A/N: This is my very first fic, any feedback is greatly appreciated. Not much M in this one, but there is to come. I'm having a bit of trouble with the formatting and hope to get it resolved for chapter 2.

Disclaimers: I do not own or make money off of Harry Potter or any properties related to it.

Edited to fix formatting and final grammar corrections. 8/16/18

Paralyzer

Hermione clung to her glass of firewhisky, wishing it was cooling her instead of making her blood boil. That was the problem with the popular drink, it heated you through to the core the more you drank it. In the oppressive heat of the club, it was a bad choice. She'd been hit by the wall of body heat when they'd arrived and could feel a thin layer of perspiration gathering on her own skin just standing in the back and watching the dancers. She wasn't sure how those partaking in the dancing had not collapsed into puddles. She sighed and studied her drink for a moment. She'd not bothered with the ice for her second drink, it melted much too quickly in the magically enhanced beverage. She wondered if the claims of it giving the drinker more courage could be based on an enchantment or if it was merely a side effect of the lack of inhibitions one could feel when drinking. Then again, there really wasn't a way for her to test her theory. Not that it mattered, even with Gryffindor courage and firewhisky in play she wasn't convinced she could actually force herself onto the dance floor.

She scanned the crowd, trying to pick out any of the people she'd come here with. She was not having fun. She should have stayed home. Nightclubs, it turned out, were not for her. She couldn't hear anything over the thumping music and had no intention of dancing with any of the strange men who had approached her. It wasn't that none of them were attractive or she wouldn't otherwise be interested in them, she just wasn't comfortable here. This Muggle inspired dance club was definitely one of those situations she had been ill-prepared for. She did not like feeling unprepared. She sighed and took a long pull of her drink, letting the burn linger on her tongue.

She desperately wanted to be back in her cabin reading. She probably still would have enjoyed a drink before turning in, but she would have been able to nurse it for several hours. Here she was feeling the pressure to down one after the other in a misguided attempt to calm her frazzled nerves. She honestly couldn't figure out why she was still here at all. After the other researchers had disappeared into the throng she could have left. But here she was, a mildly uncomfortable wallflower nursing a drink she wasn't even sure she still wanted.

She normally wouldn't have even considered joining the other reserve employees for a night of heavy drinking and debauchery. She had never really outgrown her tendency to seek out solitude and a good book over parties and late nights. That had contributed to the breakdown in her relationship with Ron. After the war, she'd wanted to fade into obscurity and get on with her studies. He didn't, he was enjoying the celebrity and adventure-filled career being an Auror brought him. She didn't think poorly of him for it, but she didn't want that life anymore. She wanted something different. They'd made a fair shake of it, working at their relationship for more than a year before finally calling it quits. Now he was with a wonderful woman he'd met at the Ministry. He'd owled her only a couple weeks before to say he'd bought a ring and was waiting for the right moment. She was genuinely excited for him despite the pangs of jealousy his pending engagement caused. Afterall, she was twenty-five and woefully alone.

When she'd first come to the reserve six months ago she had not put much thought into building relationships with people. She'd overheard some of the rumours about herself and secretly wished they were true. No one would have guessed that the buttoned-up bookworm desperately wanted to be the kind of woman to snog in the back of poorly lit pubs and drag a string of lovers home for one night stands. She hadn't so much as kissed someone the entire time she'd been there. She'd heard some of the tamers joke about wanting to get a leg over her, but none of them had ever actually approached her. The thought of it built a fire inside her. If only they had asked… She did nothing to stop the rumours while simultaneously trying not to make them worse. She just liked that they were talking about her for a reason other than her relationship with Harry or what she'd done in the war. Even if the stories were massively more entertaining than the truth.

She vaguely wondered if the fake version of herself was why she had lingered in the Carpathian Mountains for so long. She had never intended to stay as long as she had, her dragon rotation should have been three months and then on to the next creature. Romania was just one of many stops on her year-long tour of magizoological outposts while she decided what creatures she wanted to work with. She hadn't counted on falling so thoroughly in love with the giant lizards. The more she'd been able to research the powerful beasts up close, the more she yearned to work with them hands on. Something she could only do by officially registering her intent to become a dragonologist and taking an apprenticeship under an experienced handler. She'd run out her research extensions and it was now or never. She'd have to tell them by the end of the month if she was serious about staying on and getting her hands dirty or if she was ready to move on elsewhere.

