It happens gradually.
It’s unexpected when it finally occurs but she can’t say that it’s a surprise. They become friends during the war. She’s never really known anything about him until then. He’s just Charlie, the former Quidditch captain who works with dragons. He’s Ron’s older brother, the short stocky one with muscles and a friendly smile. He’s the second son, the one covered with freckles and burns and glimpses of vivid ink that intrigue her even before she really notices him.
As they work together during the war, he becomes Charlie, the one with a passion for his dragons and an intense focus that nearly rivals her own. He becomes Charlie, the ruggedly handsome one that is often overlooked or ignored. He becomes Charlie, the one who makes her think about things she shouldn’t and becomes the star of the fantasies that make her ache and yearn for something she can’t have. He becomes Charlie, a good friend who shares her interest in preserving the rights of magical creatures and taking care of those who can’t have a say. He becomes a part of her routine, someone solid that makes her feel safe and gives her hope in a time when optimism is rare.
After the war, he goes back to Romania and she stays in London to help rebuild. They write letters and exchange long distance floo calls, but it’s not the same. During the next six months, she feels restless and edgy. Something is missing from her life and she begins to suspect the cause of her dissatisfaction whenever she realizes the only time she feels truly relaxed is when she’s reading a letter from Charlie or talking to him about their days. He is a part of her life now, but not in the way she wants.
Another month goes by before she realizes that the desire isn’t fading with time. She convinces herself that he can never feel the same way about her. She’s younger and naïve in ways that frustrate her and make her feel immature despite the fact that she had to grow up so fast. She’s too focused on her future and making a difference to have time for a relationship. He’s too focused on his dragons and a life far from her own to become involved with anyone.
He looks at her and sees his kid brother’s best friend and ex-girlfriend. He doesn’t see a young woman of twenty-two who has passion and desires that would shock him. It’s foolish to yearn for something she’ll never have, she knows, and she should be happy with his friendship and the occasional moment where she catches him looking at her in a way that makes her wonder before he smiles and the moment is gone.
The thought of what they could have won’t leave her mind, though. Hermione can’t stop wondering if he feels the same attraction, if he wants and needs the same things she does. She hates the idea of never saying anything and being left with regrets. In a world where she was forced to lose her childhood, in a way, and see people she loves die to protect their right to live a full and happy life, she feels like a failure for being scared of emotions that confuse her. He may not return her feelings, but she can’t live with the idea of never trying.
Eight months after the war finds her in Romania. She doesn’t know where she gets the courage to do something so rash and bold, but she finds it somewhere and surprises him one night. Flirting is something she never learned and she has no interest in playing silly games of innuendo and fluttering eyelashes. The longing has become hunger over recent weeks, and she knows he must see it when he looks at her. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions, after all.
There are so many things she can say, but no words are coming to mind. She stands in the doorway of his small room at the main lodge of the Colony and just looks at him. He stares at her as if he’s not sure she’s really there and she feels awkward and wonders if she shouldn’t have come after all. Then he walks forward, crossing the room in five steps, and his mouth is on hers and his hands are on her back and her arse as he pulls her against him.
She melts against him, kissing him back passionately as she puts all those words into the kiss. Each swipe of her tongue against his tells him ‘I miss you’, ‘I want you’, ‘I need you’, ‘I love you’. She’s on fire and trembles as he touches her, his hands leaving a path of flames everywhere he caresses. This is what she has spent months yearning for, what she has wanted in the most secret parts of her mind for years, and it’s better than anything she’s ever imagined.
There aren’t any big speeches or exchanges of sentimental conversation. He’s not much of a talker, especially about emotions, and she’s not good at putting her feelings into words without sounding silly. Instead, there are caresses, kisses, squeezes, and a conversation that doesn’t require words at all.
They lose articles of clothing on their way to his bedroom, leaving a trail of shirts, trousers, and socks behind them. His palms are rough, his hands are large, his fingers are long, and his touch is electrifying. His lips are thin, chapped, and wet against her jaw and neck and shoulder as he kisses and licks and nips at her skin. His skin is warm beneath her hands, rough with burns that her fingertips brush against as she touches him, and his firm muscles flex as he lifts her and pushes her against his scratchy blanket and thin cotton sheets.
He has an oral fetish, it seems, and licks her neck and collarbone before he sucks her nipples and squeezes her breasts. She can feel the soft hair of his upper thigh against her cunt as she rocks against him. He chuckles, his breath warm against her wet breast, and slides a hand behind her and lower to squeeze her arse and draw her closer. He is hard and she can almost feel him throbbing as he rubs his cock against her leg. She watches his head move lower and cries out in a soft, strangled gasp when his tongue laps at her.
She moves her fingers into his short red hair and presses against his tongue, face, hand, until she’s making noises that she didn’t think were possible. He is as intense and focused at this just as he is when he works with his dragons, and she realizes now what it is like to be loved and desired in such a way. His passion is addictive, overlooked by so many or seen as boyish enthusiasm, but there is nothing childish about the way that Charlie loves. It is consuming, fiery, gentle and rough in the same caress, and completely indescribable.
When she comes, it feels as if years of tension have been set free with a flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers. He thrusts into her when she’s still shuddering from her orgasm, stretching her with his thick cock and making her whine as she’s filled for the first time in years. They begin to move together as if they’ve been doing this for years instead of just minutes, and she tastes herself on his lips when he kisses her deeply.
He comes with a low grunt against her lips, tensing before he spills inside her. He keeps moving until he’s finally spent. Then he lies on top of her, panting against her neck as they both calm down. She has a moment of panic as she realizes what they’ve just done, as she thinks of all the possibilities, good and bad, that could follow such a drastic change in their relationship, as she acknowledges that she lost control.
The worry doesn’t last long. How could it when he touches her face and stares at her in a way that makes her feel beautiful and desired? He pulls out of her and rolls them onto their sides facing each other. They don’t say anything yet. There’s time for words later when they try to figure out how to make this work and make plans for a future together.
It doesn’t feel weird like she expects considering the fact that they’ve just shagged and haven’t even said anything except an initial greeting of names. Instead, it feels right, as if this is how it’s meant to be, which makes her feel foolish for even thinking such ridiculously romantic thoughts. She smiles shyly and he grins as he pulls her closer. He kisses her forehead and her nose and her cheeks before his lips meet hers in a soft kiss that says many things but, most of all, I love you.
End