Work Text:
II Hermione II
“Charlie, you’ve got to be more careful,” I fuss as I apply burn salve and ointment to a nasty wound on the man’s thigh. Six months as a junior Healer on the Romanian dragon reserve, and he is my most frequent—and stubborn— patient.
“Come on, Hermione, it's just a little scratch,” he says, waving away his injury. “Minnie didn’t mean it. She was just scared.”
Minnie is a six-month-old Chinese Fireball that's as big as a horse and stubborn as a mule. No wonder Charlie is the only dragon handler she remotely tolerates. They’re very similar.
“I spent four hours fixing you this morning. It was most certainly not just a scratch.”
He shoots me this look of feigned innocence, and my hands around his thighs tighten of their own accord. I am his Healer; I need to remain professional. “And if you keep being so reckless, I will floo Minerva McGonagall myself and tell her you named a dragon after her.”
His eyes widen at my threat. “You wouldn’t!” His voice is both affronted and teasing, and I swallow to keep from giggling at him. “Besides, you’re the one that came up with the name, and—”
I cut him off, losing the battle as I laugh, “I did no such thing!” I mock glare at him, but it does nothing to tamp down the amusement playing on his features. “All I said was that the dragonet looked like a Gryfindor with her red and gold markings… YOU were the one that decided to make her the namesake of our head of house.”
“Well, I like a strong woman!”
I blush fiercely because those ocean-blue eyes of his are twinkling with mirth and staring at me in a way that makes my skin tingle. For my sanity, I ignore him and change the subject.
“You need to take these potions every four hours.” He pouts, and I roll my eyes.”They will repair the nerve-damage and the swelling of the burns. Do not mix them with anything. Take it easy. These are potent—”
“You’ll still let me out in time for the bonfire, though, right?” Trust this man to be more worried about the reserve’s Christmas party than he is about regrowing his skin.
“I think you should remain here overnight, but Healer Fellows says you won’t listen anyway, so I’m on orders to release you,” I reply primly.
Charlie lets out a tiny whoop of joy at his impending freedom, and I deliberately don't smile.
He takes the potions without complaint and quickly throws the blankets back and darts up from the infirmary bed, forgetting that he’s wearing little more than briefs. I can’t help but stare at his pierced nipples, his well-defined muscles, and the riot of tattoos that adorn his skin. So many different colours could look messy or haphazard, but on him, they don’t. The mix of magical and muggle tattoos tells a story about who Charlie Weasley is. There’s a clock over his heart, a lion on his shoulder, and a snitch on his side, among others. But the one I can't stop staring at is the sleeve of dragons that span from his wrist to shoulder. There are seven of them entwined together—each of his siblings represented through the creatures he loves most.
I clear my throat and help set him to rights as he accidentally stumbles. I run my hand over the muscles of his abdomen for just a second before I remember my professionalism and pull away quickly. Charlie grunts, probably from the pain of sudden movement, and sits back down on the bed. I summon him some clothes and snap back into healer mode.
“I’m very serious about you taking it easy. You are on restricted duty for a week—no, I won’t make it shorter—” I stop the protest before it leaves his mouth, “And you have to take these potions on time so that your body can recover.”
I soften my tone and cup his face gently, aware I’ve crossed the line of patient propriety but not caring. “And please try not to scare me like that again anytime soon.” He leans his stubble into my palm and meets my eyes. “I kind of like having you around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he winks, but his tone is serious instead of playful. “I promise I’ll be more careful, leoaciā; I like having you around too.”
I stare at him for a second and let the nickname sink in. Usually, I'm not fond of pet names, but lioness— yeah, okay, I'll let that one slide. I smile and try to keep my feelings off my face. I must’ve been lost in my head because he’s already moving to the door. He may like having me around, but he hates being in the infirmary more.
“Go rest before the party tonight, Charlie. That’s an order,” I call out to his retreating form.
