Rating NC-17
Pairing(s): Charlie/Hermione
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they all belong to the inimitable J.K. Rowling. I just play with them. I'm not making any money, or my student loan company would stop calling me.
Summary: Charlie is hurt while on the job, and it's up to Hermione to makes sure he heals properly.
Warnings: None, really. Just general smut.
Author's/Artist's notes: I wrote this as a gift to luvscharlie at lj for a weasleyfest gift. I hope everyone enjoys it! A big thank you goes out to my beta, Esmesfavoritedaughter here on . Please let me know what you think!
Let It Be, Part 2/3
Hermione decided she needed to gird her loins before facing a frantic Molly Weasley, so she killed time for a few minutes by filling out Charlie's chart and drinking a cup of tepid tea before making her way to the waiting room. Hermione slipped quietly into a far corner of the family waiting area, automatically noticing several redheads at one end with a shock of jet black right in the middle. Hermione managed to get Arthur's attention and motioned for he and Molly to come speak to her privately.
"Oh, Hermione dear, how is he?" Molly asked as soon as they were out of earshot, or so they thought. Hermione caught sight of a flesh colored string wriggling it's way towards them in her peripheral vision. She held a finger to her lips for Molly as she picked up the extendable ear and gave it a hard yank, causing Fred, George and Ron to all yelp in surprise. That'll teach those wankers to eavesdrop on me!, she thought to herself as she stuck the fleshy string into her robe pocket and turned to speak with the elder Weasleys. Spoils of war and all that.
"A bit bashed up, but with a steady dose of Skele-gro the next twenty-four hours he'll mend all right. What he mostly needs is rest. If he puts too much stress on his leg or ribs, those bones are likely to re-break. He'll need to stay in bed for at least two weeks, and no stringent activity for six." Hermione explained as they made their way to Charlie's room.
"My poor Charlie-Bear," Molly gave a watery chuckle, "he hates to be cooped up. I remember when he was a little fellow with dragon pox. I thought he would drive me barmy what with trying to sneak out to have a fly. 'But it's so nice out, Mum! Sunlight will make me better, right?'" Molly mimicked a young Charlie, then continued, "I can't imagine what keeping a grown man like him in bed is going to be like. I'm going to have to call in reinforcements."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Hermione asked before she could help herself. She had fancied the dragon trainer since she met him during the summer of the world cup, but no one knew that but her, and possibly Ginny. She also owed Molly a lot. The woman had taken her into her home during healer training and interning, which was all unpaid, and let her pay her board by helping with household chores. Molly had simply been thankful for the company. The Burrow had felt so empty after Ginny married Harry, and Ron was rarely home, always off in another country for a Cannon's game. Molly didn't begrudge Ron his happiness, he was living his dream, and having a grand time doing it. Molly had initially hoped that Ron and Hermione would make a go of it, but after watching their interactions, decided that that hope was futile. They bickered non-stop on their good days, and it was all-out war on their bad ones.
Molly had had an inkling of Hermione's feeling for her second eldest, but she originally shrugged it off as a passing fancy. They were so different, and they rarely saw each other at that, making the chances of pairing up slim. Now, here Hermione was unwittingly giving Molly the perfect opportunity for her favorite past time: Matchmaking.
Charlie stared pensively at the ceiling of the bedroom he and Bill shared all through their childhood. He was well aware that he was sulking, but he really was tired of laying in bed. Bugger it all, he thought to himself as he angrily flung his bedclothes to the foot of the bed and kicked them out of the way, I'm not made for this! He sat up, took a deep breath, and decided it was time to get some fresh air.
Charlie made it halfway across the room before he heard a feminine voice that was bordering on shrill ask loudly from behind him,
"Charles Prewett Weasley, what do you think you are doing?"
"Bloody hell, Hermione! You scared me!" Charlie replied, turning around and leaning on the bedpost, his hand place dramatically on his chest. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"It looks like you're deliberately ignoring your healer's orders. You know you're not supposed to be out of bed." Hermione replied, flicking her wand at Charlie and hanging him from his left ankle in midair. "How many times do we have to go through this? You only have one more week, can't you be a man and stick it out that long?" Hermione ranted at him as she gently levitated him back into bed and with a flick of her wand, the sheets tucked themselves tightly around him. "Now, don't get up again, or I will bind you to the bed!"
