Fic: Freckles *NC17* Charlie/Hermione
Title: Freckles
Author: Inell
Disclaimer: Rowling owns them all
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: NC17
Summary: After a mishap at work, Charlie finds himself staying at the Burrow and falling for someone he never expected
Genre: Romance, humor, SWS
Word Count: 5080
Note: To celebrate the opening of books_freckles and Valentine's Day, I wrote this fic based on one of my Drabble Requests. It's the first time I've ever really written Charlie so I'm a bit nervous as well as rather smitten with him! *sheepish smile* Hope y'all enjoy!
For Cunning_Croft who wanted Charlie/Hermione, scars. Darling, it’s WAY more than a drabble! *sheepish smile*
If he didn’t get out of this blasted bed soon, he was going to die.
Okay, perhaps die was being melodramatic. Cringing at that thought, Charlie groaned into his pillow. Not even two full weeks of being bedridden and his entire personality was all ready changing. Percy was the dramatic one, not Charlie. Charlie was the active one, always moving and getting things done. That was why he was so exasperated to find himself stuck in bed for this long without being able to get up and move around.
True the expected recovery time had been five to seven days. It wasn’t his fault that he refused to listen to the Mediwizard and had insisted that he was well enough to walk. They had to have done something that resulted in his falling and reopening the wound. The first time had been after two days. Two bloody days trapped in a small room at his family home with only a small window that he couldn’t even properly see out from where he was lying in the bed. He’d gotten up and stubbornly walked to the window so he could see the sky and trees, feeling a need to escape the confines of his prison.
He’d only managed to make it halfway there before the pain had become unbearable and he’d fallen, ripping open the scars that had only just started to heal. In the seven times since, he’d gotten a little closer to the window each time but had managed to more than double his expected recovery time. He’d been good since the last fall, though. It had been three full days since he’d tried to leave the bed. Well, more like a little over two but it was far better than he’d been doing.
Running his fingers along the crisscrossed scars covering his right leg, he sighed. It had been such a stupid accident. A baby Ridgeback had managed to escape its habitat, somehow ending up with the Horntails. Charlie had tracked and located him, never anticipating that the damn thing would protest being caught quite so much. He’d learned first hand how dangerous the talons of a baby Ridgeback were as well as experiencing the feel of the venomous bite and near death.
They said he was lucky that he was so bloody stubborn and had refused to die, but his leg and stomach had been scarred heavily before he was discovered and the poison had done something to the nerves and muscles in his leg, preventing him from being able to walk or stand until the venom was released from his system and he had time to heal. Most of the scars on his stomach were easily healed but the ones on his leg couldn’t be touched until he was properly healed and able to walk again. A week to heal was what they said, sending him off to his mum to recuperate and threatening to fire him if he tried to come back to work too soon.
He’d be lucky to be back at work by the end of the month, which was two weeks away. Even now, his fingers were flexing and his eyes were constantly darting to the door and the window, the entire idea of lying around driving him mad and the urge to just get up becoming far more tempting. Only the knowledge that he would possibly lengthen his recovery kept him in bed. Well, that and the fact that his mum might kill him if he kept being such an annoying brat.
His brothers had taken to calling him Grumpy whenever they visited, which, thankfully, wasn’t that often. Ginny had refused to be in the same room with him since he’d snapped at her and questioned her taste in blokes when he found out she was dating Longbottom of all people. His mum was still overbearing and attentive but he could see the nerves in her cheek twitching and the way her eyes narrowed every time she came into his room to bring him food or check on him so he knew she was losing her patience with him. Only one resident at the Burrow seemed unaffected by his irritable mood and rather nasty temper the past couple of weeks.
Hermione Granger. His baby brother’s best friend. Or, at least, that’s what Charlie had always seen her as in the years since they’d first met. She was bossier than his mum, ignoring all of his attempts to bait her into reacting, and was the only one who managed to get him to take his medication without too much grumbling. He’d refused her once and earned a hex that made the pain in his leg feel rather nice in comparison, her lips curved into an amused smile when he’d cursed her and vowed revenge. The little bint had found his pain funny. Meddlesome, aggravating, swotty, smug, beautiful, arousing wench.
It had only taken two days for him to realize she was no longer the know-it-all pest that had always been so talkative and confident at Order meetings. Oh, she was still a know-it-all pest, definitely, but now she was causing feelings to stir that had nothing to do with casting a silencio to shut her up and all to do with using his mouth to silence her. Or, when he was feeling particularly aroused, other parts of his anatomy that would fit oh so perfectly between those delectable full lips of hers.
He’d felt rather lecherous when he’d had his first very impure thought about her. One involving her naked save for a Gryffindor tie and knee socks begging him for more. She was twenty-one, making her only seven years younger, but he’d always thought of her as a kid so it had been rather shocking to realize she was now a very attractive, in his opinion, young woman. Her hair reminded him of the bark of the trees outside his window at the Reserve. A deep brown with bits that looked like a dark red when the sun it right but also bits that were lighter brown. Her eyes reminded him of his favorite dragon, Meeta. A golden brown that positively glowed when she was annoyed. He expected her to start spitting fire some times when she got that certain look in her eyes.
He’d seen it when he’d first refused to take his medication, a hex following the molten gold. He’d seen it again when she’d found him on the floor with his leg bleeding the second time. She’d been rough, practically bruising his delicate skin as she’d wiped away the blood the Muggle way before casting a charm for the pain. He might be the shortest Weasley boy but he still towered over her by at least a head and he was stocky and broad-shouldered, all muscle thank you very much. He patted his flat stomach, letting his fingers play on the muscles he’d developed over the years while working at the Reserve. She’d still managed to get him up and into bed without once using her wand.
