Well here's the epilogue!
If anyone's interested, I'm contemplating a Charlie/Lauren prequel to Fremione and the Weasleys. (Although Fremione and the Weasleys began as a Hermione/Fred story, it grew and now is as much about Charlie and an OC called Lauren).
Hope you enjoy this, and thanks for the lovely comments along the way! :-)
OoOoOoOoOoOoOHermione stretched out languidly on the king-sized bed, enjoying the feeling of the cooling breeze on her skin, still wet from the shower. The sun was getting lower in the sky, but there would still be plenty of time to enjoy a drink on their hotel room balcony before dinner, which they were planning to have in the tiny seaside restaurant that served freshly fried barramundi, crisp salad and cold wine.
Since packing their rucksacks in July and waving a temporary farewell to their friends at Hogwarts (and placing a grumpy but resigned Crookshanks in the loving care of Minerva while a much happier Polix went to stay at the twins' shop), she and Charlie had apparated, flooed and portkeyed their way through the magical ministries of nine countries. They had decided to make their outward journey by mostly magical means and then fly home on a muggle plane in order to try out different travel experiences while maximising time with Hermione's parents at the end of this, their first big trip. They had had a practice run to muggle Edinburgh, ostensibly to test their rucksacks and run in the magical walking boots that the Weasleys had bought them each as a leaving present, but also because Hermione was keen to stock up on novels for the journey.
They began their trip in Europe, visiting Paris, Madrid and then Frankfurt, where on their first day they wandered through the Römer and over the Iron Bridge in the morning and then, much to Charlie's delight, Hermione surprised him by taking him to see enormous dinosaurs at the Senckenberg Natural History Museum. Next was Athens, where Charlie gallantly followed Hermione through museums and labyrinthine ancient ruins (though without his heavy rucksack, which he left at the hotel for the day … a wizard only needs so much strength training after all, especially when his beloved witch sports a clever little patchwork backpack) before they took a muggle ferry ride around a few of the Greek islands.
The archaeological sites that Hermione loved so much reminded Charlie slightly of the trip that the Weasleys had taken to Egypt a few years before, but Hermione's idea of collecting memories – which involved making love in at least one different and interesting location in each new place they visited – added a new twist to the experience and gave him a special fondness for deserted piles of ancient, grass-covered rocks. It was a long way from their first time together, on the night they had returned from The Burrow to find that Fred's secret present was a bottle of champagne and a basket of treats left over from Valentine's day. Hermione had fully intended to claim the massage that Charlie had promised her, but they were both so turned on from anticipation built through the months of holding each other through the long Scottish nights that they barely made it out of their clothes before Hermione was pushing Charlie down into an arm chair so that she could climb into his lap and finally feel him inside her.
Once they had soaked up the Grecian sun, and in need of a few days' rest and a washing machine, or at least somewhere to unpack everything properly and do a few laundry charms, they slipped to Romania for a week at the Reserve. Charlie had introduced Hermione to his old colleagues and endured some ribbing about the speed at which he had settled down into a relationship tempered with a good deal of sly admiration at the fact that he had landed himself such a talented, bright and lovely witch. Charlie and Hermione both loved the fact that some of their time was spent in tents (albeit of the wizarding variety) or with friends and eating local home-cooked meals or street food. But now and again, especially on the nights following the twins' monthly deposit of Hermione's royalties into her bank account, they would splurge on a lavish hotel and a few nice restaurant dinners.
After Romania, they had made some longer journeys; to India, Thailand and Singapore. They knew they didn't have nearly as much time to spend in each country as they would like to before they moved on to Australia and then returned to England, but both Minerva and Hagrid had insisted that the young lovers take off the entire Autumn term, which gave them an opportunity to at least sample some of the places that they wanted to return to spend more time in on another trip. They would then teach at the school for the rest of the year, allowing their mentors some leave of their own.
Everywhere they went, Hermione was gripped by the different cultures and smells. She soaked up everything, read books written by people who lived in places she visited and developed a passion for spicy food. Charlie loved trying new food too, but his real travel passion was muggle beer. Having fallen in love with the range of good German beer that was available, he had sought out the wizarding quarter and owled Fred and George, asking them to find and send him a 'beers of the world' book as an early birthday present so that he could learn about, search for, taste and tick off as many as possible. Hermione loved to tease Charlie about this, as they sat at pub, bar and restaurant tables in each different place they visited. First, he would stand at the bar and pour over the drinks menu, cross-referencing with his book and, once he had ordered, tasted and considered his decision on each, he would search for and turn to the appropriate page in his book, making notes in the margin to himself on which ones he enjoyed and wanted to taste again on a future visit.
Hermione was delighted when, during a skype call which they made to her parents one evening from an internet café in Frankfurt, Hermione's father had seen the bottle in Charlie's hand and the two men – who had never before met or talked – bonded over their shared love of beer. Charlie waxed lyrical about the local kiosk which sold beer from all over the world, and politely refrained from mentioning that Hermione had become uncharacteristically tipsy the previous day after falling in love with the taste of the local Mispelchen shots that traditionally followed the Apfelwein that the bartender had served her when she had asked to try a local speciality. Hermione's dad had spent a good few minutes quizzing the wizard who had captured his daughter's heart about what kind of beer he liked best and had taken the opportunity to introduce Charlie to the idea of microbreweries and tasting flights.