The assumption that this was her last month with the team was why she'd been invited out in the first place. She'd not really bonded with the research team, preferring the company of the tamers and healers over the men and women buried in their notes. She'd had a lifetime of being buried in notes and research while she was at Hogwarts. She wanted to discover things herself now, not just read about what others had already found. She'd flitted at the edges of the social circles of the research team, never really getting too close to any of them. In a last-ditch effort to make her feel included they'd tossed out the invitation to join them tonight. They were looking to get pissed and blow off steam. Hermione had agreed, hoping to feel out how they'd respond to her staying and changing programs. It had not occurred to her that the main point of this excursion for most of the group was to find somebody to take them home. After the first drink, the group had slowly trickled away, leaving her to her second drink for company.

Things had fallen apart a bit for her when they'd arrived. She had thought they were going to the pub and was mentally prepared for pints and the smell of cigarette smoke, not the sour sweat smell and two drink minimum of the dance club they'd ended up at. Truthfully, the drink requirement didn't bother her much. It was the dancing. While she did enjoy dancing in a general sense, she had not stayed on top of the dance trends that everyone else had. There was a lot more groping and grinding than she had seen before and she wasn't sure she was comfortable with it. She didn't like the idea of a total stranger putting their hands on her like that without her getting to know them first. She figured that discomfort was exactly why she could never be the bed-hopping witch she purportedly was. She wondered vaguely if the false stories of her one night conquests had contributed to the often frosty reception she got from the research team. This was how she'd ended up on the outside looking in, observing everyone else pair off. In a way, it wasn't that different from watching the dragons circle one another during the mating rituals. She smirked and chuckled to herself as she took another sip of her drink.

Unbeknownst to her, a man had spotted her from across the room and was slowly winding his way through the crowd. He couldn't be sure, but he thought the brunette clad in all black against the far wall looked familiar. He couldn't see her face from this angle, but he was certain he knew her. He was scanning the room for someone to dance with when his eyes passed over her. He drank in her long legs and perfect curves, lingering on her creamy exposed cleavage and red-painted lips. As he got closer his eyes landed on the rest of her face and he realized he'd been appraising the one and only Hermione Granger, rumoured sex kitten of the research team. He wasn't sure he believed the rumours, but he could see why someone would want to brag about bedding her. He continued to appreciate the lines of her body as he made his way to her, purposefully keeping himself out of her line of sight so he could take his time ogling her. He had a primal need to make her move. She was standing so still while everyone else was moving so quickly. He wanted to make her hips move, to see her back arch the way the other dancers' did. He slid up behind her and leaned over to whisper in her ear as a chuckle escaped her lips.

"What's so funny?" She jumped at the familiar voice in her ear and broke into a broad smile. She wrapped the second eldest Weasley in a hug and kissed his cheek. She didn't notice the twitch in his trousers as she backed off him.

"Charlie! When did you get back?"

"Hour or so ago. Henry said he'd heard most everyone headed here tonight. Thought I'd pop in and see who was about and not totally rat-arsed," he scanned the crowd quickly to see if any other reserve faces would pop out at him.

"I'm not sure who's still here if I'm honest. They ditched me ages ago. I came with the research team, I don't think any of the tamers came tonight. At least not with us," she gestured to the packed room with a shrug. She reached for her drink, realising that it had disappeared in the few moments she'd set it down.

"Probably a cleaning charm so they don't have to go 'round collecting the glasses. Come on, I'll buy you another one," he put an arm around her and steered her through the crowd toward the bar.

The closeness stirred Hermione's inner flame. She surprised herself with the sudden zing to her knickers. She had never been attracted to Charlie before, had she? Maybe it was the firewhisky. Wouldn't be the first time it sent her libido into overdrive. He was decent looking enough. Not as handsome as Bill, but few men were. Where the eldest Weasley was comparable to a rock star, the second eldest was more like an athlete. Stocky and broad-shouldered, his muscles well-defined and his skin tanned by the sun. He was by far the most freckled brother, though it was hard to tell with the tan, and he was definitely the shortest. Coming in just short of the twins at 5'10". She was pleasantly surprised to see he still had his ponytail, knowing that it drove Molly spare. She absent-mindedly wondered if the rumours of his tattoos were true. She'd never seen one, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

"Hermione?" he was waving his hands in front of her face. She blushed and snapped out of whatever trance she'd been under.

