A/N: *swoops in on dragon-back*
*parachutes the chapter down to you*
*soars away, waving and laughing*
xx-Kitten.
Begging for Thread
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Two
Hermione groaned when she woke the next morning, her body aching sweetly from the delicious activities she'd put it through the night before. She blinked her eyes open slowly, squinted at her alarm clock on the bedside table and was surprised to note that it was almost midday. The room was still gloriously dark and when she shifted her weight slightly, Hermione found that she was snugly held in the powerful arms of a Dragon Tamer.
Hermione smiled softly, trailing her eyes around the room and taking in the amusing intermingling of their belongings thanks to the way she'd unpacked last night. Charlie had yet to stir, and Hermione stretched languorously, grinding her arse on his half-hard cock and moaning softly at the delicious pull of aching muscles.
Charlie groaned quietly behind her, his arm tightening around her and pressing her back against him firmly. Smirking to herself and rolling her hips, Hermione felt his cock stir to life against her backside while he slowly came awake and she took great delight in canting her hips a little, aligning their bodies before pushing backward and impaling herself on his glorious cock. It stung a bit, her body a little out of practice with such rigorous shagging, but she ignored the slight sting, rocking herself on his cock.
Charlie came awake with a sharply indrawn breath and he groaned into her hair, bucking his hips.
"Blimey," he muttered into her neck when Hermione rolled her hips again, pushing back against him insistently.
Hermione laughed softly at his exclamation, and grinned when Charlie rolled the two of them until she was stretched on her stomach under him. He propped himself up on his elbows and Hermione hiked her arse up just a little, letting him slide in deeper.
"Mmmmm," she hummed with delight as he picked up the pace, still half-asleep even as he nosed her hair out of the way and trailed a line of kisses, licks, and little nips across the top of her shoulders.
Sensitive after last night, Hermione's body thrummed with pleasure, the tension coiling within her already.
"Bloody hell, you know how to wake a man up right, Hermione," Charlie muttered into her ear before nibbling her earlobe and Hermione moaned softly when he picked up the pace, shagging her a little harder.
The orgasm snuck up on her unexpectedly, and Hermione arched under Charlie as it hit, turning her head and biting his forearm.
"Thank bloody Merlin," she heard his huff as she orgasmed. "I didn't think I was going to last."
Hermione laughed breathlessly even as he increased his pace a bit more, driving into her a little harder before he bit down on her shoulder just hard enough to sting, burying himself inside of her as he came. He groaned softly as he relaxed on top of her, nosing her hair to one side and pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.
"Good morning," he murmured, grinning at her.
"Morning," Hermione smiled sleepily.
"Mmm, what time is it?" Charlie asked, looking around before rolling off her, reaching for the far bedside table to pick up his watch.
"Five off midday," Hermione informed him.
"What?" Charlie yelped, suddenly sitting bolt upright in the bed beside her. "Fuck! I'm so late!"
Hermione rolled over, watching him jump out of bed.
"Shit, I need to shower," he was muttering even as he scooped up some of his clothing from random piles on the floor. "And fuck, I think I pulled a muscle in my arse shagging you, woman!"
Hermione began to laugh, watching him trying to pull his pants on despite claims of needing the shower.
"If I get roasted at work because I reek of you, make sure someone looks after Sprocket, yeah?"
"Who is Sprocket?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.
Charlie paused, looking at her through the sleeve hole on his shirt when he struggled to find the head-hole. He pointed toward something to her left, on his side of the bed, and she almost leapt out of her skin when she laid eyes on an enormous and vicious looking dog sitting beside the bed, his front paws and his chin up on the edge of the mattress, big puppy-dog eyes watching her adoringly.
"Merlin's beard, he's bigger than Fang!" Hermione squeaked. "Has he been in here all night?"
"Nah," Charlie said. "Crept in around dawn wanting to snuggle, the big lout."
"Right. Um… I hope he didn't eat Crookshanks."
"Crookshanks?" Charlie asked, frowning at her.
The cat in question made himself known by yowling from the very top of the bookshelf across the room. Charlie spun in that direction with wicked reflexes, his wand trained on the cat in a heartbeat before he figured out it was a cat and not a dragon intent on cooking him.
"You have a cat?" Charlie raised his eyebrow.
"You have a dog?" Hermione countered.
"He's a Dragon-Hound," Charlie nodded. "Helps me out at work, don't you, Sprocket? Pretty much fire-resistant, these guys. He's saved my arse more than once when he jumped on me and fended off fiery blasts when the lizards get stroppy with me."