She was a tough one, stubborn as him, and he could see why her relationship with Ron had lasted all of two months before ending amicably. She was too feisty for his baby brother even if she tried to hide it behind knowledge and a rather boring life. Playing games was more the twins style so he’d told her two days after the falling incident that he thought he might fancy her. Blunt and to the point, that was his style. It didn’t matter to him that he’d only really noticed her six days before his admission, he’d wanted her so he’d told her. There had been flirting, of course, because he was quite good at charming the ladies when he wanted, and he’d even deliberately left his shirt unbuttoned so she could see the physique that had earned him many an appreciative stare from woman and envious glares from thin and gangly wizards.
The chit had the nerve to laugh at his sincere advances, asking if he’d bumped his head when he fell, before ruffling his hair and telling him to quit teasing. Ruffling his hair! Teasing! The only teasing he wanted to do with her involved naked, sweaty flesh and moaning for More, Charlie. Please touch me. Make me yours. He had to admit he’d been rather aggravated at her dismissal of his intentions. Not an hour after she left his room, he’d made his third attempt to leave. It had nothing to do with his anger over her refusal to even consider him as a prospective date nor did he enjoy the way she scolded him for being an ‘obstinate prat‘. He certainly didn’t enjoy the way she scowled and muttered as his body was pressed close against hers as she struggled to help him get back into bed.
Well the last part was a bit of a lie. He had thoroughly enjoyed her warm hands on his body and the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. He’d also loved the feel of her soft hair against his bare chest and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that always surrounded her. The four falls since had always happened after he’d been stuck in bed for a few days and felt the longing to get up and move again. It wasn’t his fault that his need to get up and escape the small room was also around the time she got busy with her work or went out with friends and began to ignore him. Nope, not at all.
Running a hand through his short red hair, he made a face. He was becoming as pathetic as Bill. When his older brother started dating Fleur, Charlie had wasted no time teasing him about being a romantic ponce, willing to look a fool just to get the attention of a girl. Now here he was sabotaging his own recovery, there, he admitted it, just for the brief caresses and concerned looks she would give him when he was lying in bed and thought he was asleep.
Sitting in the dark feeling sorry for himself was not helping his situation. He was restless and wanted to get back to work desperately. He also wanted her to look at him as if he was a somewhat attractive man she might fancy shagging. He wasn’t as handsome as Bill nor was he as amusingly attractive as the twins. He didn’t have Percy’s nerdish appeal, as he’d heard some witches giggling about when referring to his obnoxious baby brother who much preferred the slender build of a certain Scottish Quidditch player than any of the sighing girls, and he wasn’t boyishly cute like Ron. But he certainly wasn’t ugly.
In fact, he’d had plenty of offers for casual affairs in his twenty-eight years, thank you very much. Hell, Wood had even propositioned him once following a spat with Percy, not that he’d accepted. Charlie was pretty damn open minded about shagging, there not being too many things he wouldn’t try once, but buggering his brother’s boyfriend was not something he found appealing at all. He had finally decided, after she had resisted his flirting for the tenth night in a row, that she must not like freckles.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed a glow from the loo separating his room from Bill’s. Well, it had been Bill’s. It was now hers. She’d moved into the Burrow the summer after her last year at Hogwarts, having nowhere else to go after her parents’ murder by Voldemort during her last year at school. His mum had adopted her, surprising him a bit because he could still remember the animosity that his mum had felt towards her just a few years before. They were friendly now, another stray adopted by their family. He could see why his mum was fond of her. Hermione was bossy, caring, generous, and had one of the biggest hearts of anyone he’d ever met.
She was also meddling, curious, and wouldn’t take gruff from anyone, even having the Twins under her thumb when she gave them that look. He’d never seen his brothers behave so quickly before, knowing there had to be some history behind that shared ‘I’ll hex you to oblivion if you even think about pranking me’ look the three shared but all he could find out from Ron and Ginny was that Hermione had out smarted Fred and George some time during the War and they’d never dared disobey her again. If he’d not fancied her before, he would have been smitten instantly upon hearing she’d bested his brothers.
Looking towards the open door of the loo, he considered calling out and reminding her he was there. He also thought about picking up his wand and closing the door himself, at least able to use magic even if he was rather helpless in other areas. Instead, his mouth opened slightly and his blue eyed widened when he realized that he had a perfect view of the mirror from his position in bed. The room was lit with candles, bright and clean, and he could see Hermione’s back as she did something with the shower curtain.
Mouth suddenly dry, he watched as her robe was shrugged off, leaving her shoulders and back bare. Oh bloody hell. She was taking a shower. He looked away, his cheeks flaming as he realized he was invading her privacy by ogling her in such a way. Listening carefully, he heard the sound of water running and what sounded like humming. He tried to resist temptation. He told himself he would be no better than a Malfoy if he spied on her while she was taking a shower. He counted to ten in three different languages. Well, two and a half because he couldn’t remember past the number five in Italian. He tried to recall the names of every dragon he’d ever looked after. He didn’t reach his first week at work before he cursed and gave in, opening his eyes and turning his head to look.
Oh sweet mother of Merlin. She hadn’t pulled back the curtain. Justifying his depraved behavior by reminding himself that she knew he wasn’t able to leave his bed and that it wasn’t his fault she didn’t shut the door before taking her shower, he gave up any pretense of being a mature man of twenty-eight and reverted back to a slobbering, hormone driven boy of fifteen. She was even more amazing than he’d imagined, and he had a pretty vivid imagination.
From his position, he could see all the way to curves of her arse. Her breasts were round and full, not overly large but he imagined they’d fit his hand perfectly. Reluctantly moving his gaze from the rosy nipples that were most likely hard from the cool air and water, he took in the lines of her body. From her breasts to her stomach to the swell of her hips to firm arse to the chestnut curls he caught a glimpse of when she turned to let the water fall down her back.
