Shamelessly
Chapter 7
Making Memories
Disclaimer: Same as the last chapters
A/N: I'm so incredibly sorry that this story took me so long to update. I can't guarentee that it's going to be very long, but I hope I can give you something to make up for the wait. On a heavy note, if you could all send your thoughts out to Greece right now. We were there last week, right before the riots started, and the country is really in a state. I'm not one for praying, but keep them in your thoughts. On a much lighter note, happy Valentine's Day to you all! I hope this chapter reaches expectation! Now, no more of me talking!
Shamelessly
Chapter 7
Making Memories
"Give me the brush," Ginny said. Her hand was on her hip and the glare in her eyes was so directly reminiscent of her mother's that Hermione felt no choice but to hand over the offending object in question. Ginny placed it on the dresser, giving her friend the once over.
"You're under my control now," she said after a moment. Hermione went to respond, but one more Weasley-Matriarch worthy glance was enough to quiet her. While on principle she found that her style and Ginny's were extremely different than one another, she wasn't, on the whole, totally opposed to Ginny giving her a makeover before her date. She had an eye for the ease of femininity that Hermione felt she hadn't yet mastered. And besides, he had been driving her crazy with this mad game they had been playing. She simply wanted to make sure he was on his toes.
"Now," Ginny began, her back facing Hermione as she dug around her disaster of a closet. "Did he tell you where he was taking you?"
Hermione shook her head and looked out the window to where the mid afternoon sun was casting long shadows on the garden and thought about how it didn't really matter. She was getting to spend the evening with Charlie, just the two of them, no crazy family members or interfering friends. She couldn't care less if they were camping the night out on his Dragon Reserve in Romania, though she had taken to a distaste of camping following the War. But the thought, the idea that she had such feelings for a man she knew so little about, scared her quite. And she was usually so level headed.
"Hermione, earth to Hermione," Hermione looked at her friend, who was now waving her hands in the air quite wildly.
"Are you alright, Ginny?" Hermione asked her, cocking her head to the side. Ginny folded her arms.
"I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes," she replied. "What were you thinking about?" She paused, "Who were you thinking about?" Hermione smirked.
"Fred and George," she said with a wink. "I was wondering if they lived up the name 'cock rocket."' Ginny didn't look amused, though the corners of her lips hinged up a bit at Prefect Hermione Granger's use of the word 'cock,' but she didn't get to say anything before there was a knock on the door, then the twins walked in.
"We were just in the area," George began,
"And we heard the most interesting thing," Fred continued, their eyes smiling with an unshared delight. Ginny's eyebrows couldn't go any higher into her hairline.
"Little Miss Granger,"
"Head Girl Granger,"
"Was interested—,"
"—Daydreaming,"
"About a ride—,"
"On our…"
"Cock rocket," the last line was said in unison and with matching smiles. Hermione couldn't contain her giggles.
"Out, both of you," Ginny said, pushing the twins out of her room and into the hall, then locking the door. "Now, onto you." Hermione, who had faced Voldemort more times than she could count, who had been forced to deal with every kind of dark magic and Death Eater technique in the book, let out a very audible gulp.
He was too damn attractive for his own good, that's what Hermione decided when she saw Charlie through the window of her new flat, the lease had just gone through last week, not moments after arriving back home once Ginny had finished with her. But really, through the window she could see the black button down shirt her wore over a pair of form fitting black jeans, and boy, was she a sucker for a man in a suit.
The doorbell ringing, even though she was fully expecting, jolted Hermione from her admiration of the man standing on the other side of the door. She smoothed out her dress, took one last look in the mirror and answered it.
"Hermione -,"
"Charlie -,"
They spoke at the same time then paused in unison.
"Wow, you look –,"
"So do you—," They broke out into nervous laughter.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" Hermione asked after a few seconds of quiet. Charlie smiled.
"Wine would be lovely, please." He followed her into the house, she could feel his eyes on her, and the very thought that the carnal hunger he had for mirrored her own, coupled with the fact that they were truly alone for the first time, turned Hermione's skin a very delicate pink, and made more than just her toes tingle.