"Sorry, got a bit distracted…" her cheeks flushed.

"What do you want to drink?'

"Ogden's Old Firewhisky. Neat."

"I didn't take you for a whiskey drinker, Granger," Charlie smirked at her, his blue eyes flickering with something she couldn't define.

"Make that two," he relayed to the barkeep, dropping a few galleons on the bar.

It didn't take long for their drinks and she clinked glasses with him as they moved away from the busy counter toward an open booth set just off the dance floor.

"You never did say what was so funny." Charlie pressed, helping her up the small step into the booth. She felt his eyes glide over her and hoped she wasn't blushing. She'd worn the too high heels because of the line they created that he was now admiring.

"I was thinking they look a bit like the dragons when they go in heat. Circling and pressed against each other like that. I keep waiting for one of them to breathe fire," she laughed. Charlie laughed along with her, studying the dancers in much the same way she had been all night.

"Is that why you aren't dancing? Got dragons on the brain?" he teased. She laughed and nervously tossed her hair.

"I'm not much of a dancer, really…" she trailed off.

"Rubbish. I've seen you dance. You love it," he took a long pull of his drink and watched her squirm over his glass.

"I don't know how to dance to this. I've not kept up with the Muggle dance trends. I'm not exactly keen on letting some stranger handle me like that." she admitted. Charlie studied her for a moment before draining his glass. She could see him choose his words carefully before he spoke again.

"I had a feeling those rumours were rubbish." Her cheeks burned red and she stared down into her glass, afraid to look in his eyes.

"Woah. Sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to upset you…"

"No, it's alright. I guess I just didn't realise you would have heard the things they say about me. And no, they aren't true. I haven't so much as kissed someone in the entire time I've been here." She tentatively made eye contact, surprised when there wasn't a look of pity on his face. He smiled softly at her and reached over to put a hand on her wrist.

"Right well. We've established the rumours are untrue and I've managed to make an arse of myself. Don't suppose there's any way I can salvage this?"

"You didn't make an arse of yourself. I just don't want to talk about it. I know what they say, Charlie, and I've not stopped them." She blushed again and he wondered what was hiding behind that statement. He chose not to push his luck.

"I can show you."

"Show me?"

"How to dance like this," he gestured toward the dancers.

"What?" She nearly yelped, swallowing a large gulp of firewhisky to tamp down her shock.

"Come on, dance with me. Never know, could be fun…"

"Well…" she looked from her half-finished drink to his hand, to his face, and back again. With a sigh, she downed the rest of the glass and took his hand.

Before she could change her mind, Charlie was pulling her onto the dance floor. He led her deeper into the crowd than she was necessarily comfortable with. Her heart was pounding nervously and she was certain the last of the whiskey had gone straight to her head. She started to turn back when he put his hands on her hips and leaned into her. She felt her body flush at the intimate contact. Another zing to her knickers.

"Just move the way I move," he whispered into her ear, tentatively beginning to move his hips into hers. She followed and tried not to think too heavily about the sensation his hands on her hips was causing deep at her core.

She closed her eyes and tried to get into the music. She didn't understand most of the references in the lyrics and tried to focus on the rhythm. She raised her arms and rolled her shoulders a little, getting more into the movements. She experimented with sliding her body up and down his slightly as she'd seen other women do earlier in the night. She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat, but she couldn't be sure.

As the tempo changed going into the next song she experimentally moved one of Charlie's hands across her stomach and reached one of her own behind her to hook behind his neck, pressing her body even closer to his. She felt him tense for a moment and then reposition himself slightly. She wondered if she'd done something wrong.

"You're getting the hang of it," he swallowed, beginning to move with her again. The next few songs she lost herself in the feel of his hands roaming over her and the way he ground his hips into her. The combination of sexual frustration after weeks of no physical contact and firewhisky flooding her mind made her hyper-aware of his every movement. She leaned her head back into him, keeping her eyes closed. Her mind racing through thoughts that were not entirely proper to have about her ex-boyfriend's brother.