Look away. Just look away, mate, the voice of reason kept whispering inside his mind. Unfortunately, the voice of aroused-desperate-I’ve wanted her for weeks Charlie was a bit louder with his, Holy fuck. Look at those gorgeous breasts. Imagine licking her nipples, sucking on them until she’s whimpering, spreading her legs and begging you to make her yours. He never claimed to be a saint. Sliding the covers down past his hips, his tongue ran along his lips as he watched her take her shower.
She was still singing softly, her hands moving some strange spongey thing over her body, leaving behind a trail of soap that the water quickly sprayed away. His attention kept getting drawn back to her breasts. He was a man, after all, and had no shame in admitting that he had a fondness for breasts. Hers were magnificent and his palms itched just imagining playing with them. When she moved the blue sponge over them, he bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud as her fingers brushed against her nipples. His cock was pressing against his shorts but he kept resisting the urge to touch himself. Surely it would be a sign that he was immoral and degenerate if he actually wanked while spying on her.
True, he had all ready hit the near bottom of moral virtue by perving on her without her knowledge so, really, what was one step closer to bottom? He wouldn’t have this chance ever again and he was a man that took advantage of opportunities. He had always gone after what he wanted, inheriting his uncles’ determination and focus, according to his mum, and that intense drive had made him a damn good seeker as well as one of the best tamers at the Reserve not to mention an honored member of the Order. He’d not let her dismissal of his attentions prevent him from continuing to pursue her by flirting and trying to charm her knickers off. True, it hadn’t worked so well but perhaps this was his reward for persevering.
Or perhaps he had hit his head too many times when he’d fallen during the past few weeks.
Regardless, this was a situation beyond his control. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t shut the door. Still feeling rather torn between doing the right thing and doing the thing that would feel so bloody good at the moment, he almost missed the low moan. Eyes snapping to focus, he gulped when he saw that she was no longer washing shampoo from her hair. Oh no. In the time he was playing good-Charlie versus perverted-Charlie, she had finished washing her hair and was now leaning against the wall of the shower. That, in itself, wasn’t cause for his mouth to hang open, his cock to practically rip his shorts in a desire to be free, and his breath to catch. However, considering the fact that she was currently squeezing her breasts and her body was flushed with arousal, well, you could forgive him for being a bit dumbstruck.
He could see the flush on her body, pale skin a lovely shade of pink as her hands caressed the breasts he was aching to fondle. It wasn’t really fair that she had two such wonderful toys to play with any time she wanted and wouldn’t share with him. Rather selfish of her, in fact. His large hand raised from the sheet, his rough fingertips pinching his nipples as he watched her, imitating her actions as best he could. He raised his hips, cringing slightly at the pain in his leg but gritting his teeth and shoving his shorts past his arse, finally freeing his erection.
When her hand drifted down her stomach, his followed. He traced the outline of the dragon tattoo on his lower abdomen that he’d gotten after getting pissed with Bill following his last year at Hogwarts, his ‘responsible’ older brother daring him to get the Muggle artwork after he’d mentioned his intentions to train and tame dragons. Following the curve of the dragon’s tail, his fingers then trailed the scattering of red hair on his stomach to the thick curls surrounding his cock. Her hand was following a similar path, her mouth open, her head resting against the wall, her eyes narrowed. He just knew they were molten gold, the thought causing his cock to twitch and more liquid to drip from his foreskin.
His left hand gripped the sheet beneath him as his right hovered above his erection. If she kept teasing herself much longer, he was going to scream. Finally her hand moved between her legs, his hand immediately grabbing his cock. Hissing with pleasure, he began to stroke his prick, long fingers wrapped around the length, moving up and down in time with the movement of her fingers. In her current position, he could see her cunt perfectly. She was breathing hard, thrusting what appeared to be two fingers into her, the other hand squeezing her breast as she gave herself pleasure.
His thumb rubbed against the head of his cock, spreading his pre-cum, the rough texture of his palm contrasting against the smooth flesh he was stroking in a way that made his grip on the sheet tighten. Sweat was dripping down his face and chest as he wanked, his left leg moving to the side a bit, his body getting more comfortable as he watched her. Her hair was hanging around her pretty face in wet curls, covering one of her breasts when she leaned forward. He imagined feeling it wrapped around his cock, the soft strands enveloping him as she’d lick and suck until he was coming so hard he could barely see.
He imagined she’d swallow it all, licking any stray drops from him. She lapped at her ice cream and always drank every drop of milk from her cereal so he just knew she was one that would lick and suck him dry. She was very sensual, something he had noticed when he’d had nothing more to do than lie around and observe. Most of her clothes were soft and sensuous materials. She touched things, always moving her fingers along the pages of her book and the top of the table. When she ate, she savored every bite, enjoying her meal without rushing. Watching her touch herself, his opinions were somewhat confirmed. Stroking, caressing, squeezing, she didn’t rush her pleasure, instead heightening it by going slowly, teasing herself.
Of course he also thought she’d like it a bit rough. Shoved against the wall, clothes hanging from her body, not completely undressed, soaking wet and aching for him. Fucking desperately, scratching and biting and needing each other. She was feisty and had a right sharp temper when she lost it, lots of passion and enthusiasm. He could practically feel her tight cunt around his cock as he imagined fucking her against the shower wall, her legs around his waist, her fingernails digging into his back, her pale skin against his freckled flesh.
His hand began to increase the speed of his strokes, pulling hard as he tugged at his erection, fondling his balls before repeating the upward tug. His hips were beginning to move, his body thrusting against his calloused palm as his breathing became more shallow, the sheet nearly ripping as his eyes moved from her face to her breasts to her cunt back to her face repeatedly.
He came before her. Biting his lip to keep from screaming as his orgasm hit so hard his entire body seemed to tense before exploding, he could taste blood in his mouth as he whimpered. His seed sprayed all over his hand and stomach, his eyes rolling back as he heard the sheet tear as his hand pulled up. He was still gasping for breath when his eyes finally focused back on her, watching her face as she came with a low moan. Her body trembled, leaning against the wall of the shower as she found her release.