"Red or white?" She asked,
"Red for me, if you don't mind," he replied, following her into the kitchen. "Can I help with anything?" Hermione popped the new bottle and walked over to the cabinet.
"I think I'm all set," she replied, "But you can think of something to toast to." They moved to the living room, where Hermione set the fireplace ablaze with the flick of her wand, and they settled on the floor.
"Well, Mister Weasley," she said, "What are we toasting to?" Charlie grinned, the smile on his sculpted tan face, complimented by the freckles that highlighted his cheekbones, melted away Hermione's worries. The flames illuminated his hair and she could only smile back.
"To how beautiful you look tonight," he said with a wink. She smiled and looked down at her wine.
"I mean it Hermione," he added, "you take my breath away." Ginny had done an exceptional job getting Hermione ready. Her hair fell in smooth ringlets out of the loose knot it was in, casting shadows across her chest and down the valley of her breast. The dress was exquisite. Hermione had had been worried that Ginny would pick something risqué, something that itched or made her feel uncomfortable. But instead she had handed her a dress of deep red. It was short sleeved and knee length, beautifully catching her curves and holding them. Coupled with the golden highlights of her jewelry and the light touches of makeup, which only serves as natural enhancement, and Hermione played the role of the goddess.
"You too," she replied, finally looking Charlie in the eye. Fancy her, Hermione Grange, known for her fearlessness, her ability to outwit and out spar anyone in a battle of wands or wits, speechless and the sight of an attractive man. But oh, he was attractive. Her view through the window hadn't been fair to him. His shoulder so filled that deliciously soft looking shirt, the two top buttons popped, affording her the slightest glimpse of his golden chest aglow with the fire.
"I find it hard to believe you're real, let alone in my living room." Charlie smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
"You're a mystery, Princess," he said. He stood with a suddenness that shook her, but he helped her up and added, "I think it's best we leave now, otherwise I might not be able to behave like the gentleman I want to." Hermione could think of two dozen ways she would like him not behaving like a gentleman but she figured those were better left unsaid.
"Well then," she told him, holding out her arm for him to take, "lead the way, Sir."
They were in Italy. It was everything the traditional date that Hermione had never gotten to have. He apparated them to a small park, where a little red Vespa that matched her dress was parked beside an orange tree.
"You ride?" Hermione asked, as he handed her a helmet and climbed on, motioning for her to hold tight.
"Sirius taught me a ways back," he replied, "had to keep it from my mum. She'd have a fit." He revved the engine to life and Hermione circled her arms around his waist, feeling the hardness of his strong back and the bulge of his arms. She could only sigh in contentment.
He drove them out of the city, the sunlight behind the city. They moved out towards the mountains, passing orchards and villages, higher up they climbed in the little red Vespa that matched her dress, the sun slowly moving towards the horizon, as if waiting for them to get to their destination.
"We're here," Charlie said. The ground leveled and she realized they were standing in front of one of the most beautiful villas she had ever seen. It was simply decorated and white orchids made up most of the décor of the front of the house, winding in and around the pillars of the front porch.
"Welcome," he said, walking her around the house, "to my humble kingdom." She was going to respond. The old Hermione would have had a response for everything. But she was stopped, awed into silence by the view before her.
The patio overlooked everything, the mountains, the pastures, the small villages they had passed on the drive up, and to the entire side of the mountain lay the Mediterranean sea, bright and shining as Charlie's eyes, and so close it seemed she could almost touch it.
Hermione turned to him, tears in her own eyes.
"I really don't know what to say," she said, "This is overwhelming. Your home?" Charlie nodded and motioned to a small set table she hadn't noticed before.
"We do a lot of business in Italy. Our partners decided I needed a secondary residence. So they gave me this old thing," he almost seemed to pet the stone beside his arm lovingly. "I'm not here often, but it truly is a heaven on earth, is it not?" His dialect had reverted back to a traditional, almost classical, kind of English, no doubt passed through the generations of Weasley men, shame Ron hadn't gotten his share. But Hermione found she so liked it when his voice rumbled in just that way. Bugger, she liked everything about him.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, and she realized she was. They sat at the table, he poured her wine and lifted the silver trays, revealing steaming entrees that smelled better than anything Hermione had ever eaten.