He turns around with one hand on the door, “Only if you promise to save me a dance.”
He doesn't even wait for my answer. He smirks at me and pushes out into the cold. I groan because this crush on him is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I then realise I forgot to remind him of something important, “And no drinking tonight,” I yell. “It reacts badly with the potions.”
XXXXXXX
The Romanian Dragon Reserve may be filled with a bunch of no-nonsense dragonologists, but give them any excuse to celebrate, and they go all out.
The space set aside for the Christmas Party is filled with lights and decorations. A colossal tree sits in the centre, surrounded by snow and filled with baubles hand-decorated by the reserve's inhabitants. The local village is invited too, families and children running around the protected space and ducking in and out of the magical, temperature-controlled tents. There is a huge bonfire and tables laden with all manner of food. It's my first Christmas here, but there is such a warmth in the air that it almost feels like being back at Hogwarts, surrounded by friends.
I’m sitting in a small group of the camp’s Healers and administrators, people I have come to enjoy since I arrived in Romania.
“You know, Hermione, I think this might be one of the first times I've seen you truly relaxed since you joined us,” Healer Fellows chimes in.
I turn to face him, smiling a bit. “I like it here. I know I was upset at first about the placement, but it was the best thing that could have happened at the time.”
I remember back to the day I was assigned the Reserve. It wasn’t my first or even second choice, and I had been livid. But, I wasn't in a great place, personally or professionally, at the time, so it seemed like defeat. It had been Ron, of all people, who talked some sense into me and pushed me into sticking with the Healer program. We may have been incompatible romantically, but platonically, our friendship has only grown stronger with age.
Now I’m glad I came here.
I engage in some more small talk with the group and take in all of the sights and sounds. I also thank goodness for warming charms because the air outside is frosty and thick with snow.
A warm arm on my shoulder startles me a bit until I recognise the deep red of Charlie’s hair and the familiarity of his touch. I reflect on my time here and realise that he is part of the reason— a big part— why I’ve come to love it here. He’s become one of my best friends. He is brazen like Harry and insightful like Ron but altogether his own person, with his slightly gruff exterior and extreme stubbornness. He’s carved out a completely separate place in my heart, one that I’m desperately trying to keep contained.
“Hermione, you promised me a dance.” He pulls me from my chair, and I give a half-hearted squeak of protest as I let myself get dragged into his large body. I stop myself from leaning into him like a leech on his warmth, but he throws an arm over me and drags me through the crowd.
“Charlie Weasley, if you keep dragging me around like a ragdoll, you will find yourself without legs to dance on,” I gripe as he grins at me. I have a reputation for being a fierce and terrifying witch, but I don’t intimidate him. It thrills me and vexes me in equal measure.
“You wouldn’t hex me!” He teases with a questioning gaze but loosens his grip and pulls me into his side. “You like me too much.”
“You are insufferable,” I sigh, but I don’t refute his statement.
We don’t immediately head to the dance floor but mingle with the other dragon keepers and nibble on the feast that's been laid out tonight. So many dishes and drinks are passed around, and I carefully watch Charlie to ensure he isn't overdoing it. When glasses and spirits are passed around, I smile as he politely declines and settles on egg-nog instead of something more potent.
It takes me way longer than it should to figure out something is wrong.
We’re dancing, swaying together, when Charlie starts to stagger. I look up at him quickly and notice sweat creasing his brow and a slight glassiness in his eyes. “Charlie, are you okay?”
“I…. uh, I’m fine,” he stammers, “just a bit hot.”
It's freezing outside, and the space is cold, so my senses are on high alert when he stumbles just a second later. “Charlie, I think you need to sit down.”
I reach for my wand to run a diagnostic on him, but he’s starting to act a bit erratic as he pulls away from my side. “I, no… I think—I need to go back home…. Sorry, Hermione, I uh… I’ve got to go.”