"Right," Hermione said. "You're taking him with you to work, then?" she confirmed.
"Yeah. Look, I've got to run, Hermione. I'm already so late. Frankie's going to take it out of my hide. You'll be here when I get home, right?"
"What time will you be back?" Hermione asked.
"Probably not until midnight, maybe a bit after," Charlie said.
"I'll be here," Hermione smiled. "I'll leave something in the kitchen for you, if I'm not still awake."
Charlie grinned.
"Liking you more and more, Granger," he said as he strode for the door. "Sprocket, come on buddy. I know she's pretty and you want to stare at her all day, but we've got to go, dog. I'll see you tonight, Hermione."
Hermione waved him off, squeaking when Sprocket jumped up on the bed and bounded right over the top of her before he followed Charlie out the door. She listened to the sounds of the pair of them bounding down the stairs, upsetting all the portraits, including the one of Sirius's mother. She began screeching about mudlood filth and blood traitors, but cut off abruptly when the front door opened and closed behind Charlie as he left for work.
Raising one eyebrow and wondering if the portrait only bothered to scream when she thought there was someone around to hear her, Hermione rolled over and looked at Crookshanks where he was still perched on top of the bookshelf.
"Well, what are we going to do today, Crooks?" she asked of the cat, even knowing that she had a stack of homework that she could do, having put it all off while she'd spent the last few weeks with her parents, trying to etch everything about them into her memory.
She needed to keep busy, she knew. If she didn't, she was going to break down and cry her heart out, which would be unproductive. Sighing and contemplating going back to sleep for an hour, Hermione rolled to the side, sat up in the bed and winced when three shags worth of stickiness made itself known between her legs.
"Gross," she muttered, reaching for her wand and vanishing the mess before getting to her feet and thinking a shower might be in order. She scooped up yesterday's dress from the crumpled pile she'd left it in on the floor, pulling it on over her head. Yesterday's knickers were tossed into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner and Hermione collected fresh underwear from one of the drawers where her things had unpacked themselves.
Crookshanks jumped down and meowed as he followed her down the stairs to the shower.
"Let me wash first, Crooks," Hermione laughed at the cat. "I smell terrible."
She was quick about it, though she did take the time to shampoo and deep condition her hair with some of the newest products on the wizarding market, smiling to herself when she got out and found that her usually frizzy hair was hanging in sleek ringlets.
"Alright, let's get you fed, and then I need to wash those sheets, and oh my Merlin, this is disgusting!" Hermione announced when she strolled into the kitchen and almost recoiled in horror.
She recognized the mess immediately as the result of one, Nymphadora Tonks, attempting to cook an edible meal. The whole kitchen was in a mess, every pot, every pan and every flat surface covered in food scraps and other leavings.
Flicking her wand, Hermione used magic to begin tidying the place while she fed Crookshanks, setting up his food dish in the corner of the kitchen beside the bowl that must belong to Sprocket.
She puttered about the house until midafternoon, locating and cleaning various messes, doing several loads of washing, and even chasing after a family of Puffeskins that had made a nest for themselves in the laundry. She captured all of them, knowing she'd be able to sell them to the man at Eeylops Owl Emporium for a few Galleons each.
When things were in order at the house, Hermione took stock of everything they had on hand ranging from food and cooking staples, to the levels of potion ingredients, the amount of whiskey and wine, and even the state of the first-aid kit. She would need to do a big shop, she decided, pleased that before he'd died, Sirius had somehow withdrawn all of the money from all of the various Black family vaults and had squirrelled it all away in the basement of Headquarters. Not many knew that, of course. In fact, the only ones who did were Remus, Harry, and Hermione. He'd wanted to make sure all of them would have access to money in a hurry if they ever needed it, and she didn't feel guilty dipping into the supply to stock up on everything they needed to keep Headquarters running. Knowing that all too soon the house would fill again for the next Order meeting in the lead up to collecting Harry from Surrey, Hermione made sure to plan for having a full house.
While she was at it, on her way out the door, Hermione found herself eyeing the peeling and flaked wallpaper with distaste, thinking to herself that one of the best ways to keep herself busy over the summer would be to begin properly tidying this old house up and making it fit for human habitation, once again. Yes, she would pick up some tools to remove the old shoddy stuff, in addition to collecting some new paper for the walls.
She knew it would be dangerous to go to Diagon Alley alone, and that the other Order members would scold her if they saw, so Hermione made sure to take some precautions. She charmed her dark hair to be pure white, making a face at herself in the mirror and thinking that she looked rather like a Malfoy family reject. She used far more make-up on her face that she ordinarily would, lathering on concealer before doling up her eyes in the way Ginny had taught her, winging her eyes and shading her lids, before coating her lips in crimson lipstick.
