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Why was he always not wearing a shirt? And why was he always so bloody sweaty and filthy?
“You’re staring again,” Lavender sang as she peered over her pink sunglasses at Hermione.
“What was that?” Hermione muttered distractedly.
When the blonde witch next to her giggled, she shook her head to clear the inappropriate thoughts of Ron’s older brother from her muddled brain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was simply observing the patch of wildflowers to see if I could see the fairies Luna claimed were over there.”
The aforementioned witch, who was floating in the water in front of them, mused, “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that patch of wildflowers, Hermione.” She pointed a finger in the opposite direction. “The fairies conjugate by the orchard or wherever is furthest from Bill.” After a moment of contemplation, she added, “Perhaps fairies don’t like werewolves. That would make sense. A sort of prey instinct. I’ll have to ask him.”
Lavender side-eyed Hermione while biting her bottom lip to stifle a smile. “Maybe both of you should go ask Bill and Charlie why the fairies don’t like them.”
The Ravenclaw climbed up the ladder to the dock and sat on her towel on the other side of Hermione. “Oh, no…definitely not. He’s not ready to speak to me yet.”
Hermione and Lavender tilted their heads in bemusement at the statement. Hermione asked, “Is this one of those things where you know something before we’re supposed to know?”
“It’s not a Seer thing…” Luna’s pale cheeks flushed before she continued. “It’s more of a Mate thing.”
“A what?!” they both screeched.
“Ssshhh…like I said, I don’t think he’s ready to acknowledge it. Every time I’m in the same room as him, he leaves.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?” Hermione asked.
Luna shrugged. “Well…I’ve been gone for the last five years completing my Magizoology mastery, and I haven’t seen him since the final battle. I guess I just realized it when we saw each other again last week.”
Lavender nodded, popping a strawberry in her mouth. “Ok, ok…I’m still processing, but I can get behind this. I mean, you both love the moon.”
The three women cackled, covering their mouths with their hands when Ron swam by and eyed them suspiciously.
“What are you three up to?”
“Nothing, lovey,” Lavender cooed, holding out a strawberry for him. Instead of reaching for it with his hand, he gripped the edge of the dock and bit into the fruit before stealing a kiss from his wife.
“Gods, you two are ridiculous,” Hermione snickered.
“What?” Ron protested around the strawberry. “Would you prefer me to use my pond-water-covered fingers, Mione?”
Lavender and Luna snorted as she rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to give him a snarky retort, but a shadow crossed over her, shutting her up immediately.
“Mum said lunch’s ready,” Charlie announced.
Hermione turned on her side to look up at him. A half-burnt cigarette hung out of his mouth as the dirty shirt he should’ve been wearing was slung over his shoulder. His sage eyes flicked down to hers for an instant before he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed at his younger brother.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice the seat in the truck was messed up. I told you not to take it out joyriding.”
Ron shrugged his shoulders as he climbed the ladder. “What was I supposed to do? When the lady wants to go for a midnight drive, I have to oblige.”
“Not in my fucking truck you don’t,” barked Charlie.
Lavender rose, tossing her thick waves behind her. “Come on, Charlie,” she simpered. “You know how difficult it is to get any privacy in this house.”
The second-eldest Weasley brother grunted and stomped away from them. Hermione couldn’t help but admire the thick corded muscles on his freckled back as he retreated to the house. She really needed to stop fawning over him. It was so clear that he wasn’t the least bit interested in her, but, good Godric, did he make it difficult. She needed to speak with her mind healer about why she found him so attractive when every character trait about him was a turn-off.
He smoked. Constantly, despite Molly’s protests.
He barely said two words to her anytime they were in close proximity. The most she’d ever got from him was something between a scoff and an indifferent sigh.
He was an unapologetic asshole to his siblings. Sure, most of the time, they deserved it, but still.
He was perpetually single. Obvious commitment issues. He never brought anyone home for Christmas or birthdays or any of the summer gatherings they had all made a promise to have since the second war ended.
On paper, Charlie Weasley should be the last man on the planet she would want.
But one had put all that together with how sweet he was with Hyacinth, Ron and Lavender’s two-year-old, and with Teddy when Harry would bring him over. And how he was always helping Molly in the kitchen and Arthur in the garden.