His face is flushed, and my concern rises every second. Before I can react, he rips himself away from my grip and practically runs through the crowd. I shout after him, but he pays me no mind. I wave off the concern of the others and let my mind work out the problem.
I’m embarrassed at how long it takes me to figure out it's the eggnog that’s to blame, but as soon as I run my wand over the cup, I know it's spiked. It takes me several threats and about ten minutes to figure out precisely what’s in it. I'm alarmed when I realise it's an inhibition-lowering potion and whiskey. Both are practically harmless on their own but mixed with alcohol and the potions I forced down Charlie’s throat, the results can be catastrophic.
That elixir, in combination with the ones I prescribed him, creates a potent lust potion. One that has nasty side effects if not dealt with properly.
Not even stopping to think this could be a terrible idea, I take off in the direction Charlie went, determined to find him.
XXXXXX
In the end, I don't have to go very far.
I find him slumped against the visitor centre wall about five minutes later. No one is nearby.
I stop dead in my tracks as I take in the sight of him.
He’s lost his jacket somewhere in his haste to get away and only has on a thin jumper. His pants are unzipped and pulled down low. He’s flushed, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. But what I can’t stop staring at is his large hand fisting over his cock. He makes hard fast strokes as he jerks himself off unceremoniously against the tile.
He’s gorgeous, and I'm horrible for watching him, but I can’t look away. My mind stutters, feeling my gut tighten and moisture gather at my core as I stare.
What he’s doing isn’t going to work. This combination is tricky and won’t allow him any relief until another person brings him off. And not just hands or mouths will do. To reverse the side effects, he’ll have to have sex with someone. The longer he waits, the worse it will be.
I have two choices. I can do the ethical Healer thing and stun him, bring him to the infirmary, and flush him with antidotes. Or I can finally own up to my feelings and offer him my body to use as he wants.
I make up my mind almost immediately.
“Charlie,” I coo softly, trying not to startle him. His eyes snap open, and I see the blue of his eyes has been swallowed almost entirely by black. He jerks, pinning me with his gaze but doesn’t stop stroking his cock. He looks wild—like a predator—and I should step back or feel threatened, but I know he’ll never hurt me.
“Don’t come any closer, Hermione,” he growls and stops jacking himself long enough to rise to his full height. He towers over me, and I can see his laboured breathing and the flex of his muscles as he fights the potions. “I…something is wrong with me, and I need you to go…Now… before I do something I can’t take back.”
He’s panting, and I can see his clenched fists and how hard he tries to remain in control. I need him to let me explain, “Charlie,“ I say calmly, pointedly not looking at his crotch. He’s yanked his jeans up a bit to cover himself, but his hardness is still very noticeable. “Oh, Charlie,” I speak softly as one would to a caged animal, “you’ve been potioned. You’re reacting to the spiked eggnog you drank.”
“How do I… what’s—how do I stop it?” His voice is pleading and hoarse.
Stupidly, I step forward to comfort him, and he grabs my outstretched wrist in his palm hard enough to bruise.
I don’t care. I want him. I want to help him. I’m almost thrumming with anticipation of him touching me everywhere. “Don’t touch me!” He growls again but tilts forward to graze my fingers with his forehead. His whole body shakes.
“Charlie, I need you to listen to me carefully. The mixture of potions in your system mimics a potent lust spell. We have to get it out of your system.” I take a deep breath before continuing, watching as his eyes hungrily track every movement of my chest. “We can do that one of two ways.”
“Please, I can’t….” He twitches. “I don’t want to hurt you, please… tell me.”
“I can stun you, bring you to the infirmary and flush your system out.”
“Or…..”
“Or… you can let me help you.”
“Hermione, I….”
“No, Charlie, I’m attracted to you, and I think you feel the same. So even if it’s just one time…let me…” His grip on my hand tightens even more, and he finally steps in close so that we are chest to chest. He’s heaving, and I’m so turned on, but I need to know he wants this, even just the sex part.