"Merlin, I look like a cheap hooker," Hermione muttered, shaking her head at herself. "But at least I don't look like me, right Crooks?"
The cat yowled and streaked out of the room, clearly horrified and Hermione laughed. Hurrying out the door, she Disapparated to the Alley with a sharp crack, losing herself in the quiet street with ease. It might be the height of the war, but it seemed nothing would ever cease consumerism, and Hermione was soon just a face among the crowd as she purchased everything she needed.
The man at the apothecary eyed her suspiciously when she bought the many ingredients needed for healing potions, Polyjuice potion, burn salve and all manner of other ingredients to make the more expensive healing potions from scratch.
She couldn't resist stopping at the bookshop before she left, after trading her captured Puffeskins for Kneazel treats and Dragon-Hound food, and she took her time perusing the shelves. She bought several books, using her own money for those, before stopping at a renovations shop on her way out of the alley and discovering there was a new dissolvent on the market that would remove stubborn old paintings and posters from walls. Hermione bought a big pot of it, along with enough wallpaper to do the entire common areas of Grimmauld place in addition to the bedroom she was sharing with Charlie. She bought enough for the other rooms too, but she might hold off on fixing some of them up until she had permission from Harry and Remus. She imagined Harry might take issue with her re-decorating Sirius's room, for instance.
When she had everything she needed and was laden with bags, Hermione left Diagon Alley, thankful no one had recognized her. Returning to the house, the first thing she did after putting down all of her shopping was to dig out the pot of dissolvent and dribble some of it along the top of Mrs Black's portrait, excited to be able to get rid of the horrible thing once and for all.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
"Weasley, where the fuck have you been?" Frankie roared when Charlie arrived at work, late and still trying to stomp his feet into his boots properly.
"Sorry, boss," Charlie apologized. "Overslept."
Frankie narrowed his eyes on him and Charlie held perfectly still, watching the lycan circle him, sniffing loudly.
"Too busy fucking a pretty girl, by the smell of you," the werewolf growled.
"Lost track of time. Long night, you know? Charlie said.
"Well, who the fuck is she, eh?" the man asked, and Charlie shook his head, smirking a little, knowing that his boss wasn't really angry with him, he was just abrupt and blunt by nature.
"Pretty little thing I'm keeping to myself, mate," Charlie smirked.
"Anyone I know?" Frankie asked. "Smells hot."
Charlie laughed.
"You don't know her," he shook his head. "How're my lizards?"
"Hungry," Frankie told him. "Restless. There's a scent on the breeze that stirring up all the magical creatures, my friend."
Charlie drew in a deep breath through his nose, picking up the scent of dragons, fire, soot, earth, impending rain, and something else that made his nose tingle.
"Don't know what it is," Frankie went on, watching him as he moved in the direction of the hills where his dragons were nesting. "But I don't like it, kid. Not a bit."
"Makes my nose tingle," Charlie nodded, frowning.
"Mmmm," Frankie nodded. "Tingles and burns a little in mine. Reckon something's not right, Charlie. Not right at all."
Charlie frowned, not liking the sound of that.
"The Death Eaters?" he asked in a low voice.
"No," Frankie shook his head. "This is the scent of earth magic. No wizard is causing this."
"Greyback?" Charlie guessed again.
"Don't think so," Frankie shook his head. "Doesn't smell like wolf-magic, either. This feels like…. Olde magic. Earth magic. The type that birthed the Standing Stones and gave way to creatures that roam our land…. Feels like something ancient is waking up, and bringing all manner of strange new things with it. You be careful out there, Charlie boy. The dragons are ornery, and the times are dangerous."
With that, Frankie walked away, following his nose to something away in the forest, leaving Charlie with goosebumps running over his arms despite the warmth of the summer day. He shook himself before looking down at Sprocket, noticing that even the dog seemed on edge. His ears forward and his nose twitching, his tail poised and raised like he'd smelled something worth hunting and was just waiting for it to break cover and begin to run.
Shaking his head, Charlie set off in the direction of his dragons, thinking that it was high time he got them fed and hoping that whatever was upsetting them all would pass without incident. The last thing they needed was any more trouble on top of the war. He was still thinking about it all, trying to puzzle it out, when a loud roar emitted from behind him before a heavy dragon claw swept him off his feet and Charlie Weasley rolled in the beast's tight grip, his stomach twisting nervously when he caught sight of one of his favourite dragons looking intent on eating him.
