragons, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" Draco asked, not in the mood of anything right now. His throat was soar, this trip had been awful so far and this big, annoying redhead was getting on his last nerve.

"Well, it's stupid, that much I'll give you. Manners to your favor but having a dragon – some say it's inbreed that's making you rich people dumb, I've always blamed the money," Charlie explained, slugging Draco friendly on the arm. Draco was thrown back a bit by the force that Charlie possessed; he almost flew off his barstool and it was supposed to be a friendly one.

As a last resort to show who was the one with the power, Draco stood up and turned dangerous. "Watch it, Weasel," he snapped.

"Don't call me that," Charlie warned with a tone as dangerous as Draco's. It was with a triumphant smirk that Charlie added, "Ferret."

Draco took a leap of faith and swung at Charlie, determined to sucker punch the slob for calling him that and feeling lucky because Charlie was pissed, Romanian style. He missed by two meters because Charlie went to the left. Draco aimed again, now at a laughing Charlie yelling all kind of things in Romanian to his fellow bar mates who cheered the fight on. He missed again and the blood started to boil inside. Charlie aimed towards his stomach and managed to make him crumple and fall back to his seat.

"Stop fighting it, Malfoy, it's no use," Charlie chanted somewhere over his head, perhaps it was about the fighting but something in Draco told him that Charlie wasn't only referring to that.

Draco could taste the blood in his mouth as he added, "Quitting is for the weak."

He stood up, glared at Charlie and decided that another swing at him was the fair thing to do. He aimed ruthlessly at the nose, thinking that the dramatic effect of the blood would honor him enough to cover the fall he just did but he hit the cheek with a force that surprised Charlie more than affected him. The next thing he saw was the clutched fist of Charlie hitting him so hard across the face that he staggered back a few steps before he fell down at the bar floor.

"Merlin," Charlie said somewhere over Draco's head with surprise in his voice.

"That looks nasty, eh," someone else whispered from the left.

"My good man, you owe him something for that one," a soft voice added all the way from the back.

"Damn, I'm already in debt," was all Charlie said as he leaned over Draco's body and pointed with the leg of a broken barstool.

"Do you think he hears us?" was the last thing Draco heard before he went deaf and everything turned black.

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[Day 2]

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When Draco woke up he realized two things, his whole body was hurting and he was so wounded that the only thing he could smell were fat sausages being burned. If this was dying and entering the hell he deserved all along he was satisfied because he got the easy way out. The pain was okay but the burned sausage smell was something that would haunt him forever. When he opened his eyes three other things came to his realization, he was sleeping in a pink sleeping bag, right under the morning sun, his head pounded worse than after a regular bar night and hell was not in some underground kingdom of flames but in the woods.

"Where?" was the first word Draco uttered in hell but he didn't need to say more when footsteps against the grass approached him along with the memories from yesterday.

"Morning, mate," Charlie said and let a tinplate with sausages and egg fall next to Draco's head. Draco didn't catch the morning, only the 'mate'.

"You hit me and we're not mates," Malfoy said, only to confirm the events from yesterday.

"Yeah, yesterday," Charlie said, chuckling as he reminisced about yesterday's events. "Pretty nice fight, don't you think?"

Draco didn't agree a bit.

"Well, consider it as your welcome-to-Romania fight, I'll be damned if you manage to stay in Romania without fighting at least once," Charlie added and pointed towards the eggs. "Hurry up; I have something to show you."

Draco glared at Charlie who looked so natural in his rough leather jacket, wild red hair and weather bitten skin. This might be Charlie's element but Draco was not having this, he came for dragons not the Weasley field trip. "There is nothing of interest here," he told Charlie and gave the burned sausages an extra hate filled stare.

"Silly me, well it happens to be that I owe you so you'll have to insist," Charlie muttered and shoved the tinplate of breakfast closer to Draco's head.

To look more dignified Draco sat up, still wrapped into a pink sleeping and tried to physically look proper. "You don't owe me a thing."