“Are you sure?” He pleads, “I…don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, Charlie, I know exactly what I’m doing. If anything, I’m the one being unfair to you.”
“Never,” he looks fierce as he growls, like one of the dragons he loves so much. If he is fire, I don’t care if I’m about to get burned.
I lean in close, propping myself on my tippy-toes to whisper in his ear. “Then, I want you. Fuck me.”
He moves so fast it’s like lightning. And then all I feel is his lips devouring every inch of my mouth, his strong hands wrapping around my waist, and my back pinned up against the wall.
If this is what burning feels like, I’m happy I lit the fuse.
XXXXXXX
|| Charlie ||
“Then, I want you. Fuck me,” Hermione’s voice is breathy and confident as she whispers in my ear. it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to rip the clothes from her body and sink into her immediately.
But, if I'm going to get one chance at having this, I wanna make it count. I can barely think straight through the lust and haze clouding my mind, but she’s the one thing I can see clear as day.
I'm on her before I can second guess all the ways I'm taking advantage of the situation. I back Hermione into the nearest wall and bring her face to mine. I’m not gentle, I can’t be right now, so I part her lips with a gasp and devour her with my tongue. I suck on her bottom lip and wrap my hands around her waist. The taste of her on my tongue is enough to set every nerve ending I have on fire.
She’s a flame and a balm, scorching me from the inside out but soothing me with her touch. My cock’s so hard between my legs, but I pay it no mind. For as long as I can, I want to make this about her. I need to hear her fall apart around me and chant my name as I make her mine.
“Charlie, please,” she whines, and I suck on her bottom lip, almost biting. I finally release her lip with a pop and start sucking marks down her neck. I think she’ll complain, but instead, she bares her throat to me, arching into my touch.
I'm tight against her, and every movement she makes goes straight to my cock. I growl into the skin of her neck. “I want you so much….”
Frantically, I grope for my wand and miraculously cast warming and notice-me-not spells around us. We’re exposed, but I don’t care, and from the sounds Hermione is making, neither does she. I quickly rip off my shirt and yank my pants down, sighing in relief as the material is gone.
“Your tattoos,” She murmurs, staring at my chest and the collection of ink adorning my skin. “They’re so hot.” She places delicate hands on my chest and bites my shoulder right by my lion tattoo. My knees almost buckle, but she isn't done with her exquisite torture. She peppers wet kisses across my chest, then takes one of my nipple rings into her mouth and sucks. If I thought I was on fire before, now I feel like I'm about to be reduced to ashes and remade anew by her touch.
“Leoaciā, Hermione—gods, I need to see you— want you….” I moan as she releases me and smiles a wicked grin.
“Then, I'm all yours.”
She is going to be the death of me. If this potion coursing through my veins doesn't do me in, the witch in front of me certainly will.
I’m rough when I strip off her clothes, and I don’teven stop to savour the golden dress revealed to me before I peel it off her body, leaving her in nothing but a scrap of black lace. My dick twitches and my body shakes at the need to be inside her, but instead, I drop to my knees as delicately as my injury allows.
“Charlie, you stubborn—” She exclaims, admonishment on her tongue, but I stop her with my mouth on her, my hot breath blowing at her seam. She shivers and gasps, the retribution dying on her lips. I pull her knickers off her body, skimming down her legs with the lightest touch. I bring my mouth back to her, tasting her properly for the first time, spreading her thighs apart with my hands. If it weren’t for the potions still in my system, I would have come on the spot just from her essence.
“I need, I need—”
She pants above me, voice trembling and greedy, and I want to consume her in every way possible. “I know what you need; let me give it to you.”
“Please,” she whines, and I know that if she walks away from me tomorrow or ever again, even the strongest Obliviate wouldn’t erase her pleading from my mind.