"You didn't cook this too, did you?" She asked, a smile on her face. "That would be too perfect. Then I would know you aren't real and that I'm sitting on Ginny's bed, where I fell asleep and there'll be drool on my cheeks." Charlie smiled at her.
"Even with drool on your cheeks you're still beautiful," he said.
Dinner passed without silence, save to admire the sun setting before them. Hermione felt her hand curl around Charlie's and the moment was right, so very, very right. They talked about literature and politics, about the rights and welfare of oppressed creatures, about the latest football scores, Hermione had grown up in a muggle family, after all, and Charlie had grown quite fond of it at the pub by the Reserve. Soon nighttime had fallen and Hermione realized that it had been hours they had spent together.
"I have dessert," Charlie said. "Come on." He ran inside for a moment, sliding off his shoes on the terra cotta floor of the patio, and emerging quickly with a small picnic basket.
"Follow me," he said. She did, kicking off her shoes as well, suddenly feeling the thrill that Charlie was emanating, they were giggling like children as she followed him. The path was well lit, a deep descent of stairs, tiki lamps covered the distance before them and allowed Hermione to watch her steps and they climbed down to the water's edge.
Charlie spread a blanket on the pure, white sand before them. Soft trees lined the edge of the shore and Hermione found herself sighing in contentment for the millionth time that night.
She spread out on the blanket, watched Charlie as he unpacked the basket.
"You're even more beautiful in the moonlight," he told her, his eyes shining as he caught her own and she could feel that he meant those words to the very depths of his being.
"Strawberry?" He asked, and Hermione looked down. Before them he had put out a bowl of sinfully sweet looking strawberries and the richest most diving looking chocolate she had ever seen. She picked one up, dipping it in the confection and smiled at him.
"Open," she said. Charlie smiled, parted his beautiful lips, wouldn't she love to have a taste of those instead, and met the dessert with appreciation. When he opened his eyes she was staring.
"Yes?" He asked and she felt the flush spread across her cheeks.
"You're just so," she paused, "enticing." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled back at him. They had done sexy, seduced each other to the point of complete madness. But this was more than that. This was sinful.
Charlie picked up a strawberry and slid it around the chocolate. He nodded his head and she opened her mouth, allowed the sweet strawberry to meet her tongue, slide past her lips and mix her senses all up. It was divine and she closed her eyes, licking the last of the chocolate away from her lips.
"Cor witch," Charlie said, when she opened her eyes again. "You're going to be the death of me, you know?" She smiled at him, the chocolate, the moon, the lapping of the tide; all seduced her senses and clouded her mind.
"You're the impossible one," she replied. "There's this image I have, you leaning up against the counter, you're wearing those damn leather pants, and you've got peach juice sliding down your lips, down your neck, through ever rivet of your chest. And I've got this problem see," she paused. "See I want to lick that juice off of you, every drop of it."
"Hermione," Charlie's voice was down to a low growl and his eyes sparkled like the water before them. "I'm going to kiss you now." All she had to do was smile.
He tasted like chocolate and strawberry. But there was more to it, honey, maybe, and something masculine, woodsy. He smelled divine against her, lit every fantasy alive as her body tingled against him, felt him mold against her, hard against soft curves. She sighed. She was going to get addicted to kissing him. And this was only kissing him; imagine what the rest would be like.
"Hermione," she murmured in acknowledgement against his neck. She could tell she was testing his will and control. The thought secretly elated her.
"Last one in the water carries the picnic basket." He let out a laugh and she hopped up behind him, pulling off her jewelry and sliding the dress over her head and she followed him out to the moonlit water, laughing all the way as she went.
A/N: That's all for now. I hope it lived up to your dreams and fantasies. Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! Maybe I'll get the next chappie up soon but who knows! Thanks for being so patient!
Love,
Ruby