"Well, if you saw yourself in the mirror right now, you would agree," Charlie assured him and turned around. "Hurry up, I have dragons to feed to, you know. Eat and meet me outside the fence," he added and walked towards the path that led to the big forest to Draco's left.

At the word dragon Draco knew that he had somehow managed to get himself into a dragon camp by getting punched last night. He tried to eat the breakfast because his body needed the energy but at the third bite of the burned food he gave up and when he saw his reflection against the tin plate his appetitedisappeared for that night. His right eye, more known to Draco as the place where the pain laid, was swollen and the shiner was turning in the nastiest shades. Charlie might've owed him something, Draco reasoned, but he personally owned Charlie a shiner worthy the one he got.

He got out of the pink sleeping bag, stared around in the simple camp that was nothing more than a fire, randomly chosen kitchen supplies, tanks of water and empty sleeping bags spread around on the green grass. When he was unable to locate the bathroom he decided that he could do one day without grooming.

He walked towards the path he saw Charlie take, and walked through the forest in silence. Morning birds sang from high up on the high tree crowns that illuminated most of the sun and the smell of burned sausages was replaced by the smell of different flowers blossoming over his head. This was quite peaceful, Draco admitted shamefully, as he walked on the path that became smaller and darker. Secretly he wished that the path would be longer than it seemed to be.

When he finally walked out of the forest path he ended up in a clearing where Charlie stood with his wand held up high against one, huge dragon that shifted in red and deep brown. The flat nose, sharp teeth and bright red eyes that glimmered like sapphires in the sun were the trademarks of the German Redeye, just the type of Dragon Draco came to see.

The dragon was busy spitting fire feverishly and trying to escape from the big chains that held it to the ground when Charlie let out a petrified yell followed by a motherly rant. Needless to say that the smell of things burning was intoxicating the clearing and Draco thought he ended up in hell after all. He watched the dragon spit uncontrolled fire towards Charlie who tried to calm it down by chanting 'Jean' and sending stupefying curses at it. They must've battled for a good ten minutes before the dragon settled down with a look that Draco assumed was agony, if animals – or beast could feel.

"Can it feel?" Draco asked, suddenly very uncomfortable with the dragon's presence.

"Merlins saggy ones!" Charlie exclaimed. "You have to ask this? Look at her, her eyes are deep red instead of the blistering red they used to be and her skin is shifting in brown instead of the red it should. She can't stop spitting fire and that sound." He paused to listen to the razzing breaths of the dragon that were followed by a wimping kind of sound that made the hair on Draco's arms rise.

"It hurts her," Draco finished and stared deep into the dark red eyes and felt a cough build up from deep down of his lungs.

Charlie explained. "I would've taken her myself if I could but I don't have the recourses, time or the contacts. Your family is acquainted with Damocles, she needs to meet him."

"Of course, Damocles – the inventor of wolfs bane, great asset to the Malfoy name," Draco said, feeling awfully lucky because he came here to find and get a German Redeye and here stood Charlie Weasley, offering him right between lunch and dinner. It was too easy sometimes. "I'll help her."

"Its impossible to import a Dragon to England without special reasons," Charlie said, looking bewildered. "But would you do it? For Jean?"

He named that monster Jean? Well, there's no means that keeps a Malfoy from getting what he needs these days, he would do it, bring her to England by any means that is and then destiny would do the rest. One dragon less perhaps but he needed her. "I'll do it, only for her."

"I don't believe you," Charlie declared with an icy tone that didn't fit his warm face. "But these are desperate times, not only for you, Malfoy, so I forgive you. I'll leave you two here."

Draco wondered where that twist came from and watched Charlie walk towards the path that led him back to the camp without even rethinking that he was left with a fire spitting, sick and hurting dragon called Jean that could feel things.

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The evening managed to fall above Draco's head where he sat, watching the dragons deep red eyes with a feeling of despair that he couldn't help feeling. She was beautiful, Jean, but she looked so helpless and needy where she lay, chained to four different trees. She wasn't quite free. Once or twice she spat some fire but mostly she whimpered and tried to summon strength to break free from her chains.