Charlie wiped the sweat from his forehead with his clean hand, using the scrap of torn sheet to mop up his body’s natural reaction to the intense wanking he’d just done before moving to down to wipe his come off his stomach. The shower turned off, and he looked up to see Hermione drying off before wrapping the towel around her breasts. His sated smile disappeared when she suddenly turned towards his door instead of going back into her room. Hastily pulling the sheet over his groin, he feigned sleep.
“Charlie.”
He snored once before stretching and smacking his lips as if he’d just woken up. “Hermione? What time is it?”
“Really, Charles. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“’course not,” he frowned, a bit annoyed that she had woken him up, as far as she knew, and was now getting snotty with him.
“Funny thing about mirrors,” she drawled in a husky tone that caused his spent and tired cock to stir. “They work both ways.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he denied, his face turning as red as his hair as he realized what she was implying. There was no way she’d been able to see him from her position. It wasn’t possible.
“I noticed it the other day, actually. What a perfect view you had of the shower when the door to the loo was open,” she continued as if he’d never spoken, which was right damn annoying at the same time he was fighting the urge to snog her senseless and then shag her rotten. Giving him what could only be described as a wicked smile, she said, “Just think. If you’d let your leg heal properly instead of persistently hindering your recovery, you could have joined me instead of lying there tossing off.”
“Hermione!” He gaped at her, not only for actually saying ’tossing off’, something he’d only ever imagined her saying in his dirtier thoughts that he usually had around four in the morning when he couldn’t sleep because of his leg hurting and, even then, it was usually her talking far more dirty than that because, well, to be honest, he got off on the idea of the prissy swot talking dirty to him during sex, but because he finally began to understand what she’d been saying once he stopped trying to deny her accusations.
“Good God, Charles. I would think you were smart enough to understand a blatant invitation but perhaps I overestimated your mental ability.”
“You-I-what?” Okay, not suave and charming, more stammering fool but she was smiling and her eyes were moving over his bare chest in a very appreciative way so maybe she didn’t mind bumbling git Charlie too much.
“Since you seem to be rather slow this evening, I’ll be blunt and concise,” she said before taking a deep rbeat, the action causing her breasts to rise and fall and the scrap of a towel to move. His attention was distracted momentarily. Breasts. “Ahem.”
Looking up, he saw her trying to hide a smile, her cheeks the lovely shade of pink that they always turned whenever he was flirting with her. “Uh, sorry.”
“No you aren’t.” She did laugh then, a soft melodic sound that caused him to smile sheepishly. Turning serious, she arched a brow and primly said, “Next time, I hope you can join me.”
“You know, there is enough room for two right here,” he pointed out suggestively, a slight arrogant smile on his lips as he patted the bed beside him.
“You’re still my patient, Mister Weasley,” she informed him brusquely, though her eyes lingered on the bed before moving over his chest again. Hot damn! She’s ogling me. Clearing her throat, she got the stubborn look on her face and he sighed, knowing she would refuse his invitation. “Once you are better, I see no problem with us ‘exploring the possibilities‘, as you quaintly phrased it the other day.”
“You fancy me, don’t you?” He suddenly grinned as he leaned back against his pillow, letting the sheet slide down low enough to reveal his tattoo and the trail of red hair that led to his groin. “I’ve always said that persistence wins in the end.”
“I was unaware that we were competing,” she remarked, her eyes not leaving his face even as he could see how tempting it was for her to look lower. “Besides, with your reckless behavior regarding your injuries, by the time you recover I may be uninterested in pursuing a dalliance with you.”
“Pursuing a dalliance?” He repeated with a snort. “Just admit that you fancy me, Hermione. I promise I won’t bite, unless you ask real nicely. Go on. Tell me that my handsome looks, manly physique, and charming personality managed to seduce you.”
“Actually it was your modesty and wit that won me over,” she said dryly.
“Were you thinking of me in the shower?” His voice lowered as he focused his full attention on her, bored with playing the silly word game. He was more a man of action. If his leg was healed, he’d have all ready had her in his bed trembling with desire.
“Charlie,” her voice was soft and warning, her confident smugness fading as he turned up the seduction.
“I was thinking about you,” he confessed. “Your mouth on my cock, your tongue licking my stomach and nipples, your tight cunt around my prick. Watching you touch yourself, imagining being with you, it made me come so hard I nearly blacked out.”
“I should go,” she whispered, her hands nervously playing with the edge of her towel.
“Yes, you should,” he agreed with a soft growl. “Because, if you don’t, I’m going to get up, catch you, and never let you go.”
“What if,” she hesitated, her eyes looking at the floor before her shoulders squared and she looked at him again. “What if I don’t want you to let go?”
“Four more days,” he vowed, his hand moving over his leg, his eyes not leaving hers. “In four days, once this is healed, you’re going to be mine, Hermione Jane Granger.”
“I’ll mark it on my calendar,” she said with a teasing smile, her tone breathless.
“Get some rest between now and then, pet. I plan to wear you out,” he promised with a wicked smile of his own. “And if you get lonely between now and then, there’s always room here.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, still able to blush after everything they’d seen and discussed in the past hour. She was just adorable. Sexy, wanton, bold, playful, but also charmingly shy and a bit insecure. He’d have to do his best to help her with those insecurities, he decided. Make sure she knew she was gorgeous and amazing.
“That I am,” he grinned. “Oh, and Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“Next time, the door?”
She smiled, her hand running through her drying hair before she nodded, “I’ll leave it open.”
“Sweet dreams, love,” he purred, blowing her a kiss as she went back into the loo.
“Night, Charlie,” she said before pursing her lips flirtatiously and blowing him a kiss in return.
Watching her leave, Charlie leaned back, a crooked smile on his lips. Guess she likes freckles after all.