She felt his hands slide over her curves and wondered what they'd feel like against bare skin. The stubble on his cheek against her skin sent a shiver down her spine and she arched into him involuntarily. She decided next time she was going to be sweaty in a dark lit room with Charlie Weasley, she wanted a lot less clothing and a lot fewer people. She imagined what his lips would feel like against her skin as the song changed to something much slower. The sudden decrease in energy around them broke her concentration. She opened her eyes and stepped away from him, turning to look into his eyes. She puzzled at the storm she saw in them, but before she could speak he was leading her off the dance floor and back to the bar.

"Sorry," he mumbled, dropping her hand.

"For what?" she furrowed her brow at him.

"I was getting a bit overheated..." he trailed off, rubbing a hand behind his neck as he looked past her, searching for the bartender.

"To be honest, I've been overheating since I got here. I thought we were going to the pub when the girls asked me along tonight. I probably wouldn't have come otherwise." she admitted sheepishly.

"Well, no reason we can't still go to the pub. Horntails is just up the street. He indicated with a nod of his head.

"Alright," she smiled up at him and followed the now relieved looking redhead out onto the street.

"Can I admit something?" He stopped suddenly, turning to her. She nodded.

"I don't usually dance like that either." She laughed at the admission and hooked her arm into his, starting them in the direction of the pub again.

"Glad I'm not the only one that would rather be somewhere else," she admitted. He smiled at her and relaxed significantly, the night air calming his body.

She'd been to Horntails several times before. Usually alone when she wanted somewhere off the reserve for a quiet pint and maybe a bit of live music. She was fond of the dingy little dive with its overly smoky smell and the crowd of regulars huddled around the far end of the bar. The prices were reasonable, the food decent when you'd had a few too many, and the music much more her style. It wasn't uncommon for the regulars to break into song when the wireless wasn't working. A mix of traditional Romanian, British, and Irish tunes was not uncommon. She was particularly fond of the Irish couple that would sometimes bring along their fiddle and bodhran to play along with the singers. She was mildly disappointed to see they weren't there tonight.

"Hermione, haven't seen you in weeks!" The white-haired publican lit up to see her.

"I've been very busy the past month, Grigore. You know Charlie Weasley, yeah?" she slid onto a bar stool and indicated to the man beside her.

"We all know Charlie, regular around these parts. How was England? Everything alright with the family?" he asked as he paused in his wiping down of the bar.

"All is well, old friend. How is your Elena? Still pestering you to retire?" Charlie slid onto the stool next to her, his knee resting gently against hers. She wondered for a moment if it was intentional.

"She'll never stop. I'd lose what's left of my mind if I stopped working though, Charl. You know how much I love this old place." He looked content as he let out a sigh.

"Well, that'll be enough of that. What are you drinking tonight?" he straightened.

"Ogden's, neat. Put it on my tab." Charlie answered before she could speak.

"I can pay you back..." she started.

"No worries. I've not taken you for a drink in the whole of the time you've been here. Mum would be disappointed in me," he laughed easily, sipping at the drink Grigore had put in front of him. Hermione laughed at the thought of Molly taking him to task for not socializing enough with her.

"It's not like we see each other much, Charlie. You aren't exactly on the level of the research interns. You're in the field a lot more than I am." She sighed.

"Sounds to me like you'd like to be in the field yourself, Granger," he looked at her over his glass for the second time that night. She squirmed under his gaze, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again.

"I don't want to do solely academic research. I want to get my hands dirty. I see the tamers and I get this feeling in my stomach like that's what I'm meant to be doing," she explained in a near whisper. He studied her intensely for a moment and her heart began to race.

"Your research extension is just about up, isn't it?" he asked, sighing and setting the glass back down.

"I have to tell them what I want to do by the end of the month. I don't know that I've decided," she explained, sipping her drink and not making eye contact.

"I think you have. I think you want to be a tamer," he pressed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I think that's what I want. But I don't know for sure," she shrugged.

"You said you feel like that's what you're meant to be doing. So do it," he shrugged back.

"It's not that simple. Just because I feel it, doesn't mean I know it. I want to know for sure," she explained, running her finger along the rim of her glass.