Add in how good he looked sans shirt, his sweaty chest hair curling across his defined pectorals, and it all equaled to Hermione being secretly—well, maybe not so secretly—smitten with him for the last four years.
Her overt ogling was interrupted by someone splashing water on her as he jumped onto the dock. “Damnit, George!” she shrieked.
The bastard smirked at her, and instead of apologizing, bent over and shook his wet hair, causing water to rain down on her body. Before she could hex him, he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She smacked his back. “Put me down!”
“Ah, come on, sweets. We don’t wanna mess the pudding,” he chuckled as he set off for the house.
Her traitorous friends all laughed as she continued to beat against him. At least Luna had the decency to retrieve her towel, book, and wand.
“Why are you like this?” she bemoaned.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew there was a smug grin stretched across it.
“Because I think it pisses him off more than it annoys you,” he mused.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she scoffed.
George trotted past Bill and Charlie, Hermione covering her face in embarrassment, and set her down on her feet again when they reached the back door. With a snort, he booped her nose. “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, sweets.”
“I think I hate you,” she sneered.
“No, you don’t.” He stole a kiss on her cheek, running into the house before she could retaliate.
With a heavy sigh, she waited for Luna so she could put her cover-up on. When Bill and Charlie passed by her, Bill shot her a friendly smile while his brother pointedly ignored her in his typical fashion.
They all gathered around the magically extended dining table with the dozen mismatched chairs and ate sandwiches, potato salad, and raspberry-topped ice cream. Hermione sat between Harry and Hyacinth, assisting the toddler with her deconstructed sandwich.
Now that she knew about the whole “mate thing,” she observed how Bill kept his distance from Luna, waiting for the blonde witch to sit down before finding the chair furthest from her. It seemed that Luna purposely chose a seat towards one end of the table to make it easier on the wizard. She also couldn’t help but steal glances in Charlie’s direction, but when he caught her, she quickly averted her gaze and focused on everyone but him for the rest of the meal.
After lunch, she joined Lavender, who was rocking Hyacinth, on the shaded swing to watch the others bicker about who got Ginny on their Quidditch team. Fred finally pointed out that unless they all wanted to see their sister’s tits, she had to be on his team because they were keeping their shirts on. None of the others wanted to argue against that point, and Gin shook her head at her idiot brothers.
“When did Gin say Viktor was coming?” she asked the witch next to her.
“I think tomorrow,” Lavender mused. “Better get the popcorn ready, because she hasn’t told any of them who her new boyfriend is.”
Hermione cackled. “Gods, I love her so much. Want to place a bet on who blows their top the most?”
“Oh, definitely Ron,” Lavender giggled. “You remember what he was like when he found out Vik was taking you to the Yule Ball.”
“He’s too old for you,” Hermione mocked.
Lavender added, “You’re fraternizing with the enemy.”
Their giggling caused Hyacinth to stir, so they quieted down and focused on Bill, Charlie, George, and Percy removing their shirts. The familiar Welsh Green dragon tattoo gleamed across their upper backs, and Hermione and Lavender let out appreciative hums.
Snorting, she elbowed the blonde witch. “Don’t you feel bad objectifying your brothers-in-law?”
“Not one bit,” Lavender crooned.
“Fair,” Hermione relented with a sigh as her eyes traced along the other tattoos littering Charlie’s body. She didn’t know that she was a fan of body art until she had seen his that first summer after the final battle.
Gods, she was pitiful with her pining. Or maybe it was more lust than pining. It wasn’t like she was in love with the wizard, but she would definitely like the opportunity to get more up close and personal with him.
Her cheeks flushed watching his forearms flex as he mounted his broom and gripped the handle. They would look great on either side of her head. Godric, she really needed to get a hold of herself.
“Oi, sweets, hold this for me,” George called, throwing his shirt right at her face.
She leveled an unamused look at him and threw the shirt over the arm of the swing. George gave her a devilish wink and shot off into the sky. Her eyes flitted over to where Charlie remained rooted to the spot, his brow scrunched in what appeared to be irritation. It was fleeting, though, and he took off after his brothers to start the game.
It was no secret that Hermione didn’t much care for Quidditch, but watching him fly around, giving Harry a good fight for the Snitch, had her appreciating the sport. She bet he looked smashing in a full kit.
Only the second day of holiday, and she was already going bonkers. How the hell was she supposed to last two whole weeks around him?