The End
Author: Inell
Disclaimer: Rowling owns them all
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: NC17
Summary: After a mishap at work, Charlie finds himself staying at the Burrow and falling for someone he never expected
Genre: Romance, humor, SWS
Word Count: 5080
Note: To celebrate the opening of books_freckles and Valentine's Day, I wrote this fic based on one of my Drabble Requests. It's the first time I've ever really written Charlie so I'm a bit nervous as well as rather smitten with him! *sheepish smile* Hope y'all enjoy!
For Cunning_Croft who wanted Charlie/Hermione, scars. Darling, it’s WAY more than a drabble! *sheepish smile*
If he didn’t get out of this blasted bed soon, he was going to die.
Okay, perhaps die was being melodramatic. Cringing at that thought, Charlie groaned into his pillow. Not even two full weeks of being bedridden and his entire personality was all ready changing. Percy was the dramatic one, not Charlie. Charlie was the active one, always moving and getting things done. That was why he was so exasperated to find himself stuck in bed for this long without being able to get up and move around.
True the expected recovery time had been five to seven days. It wasn’t his fault that he refused to listen to the Mediwizard and had insisted that he was well enough to walk. They had to have done something that resulted in his falling and reopening the wound. The first time had been after two days. Two bloody days trapped in a small room at his family home with only a small window that he couldn’t even properly see out from where he was lying in the bed. He’d gotten up and stubbornly walked to the window so he could see the sky and trees, feeling a need to escape the confines of his prison.
He’d only managed to make it halfway there before the pain had become unbearable and he’d fallen, ripping open the scars that had only just started to heal. In the seven times since, he’d gotten a little closer to the window each time but had managed to more than double his expected recovery time. He’d been good since the last fall, though. It had been three full days since he’d tried to leave the bed. Well, more like a little over two but it was far better than he’d been doing.
Running his fingers along the crisscrossed scars covering his right leg, he sighed. It had been such a stupid accident. A baby Ridgeback had managed to escape its habitat, somehow ending up with the Horntails. Charlie had tracked and located him, never anticipating that the damn thing would protest being caught quite so much. He’d learned first hand how dangerous the talons of a baby Ridgeback were as well as experiencing the feel of the venomous bite and near death.
They said he was lucky that he was so bloody stubborn and had refused to die, but his leg and stomach had been scarred heavily before he was discovered and the poison had done something to the nerves and muscles in his leg, preventing him from being able to walk or stand until the venom was released from his system and he had time to heal. Most of the scars on his stomach were easily healed but the ones on his leg couldn’t be touched until he was properly healed and able to walk again. A week to heal was what they said, sending him off to his mum to recuperate and threatening to fire him if he tried to come back to work too soon.
He’d be lucky to be back at work by the end of the month, which was two weeks away. Even now, his fingers were flexing and his eyes were constantly darting to the door and the window, the entire idea of lying around driving him mad and the urge to just get up becoming far more tempting. Only the knowledge that he would possibly lengthen his recovery kept him in bed. Well, that and the fact that his mum might kill him if he kept being such an annoying brat.
His brothers had taken to calling him Grumpy whenever they visited, which, thankfully, wasn’t that often. Ginny had refused to be in the same room with him since he’d snapped at her and questioned her taste in blokes when he found out she was dating Longbottom of all people. His mum was still overbearing and attentive but he could see the nerves in her cheek twitching and the way her eyes narrowed every time she came into his room to bring him food or check on him so he knew she was losing her patience with him. Only one resident at the Burrow seemed unaffected by his irritable mood and rather nasty temper the past couple of weeks.
Hermione Granger. His baby brother’s best friend. Or, at least, that’s what Charlie had always seen her as in the years since they’d first met. She was bossier than his mum, ignoring all of his attempts to bait her into reacting, and was the only one who managed to get him to take his medication without too much grumbling. He’d refused her once and earned a hex that made the pain in his leg feel rather nice in comparison, her lips curved into an amused smile when he’d cursed her and vowed revenge. The little bint had found his pain funny. Meddlesome, aggravating, swotty, smug, beautiful, arousing wench.
It had only taken two days for him to realize she was no longer the know-it-all pest that had always been so talkative and confident at Order meetings. Oh, she was still a know-it-all pest, definitely, but now she was causing feelings to stir that had nothing to do with casting a silencio to shut her up and all to do with using his mouth to silence her. Or, when he was feeling particularly aroused, other parts of his anatomy that would fit oh so perfectly between those delectable full lips of hers.
He’d felt rather lecherous when he’d had his first very impure thought about her. One involving her naked save for a Gryffindor tie and knee socks begging him for more. She was twenty-one, making her only seven years younger, but he’d always thought of her as a kid so it had been rather shocking to realize she was now a very attractive, in his opinion, young woman. Her hair reminded him of the bark of the trees outside his window at the Reserve. A deep brown with bits that looked like a dark red when the sun it right but also bits that were lighter brown. Her eyes reminded him of his favorite dragon, Meeta. A golden brown that positively glowed when she was annoyed. He expected her to start spitting fire some times when she got that certain look in her eyes.
He’d seen it when he’d first refused to take his medication, a hex following the molten gold. He’d seen it again when she’d found him on the floor with his leg bleeding the second time. She’d been rough, practically bruising his delicate skin as she’d wiped away the blood the Muggle way before casting a charm for the pain. He might be the shortest Weasley boy but he still towered over her by at least a head and he was stocky and broad-shouldered, all muscle thank you very much. He patted his flat stomach, letting his fingers play on the muscles he’d developed over the years while working at the Reserve. She’d still managed to get him up and into bed without once using her wand.
