Hermione sat on the back porch swing of the Burrow, watching Harry and the Weasleys toss around a Quaffle. She was fuming. Honestly! Why did Harry and Ron seem to think that she wasn't as full of hormones as they were? All they ever talked about was girls and Horcruxes…more often girls because they were more pleasant to discuss. But she went on one date and they were both utterly astonished. Ron, in his every-insensitive and dimwitted way, had said, "You actually notice men?" It was extraordinarily reminiscent of the time he'd looked at her and said, "Hey, you're a girl!"

She snorted and shot a withering glance at the ignored book on her lap. Sure, she liked books. Sure, she was smart. But that didn't mean that she didn't crave the feeling of a man against her skin. Someone strong…powerful…utterly masculine, unlike the stuttering scholar who had taken her to dinner last night. She had shuddered at his fumbling attempt at a goodnight kiss and fled into the Burrow.

Perhaps it was like imprinting with ducklings or something. Her first foray into the world of men had been Viktor Krum; she still remembered the muscular press of his body during those wild, hot kisses. Hermione liked men with intelligence, certainly—after all, one does need to be able to converse over dinner before going home to bed, right? But more than anything, she wanted to feel a man. Why did Harry and Ron think she was immune to masculine charms? And why did Ginny keep setting her up with boring, scrawny, uninteresting dates? Hermione had told her she wanted a man, a real man. Ginny had giggled and said she figured Hermione went for sweet and smart.

She sighed and turned her attention back to the impromptu Quidditch game going on. Charlie had the Quaffle now. A slow smile spread across her face. Now there was a specimen of manhood. He had been home for three days now, and Hermione had been drooling over his body every moment, never mind his good-natured attitude. His biceps strained against the jumper his mum had knitted for him; Mrs. Weasley had been dismayed that her estimate had been so far off (although Hermione didn't mind in the least). Charlie had hugged his mum and said not to worry; dragon-wrangling was better than weight-lifting for building muscles.

Oh, yes, it was.

She could imagine how he would feel…heavy over her, strong arms lifting his body up, thick cords straining in his neck, the dragon pendant he wore on a chain dragging across her face as he moved. Hermione lost herself in a very naughty daydream.

Her tongue had just reached his navel when the swing rocked, jarring her from her thoughts. Annoyed, she looked up into the laughing eyes of none other than Charlie. She swallowed hard and hoped he knew nothing about Occlumency.

"What're you reading, kiddo?"

She bit her tongue to prevent a very smart remark from passing though the lips that this 'kid' had just imagined pressing against his body. He laid an arm across the back of the swing. Her skin rose in goosebumps; she had the ridiculous thought that her skin was hungry and trying to be closer to him in the only way it possibly could.

The book. She must clear her thoughts and answer his question. She looked back at him, at his amused smile, and mumbled something incomprehensible about transfiguration, then asked why he'd left the game.

"I have a little princess hidden in my room, and it's her dinnertime. Want to come see her?"

"Do you mean a dragon?" she asked incredulously, remembering Hagrid and Norbert from her first year at Hogwarts.

"Yup."

"Does your mum know?"

Charlie laughed. "Sure she knows. My boss at the reserve wouldn't let me come home unless I brought her. She's my special project. And I bet she's hungry, too." He stood up and held out his hand to help her off the swing. When she took it, she felt rough calluses, which she immediately added to her index of naughty-daydream references.

She followed Charlie to his room, wishing all the time that she wasn't going up there to watch him feed a dragon. It had been entirely too long since she'd even kissed a man. She sighed and surrendered to her eyes, which refused to move away from Charlie's bum as he climbed the stairs.

When he opened the door, though, Hermione's eyes were all for the little dragon. She was tiny, smaller than a human newborn, and a deep lavender with shining iridescent scales on her stomach. The little dragon squawked happily when she saw Charlie and flapped her tiny translucent wings.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said warmly, picking her up and cradling her. "How's my girl today? Are you hungry?" Hermione felt her heart melting at his tenderness with the baby. She might wind up with a crush on him for more than just his brawny body. She watched in awe as Charlie bottle-fed the little dragon. When she was finished, she hiccupped, and Charlie kissed her snout. He looked back up at Hermione. "Want to hold her? She's sleepy now, and she'll let you."

He gently transferred the dragon into Hermione's arms and she cradled her. "Be careful of the wings; they're tender," he warned, as she gazed at the gem-like eyes.

"She's beautiful, Charlie! What's her name?"

"Diana. She's an Arabian Amethyst. Her mum was killed by a poacher on the reserve; luckily I'd been keeping an eye on her, and I made it to the nest before the poacher found the egg. I hatched her out and I've been raising her since. She's only about three weeks old."

"Why Diana?" Hermione asked, curious. It seemed like an odd name for a dragon.