She was not going to last any longer. Her feet carried her up the stairs of the Burrow, determined to pack her bags and get an earlier portkey to Australia to check on her parents. The last four days have been unbearable.
It seemed like Charlie was finding every excuse in the book to be half-naked any time Hermione was close by. It also had become George’s life goal to goad her with his relentless flirting. As if he weren’t secretly involved with Theodore Nott. Granted, she only knew they were because she had caught them together while out at a club with Pansy a month ago.
But, of bloody course, the second her feet hit the first landing of the stairs with her trusted beaded bag in hand, she was met with the broad chest of one of her tormentors.
“Oh,” she squeaked. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine, Mi,” Charlie answered.
She tried to squeeze by him, but he wasn’t moving an inch to help her get past him.
“Going somewhere?” he quipped.
Sighing, she crossed her arms and mirrored his stance. “I’m leaving.”
“Why?” he drawled.
“Just feel like leaving early,” she shrugged, looking down at her sandals.
“Well, you can’t.” His tone was so emphatic that she jerked her head back in shock.
“Excuse me? You can’t tell me what to do.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, like he knew something she didn’t. Before she could react, he plucked her bag out of her hand and tossed it into his and Bill’s shared room before waving his hand to slam the door closed.
“Hey!”
“Guess you can’t leave now,” he deadpanned, turning around to descend the stairs.
She smacked his shoulder. “Give me back my—”
He whirled around, his fist wrapping around her wrist as he backed her up against the wall. “Uh uh, sweetheart. Didn’t you ever learn that hitting is not nice?”
“Didn’t you ever learn not to steal people’s stuff?” she hissed.
Her chest rose and fell heavily as she realized how close he was. He had her arm pinned to the wall next to her, but her other one was still free if she needed to attempt to escape. She was only a little ashamed at how aroused the position made her. His grip was firm but not painful. If he took half a step, his body would be pressed against hers, and she had to fight the desire to arch her back to close the distance herself.
But she would be an absolute liar if she pretended to want to escape him. This close, she could smell the motor oil from where he and Bill had been tinkering on the Anglia, his last cigarette, and just a hint of something spicy—cinnamon maybe?
“Not stealing,” he clarified. “Just securing.”
“Why do you even care?” she spat. “We’ve barely spoken to each other.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
Charlie hummed, “No, I think it’s yours.”
Hermione sucked on her teeth. “You must be joking.”
Again, the bastard’s mouth ticked upward in the barest hint of a smirk. “Maybe I was just waiting to finally get you alone to talk.”
A small gasp escaped her, and she shook her head. “Stop teasing me.”
Charlie simply hummed and released her wrist. “You first.”
She stood frozen, watching him turn around and head back outside, her brain short-circuiting over two words.
Even after he disappeared, her mouth opened and closed trying to form an argument, a retort, any fucking sound whatsoever, yet nothing came out.
Finally, she let out a loud, frustrated groan as she tried to undo the wards on his room to retrieve her bag.
Another head popped around the corner of the stairwell. “Is there a reason you’re breaking into my room?” Bill asked, his tone more amused than accusatory.
“Because your asshole brother stole my bag,” she huffed.
Chuckling, Bill joined her on the landing. “I wondered why he looked so satisfied with himself when he came outside.”
Hermione folded her arms. “What’s his problem anyways?”
“Oh, there’s too many to count,” he mused. “But you’ll have to ask him if you want specifics.”
He waved his wand, slipped through a crack in the door, and closed it before she had a chance to follow. When she touched the handle, it gave her fingers a small electrical shock.
“Ow,” she cried, sticking the digit in her mouth.
“Got your hand caught in the cookie jar?”
She glared up at Bill as she snatched her bag out of his hand. “I hate both of you.”
“No, you don’t,” he smirked. He leaned against the door frame and gave her a contemplative look. “Why did Charlie lock your bag in there?”
“I was trying to leave early,” she sighed.
“You know that’s against the rules.”
“Yeah, well, the rules should also include that you all aren’t allowed to torture me.”
Bill shook his head. “Again, I think you just need to talk to him. My brother is…well, let’s just say he’s not one to offer up information freely. He’s guarded.”
