AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This was my entry for the Interhouse Fest 2014 (interhouse-fest . livejournal . com). The fest is over and reveals are long since out, so I can post this for you here. I'll post it up a chapter at a time over the next few days.
Here was the prompt I worked from:
Prompt #59 - To everyone's surprise, Rose wasn't sorted Gryffindor or even Ravenclaw, but Slytherin. In that house, she learns so much about keeping quiet and studying (people, that is). Over the years she learns so much about Uncle Charlie just by watching him - and all the people he seduces. Rose is a sexual voyeur. Charlie will fuck anything that moves - even relatives. You pick his partners. Make it 3 or more that Rose watches over the years. Does Rose use the knowledge to seduce Charlie in the end? You decide.
Thanks to my betas, gjeangirl & ladysashi, for all your help!
Thank you to the Interhouse Fest Mods for running this awesome fest again this year!
Please review!
DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
TIMELINE: NEXT GEN - Takes place during Rose's sixth, seventh, and post-Hogwarts years.
MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Charlie Weasley x Rose Weasley
SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Charlie Weasley x Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Charlie Weasley x Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, Charlie Weasley x Hannah Abbott-Longbottom, Rose Weasley x Scorpius Malfoy
SUMMARY: Rose loves to watch people get into all sorts of trouble, and spying on Uncle Charlie has opened her mind up to all sorts of perfectly wicked possibilities.
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Explicit het sex (including virginity loss, anal, and oral). Incestuous thoughts. Infidelity. Explicit profanity. Voyeurism. Characters are a bit OOC for the sake of the fic (Rose is a dark figure, Charlie's naughty). British spellings.
NOTES: A requirement of the Interhouse Fest is that the main characters must be from different Hogwarts houses or at least one of them must be from a different school (Durmstrang, Beauxbatons). For this fic, Rose was sorted Slytherin, and in canon Charlie was sorted Gryffindor.
PERFECT (alternately, 'Chasing Dragons')
By: RZZMG
PROLOGUE
'Voyeur' is such an ugly word.
I prefer to think of myself as an observer of the wicked, an eyewitness to naughtiness… a collector of other people's secrets.
But I've never considered creating any of my own silent controversies, content to sit on the sidelines and live vicariously through others… until I watched the perfect man become ensnared by his own darkness.
Then, everything changed.
ONE
He's perfected the art of sexy fucking.
It's a ridiculous thing to think, but it's the truth: Charlie Weasley really knows how to work a woman over.
I've seen my share of sweating, pounding bodies over the years while watching in secret, but I have to say, I've never seen something this deeply sensual before. I'm so turned on my panties are literally damp and I can smell my own arousal as a strong perfume in the air.
It isn't the cut of Uncle Charlie's prick that has me quietly panting. He's decently sized at what looks to be about six inches, but frankly, I've seen bigger (cousin Freddie's packing at least an eight in his trousers, and Professor Longbottom's not far behind that). No, it's the way that Charlie moves his hips with this rocking, swaying motion that's slow and deceptively lazy, and how his sun-bronzed skin ripples over his powerful muscles as he flexes and releases. It is how he looks into his lover's eyes with those intense baby blues as he thrusts into her soaking wet cunt that has sweat beading upon my upper lip and my attention riveted.
He's beautiful, and I've just now realised it… and I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him the same way.
A low groan emits from between his kiss-swollen lips and his lashes flutter when his partner comes under him, but he doesn't stop or speed up even then. He keeps moving at that same insistent, devastating pace. Aunt Fleur weakly protests, as if she can't take what Charlie's doing to her any longer, but I notice her hips rise to meet his downward strokes. She doesn't seem to be too sincere in her objections.
A smile curves Charlie's mouth as if he knows it, too.
When he's ready to let go, he pulls out of her body and comes all over her belly with an extended hiss and a satisfied gasp. He throws his head back as explosions of white, creamy seed spurt from his cock, and as he dies a 'little death', I feel as if I do, too.
AFTER ONE
"Tinworth's seaside is lovely this time of year, isn't it?"
Aunt Fleur pauses in chopping carrots at the cutting board, and quickly glances over at me with wary apprehension. Everyone in my family has looked at me just like that since the year I was sorted into Slytherin, so I'm used to it by now. They all treat me like they do Cousin Teddy, like a viper or a stem of nightshade—a thing to be cautiously handled. Their fear amuses me.