"You need her and luckily for you she needs you," said the calm voice from behind. It was Charlie, holding a bottle of Romanian Water and a small vial of purple substance that Draco knew was his. When Draco's eyes widened at the sight of the vial of purple substance Charlie added, "Just something I thought we could drink before you go back to England."

"That was in my luggage – you hit me, stole my luggage and brought me here! And you're your taking my potions. You shouldn't – no, you should be in jail!" Draco started without any use.

"That guilt trip won't work, I had five younger siblings. I know," Charlie said with a smug face. "Just drink it without excusing yourself."

Charlie handed the liquid to Draco who had no other choice than to drink in silence.

"Guess who finances this camp? I think you two are quite familiar to each other," Charlie asked while Draco glared at him.

"Dad?" Draco asked when he finished his potion, immediately feeling childish for referring to the blond aristocrat as Dad.

"Don't be dumber than you are, Draco. He wouldn't do anything that didn't benefit him in the long run, it's actually Abraxas Malfoy, not that he had any say in it but the money is his," Charlie explained.

Draco was sure that if his dad wouldn't do anything without benefit good old Abraxas wouldn't either. The few memories from childhood that Draco had of the man were dry, strict, pitying and smelled of whiskey. He preferred not to reminisce about his grandfather's living days because they caused him to rethink his otherwise perfectness. Instead of showing this to the Weasley he chose to stare at Jean.

"Abraxas had only one rule when he invested in the dragons," Charlie continued instead and let his eyes wonder towards Jean. "That we would help the next Malfoy who came here to. . . watch the dragons."

"Really, how would he know that another Malfoy would come?" Draco retorted. "We're not the outdoorsy types."

"No, but you Malfoys do take all measures before giving up and what you have is genetic," Charlie started and changed the direction of the conversation to a field that Draco had dreaded since he and Charlie first met. "Abraxas knew that someday one of you would need the help from one of us and the day came, I'm sad that it had to be you though – you kind of grew on me."

"You know," Draco realized and the pieces fit, all of them. "You know that I. . ."

"I've known since you arrived, I know that you're sick and that you might die," Charlie told Draco with a gloomy tone. "That's why I needed to talk to you to tell you that we owe your lot. Instead we ended up in a bar fight, which is pretty much 'hello mate' for me but it might not be for you."

"It isn't my idea of a good time, no. But you said that it was impossible to get one of these to England and I need one, you know I need one to. . ." Draco started and let the last thread of fear become visible to Charlie. He expected Charlie to feast on this weak version of himself but instead Charlie yawned, poured up some Romanian Water in a tincup and turned serious.

"There's one lawyer who could work that out for you," Charlie explained calmly.

"Who?" Draco demanded desperately.

"Well, there's only one lawyer who worked in the field of Magical Creatures before going into Law, she's familiar –,"

"She?" Draco interrupted, bewildered.

"Yes, the lawyer is a she, Draco, and a brilliant one too," Charlie repeated, piercing through Draco's head to find out his intentions. "She's Hermione Granger, I'm certain that you are familiar with that household name."

Draco knew perfectly well who Hermione Granger was. She was good but the only problem was that she loved those bloody Magical animals more than anyone (with the exception of Charlie of course), that she was the feistiest lawyer working and the hardest to hire there was because she only fought for cases that were morally right. She was also a nosy know-it-all that knew too much about everything, best friends with the whole Auror force and oh, of course, the trickiest one to manipulate. There was also the fact that she hated everything Draco was. Was life really worth trying to get on Grangers good side? He considered for a while before deciding that if he was going return to England as a man with an original plan, attempting honesty that is, he could start by doing things he would never attempt.

"How about that Romanian Water now?" Draco asked, covering a cough and watched Charlie's lips curve into a smile as he poured up the see-through drink in a tin cup. "Make it a double if I'm going to survive this."

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