“You’re one to suggest I talk to someone,” she scoffed. Immediately, she regretted throwing the barb when she saw how tense his body became. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Careful, Mi,” he gritted out, standing to his full height. “Don’t presume to know about things that don’t involve you.”
She straightened despite not wanting to fight with him. “Well, I guess we’re both cowards, then, aren’t we?”
“You have no idea wha—”
“She already knows, you big dumb idiot.”
His eyes widened. “But—”
“Look, Luna is more perceptive than your average witch and is whip smart. So, yeah…she’s already figured it out.”
She relaxed back against the wall when he deflated and slouched against the door frame once more. “Let’s make a deal. You sit next to Luna at dinner, and I’ll sit next to Charlie.”
“It’s not the sa—“
“Ah,” she interjected with a raised finger. “I know it’s different for you, but we can both try our best…deal?”
The silence stretched between them until Bill eventually relented with a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
Nodding, she sent her bag flying to Gin’s room and descended the stairs.
Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon trying to work up the courage to go through with her end of the deal, even if she’d convinced herself that she was only doing it for Luna’s sake. Even Harry and Ron seemed to notice that she was squirrelier than usual while they all washed up. She’d finally confessed her plans to Lavender, who was all too happy to be her accomplice.
The blonde orchestrated everyone’s seating arrangements in an impressively clandestine fashion. When Percy tried to take his usual seat next to Luna, she told him that she was dying to hear about his legislative efforts on the newest trade deal with Japan. So, he took Charlie’s usual seat, who then tried to sit next to his brother, but Lavender elbowed him and pointed out his dirty nails—very loudly. That prompted Molly to scold him and force him to wash his hands in the sink with the nail brush.
“Good Godric, you’re going to get some sort of pox from the filth underneath your nails,” Molly said, shaking her head.
“Mum,” he huffed. “I already washed them. Besides, I’m pretty sure you can’t catch the pox from motor oil.”
She pulled her wooden spoon from her apron and waved it in front of his face. “Don’t sass me, Charlie Weasley, or I’ll give you what for!”
Lavender’s bright eyes danced across the tablescape as she took in her victory, and Hermione admired the witch’s scheming. Bill looked like he was one second from breaking out in a sweat next to Luna, who politely ignored him to give him a moment to adjust to their closeness.
When Charlie returned, sulking from Molly’s reprimand, the only seat available was next to Hermione. She furtively side-eyed him as he sat and leaned back in his chair, looking far less put out.
“Heard you got your bag back,” he mused.
“No thanks to you.” Her palms felt clammy, which was ridiculous. It was just dinner with everyone. A normal occurrence that happened multiple times a day. So why was her heart pounding?
“So…” she started, no idea where her sentence was actually going. “What did you work on today?”
“Fixing Sirius’s bike for Harry,” he said as he tore off a piece of roll and popped it in his mouth. “Or trying to at least. It’s being a real bitch.”
“Language,” Molly warned.
Charlie aggressively bit off another chunk of his roll but didn’t back-talk his mum.
“Why is it being difficult?” Hermione asked.
He raised a brow at her. “You suddenly interested in the mechanical workings of a vintage motorbike?”
“I might be,” she said, straightening and lifting her chin. “I enjoy knowledge on a variety of topics.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he snorted.
He proceeded to tell her about the alternator and some other parts that she hadn’t the foggiest about, but she was genuinely curious, so she asked plenty of follow-up questions. Before she knew it, dinner was over, yet she and Charlie both lingered at the table. It was the twins’ turn to clean up anyway, so they weren’t needed anywhere.
Hermione was telling him about her negotiations with the Americans about trading a protected magical tree when Lavender bent low and gave her cheek a peck.
“Most of us are going up.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, straightening.
“No, no. Don’t get up,” Lavender mused as she pressed her hand on the other witch’s shoulder, her eyes flitting over to Charlie. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised when you realized we had gone up.”
“Night, Lav.”
Charlie gave the blonde a quick nod. “Night.”
“Night, you two,” she smirked before going up the stairs.
Hermione tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “I must not have realized the time. Sorry I kept you from…whatever you planned to do after dinner.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. His fingers drummed against the table. “Do you want to go for a drive with me?”
“Right now?” she asked, not doing a very good job of hiding the slight shock in her voice.
“No time like the present.” He jerked his head to the door. “Come on.”