"Goddess of the hunt, of course," he answered, grinning. "Don't you know that? I thought you were the one who was supposed to know everything."

She laughed softly at his light teasing. "Of course I knew that. I was just…" She didn't finish, realizing it might seem like an insult. But…masculinity and mythology? She might just melt into a pure, unadulterated puddle of lust right now.

"You didn't think I'd know it?" Charlie laughed. "What, just because I'm sexy I can't be smart, too? You thought I was just a beefcake? Come on, kiddo, get with the program!"

"Does that mean I can be smart and sexy, too?" Hermione asked without thinking. She felt her cheeks flushing scarlet and hoped she hadn't sounded too forward. She knelt down to place the now-sleeping Diana in her nest, avoiding Charlie's gaze.

Charlie paused a moment, glanced at her briefly, and then looked away, almost guiltily. "I really can't answer that…" he mumbled without meeting her eyes.

"Why not? I'm of age," she replied, feeling much more confident at his guilty look.

He met her eyes. "That so?" He seemed to be thinking. "Damn, I guess you are, aren't you? I've been gone too long." He settled onto the edge of his unmade bed and leaned back on his elbows, then helped himself to a much longer admiration of her figure.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "Yeah," he murmured slowly, "I'd say you qualify for the smart and sexy category."

It was now or never: time to make a move. Hermione smiled nervously and asked, "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Damn it, girl. What is a man supposed to say to that?"

How about yes? Hermione thought. How about now? 'Damn it' was right, though. It wasn't normal for her to be like this at all; she'd never said anything like that to a man before. Maybe it was those stupid hormones and that relentless lust. More likely it was the tenderness those strong arms had used to hold the baby dragon he'd named Diana.

He gazed at her, obviously thinking hard. "Ok. Got it. Dinner tonight. I'll have Mum feed Diana for me." He gave her one of his adorable half-grins and she wanted to kiss him. "I'll pick you up at Ginny's bedroom door at six."

Ginny was perched on her bed, watching Hermione twirl in front of the mirror. Her dress matched Diana's scales, and clung in all the right places. She felt beautiful in it, with her hair twisted up and de-frizzed. Although, with a little luck, it would be down and messy before the night was over. She giggled, and Ginny sighed again.

"Come on, won't you tell me who he is? I haven't seen you this excited about a date in ages."

"You might if you'd stop setting me up with boring Ministry workers."

"That last guy didn't work for the Ministry! He was an accountant."

Hermione gave her a pointed gaze, and Ginny laughed. "Ok, fine. So what type of guys should I set you up with? A librarian next time?"

Just then, someone knocked on the door, and Hermione opened it. Charlie reached for her hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Ready to go? You look fantastic."

Ginny just stared. Charlie? Hermione couldn't be going out with Charlie!

Damn, she had been setting her up with the wrong type of guy!

Hermione had a nice time at dinner, although she was rather distracted. She had never seen Charlie in a tie, and she really wanted to pull on it, tug him closer with it, and then loosen it as she snogged him senseless. All through their meal, a heat seemed to be building between them, until finally they rushed from the restaurant. In the alley beside it, Charlie pressed her against the wall and kissed her, hard and rough, exactly the way Hermione wanted to be kissed. His hands were all over her, those sexy calluses catching on the smooth fabric of her dress. She wished like hell for an Invisibility Cloak so he could take her against this wall.

Somehow through the haze of desire they made it back to a hotel; Hermione was pretty sure that neither of them could have managed to Apparate back to the Burrow. Not to mention, Charlie pointed out, that everyone would know by morning.

Hermione didn't care. She just wanted him, wanted to feel his body above her and taste the sweat on his skin.

Bare skin, clean white sheets. Freckles under her tongue, fingers twining through the deep auburn hair at the base of his cock, guiding him towards her. Desperate desire to be lost in him, with him, to be taken.

Hermione gasped when he entered her, stretching muscles she hadn't used in much too long. The look in his eyes made her skin pebble; he wasn't laughing now. This was another Charlie, a serious side that wanted her. He made her feel utterly desirous, and she never, ever wanted this to end. She let herself drown in the heavy push of his body, the wild unidentifiable scent of his skin. She surrendered herself to sensation.

Later, lying in his arms, the sweet, laughing Charlie came back, holding her tenderly, kissing her…telling her that he'd like to take her in the shower of the Burrow, that he'd fantasized about her there and felt like a pervert because he thought she was just a kid.

Not anymore, she told him with a laugh. Not now. Now she was a woman, and he was a man, and they made a heat that rivaled dragonfire. Smart, sexy, and quite possibly made for each other.

Damn. Apparently Ginny was right; Hermione did go for sweet and smart. But with Charlie, sexy was definitely part of the package.