She was a tough one, stubborn as him, and he could see why her relationship with Ron had lasted all of two months before ending amicably. She was too feisty for his baby brother even if she tried to hide it behind knowledge and a rather boring life. Playing games was more the twins style so he’d told her two days after the falling incident that he thought he might fancy her. Blunt and to the point, that was his style. It didn’t matter to him that he’d only really noticed her six days before his admission, he’d wanted her so he’d told her. There had been flirting, of course, because he was quite good at charming the ladies when he wanted, and he’d even deliberately left his shirt unbuttoned so she could see the physique that had earned him many an appreciative stare from woman and envious glares from thin and gangly wizards.
The chit had the nerve to laugh at his sincere advances, asking if he’d bumped his head when he fell, before ruffling his hair and telling him to quit teasing. Ruffling his hair! Teasing! The only teasing he wanted to do with her involved naked, sweaty flesh and moaning for More, Charlie. Please touch me. Make me yours. He had to admit he’d been rather aggravated at her dismissal of his intentions. Not an hour after she left his room, he’d made his third attempt to leave. It had nothing to do with his anger over her refusal to even consider him as a prospective date nor did he enjoy the way she scolded him for being an ‘obstinate prat‘. He certainly didn’t enjoy the way she scowled and muttered as his body was pressed close against hers as she struggled to help him get back into bed.
Well the last part was a bit of a lie. He had thoroughly enjoyed her warm hands on his body and the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. He’d also loved the feel of her soft hair against his bare chest and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that always surrounded her. The four falls since had always happened after he’d been stuck in bed for a few days and felt the longing to get up and move again. It wasn’t his fault that his need to get up and escape the small room was also around the time she got busy with her work or went out with friends and began to ignore him. Nope, not at all.
Running a hand through his short red hair, he made a face. He was becoming as pathetic as Bill. When his older brother started dating Fleur, Charlie had wasted no time teasing him about being a romantic ponce, willing to look a fool just to get the attention of a girl. Now here he was sabotaging his own recovery, there, he admitted it, just for the brief caresses and concerned looks she would give him when he was lying in bed and thought he was asleep.
Sitting in the dark feeling sorry for himself was not helping his situation. He was restless and wanted to get back to work desperately. He also wanted her to look at him as if he was a somewhat attractive man she might fancy shagging. He wasn’t as handsome as Bill nor was he as amusingly attractive as the twins. He didn’t have Percy’s nerdish appeal, as he’d heard some witches giggling about when referring to his obnoxious baby brother who much preferred the slender build of a certain Scottish Quidditch player than any of the sighing girls, and he wasn’t boyishly cute like Ron. But he certainly wasn’t ugly.
In fact, he’d had plenty of offers for casual affairs in his twenty-eight years, thank you very much. Hell, Wood had even propositioned him once following a spat with Percy, not that he’d accepted. Charlie was pretty damn open minded about shagging, there not being too many things he wouldn’t try once, but buggering his brother’s boyfriend was not something he found appealing at all. He had finally decided, after she had resisted his flirting for the tenth night in a row, that she must not like freckles.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed a glow from the loo separating his room from Bill’s. Well, it had been Bill’s. It was now hers. She’d moved into the Burrow the summer after her last year at Hogwarts, having nowhere else to go after her parents’ murder by Voldemort during her last year at school. His mum had adopted her, surprising him a bit because he could still remember the animosity that his mum had felt towards her just a few years before. They were friendly now, another stray adopted by their family. He could see why his mum was fond of her. Hermione was bossy, caring, generous, and had one of the biggest hearts of anyone he’d ever met.
She was also meddling, curious, and wouldn’t take gruff from anyone, even having the Twins under her thumb when she gave them that look. He’d never seen his brothers behave so quickly before, knowing there had to be some history behind that shared ‘I’ll hex you to oblivion if you even think about pranking me’ look the three shared but all he could find out from Ron and Ginny was that Hermione had out smarted Fred and George some time during the War and they’d never dared disobey her again. If he’d not fancied her before, he would have been smitten instantly upon hearing she’d bested his brothers.
Looking towards the open door of the loo, he considered calling out and reminding her he was there. He also thought about picking up his wand and closing the door himself, at least able to use magic even if he was rather helpless in other areas. Instead, his mouth opened slightly and his blue eyed widened when he realized that he had a perfect view of the mirror from his position in bed. The room was lit with candles, bright and clean, and he could see Hermione’s back as she did something with the shower curtain.
Mouth suddenly dry, he watched as her robe was shrugged off, leaving her shoulders and back bare. Oh bloody hell. She was taking a shower. He looked away, his cheeks flaming as he realized he was invading her privacy by ogling her in such a way. Listening carefully, he heard the sound of water running and what sounded like humming. He tried to resist temptation. He told himself he would be no better than a Malfoy if he spied on her while she was taking a shower. He counted to ten in three different languages. Well, two and a half because he couldn’t remember past the number five in Italian. He tried to recall the names of every dragon he’d ever looked after. He didn’t reach his first week at work before he cursed and gave in, opening his eyes and turning his head to look.
Oh sweet mother of Merlin. She hadn’t pulled back the curtain. Justifying his depraved behavior by reminding himself that she knew he wasn’t able to leave his bed and that it wasn’t his fault she didn’t shut the door before taking her shower, he gave up any pretense of being a mature man of twenty-eight and reverted back to a slobbering, hormone driven boy of fifteen. She was even more amazing than he’d imagined, and he had a pretty vivid imagination.
From his position, he could see all the way to curves of her arse. Her breasts were round and full, not overly large but he imagined they’d fit his hand perfectly. Reluctantly moving his gaze from the rosy nipples that were most likely hard from the cool air and water, he took in the lines of her body. From her breasts to her stomach to the swell of her hips to firm arse to the chestnut curls he caught a glimpse of when she turned to let the water fall down her back.