“Maybe I had other plans for the evening,” she challenged.
Charlie stood, turning his back to her as he strode towards the door. “You can read when we get back.”
What an asshole.
She should have stayed rooted in her chair just to prove a point, but her traitorous body was already rising despite her brain’s protests. She followed him out to the old single-cab truck that he used to drive to the nearby Muggle village. He held the passenger door open for her as he lit a cigarette. As she hopped into the seat, she felt his hand on the small of her back in case she stumbled. Choosing to ignore the pixies in her stomach, she cranked the handle to roll down the window.
It was a balmy summer evening, so Hermione let her hand hang out of the truck, slowly waving her fingers through the wind as the truck rumbled down a country lane. It was that perfect time of night where the sun had set a couple of hours ago, but the night sky was still lit with stars. Charlie gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, the other holding his cigarette and resting on the windowsill. The radio hummed lowly with some random song she’d never heard before, and they both were quiet as they passed by fields and trees. The silence wasn’t awkward like she expected, and she didn’t feel the urge to fill it with mindless small talk with him for some reason.
He turned left and, after a couple of minutes, slowed to a stop and shifted the truck into park. Flicking the used filter out of the truck, he opened his door and motioned for her to follow him.
Brow furrowed, she asked, “Where are we?”
He shrugged, “Some random field. I think the guy who owns it is a Muggle.”
Slowly, she scooted across the bench seat and climbed out on his side. As if it were the most common occurrence in the world, he took her hand in his and walked around to the truck bed. Hermione had to concentrate on her breathing to not hyperventilate over the act. He was just holding her hand, and she was acting as if a man had never done that before. It wasn’t like she was some virginal maid; she’d been with plenty of partners before, so why was the simple act of this guy taking her hand affecting her so much?
With his free hand, he pulled the handle on the tailgate and lowered it. In the bed were a couple of folded blankets. Charlie waved his wand, transfiguring one blanket into a thick pallet and the other into several plush, square pillows.
“Up we go,” he casually ordered.
Snorting, she shook her head. “You could explain what we’re doing first.”
“I thought it was obvious,” he smirked. “And didn’t want to insult your intelligence by overexplaining.” He pointed upwards, and Hermione finally noticed how clear the sky was, the bright stars dancing across it.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed.
Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from the sky and set her foot on the corner of the bumper. Charlie held firmly onto her hand to help her balance. He followed behind her, and they settled onto the pillows, their shoulders pressed together as they observed the constellations.
“I used to go down to the Black Lake when I was in school and watch the stars,” she quietly confessed, tracking the curve of Orion’s bow.
“Not the Astronomy tower?” he asked. His breath tickled her cheek, sending a jolt of electricity across her skin.
“Afraid of heights.” She turned her head and almost gasped at how close their faces were.
His eyes briefly flicked down to her lips and back, and she only realized that she had tugged her bottom lip between her teeth when he reached up to free it with his thumb. The rough callous brushed over her abused flesh, and his voice was huskier when he spoke next.
“What else are you scared of?”
“That’s a loaded question,” she whispered.
“Want to know what I’m afraid of?”
“Nothing?” she grinned.
“You.”
“Stop.” She tried to shake her head, but he gripped her chin between his thumb and finger and held firm. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “You’re teasing me again.”
“No, I’m not,” he chuckled. “You think you’re the only one who’s been looking all these years?”
“Charlie,” she pleaded, not wanting him to toy with her like this. “You don’t mean it.”
“How could I not?” His hand drifted to cradle her jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who scares me like you do, Mi. You’re all fire and righteous indignation, and fuck if you’re not an absolute knock-out too. The only thing that’s held me back is not wanting to fuck it up. You mean too much to my family…to me…for me to ruin it.”
“You won’t.”
Clinging to her Gryffindor courage, Hermione closed the distance between them, her mouth melding to his.
Kissing Charlie Weasley felt as natural as breathing. There was no hesitancy in either of their movements. Her hands threaded into his shaggy hair, his snaking around her back to tug her onto his lap. When his tongue brushed over her lips, she eagerly opened for him, a wanton groan erupting from her.
Their touches turned hungry, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her shirt when she shifted positions to straddle him. He tore his mouth from hers to trail kisses along her jaw to her neck. She tilted her head back to give him better access, her nails scraping over his scalp. When her hips canted forward over his growing bulge, she sucked in a sharp breath.
