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“…Felix Felicis, better known as liquid luck-” she muttered.
“Yes, Neville, just like that.”
“Fire Protection Pot-”
“You’re so good to me, I’m-”
What followed was a long serenade of Pansy’s lustful screams and words that were no longer recognisable, accompanied by Neville’s moans and the frantic pounding against the wall.
With a loud sigh Hermione gave up. Her usual trick of listing every potion in alphabetical order until she passed out had failed her. Thanks to the night activities of her co-Aurors in training, she was wide awake and completely annoyed.
It wasn’t something new. Pansy was her flatmate and she wasn’t known for her calm demeanour – in any situation. But back in London Hermione was at least able to use silencing charms and she made good use of them. Now, at the Romanian Dragon Reserve they were not allowed to use them in case something happened and they all had to leave or help. So murmuring potions to herself in alphabetical order while pressing her pillow over her ears were the only options she had.
She stared up at the low wooden ceiling of her room, listening hopefully to see if her bedroom neighbours had perhaps finally called it a night. But another thud, and some giggled words definitely containing the words “next round” shattered her hopes. So, she decided on the only option left to her – she got out of bed by swinging her legs over the edge.
“Right,” she muttered to herself, reaching for her robe. “Some fresh air won’t hurt.”
She walked through the corridor which was completely in darkness before she found her way to the main door. After she stepped outside, she leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply.
The air was crisp and Hermione was finally surrounded by peaceful silence. She let her gaze wander over the vast expanse, which was now only faintly visible.
Every Auror in training had to spend two weeks at a reserve for magical creatures. The locations were assigned at random, which was why Harry and Ron were currently wandering around somewhere in East Africa, learning more about Nundus.
Since Aurors could find themselves in any conceivable situation, it was better to have some experience in dealing with magical creatures. Not that Hermione would ever dispute that. She loved them and knew the respect with which these beings deserved to be treated.
She had long considered whether she should devote herself entirely to them and pursue a career in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, or something similar.
In the end, it had been Ron and Harry who had convinced her that becoming an Auror would give her more opportunities to do good. Now, six months later, she still wasn’t entirely convinced, even though she found the training both varied and challenging. However, it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t incredibly excited about her time at the reserve.
Working surrounded by nature was beautiful, and she had already had her first encounter with some dragons on the very first day. The creatures were breathtaking. Almost as much as the dragon tamer that ran the whole reserve. Even though she did a good job in denying that fact.
She shook her head, trying her best to get rid of the picture of a certain redhaired wizard, with moss green eyes and the most irresistible smile.
He’s Ron’s brother for Merlin’s sake. Get a grip.
She wrapped her robe tighter around herself and began walking. There was a beautiful backyard, and if she remembered correctly, a bench where she could sit and watch the stars.
The moment she turned around the corner, she saw a fire burning, embers shimmering in a bright orange glow. Sitting on that very bench was none other than Charlie Weasley.
She was seconds away from turning on the spot and accepting her fate of listening to Neville and Pansy’s moan-filled sessions for the rest of the night, when she accidentally stepped on a branch. The sound broke the silence and Charlie’s eyes immediately snapped to her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm with amusement, “what are you doing here?”
The fire bathed Charlie in a soft glow. His freckles stood in stark contrast to his skin and his green eyes were positively glowing. He had obviously changed after dinner, swapping his fireproof clothing for a loose white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up. Her eyes inevitably wandered over his muscular forearms and over his thick biceps. The top button of his shirt was undone, so she could see the edges of a tattoo that clearly stretched across his chest.
“Hermione?” His voice snapped her out of her staring. “Is everything alright?”
She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She cleared her throat, approaching him quickly.
“Hi,” she said, smoothing her hair nervously. “I… I’m just having trouble sleeping.”
His mouth twitched, like he might already suspect why.
“Are a raven-haired witch and a plant-obsessed wizard the reason for it?” he asked, raising a brow.
She hesitated, then gave him a nod.
Charlie chuckled. “Been there. Do you want to sit with me?”
Her heartbeat quickened. She knew that sitting next to Charlie as innocent as it sounded was probably not the best idea. Despite herself, she closed the distance between them and took a seat beside him, leaving as much space as possible. Either the bench was too small, or Charlie was too broad – their thighs brushed. Instinctively, she slid as far as she could, even though it didn’t make a huge difference.
All the while, Charlie watched her with his piercing, inscrutable gaze, causing her to shift nervously.
“I mean, I’m happy for them,” she began to fill the silence that had settled between them. “Truly. I just, I would prefer to be unconscious while they express that happiness.”
Charlie snickered, before lifting his glass of wine. “Want some?”