"How are you supposed to know if you don't try it? You've jumped in feet first in the field of danger before, Granger. I know those stories are true." He knocked back the rest of his drink and signaled for another. She quickly did the same, studying him for a moment.

"That was different. And I researched thoroughly before we did most things. We very rarely went into things completely blind…"

"You're on the research team here, what more do you need to know before you can make a decision?" He pressed.

"I'm not sure. I guess I just don't know if I'd be any good at it. Doesn't matter how many tests I take or papers I write, there's no way to know if I'd be rubbish in the field or not," she sighed and looked around the room.

"How did you know?" she asked suddenly.

"I felt it. I know that's not the answer you're looking for, but I felt that I'd be good at it. First time I ever got close to a dragon I knew for sure. It's one of those things that's based on instinct, there's only so much you can prepare for that," he explained.

"Oh." She frowned slightly at the answer and drained half of her glass as she mulled over his response.

"I have an idea." Charlie tipped back the rest of his glass and dropped a large tip on the bar. She raised her eyebrows in confusion and quickly finished her own glass before following him out into the night.

"You've already let me show you how to dance, let me show you how to approach a dragon," he explained, grabbing her arm and side along apparating them back onto reserve grounds before she could protest.

"Charlie, you can't possibly be serious!" She fought against his tug, eyes wide.

"You trusted me earlier, trust me now. I know what I'm doing." He all but dragged her down the dimly lit dirt road toward one of the enclosures. He pulled her through the gate and into the open field. She froze in awe when they came within several yards of a slumbering beast.

She stared at the Common Welsh Green resting in front of her. It was smaller than the one Fleur had faced in the Triwizard Tournament so she assumed this one was younger. It was nearly two metres long and her heart jumped into her throat as it raised its head to study them.

"Charlie…" she breathed, squeezing his hand with all her might.

"Do you want to meet her?" He stepped behind her and whispered in her ear. Before she could answer he was walking her even closer to the dragon as it blinked its great eyes with curiosity.

The dragon seemed to recognize Charlie and stretched its head toward them as they approached.

"She likes to be scratched under her chin," Charlie explained as he did just that.

Hermione was at a loss for words as her fingers came in contact with an adult dragon for the first time.

"They've let us touch the babies before, but never an adult…." she breathed.

"Ioana isn't full grown just yet, but she was born here and is used to humans."

"Ioana?" She stepped away from Charlie and moved closer to the dragon, who blinked at hearing her name.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She continued to scratch the dragon's chin, it seemed to sigh as a puff of air hit Hermione in the face.

"You're a powerful thing aren't you? I can feel your magic. I bet you're a wonderful flyer." The beast seemed to nod her head at this as if she understood the witch.

"That's the way, Hermione. They like to be sweet talked." Charlie appeared behind her again and murmured in her ear. Before she could register his sudden closeness Ioana spread her great wings and took off into the night sky.

"Oh!" she gasped as the beautiful green lizard took to the air. Charlie chuckled softly and began to lead her back out of the enclosure. Safely on the other side of the containment wards, Hermione threw her arms around Charlie's neck.

"That was… she was…"

"Beautiful dragon, isn't she?" He laughed, extracting the little witch from his neck.

"She's wonderful." She breathed, turning away from him to watch her swoop through the sky in lazy loops before touching back down in the grass.

"Most people would have been too afraid to touch a dragon, let alone speak to it. Still think you won't be good at this?" he asked. She shook her head, still in awe of what she'd just done.

"I think I've got some paperwork to file…" she trailed off, beginning to head in the direction of her cabin. Charlie jogged to catch her, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

"So what made you make up your mind so suddenly?" he asked.

"I could feel it," she stopped and looked up into his eyes. She saw something there she couldn't quite place. He smirked then pulled her in for a hug.

"Told you there are some things you just feel." He pushed back from her slightly and brought his lips gently to hers. She gasped at the contact and stepped back from him.

"I… I'm so sorry, Hermione, I thought…" He started before she grabbed his face and crashed her mouth into his. He wrapped his arms around her and followed her lead this time, letting her set the rhythm for their dancing lips.

After several long moments, she pulled back slightly and began searching his eyes. They were a perfect storm like they'd been in the club and for the first time, she recognized it as desire.

"Come home with me," she whispered.