Look away. Just look away, mate, the voice of reason kept whispering inside his mind. Unfortunately, the voice of aroused-desperate-I’ve wanted her for weeks Charlie was a bit louder with his, Holy fuck. Look at those gorgeous breasts. Imagine licking her nipples, sucking on them until she’s whimpering, spreading her legs and begging you to make her yours. He never claimed to be a saint. Sliding the covers down past his hips, his tongue ran along his lips as he watched her take her shower.
She was still singing softly, her hands moving some strange spongey thing over her body, leaving behind a trail of soap that the water quickly sprayed away. His attention kept getting drawn back to her breasts. He was a man, after all, and had no shame in admitting that he had a fondness for breasts. Hers were magnificent and his palms itched just imagining playing with them. When she moved the blue sponge over them, he bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud as her fingers brushed against her nipples. His cock was pressing against his shorts but he kept resisting the urge to touch himself. Surely it would be a sign that he was immoral and degenerate if he actually wanked while spying on her.
True, he had all ready hit the near bottom of moral virtue by perving on her without her knowledge so, really, what was one step closer to bottom? He wouldn’t have this chance ever again and he was a man that took advantage of opportunities. He had always gone after what he wanted, inheriting his uncles’ determination and focus, according to his mum, and that intense drive had made him a damn good seeker as well as one of the best tamers at the Reserve not to mention an honored member of the Order. He’d not let her dismissal of his attentions prevent him from continuing to pursue her by flirting and trying to charm her knickers off. True, it hadn’t worked so well but perhaps this was his reward for persevering.
Or perhaps he had hit his head too many times when he’d fallen during the past few weeks.
Regardless, this was a situation beyond his control. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t shut the door. Still feeling rather torn between doing the right thing and doing the thing that would feel so bloody good at the moment, he almost missed the low moan. Eyes snapping to focus, he gulped when he saw that she was no longer washing shampoo from her hair. Oh no. In the time he was playing good-Charlie versus perverted-Charlie, she had finished washing her hair and was now leaning against the wall of the shower. That, in itself, wasn’t cause for his mouth to hang open, his cock to practically rip his shorts in a desire to be free, and his breath to catch. However, considering the fact that she was currently squeezing her breasts and her body was flushed with arousal, well, you could forgive him for being a bit dumbstruck.
He could see the flush on her body, pale skin a lovely shade of pink as her hands caressed the breasts he was aching to fondle. It wasn’t really fair that she had two such wonderful toys to play with any time she wanted and wouldn’t share with him. Rather selfish of her, in fact. His large hand raised from the sheet, his rough fingertips pinching his nipples as he watched her, imitating her actions as best he could. He raised his hips, cringing slightly at the pain in his leg but gritting his teeth and shoving his shorts past his arse, finally freeing his erection.
When her hand drifted down her stomach, his followed. He traced the outline of the dragon tattoo on his lower abdomen that he’d gotten after getting pissed with Bill following his last year at Hogwarts, his ‘responsible’ older brother daring him to get the Muggle artwork after he’d mentioned his intentions to train and tame dragons. Following the curve of the dragon’s tail, his fingers then trailed the scattering of red hair on his stomach to the thick curls surrounding his cock. Her hand was following a similar path, her mouth open, her head resting against the wall, her eyes narrowed. He just knew they were molten gold, the thought causing his cock to twitch and more liquid to drip from his foreskin.
His left hand gripped the sheet beneath him as his right hovered above his erection. If she kept teasing herself much longer, he was going to scream. Finally her hand moved between her legs, his hand immediately grabbing his cock. Hissing with pleasure, he began to stroke his prick, long fingers wrapped around the length, moving up and down in time with the movement of her fingers. In her current position, he could see her cunt perfectly. She was breathing hard, thrusting what appeared to be two fingers into her, the other hand squeezing her breast as she gave herself pleasure.
His thumb rubbed against the head of his cock, spreading his pre-cum, the rough texture of his palm contrasting against the smooth flesh he was stroking in a way that made his grip on the sheet tighten. Sweat was dripping down his face and chest as he wanked, his left leg moving to the side a bit, his body getting more comfortable as he watched her. Her hair was hanging around her pretty face in wet curls, covering one of her breasts when she leaned forward. He imagined feeling it wrapped around his cock, the soft strands enveloping him as she’d lick and suck until he was coming so hard he could barely see.
He imagined she’d swallow it all, licking any stray drops from him. She lapped at her ice cream and always drank every drop of milk from her cereal so he just knew she was one that would lick and suck him dry. She was very sensual, something he had noticed when he’d had nothing more to do than lie around and observe. Most of her clothes were soft and sensuous materials. She touched things, always moving her fingers along the pages of her book and the top of the table. When she ate, she savored every bite, enjoying her meal without rushing. Watching her touch herself, his opinions were somewhat confirmed. Stroking, caressing, squeezing, she didn’t rush her pleasure, instead heightening it by going slowly, teasing herself.
Of course he also thought she’d like it a bit rough. Shoved against the wall, clothes hanging from her body, not completely undressed, soaking wet and aching for him. Fucking desperately, scratching and biting and needing each other. She was feisty and had a right sharp temper when she lost it, lots of passion and enthusiasm. He could practically feel her tight cunt around his cock as he imagined fucking her against the shower wall, her legs around his waist, her fingernails digging into his back, her pale skin against his freckled flesh.
His hand began to increase the speed of his strokes, pulling hard as he tugged at his erection, fondling his balls before repeating the upward tug. His hips were beginning to move, his body thrusting against his calloused palm as his breathing became more shallow, the sheet nearly ripping as his eyes moved from her face to her breasts to her cunt back to her face repeatedly.
He came before her. Biting his lip to keep from screaming as his orgasm hit so hard his entire body seemed to tense before exploding, he could taste blood in his mouth as he whimpered. His seed sprayed all over his hand and stomach, his eyes rolling back as he heard the sheet tear as his hand pulled up. He was still gasping for breath when his eyes finally focused back on her, watching her face as she came with a low moan. Her body trembled, leaning against the wall of the shower as she found her release.