She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t.
But the fire was warm, the night was quiet, and for once she refused to be reasonable.
“All right,” she replied.
He poured her a glass from a bottle resting near his chair and handed it over. Their fingers touched for mere seconds, and yet she felt a tingling sensation coursing through her body. She sipped her wine, tucking one leg beneath her and for a moment, they simply listened to the fire crackling.
“You did well the last two days,” Charlie said after a while. “Most trainees take longer to stop looking like they expect a dragon to eat them at any moment.”
“I still expect that,” Hermione replied, smiling. “I’ve just accepted that dying at the hands of a dragon would be pretty badass.”
“That’s my girl,” he replied with a wink, and Hermione had to look away. She bit her lower lip to distract herself from the flutter in her stomach at the words coming out of Charlie fucking Weasley’s mouth.
She cleared her throat, desperate to fill the silence.
“I used to think this was madness, you know,” she admitted after a moment. “Working with dragons. Choosing this, a life so far away from all your loved ones.”
“And now?”
Hermione looked into the distance, almost certain something large shifted under the moonlight.
“Now I believe I understand the appeal. It’s so peaceful here and your work is so important. It has meaning.” She dared to glance at him and was met by his warm smile.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But you’re not wrong. It can get lonely.”
Hermione let the honesty of his confession settle between them.
It didn’t suit him, somehow. Or perhaps it did, in a way she hadn’t considered before. Charlie had always seemed so certain, so entirely in his element whenever she’d seen him at the Burrow – mud on his boots, laughing easily, as though nothing in the world could unsettle him. She would have never thought he might feel lonely.
But here, surrounded by the heat of the fire, with the night stretching endlessly around them, he looked…different. Softer. More vulnerable.
“I suppose,” she said, turning the stem of her glass between her fingers, “it’s the price you pay for doing something worthwhile.”
Charlie huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds exactly like something only Hermione Granger would say.”
“It’s true.” She nudged him playfully.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Anyway, I guess you’ve just wanted to marvel at the night sky in silence, escaping the house instead of exchanging life wisdoms with me, right?”
Hermione smiled faintly. “I don’t mind being called wise.”
Another comfortable silence followed, the fire cracked, sending a brief shower of sparks into the air.
“Can I ask you something?” Charlie said after a while.
She glanced at him. “You just did.”
His mouth twitched. “Fair. Another one, then.”
“Go on.”
For a moment, he hesitated, clearly considering his question.
“Why Auror training?” he asked. “Doesn’t quite strike me as…your first choice.”
Hermione stilled.
It was a question she’d been avoiding not just from others, but from herself.
“I wanted to make a difference,” she replied, defaulting to the answer she always gave. “To help rebuild things. Make sure what happened…never happens again.”
Charlie didn’t look convinced.
“And what’s the real one?” he asked gently, as if he knew that there had to be a different reason.
Hermione let out a quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the fire.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everyone else seemed so certain. Harry, Ron, Draco, it was never a real question for them.” She let out a small, self-conscious laugh. “And I thought, if I chose something important, something that would allow me to spend time with the people who mean the most to me, everything else would just…fall into place.”
“Everything else?”
She hesitated again, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made it difficult to retreat.
“Well, I am no stranger to the feeling of loneliness,” she finally said, the confession making her feel exposed. “I’ve been the bookworm know-it-all my whole life. A good friend, but, apparently, not capable of anything more.” A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes began to sting.
When her gaze turned to Charlie, she could see nothing but kindness.
“I tried,” she continued. “And it just…wasn’t what I expected. Not even close.” She shook her head slightly. “I kept thinking it was supposed to feel like something…more. But it didn’t. And now I’m starting to think that maybe it’s just not something I’m particularly…suited for.”
Her words hung in the air, leaving her more vulnerable than she had intended, before Charlie shifted, turning slightly toward her.
“Or,” he said, voice low and even, “you just haven’t been with the right person.”
Hermione let out a small breath of a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s true..”
“You’re extraordinary. Everything you do is driven by passion and the desire to excel,” he continued. “Why would that be any different when it comes to that?”
“I don’t know,” she said, swallowing hard. “But of all people, I certainly don’t need to explain to you that your brother is one of the best people I know.”
“And I'll say it again, maybe he just wasn't the right one for you in that department.” His voice carried such certainty in it that Hermione looked up, studying him while her heart was beating so loudly that she was afraid he might hear it.
Charlie had never been a stranger to her. He had been there, in the periphery of her life for years. At the Burrow during summers, sitting in the garden, chopping wood, laughing easily. He always had a little sunburn, his red-brown hair wild and almost as untamed as hers. He had this effortless confidence that never felt arrogant. Attractive, undeniably so, and always kind.