I dip my tongue back into her wetness and lick a stripe from her cleft to her clit. Then, I suck on her lips and swirl my tongue around her delicate folds. She’s babbling now, and I preen at the fact that I have reduced Hermione Granger to mumbles and one-syllable words. I blow on her centre and slip two fingers in her dripping cunt. She’s so tight and hot around me. I alternate between questing my fingers into her and sucking on her clit. I let my teeth graze her sensitive nub, and she bucks into my face, fucking herself on my tongue.
I growl and thrust harder, and I can feel that she’s close. She’s squirming and chanting: a litany of “fuck—yes—harder” falling from her lips. Then, she is falling apart around me, and the way she breaks is beautiful. I sink my teeth into her thigh as she crests and shakes and writhes. I have never seen anything more perfect in my life.
I try to give her a moment to rest, but my blood is boiling with need; she’s boneless against the wall, panting hard. I scrabble up ungracefully and yank her to me, one of her legs wrapping instinctively around my waist. I wrap my arms around the globes of her arsecheeks, lifting her up, and bring my aching cock in contact with her centre.
“Leoaciā,” I breathe into the riot of her curls. “Please. Tell me I can fuck you,” I beg as she nods, dragging her lips to mine and then moving to nibble on my ear. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Charlie, I want it—make me yours.”
I waste no time; I line up my cock and slip into her between one breath and the next. My vision blacks out for a moment at the feel of her encasing me. I thrust up into her, little motions that bring her further down onto my length, and it's like I'm being melted from the burn of her around me. It's exquisite, it’s torture, and I can't hold back.
“Move, Charlie, I want you to fill me up; I want you hard and fast, and—” Good gods, she’s a talker. I should’ve expected it, but still, every nerve in my body lights up as she tells me to fuck her in her prim, swotty tone.
I have her pinned against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips as I set a brutal pace. She meets me thrust for thrust, sucking, biting, licking any part of me she can reach.
I'm so hard inside her as I piston my hips as fast as they will go. I'm not going to last; the potions and the feel of her–mostly the feel of her— wrapped around me is about to throw me over a precipice so high I may never land.
She’s cursing, filth spewing from her mouth as she urges me to move faster, fuck her harder. I need her to come with me; I need it like I need the air I breathe. I want to bury myself inside of her as deep as I can and fill her up until she is dripping with me.
I’m trembling and sweating now, and I know that I can’t hold back the force of my orgasm for much longer. “Touch yourself, luv; I can’t… I want to come inside you.”
“Yesss…Char—lie,” She squeals as her slender wrists find the folds of her swollen clit. I look down and see my cock between her legs and her fingers moving between us, and suddenly it's too much. I break to the feel of her pulsing around me, shouting out her second orgasm.
My skin burns and my entire body lights up like a livewire as I empty myself into her, pinning her roughly to the wall, shaking with every twitch of her around me. I let my head rest on her sweat-soaked shoulder as we remain wrapped up in each other for moments or hours; I can't tell. We breathe each other’s air and listen to the dual thundering of our hearts.
I’m still hard inside of her, even though I can feel how full she is of me. “Looks like once just wasn’t enough.” She giggles that same damnable sound that is my undoing, and I know that once, twice, a thousand times— will never be enough.
“Think you can handle me again?” I tease, nipping at the underside of her jaw, and bringing our lips together for a needy kiss.
“I’m sure of it,” she smirks, and suddenly I'm filled with a fierce desire to have her in my sheets, to have the sweet-jasmine scent of her all around my quarters. Reluctantly, I pull out of her, dropping her feet to the ground, and I groan at the loss of her.
And because I’m shit at doing what I’m told, and taking it easy is against my very nature, I do something reckless and stupid and very necessary. “Then hold on,” I whisper. I grab her tight and apparate us to my bed.
Neither of us gives a second thought to the scattered clothes left behind.
XXXXXXX
We land in the middle of my unmade bed, and I already know she’s going to be mad as a dragon. I’m sure she could breathe actual fire if she put her mind to it.