I continue on as if I don't notice her scrutiny and ignoring her rudeness in not greeting me, walking right up to her and standing at her side. She smells like the modestly sweet, perfumy sea lavender that grows just outside the front door, I notice. It's a bit cloying, actually. "I just love the ocean, don't you?" I ask, inspecting her work. Like a long-time housewife, she dices veg perfectly. Figures. "It seems to stretch to the ends of the world, falling into the sun when it touches the horizon... at dusk."
She puts the knife down and dries her nervous hands upon her apron. "Oui," she admits with a tremble in her voice and glances around to make sure we're alone in her kitchen. "I suppose eet does."
Really, what is it about this woman that every male finds fascinating? I can't see it. To me, she looks like a has-been, well past her youthful prime. Hell, from the crow's feet and the way her breasts sag, she seems more like she's steamrolling fast down the hill towards her twilight years. I've seen the stretch marks across her belly and hips, and that little fatty pooch in her lower belly that jiggles when she moves, and the veins in her ankles becoming more prominent with each passing year—she's no diva turning forty-five into the new twenty. Not even. So, what did Uncle Charlie see in her that made her worthy enough to shag like that?
"The beach is so quiet," I continue, relentless in my intention now that the momentum is building. "It feels magical… like anything could happen there—anything at all. You know what I mean?"
She stiffens.
"I especially love the area behind the big dunes. It feels so isolated over there, so overlooked."
…Which is why we both know she chose it for her liaison with Uncle Charlie yesterday.
I can practically feel the mixture of terror and fury warping the space between us. I smile, enjoying play cat to this mouse.
"C'est magnifique," my aunt admits, her demeanour turning brisk, no-nonsense. She's getting her back up. It's the Veela within her, no doubt—it doesn't like to be threatened.
But here's the thing: I'm not afraid of the harpy slut. She cheated on Uncle Bill, who is kind and loves her like she's his whole world, and he doesn't deserve her unfaithfulness. And from the way she looked and sounded the evening before, when the sex was over and she didn't blush with shame but giggled instead at having gotten away with her infidelity, I truly believe Uncle Charlie wasn't the first man to succumb to her Veela pheromones, nor to temporarily help her forget her marriage vows, either.
She doesn't deserve a second chance with Bill, but I'll give it to her if she goes meekly into that dark night. However, she can't have Charlie again. That's not negotiable.
I give her my best impression of Jamie when he's up to his shenanigans—innocently confused expression, head tilted to the side, hands open and down indicating sincerity. "Sorry, I don't speak French." I do, thanks to Scorpius' tutelage, but she doesn't need to know that.
She gives me a narrow-eyed stare that screams, Liar!
I circle around behind her and pick up a partially sliced carrot from the chopping board, tasting her rage-slash-dread on the back of my tongue as I take a bite. The crunch of my teeth sheering through the root is loud in the silence, and I revel in my power.
In the small living room off the kitchen, I can hear Uncle Bill talking to my father and mother. Uncle Charlie left this morning, as did Uncle Percy and his wife. Dominique's in London, spending the night at Victoire's flat. Hugo and Louis are upstairs in Louis' room playing a magical version of a Muggle board game—something about killing a 'Doctor Lucky' character. That leaves Aunt Fleur and I to our own devices.
"I have a Samhain wish list," I whisper to her, leaning in close to her ear. We're almost the same height now that I've grown in another inch. I'm taller than mum, too. "It's like a Christmas list only you can't buy the things on it. Do you want to hear it?"
I can hear her back teeth gritting together as her spine goes positively rigid. "I am, as you English say, all ears."
I place my finger over the golden band that decorates her left ring finger to make my point. "Uncle Bill in a happy relationship for the rest of his days, living alongside a devoted, faithful wife."
Her throat convulses and I know there are tears in her eyes. I can hear them in her voice when she whispers, "How selfless you are."
I smile and step away. "I'm glad we understand each other."
With that, I turn and hop up the stairs to join Hugo and Louis, secure in the knowledge that Aunt Fleur won't dare make the same mistake twice under my watch.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's Notes:
Oui = French for 'Yes'
C'est manifique = French for 'It's magnificent"
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