He’d always treated her as though she belonged there. As though she wasn’t just Ron’s clever friend tagging along, but someone worth speaking to. Someone worth noticing.
And if she was honest, there had been fleeting moments between them. His hand brushing hers just a second too long when passing her something. His eyes lingering on her in a curious way.
Of course, she had told herself she imagined it. That it was some teenage wishful thinking and nothing else.
Because why would Charlie Weasley ever be interested in her?
And the older she got, the more it seemed like Ron was the obvious choice. Everyone expected for them to be something, to simply fit. So, she had tucked every thought about Charlie Weasley away.
Until now.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then his eyes flicked briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
It was difficult for her to resist the urge to move closer to him.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Charlie murmured.
“As usual,” she replied, though her voice was hoarse now.
“Yeah,” he said, a faint smile appearing on his face. “I know.”
His eyes never wavered and suddenly, Hermione became highly aware of her skin being warmed by the fire, the faint smell of smoke mixed with his scent. Forest, leather, and something warmer beneath it. It made her feel at ease.
He didn’t move any closer, just waited, looking at her through hooded eyes. She exhaled deeply and then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in.
His lips were soft and pillowy, greeting hers with no rush. His hand gently cupped the back of her neck, and he let out a soft groan as his fingers ran through her curls. Tenderly, his tongue ran over her lower lip before it slipped into her open mouth.
The kiss deepened, as she let her hands wander, gripping his strong biceps with one while the other rested tentatively on his shoulder.
When they finally pulled apart, Hermione panted, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. A slight blush had spread across Charlie's face, though his expression was calm, his eyes searching hers.
“Well?” he asked.
Hermione let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
“That,” she said, still catching her breath, “was unexpected.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Good or bad?”
She held his gaze, caressing his cheek, his stubble grazing her fingers.
“Good,” she admitted, a flush spreading across her face.
And for the first time, the certainty she had clung to – that there was simply something wrong with her – began to feel a little less certain.
There was a comfortable silence settling between them, the fire crackling softly. Hermione tried in vain to make some sense of her thoughts. She felt too much at once, but the strongest was desire, mixed with nervous anticipation.
Charlie watched her, clearly sensing that her mind was working at full speed.
“You must be freezing,” he said after a moment, his gaze flicking to where she had unconsciously pulled her robe tighter around herself.
“I’m not,” she began, but stopped when, at that very moment, a shiver ran through her body. The night air had crept in, now that she was paying attention. “Perhaps a little.”
He nodded at her, offering her his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “My place is just there. It’s warmer.”
Hermione hesitated, because this wasn’t just about warming up. It was a far-reaching decision, but for once she didn’t try to overanalyse it. She placed her hand in his and his steady grip helped her to keep the nervousness at bay.
When he pushed the door open, Hermione expected to be greeted by something modest and practical. Instead a large, airy room stretched out before her. High wooden beams ran across the ceiling and moonlight streamed through the large windows.
To the left sat a small kitchen area, and next to it a living space unfolded. Low shelves filled with books and dragon charts ran along the walls, next to a large, weathered sofa draped with a thick wool blanket. There was a broad stone fireplace that clearly served as the heart of the room.
At the far end, beneath one of the windows, stood a kingsize bed. With layers of white fabric and soft-looking cushions, it looked comfortable and way too inviting.
“So, that’s my space,” Charlie said, waving his hand as he watched her take it all in.
“It’s…beautiful,” Hermione murmured. “It suits you.”
Charlie huffed a quiet laugh behind her. “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes,” she grinned.
Charlie moved to stir the embers in the fireplace, coaxing the flames back to life. The warm glow spread quickly through the room, chasing away the chill that had followed them inside.
Hermione lingered near the door for a moment, suddenly very aware of herself, of him, of what this moment might become.
“You don’t have to–” Charlie began, straightening slightly, his voice careful. “We can just sit. Talk. Or I can walk you back.”
Hermione recognised the restraint in his posture. The way he was making it clear that this – whatever this was – would only happen if she wanted it to.
“I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, locking eyes with him.
Charlie didn’t move immediately, studying her intently.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
Then he approached her in long strides so she was able to feel his warmth again.
“You said earlier,” he began, his voice lower now, “that things didn’t feel…right.”
Hermione swallowed, averting her gaze. “Yes.”
His fingers brushed lightly against her jaw, tilting her face just enough so she couldn’t hide.
“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you,” he said and his tone left no room for argument. “It just means no one’s taken the time to actually listen to you.”