Charlie rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest in a pout that reminded her somewhat of Ron in one of his sulks. Except in this case, she didn't want to hit him but kiss that adorable pout off of his face. Be professional, Hermione, you have to be the bigger person here. Charlie's deep chuckle cut into her thoughts.
"I don't think you'd have the guts to bind me, little girl." With his challenge, Hermione saw red. She stopped in the doorway, considering her options before turning her wand and silently pointing her wand at his feet. She pivoted on her heel with a slight "humph" and stormed down the stairs.
Charlie wasn't sure what had just happened, and started pulling the blankets off of himself in order to follow her when he caught sight of something metal glinting around his ankle.
"What the bloody fuck?" Charlie mumbled to himself as he inspected the muggle handcuffs that were holding both of his ankles to a bedpost. A parchment appeared out of thin air with a pop and floated down to land on his lap.
Charlie,
Don't ever challenge the smartest witch of her age. If you're a good boy the cuffs will disappear in about an hour. The more you struggle against them, the longer they stay.
Don't mess with me,
Hermione
Charlie read the parchment to himself and let out a hearty laugh. He had severely underestimated Healer Hermione Granger.
A couple weeks later, Charlie could easily navigate around the upstairs without any aid, and could get up and down the stairs with a cane, but being stuck in the house was starting to drive him stir crazy. Having never heard of the phenomenon of cabin fever, he thought he was going to drive either himself or Hermione barmy. In the interest of self-preservation, he decided that Healer Granger, as he sometimes teasingly called her, making her flush, would be the one going to bedlam, not he.
Charlie was a relatively perceptive man, and he figured out within the first couple of weeks that he could get around that his mum was intentionally leaving he and Hermione alone together for extended periods of time. He had gotten the "marry a nice woman and give me lots of grandbabies" spiel more times than he cared to count, and he didn't particularly want to hear it again, so he played along. Every time Molly found another errand she had to make mid-afternoon, leaving the two in the house together, Charlie would hunt Hermione down and barrage her with questions.
At first, Hermione answered them very patiently. They started off innocently enough: Did she like being a witch? Yes. What was her favorite subject in school? Arithmancy. What was her favorite book? Pride and Prejudice. What was her favorite color? Green. After a while, Hermione noticed the questions were getting a bit more personal. What did she want to do with her life? Who was her first love? How many boys had she dated? What did she look for in a bloke? Generally, she answered them as bluntly as she could, but she wondered if there was a point to the questions, or was Charlie just trying to drive her mad in his boredom. Charlie himself wasn't quite sure, perhaps it was a bit of both.
A month into his forced holiday, the weather started getting incredibly warm, and Arthur had to set cooling charms on the house every morning before he left, but they tended to wear off mid-afternoon. One such exceptionally hot day, Charlie found himself on the back porch enjoying the breeze and thinking to himself. Somewhere in the previous four weeks he had come to care for Hermione, and he was trying to place his finger on when, how and why. The first two he could answer easily enough, but the third was giving him a spot of trouble. He wondered if she still fancied him, or if he had driven her batty enough over the past few weeks to get over her initial crush, although he found himself hoping not.
He could hear Hermione puttering around in her room, pulling out book after book, looking for something to read in her boredom. He slowly made his way upstairs and hovered in the shadow of the landing, watching her shelve the last book she had taken down and mop her brow with her shirt. When she flopped onto her bed, her breasts jiggled a bit through her white tank top and Charlie felt his pants tighten just a bit. At that moment, he realized that he wanted nothing more than the woman who was laying on her bed in front of him. He scanned the sky out of her window and saw the water of the old fishpond glittering off in the distance, and inspiration struck. He put on his most charming smile, even though it didn't seem to have any effect on her, and leaned on the door jamb to give his leg a break before asking,
"What are you doing?"