“Charlie Weasley,” and shit, she’s used my full name. No matter that she’s naked and sprawled out on top of me, she will still yell. My dick gets even harder listening to her. “…of all the stupid, irresponsible, downright—”
I kiss her, hard, to silence her, and to my surprise, it works. “Fuck me now; yell at me later,” I growl as I pull her back to me and thrust up against the cleft of her arse and drag her lips down to mine.
Now that I've got her in my bed, I want to take my time. The ache in my cock has subsided enough to let me.
I kiss down her throat and the hollow of her neck, and she practically melts into my touch, anger forgotten. I take one of her gorgeous breasts into my mouth and suck hard, scraping her with my teeth as my other hand roams the lines of her back.
She pulls away with a wicked, fiery grin and without a word, she shifts and crawls down my body. She’s trying to kill me.
“… and here I was trying to save you,” she answers and only then do I realise I’m talking out loud. She bends her head and spreads my knees, her hot breath blowing over my sensitive cock.
“I don’t care anymore, just, please suck me,” I beg as she swirls the flat of her tongue teasingly against the top of my dick.
“Gladly,” she says and swallows me in her dainty, filthy mouth. I buck off the bed and grab her shoulders to keep from choking her.
It’s fantastic. She is every fantasy I’ve ever had. Her chocolate eyes peer up at me from the bottom of her lashes, and I’m almost breathless at the emotion that passes between us. This left just sex and turned into something else entirely when we hit the sheets.
“Just like that, luv, so good for me.” I moan and writhe, lost in the sensation. I can’t come this way, but every twirl of her tongue brings me closer and closer to an invisible ledge.
Finally, when I can’t hold back and can’t stand to be bereft of her for even another second, I pull her gently by her curls, “Please, leoaciā, it’s my turn.”
She crawls up my body, and I flip us with our lips connected, so she is spread out under me like a feast. It’s still not close enough.
I shift and sink back onto my haunches, needing to have her as near as I can without sharing the same body. She comes willingly, eager and pliant, and I stop for a second as I watch the pure adoration in her eyes. Devotion that I hope is reflected in my own. “I intend to keep you. You're mine now,” I growl as I position her over me, chest to chest, heart to heart, eye to eye.
“Yours,” she breathes and then sinks onto me. It’s less frantic than earlier, but the air is charged with electricity, and my insides feel like molten lava.
We don’t speak; our moans and curses and breathy whispers talk for us. Hermione meets me thrust for thrust, her golden-brown eyes never leaving mine.
This time there is no build, no edge. One moment I’m buried deep inside of her. The next, I’m breaking apart. She follows me over the cliff, arms wrapped around my neck, fingers tugging on my hair.
I tip us to the side, finally softening inside her but loathe to break the connection. I don’t know what will happen next, but I want her. I want a relationship with her.
I’m pretty sure she wants one with me too, but she’s pulled away from me a bit, and is chewing her bottom lip with a slight frown on her face. “I can hear you thinking from over here,” I croak and hide my grin as she pouts and bites her lip.
“Charlie, what happens now?” Her eyes are bright with worry, and she twirls a lock of her unruly hair around her fingers, a nervous tick of hers I find endearing.
Well if that’s all she’s worried about, I can put her mind at ease.
“Now, I thank you for saving me from a nasty curse; we sleep until mid-morning, wake up together, and do it all over again for as long as you’ll have me.”
The worry melts from her face as she beams at me, and my heart is set ablaze. “I mean if that’s what you want?”
“Sounds perfect,” she purrs and drops a soft kiss on my lips. I pull her close and revel in the fact that I get to keep her, it might be the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received.
She rolls into my side and smirks, “Just remind me to yell at you tomorrow because you definitely didn’t follow Healer's orders to take it easy.”
I laugh and bury my face in her curls, “Only if you let me fuck you after.”
“I think I’d be okay with that.”