Charlie wiped the sweat from his forehead with his clean hand, using the scrap of torn sheet to mop up his body’s natural reaction to the intense wanking he’d just done before moving to down to wipe his come off his stomach. The shower turned off, and he looked up to see Hermione drying off before wrapping the towel around her breasts. His sated smile disappeared when she suddenly turned towards his door instead of going back into her room. Hastily pulling the sheet over his groin, he feigned sleep.
“Charlie.”
He snored once before stretching and smacking his lips as if he’d just woken up. “Hermione? What time is it?”
“Really, Charles. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“’course not,” he frowned, a bit annoyed that she had woken him up, as far as she knew, and was now getting snotty with him.
“Funny thing about mirrors,” she drawled in a husky tone that caused his spent and tired cock to stir. “They work both ways.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he denied, his face turning as red as his hair as he realized what she was implying. There was no way she’d been able to see him from her position. It wasn’t possible.
“I noticed it the other day, actually. What a perfect view you had of the shower when the door to the loo was open,” she continued as if he’d never spoken, which was right damn annoying at the same time he was fighting the urge to snog her senseless and then shag her rotten. Giving him what could only be described as a wicked smile, she said, “Just think. If you’d let your leg heal properly instead of persistently hindering your recovery, you could have joined me instead of lying there tossing off.”
“Hermione!” He gaped at her, not only for actually saying ’tossing off’, something he’d only ever imagined her saying in his dirtier thoughts that he usually had around four in the morning when he couldn’t sleep because of his leg hurting and, even then, it was usually her talking far more dirty than that because, well, to be honest, he got off on the idea of the prissy swot talking dirty to him during sex, but because he finally began to understand what she’d been saying once he stopped trying to deny her accusations.
“Good God, Charles. I would think you were smart enough to understand a blatant invitation but perhaps I overestimated your mental ability.”
“You-I-what?” Okay, not suave and charming, more stammering fool but she was smiling and her eyes were moving over his bare chest in a very appreciative way so maybe she didn’t mind bumbling git Charlie too much.
“Since you seem to be rather slow this evening, I’ll be blunt and concise,” she said before taking a deep rbeat, the action causing her breasts to rise and fall and the scrap of a towel to move. His attention was distracted momentarily. Breasts. “Ahem.”
Looking up, he saw her trying to hide a smile, her cheeks the lovely shade of pink that they always turned whenever he was flirting with her. “Uh, sorry.”
“No you aren’t.” She did laugh then, a soft melodic sound that caused him to smile sheepishly. Turning serious, she arched a brow and primly said, “Next time, I hope you can join me.”
“You know, there is enough room for two right here,” he pointed out suggestively, a slight arrogant smile on his lips as he patted the bed beside him.
“You’re still my patient, Mister Weasley,” she informed him brusquely, though her eyes lingered on the bed before moving over his chest again. Hot damn! She’s ogling me. Clearing her throat, she got the stubborn look on her face and he sighed, knowing she would refuse his invitation. “Once you are better, I see no problem with us ‘exploring the possibilities‘, as you quaintly phrased it the other day.”
“You fancy me, don’t you?” He suddenly grinned as he leaned back against his pillow, letting the sheet slide down low enough to reveal his tattoo and the trail of red hair that led to his groin. “I’ve always said that persistence wins in the end.”
“I was unaware that we were competing,” she remarked, her eyes not leaving his face even as he could see how tempting it was for her to look lower. “Besides, with your reckless behavior regarding your injuries, by the time you recover I may be uninterested in pursuing a dalliance with you.”
“Pursuing a dalliance?” He repeated with a snort. “Just admit that you fancy me, Hermione. I promise I won’t bite, unless you ask real nicely. Go on. Tell me that my handsome looks, manly physique, and charming personality managed to seduce you.”
“Actually it was your modesty and wit that won me over,” she said dryly.
“Were you thinking of me in the shower?” His voice lowered as he focused his full attention on her, bored with playing the silly word game. He was more a man of action. If his leg was healed, he’d have all ready had her in his bed trembling with desire.
“Charlie,” her voice was soft and warning, her confident smugness fading as he turned up the seduction.
“I was thinking about you,” he confessed. “Your mouth on my cock, your tongue licking my stomach and nipples, your tight cunt around my prick. Watching you touch yourself, imagining being with you, it made me come so hard I nearly blacked out.”
“I should go,” she whispered, her hands nervously playing with the edge of her towel.
“Yes, you should,” he agreed with a soft growl. “Because, if you don’t, I’m going to get up, catch you, and never let you go.”
“What if,” she hesitated, her eyes looking at the floor before her shoulders squared and she looked at him again. “What if I don’t want you to let go?”
“Four more days,” he vowed, his hand moving over his leg, his eyes not leaving hers. “In four days, once this is healed, you’re going to be mine, Hermione Jane Granger.”
“I’ll mark it on my calendar,” she said with a teasing smile, her tone breathless.
“Get some rest between now and then, pet. I plan to wear you out,” he promised with a wicked smile of his own. “And if you get lonely between now and then, there’s always room here.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, still able to blush after everything they’d seen and discussed in the past hour. She was just adorable. Sexy, wanton, bold, playful, but also charmingly shy and a bit insecure. He’d have to do his best to help her with those insecurities, he decided. Make sure she knew she was gorgeous and amazing.
“That I am,” he grinned. “Oh, and Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“Next time, the door?”
She smiled, her hand running through her drying hair before she nodded, “I’ll leave it open.”
“Sweet dreams, love,” he purred, blowing her a kiss as she went back into the loo.
“Night, Charlie,” she said before pursing her lips flirtatiously and blowing him a kiss in return.
Watching her leave, Charlie leaned back, a crooked smile on his lips. Guess she likes freckles after all.
The End