His lips ghosted over her exposed collarbone, having tugged the strap of her tank top down her arm. “We should stop.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she mewled, rolling her hips again.
His fingers dug into her back as he bucked up into her and ground out, “I can’t fuck you for the first time in the back of my truck.”
“Even if I want you to?”
She tugged his face back up to meet hers so she could lose herself in kissing him, drown in the feel of him beneath her. Her body rocked against his, the fabric of her shorts teasing her clit and working her into a frenzy.
“Lie back,” he demanded, gently pushing her away from him.
Hermione didn’t argue, desperate for whatever he was willing to give her. He could have told her to stand on her head and count backwards from a million if it meant he would keep touching her. Her hair spread out around her as she lowered herself onto the pallet, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
Charlie settled onto his knees between her spread legs. His fingers undid the button and fly of her shorts before pulling down both her shorts and knickers in one fluid motion. He palmed his straining erection while his other hand waved over her shirt, vanishing it and her bra.
“Fuck, baby, I wish you could see how gorgeous you look all splayed out for me,” he groaned.
He dipped his head, capturing a pebbled nipple between his lips and sucked. With a whimper, she arched into him. His fingers slipped through her folds, and a satisfied hum rumbled from his chest at how wet he found her.
“Charlie,” she whined.
“I got you, baby,” he murmured against her stomach as he trailed kisses down her skin.
She held her breath when he reached her bare cunt, his breath against her exposed clit already causing heat to pool at her core. His eyes locked on hers as he slowly teased the bundle of nerves with his tongue.
“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he moaned. He circled her clit with his tongue, his fingers teasing her entrance before one plunged into her, stealing her breath.
Peering up, she watched the stars while he worshipped her cunt. Her parted thighs trembled as she fought against clamping them around his head. She fisted his dark auburn hair in her hands, rolling her hips against his face in time with his finger to chase her pleasure.
“Oh, my gods,” she cried when he sucked her clit between his lips. Her vision began to blur as her legs shook. When he added a second finger to her cunt and crooked them, finding that delicious spot against her interior walls, she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her orgasm ripped through her as she convulsed around his fingers. He didn’t let up until she was completely boneless and panting.
Charlie sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other palmed her breast. She expected him to crawl over her and sink into her, but instead, he tugged off his shirt and helped her sit up before slipping it over her head.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking you home so we can continue this.” He grabbed her knickers and worked them back up her legs.
“But I want to continue it now,” she half-pouted.
Chuckling, he pinched her chin between his fingers. “Trust me, baby. There’s no way in seven hells we’re not finishing this, but I’d prefer not to do it in a stranger’s field where anyone could walk up on us.”
He helped her climb down, and when her chest slid down his bare one, she couldn’t help but kiss him, moaning from the taste of her still on his lips. His hands gripped her ass as he ground his erection into her stomach. It was only when he forced them apart that they managed to get into the truck, and she was still too worked up to keep her hands to himself. He’d barely pulled out onto the road when her hand drifted to his belt buckle.
“Hermione,” he warned.
“What?” she asked innocently, pulling the belt free and undoing the button and zipper. “I just want to see.”
She fisted his shaft, freeing it from his boxers, and gave it a slow pump. A devious grin stretched across her face when he let out a tortured groan, the back of his head thumping against the window behind him.
“Eyes on the road,” she cooed, gripping him at the base and lowering her head.
He let out a low, drawn-out “fuck,” and pride bloomed in her chest. She’d gone down on men before, but never in a moving vehicle. One of his hands gripped her curls, yet he didn’t take control. He let her play and tease him with her tongue before she took him as deeply as she could. His grip tightened, pulling her off his cock.
“Have to stop,” he panted.
“What’s wrong?” she mewled. “Can’t last until we get back?” Her hand squeezed his shaft, relishing in his responding hiss.
He pulled her head back further, his eyes darting off the road to bore into hers. “Behave, or when we get to the house, I’ll send you off to bed alone like the brat you want to pretend to be.”
Oh…She kinda liked the thought of calling him on his bluff, but not tonight. Tonight, she just needed him. Fortunately, the drive to The Burrow was only a few minutes more. As soon as Charlie killed the engine, she reached for the door handle, but he stopped her before she could push the door open.