Charlie had not been disinterested in detailed travel planning before, but his new passion meant that he was just as likely to research the location and history of good beer as Hermione was to plan trips to interesting things to see, do and read. More often than not, early evenings would find them wandering in a new place and she would find herself steered to an inn or restaurant where Charlie would order Hermione a glass of wine and ensure that she was comfortably settled at a nice table with her latest book before leaning on the bar and opening a conversation with the local barman about what he should try next. Invariably, Charlie's new friends would delight in seeing his well-travelled beer book and Hermione joked with Ginny and Harry, when she floo-called them from one wizarding hotel, that Charlie could probably travel from place to place on his own with his book now, as he was much better at striking up conversations and making friends with random strangers now that he had a subject which (unlike dragon keeping) was muggle-friendly.
When they finally reached Australia, they had made their way as quickly as possible to Hermione's parents' house, where she had been happily reunited with the couple that she hadn't been sure she would see again. They had welcomed Charlie with open arms; Hermione's dad especially glad that the imminent arrival of his daughter's love had given him the perfect excuse to stock up on a cellar full of beer which he quickly began to enlist Charlie's help in working through.
Bali and New Zealand, they had decided, were going to have to wait for next year. They were having such a lovely time in Australia, and Molly had been most insistent that they should be home at least a week before Christmas, in order to fully participate in the build-up to the winter festivities. Seeing how delighted Hermione was to spend time with her parents, Charlie had suggested they ensure that they visited Australia at least once a year. "Let's face it," he pointed out, when he had finally learned how to read the account statement that she received by monthly owl from Gringotts' muggle currency liaison goblin, "the sales from that love potion alone will cover the cost of the tickets, and I don't think that's going to go out of fashion soon!" Realising that he was right, Hermione suggested that they should spend their last couple of nights in a small, luxury wizarding hotel in Byron Bay before taking a business class flight (courtesy of the love potion) from Brisbane to Singapore and then Heathrow.
Charlie was, of course, down at the bar, having promised to collect a drink for them each to enjoy on the balcony. They could easily have used room service, but Hermione hadn't even mentioned it, not wanting to deprive him of his last chance to chat with an innkeeper and choose his beer. Although Hannah had now taken over running The Leaky Cauldron, so she imagined that Charlie, Neville, George and Fred would be spending a few evenings propping up the bar there together in the new year. Smiling to herself, Hermione wondered whether to owl Hannah and give her advance warning of the existence of Charlie's beer book.
As she rested on the bed, half-covered by a brightly covered sarong that she had pulled over herself to protect her modesty lest anyone be walking past when Charlie opened the door, Hermione realised that she was looking forward to their return home. It was wonderful to travel, but it was lovely to go home as well; it gave one a new appreciation of the everyday things that could otherwise be taken for granted. Molly had made it clear before they had even left that she was expecting them to apparate straight to The Burrow from Heathrow and hand over their laundry, assuring Hermione that she and Charlie could share his and Bill's old room whenever they weren't at Hogwarts. That statement had surprised Hermione at first, until she had realised just how grateful the older witch was that Hermione had held and cared for her second-eldest son through his fears.
"How can I keep you from spending your nights together when you loved him so well before you even loved him?" Molly had said, with tears in her eyes. "I'll enlarge Charlie's bed and swap Bill's for an extra wardrobe and dresser so you have somewhere to put all your things."
Hermione smiled as she imagined how long it would take her to empty the bottomless chasm of the tiny backpack that the boys had bought her. She had filled it with trinkets for everyone's Christmas stockings as they travelled and couldn't wait to tip it upside down on their bed and begin wrapping her treasures. She was particularly looking forward to giving George and Fred the garishly coloured cotton outfits she had had specially made for them in Thailand. She was confident that, come summer, they would be wearing them up and down Diagon Alley, seeing them as a means to attract attention and thus custom.
The hotel room door clicked, pulling Hermione from her happy reverie.
"Hello gorgeous," she smiled, as Charlie entered the hotel room, opening the door so carefully with his hip that she needn't have bothered with the sarong at all. To her surprise, he wasn't carrying any beer, instead holding a silver ice bucket – complete with ice and champagne – in one hand and a pair of champagne flutes in the other.
"Thought we should have a treat," he smiled, putting the bucket and glasses on his side of the bed and coming to sit beside her. "Though you're enough of a treat not to need that…" He leant down, kissing her bare shoulder as his hand reached across her hip.
"Ooooh Charlie, that's cold," Hermione laughed, lifting the hand that had been holding the ice bucket from her body.
"Yeah?" He leaned in closer and kissed her full lips. "I'd better warm it up then, given what I have in mind. Hang on…"
Intrigued, Hermione followed him with her eyes as he cast a warming charm on each hand in turn. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she watched him put his wand down and then strip off his shirt in one movement. Silently, she sent grateful thoughts to the twins, for getting him a muggle rucksack, as she watched his muscles ripple.