Her breath hitched.
“Charlie–”
“I’m not in a rush,” he added. “And I’m not trying to prove anything.” A faint, reassuring smile appeared on his lips. “I just want to make you feel…good. That’s it.”
At his words something loosened in her chest.
“Okay,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Charlie’s hand slipped from her jaw to her hand, threading their fingers together.
“Okay,” he echoed.
They crossed the room, until they reached his bed. He sat down first and guided her onto his lap and kissed her again. The kiss was more passionate than the first. Charlie gently tugged at her lower lip before running his tongue over it. Then he pulled her closer, and Hermione couldn’t suppress a moan as hIS tongue brushed against hers.
As they finally gasped for air, he began to trace her jaw with his lips, moving lower, learning her by reaction alone. Every time her breath caught, every time her fingers tightened against his shirt, he lingered a fraction longer, pressing just a little more firmly.
Hermione whimpered when he found a spot just beneath her ear again, her body reacting instantly. Charlie stilled for a moment, before a quiet, almost satisfied laugh left him.
Her hands slid from his shoulders upward, threading into his hair, holding on as if she needed something to ground herself.
“Charlie–” his name left her tongue almost like a plea.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her skin.
Then he shifted them slightly, easing her back just enough so he could take her in. He held her gaze while he carefully opened her robe. When his eyes fell to her bare chest, she could see hunger in them.
“You’re a work of art, Hermione,” he muttered, before his hands came up cupping her breasts. Hermione tried to suppress the self-consciousness that spread across her. She hadn’t been naked in front of a man since… since Ron. And even though she was sure that he had found her beautiful, he never looked at her with the same desire Charlie did now. His gaze flicked up to her, and as if reading her mind, he leaned in, his lips brushing over hers.
“Never doubt how beautiful you are,” he said before working his way down from her lips, his tongue tracing a path along her neck and over her collarbone. His teeth nipped at her sensitive skin before he slid down to the valley between her breasts. His rough thumbs brushed against her nipples, causing goosebumps to spread across her body. Then Charlie took one into his mouth, his tongue playing and greedily sucking on it. Hermione arched her back to give him better access.
“Just like that, Hermione,” Charlie groaned as he turned his attention to her other nipple. One hand travelled down to her arse. He cupped it and pulled her body towards him again and again, grinding her against his erection.
“Charlie, this feels so good.”
She had to support herself by placing one hand on his shoulder, as every touch seemed to push her to the brink of the abyss.
“I need… I need more,” the pleading in her voice was unmistakable. Wetness was pooling between her legs, and her knickers were completely soaked through.
“Anything you want,” Charlie whispered before wrapping both arms around her waist and standing up to switch positions. Hermione was now lying flat on the bed. Charlie gazed at her with a smouldering look.
“My brother’s such a wanker,” he huffed. “But I’m grateful he is, to be honest.”
He gave her a mischievous grin before pulling off his shirt. In the moonlight, she could finally make out his tattoo. It was a dragon stretching across his broad chest. Its tail extended over Charlie’s abs and went further than she could make out at that moment.
“Like what you see?” Charlie murmured, the grin visible on his face.
“You are so beautiful and… fit.” She could feel her cheeks flushing, so she quickly dropped her gaze.
“Eyes on me, love,” Charlie commanded and she obeyed. Without breaking contact, Charlie unbuttoned his trousers. He let them slide down, and Hermione couldn’t help but let her gaze drift with them. Charlie’s cock was massive, thick and fully aroused. She swallowed twice. The shock must have been written all over her face, because Charlie leaned down towards her, his lips just a breath away from hers.
“I think we brothers differ in a few ways, judging by the look on your face.”
She could hear the amusement in his voice and rolled her eyes playfully. Before she could come up with a quick-witted retort, Charlie had already captured her lips with his, and his tongue eagerly made its way into her mouth.
As they broke apart, both breathing heavily, his hands found her breasts again. He squeezed them tightly and slid down her body, where he alternated between licking and sucking her nipples.
Hermione could barely bear the tension. She squirmed beneath him, desperately seeking some friction, some relief between her legs.
“Impatient, are we?” She could hear the smile in his voice as he worked his way down her stomach, grazing at her skin with his teeth.
“Are you wet for me, Hermione?” he murmured. He slid his hand under the lace hem of her panties.
She nodded, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. Every time Charlie’s cock brushed against her clothed centre she couldn't help but moan.
At last, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down. He spread her legs and let his thumb circle her clit again and again, whilst he slid two fingers inside her. His movements were smooth, and her body sang.