Confused, she twisted her head to look at him, but he only nodded towards the old tire swing. She followed his gaze to see a lone figure rocking back and forth, her long, icy-blonde hair swaying behind her.
“It’s just Luna,” she said. “She’s always been a night-owl.”
Again, she tried to exit the truck, but he stopped her. “Look.”
Huffing, she peered at the back door of The Burrow, and her eyes widened in shock.
“Is that…”
“Yep,” Charlie answered.
They both watched as Bill stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity. The moonlight highlighted the pained expression on his face as he stared at the witch.
“Should we…” she began.
“Just wait. I think he’s actually going to do it.”
Charlie’s fingers intertwined with hers, and he brought her hand to his mouth to brush a kiss over her knuckles. She instantly melted into his touch, finding it difficult to tear her eyes away from him to see what was happening.
Something seemed to break inside of Bill, and he stalked from the house towards Luna. Hermione wished she could hear what he was saying because it was the most animated she’d ever seen Bill. He threw his arms up, gesticulating wildly. All the while, Luna peered up at him, the tire swing slowly spinning around. The wizard reached out and grabbed the tire, halting its movements. The witch gracefully detangled herself from it and languidly approached him. Hermione could see her lips moving as her fingers tucked a lock of Bill’s hair behind his ear. Whatever Luna said must have been exactly what Bill needed to hear, because he swept her up into his arms and stomped towards the orchard.
“Where is he taking her?” she asked, a little alarmed that Bill had just absconded with Luna.
Charlie chuckled, “Probably far enough away so we don’t hear whatever they get up to.” He opened his door and tugged her to him. “Which is great news for us, because that means we can go to my room.”
“And what were we going to do if Bill hadn’t taken off with Luna?” she quipped.
“Go down to the dock,” he shrugged.
“And get splinters in my bum?” she giggled.
“Hey!” he protested, pulling her chest flush with his and leaning down to kiss her. “I would never let this perfect ass get a splinter.”
“Well, in that case…Let’s go.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Why not?”
He gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, nipping at his neck as he marched towards the dock. There were two large Adirondack chairs, and he chose the one that had someone’s forgotten towel draped over it.
Quickly discarding their clothes, Charlie sat back in the chair, tugging Hermione on top of him and kissing her senseless. Her skin heated beneath his roaming hands, her breath hitching when he rolled her nipple between his fingers. When he slipped a hand to her cunt, he mused, “Feeling needy?”
She reached down, taking his hard cock in her hand. “Are you?”
“You have no idea.”
He laved at her breast as his hand joined hers and he slotted his cock at her entrance. Hermione slowly sank down, taking him inch by torturous inch until she was full of him. Her voice shaking, she mewled, “Feels so good.”
Charlie bucked up into her, driving the rest of the way, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her cry of pleasure. She braced her hands on his shoulders and met each of his thrusts. It was rushed and rough, but there would be time for slow and gentle. Right now, she needed to be consumed by him.
“Please,” she begged, her nails digging into his skin.
“I know, baby,” he rasped. “So fucking good for me.”
He reached between them and circled her clit with his thumb, and Hermione’s head fell forward, pressed against Charlie’s. She moaned into his mouth as pressure began to coil behind her navel. Sweat beaded along her hairline, a few stray droplets running down her back. Leaning back and gripping his thighs, she watched with him in rapt attention where their bodies joined.
It proved too much, and without warning, the band snapped, and she tumbled over the precipice. Her body shuddered, Charlie’s movements becoming erratic as he fell after her. He released a low curse, and she could feel him emptying inside of her. Chest heavy, he rested his hand over her lower abdomen and whispered the contraceptive charm.
They stared at each other as they caught their breath, and the heavy haze of desire began to lift. He snaked his arms around her back and pulled her to him, her head resting on his shoulder while he ran his fingers up and down her spine.
“You’re not cold, are you?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she answered, snuggling in closer to him. “This was perfect.”
“You know this means you're mine now, yeah?”
“Since when did you become so possessive?” she giggled.
“Since you,” Charlie intoned, holding her closer.
“What are we going to do when summer ends, and we have to go back to our jobs?” she whispered.
“We’ll figure it out,” he reassured her. “I’m in this.”
She raised her head and peered into his sage green eyes. With a contented smile, she said, “Me, too.”