AN: I've been reading loads of Hermione/Charlie fics recently, and it's been ages since I wrote this pairing. So, here goes.
It was hard to believe that the witch lying on the grass outside the Burrow was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her generation, Order of Merlin First Class, heroine of the war against Voldemort. To him, she was his youngest brother's bossy, bushy-haired female friend. She and Ron had dated for a while, but he'd always known that it wasn't going to work out between them. They were just too different. Hermione was driven, determined, whereas Ron was far more laid back. He simply didn't know what to do with a witch like Hermione.
After the war, she'd moved into the Burrow, having nowhere else to go. She'd sent her parents to Australia, under false names and incredibly strong memory charms, and had decided it was kinder to leave them there, having seen how well they'd settled into their new lives. His mother had immediately taken Hermione under her wing, said she was welcome to stay as long as she liked. She'd moved into Bill's old room, next door to his, and had been there for several months. He'd taken some time off from the dragon reserve in Romania just as she'd moved into the Burrow, and he had to admit he'd barely recognised her. Gone were the oversized front teeth and bushy hair he remembered, replaced by sleek curls and a bewitching smile. Not that he was allowing himself to think of her like that - she was seven years his junior, and his brother's ex-girlfriend besides. He'd valiantly ignored the lush curves that were shown off so well by the muggle jeans and T-shirts she wore around the house.
They got along well, he and Hermione. He was able to have in-depth discussions with her about dragons and other magical creatures, amazed as ever by the extent of her knowledge. Every time they talked, he tried desperately to avoid thinking about what else he'd like her mouth to do, tried not to imagine how her feisty passion would extend to the bedroom, pretended to himself that he was happy for them to just be friends. Over the space of four months or so, he'd gone from thinking of her as a naive, bossy schoolgirl to thinking of her as someone he wanted to know a lot better.
She was twenty-two now, undeniably a woman, old enough to know what she wanted. It wouldn't be wrong, would it?
Lying on the grass in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a red bikini top, she probably had no idea what she was doing to him. His mother certainly had no idea of the thoughts going through his mind, or she wouldn't have asked him to take Hermione the glass of lemonade currently clutched in his hand. He knew his shorts were getting tighter, and all he could do was hope that Hermione didn't notice.
"Hermione?" He sat down beside her, holding out the glass.
"Oh, thanks, Charlie. Just what I needed." She sat up, sliding her sunglasses off and perching them on top of her head as she drained the glass. A drop of cold water ran down the side of the glass, dripping onto her breasts. Charlie's eyes followed the path of the droplet as it ran down the curve of her breast and disappeared under the skimpy material of the bikini top. He hadn't meant to stare, really, he hadn't, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself.
"Charlie? My eyes are up here." So she'd noticed. It was too much to hope for that she wouldn't. It was now either a case of get embarrassed, or brazen it out. He'd never been one to back away from a challenge before.
"You're wearing almost nothing, Hermione. Do you really expect me not to notice?"
"I wanted you to notice. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be able to get your attention."
Their eyes met, his bright blue and her cinnamon brown. "You had my attention months ago. All you had to do was say something."
She smirked, an expression he had never expected to see on her face. "In that case... shut up and kiss me."
"Anything you say, Miss Granger."
He'd thought she'd be feisty, and he was right. That kiss was passionate, full of promises of something more. Ron would never have been able to handle a woman like Hermione. Charlie was certain she'd never been completely swept off her feet, never lost herself in the heat of the moment, never screamed someone's name as they made her come over and over. He wanted to show her how sex could be, should be, wanted to tease her, make her beg for more, wanted... Wanted her to love him, he realised. They'd be good together. No - they'd be great together.