“Yes, just like that, Hermione. Take what you need. I have to–” He pulled his fingers out of her and brought them to his mouth, licking them with relish. “You taste incredible, have you ever tasted yourself?” he asked and all she could do was shake her head.
This was all new to her. The sensation, the want, but also the feeling of being wanted, of being worshipped. Charlie pulled her head towards him and kissed her greedily. Hermione moaned as she tasted her own arousal on his tongue, while Charlie’s hand had sunken back between her legs.
“I need to add a third finger, to prepare you. Is that okay? You’re so good to me, Hermione. Can you take a third finger?”
“Yes,” she breathed, nodding frantically as she spread her legs wider. Charlie’s fingers moved in perfect rhythm whilst his thumb continued to work her clit.
“Charlie, I’m going to–” The rest of her words were drowned out by her own screams as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy tightened around his fingers, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears.
“Look at you. You’re such a good girl.”
Hermione’s breath came in uneven waves, her body slightly trembling beneath him, the aftershocks of her orgasm still lingering in every nerve. Charlie’s hand remained where it was, slower now, grounding her.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
It took her a second before she did.
“You’re still with me?” he asked softly.
Hermione swallowed, before she smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Good.” He leaned down, capturing her mouth. Hermione’s body arched into him immediately, as she pulled him closer.
“We’re not done,” he murmured against her lips. “Not even close.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through her. Her lips crashed into his in a bruising kiss. Her legs wrapped around him to pull him nearer. Charlie moaned, using his fingers that were still between her legs to gather her arousal, coating his cock with it.
He positioned himself at her entrance watching her every reaction, giving her space to adjust. When his large head slid into her, Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just his size. It was being so close to him.
“Easy,” he murmured, one hand steady at her hip, the other brushing her cheek. “I’ve got you.”
He pushed into her slowly. “You can take it, I know you can. You’re mine. You’re made for me,” he praised her, peppering her face with kisses.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Charlie’s words, combined with the pressure spreading through her lower abdomen, were simply too much. When he was fully inside her, he paused for a moment.
“You feel so good, so fucking good.” He looked at her in complete awe as he began to circle his hips, his pelvis rubbing against her while his cock filled her completely.
“I need more,” she begged, her hands clawing at his back. Without hesitation, Charlie began to pull out of her only to slide back into her with full force. Every shift of his body was deliberate, every movement drawing a response from her that he immediately answered with deepening his thrusts or adjusting their angle.
“Charlie–” she screamed, her voice hoarse.
“Let go, Hermione,” he said, his voice rough, but steady.
Again and again he pushed into her, right up to the hilt, and his pace increased with every gasp.
“You’re incredible. Taking me so well,” he panted as he massaged her breast with his hands once more and took her nipple into his mouth.
He shifted his position slightly so that his cock now hit the exact spot that left Hermione breathless every time.
“I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking. Being with him was overwhelming in a way she hadn’t known was possible.
“I have to come inside you. Please say it is okay,” he begged as he thrust deep inside her once more.
“Yes, I need it, Charlie,” Hermione whimpered as her own climax began to build, more intensely than before.
With one final thrust he sent her over the edge and this time, it completely consumed her.
As her walls tightened around him, Charlie let out a low groan. His forehead pressed briefly against hers as he kept up the rhythm, holding on to her. Once again, he buried himself deep inside her. She felt his cock pulse as his cum filled her to the brim.
They remained tightly entwined, their chests rising and falling rapidly. Hermione lay nestled close to his side, one of his blankets loosely draped over them both. She lazily traced the outline of his dragon tattoo on his chest.
“So,” Charlie murmured after a while, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with a tendril of her hair, “do you still think you’re not suited for this?”
Hermione smiled against his skin.
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lower lip.
Charlie playfully nudged her in the side. “Is that so?”
She giggled before lifting her head to look at him. His green eyes were sparkling with joy.
“But…” she added, drawing the word out slightly.
He raised an eyebrow. “But?”
Hermione hesitated for just a second – then she shrugged, a small, almost shy smile playing around her lips.
“Perhaps I’m starting to see the appeal.”
“Careful,” he said casually. “I’m almost tempted to prove it to you again.”
“Mm,” she hummed, moving closer. “That wouldn’t be good, would it?”
“Terrible really,” he agreed.
She smiled at him and Charlie placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
“You were right,” she admitted, her voice now softer. “It’s different with the right person.”
Charlie’s arm tightened around her.
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “It’s incredible with the right person.”
Hermione exhaled deeply and let the warmth of Charlie’s body wash over her.
For once, she didn’t feel the need to analyse everything.
It was enough for her to simply lie in his arms. After all, she still had two weeks before she had to decide where all this would lead.