"Enjoying the view, lovely?" he asked.
"Always," Hermione told him, curving her own hand down her body, knowing that it turned him on immensely when she touched herself in any way.
"Fuck." She was rewarded, as ever, with the darkening of his eyes, and he reached into his pocket as he continued to move towards her.
"You know there's an old muggle joke about whether you have something in your pocket or are just pleased to see me?" she asked him, and he laughed.
"Both." She loved it when he became monosyllabic. He chatted more when he was flirting, but when he was ready for love, truly ready to couple with her and give her body the physical attention it needed, he tended to speak even less than usual. Although he then surprised her by proving her wrong on that point, showing her what was in his pocket and offering, by explanation, the fact that he had been downstairs picking up a package that he had asked George to send over.
"What's that then?" Hermione asked, intrigued.
Charlie simply pulled his hand out of his pocket, discarding the brown wrapping paper and showing her a small bottle. "Massage oil. With a bit of your own recipe in, courtesy of George. Never did give you that massage when we got back to Hogwarts. Figured it was about time I paid up, while we still have time to ourselves."
Hermione groaned. They had made love so many times now, and still he never failed to turn her on with just a few words or a simple gesture.
"Roll over then, lovely."
She was wet already, just from his voice. She eyed the champagne.
"Don't you worry about that, love. That'll still be cold when you're done. Marvellous muggle invention, ice." He moved his mouth close to her ear. "Want to know what I have planned for you?" She nodded and he continued, whispering now. "We'll start with a massage, then a long slow fuck, then champagne, dinner, more champagne and then more long slow fucking through the night…"
"Gods." His oil covered hands slid over her back; the aroma of the oil and the feel of his touch tantalising her senses.
"You've taken me in nine different countries now, you know." Charlie's voice was slow and deep and Hermione smiled as he continued to stroke her back. Since the first time she had questioned Charlie's turn of phrase, he had never failed to speak of Hermione taking him and not the other way around.
"You're wrong, gorgeous. It's ten. Or eleven, depending on how you count..."
There was a pause while he thought.
"Oh," he leaned forward, reaching his large hands around her side, causing Hermione to catch her breath, knowing his fingers were headed towards her nipples. "England and Scotland?"
"Mmmmmm hmmmmm." She was beginning to lose the capacity for debate, which pleased Charlie immensely. That was a key goal in making love with his witch.
"If we nipped to the Welsh reserve for a night before we go back to Hogwarts, we could make it twelve..."
"Mmmmmmm..." Now his big hands were cradling and skimming her ribs, spreading the oil everywhere, and making her dizzy with desire. Hermione gave a low moan as his fingertips moved around to her front and came into contact with her nipples before he cupped each of her breasts in one of his large hands. "Charlie..."
He smiled, continuing the slow strokes and then teasingly moving his hands lower. He remembered the first massage he gave her, when the same potion led him to sneak his hands down to touch her bottom and encouraged her to lift herself up and remove her knickers, showing herself to him in the process. He grew fully hard at the memory and his own breathing rate increased.
Charlie's hands moved lower still, teasing her bottom and thighs, just as he had done that night; softly stroking the creases in her skin, skimming his fingers over her inner thighs and then slowly, slowly slipping between her thighs to touch her core and cupping her pussy with his hand, which always made her gasp in pleasure. Nowadays, he was familiar with her curves and folds; he knew the taste of her and the way she would gently grip her thighs to his head when he sucked her to orgasm. He knew how to bring her to a peak at different times of the month, and how to tease her and keep her on the brink for so long that she would beg him for release.
"Take me," he would growl as he laid on his back and caressed her hips with his hands, watching her face reflect her pleasure as she sunk down onto his cock, sheathing him fully inside her. Charlie had taught her everything he knew, and learned just as much from Hermione about what she liked.
They had experimented with different places and positions, finding that Hermione generally came hardest and fastest on top but loved it when Charlie held her against the wall and rocked himself into her. He loved it when she took control, even pulling his hair a little as he came. They made love everywhere they went and found pleasure in the variety that travel added. They ate olives from each other's fingers in Greece, did body shots in Romania and growled and giggled their way through the Kama sutra in India.
But today, Charlie was massaging her the same way he did when he first touched her naked body. Except he wasn't going to stop and cover her with the quilt this time. He was going to make love to her way she had asked him to all those months ago. That would be a fitting way to end the last night of their first trip together. The first, he hoped, of many. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations in his fingers. Hermione squeaked at the touch of his fingertip on her clit and, just as he had done the last time, Charlie moved his body right behind hers. But this time, his movement didn't stop.
"Can I make you come, love? Can I play with your pussy?"
Hermione hummed her consent, spreading her legs further apart for him and loving how that simple action made her feel. Charlie's fingers teased her further, spreading her lips wide and rubbing her clit in rhythmic strokes. He played with her as languidly as he could, wanting this evening to be one they would always remember.
"Oh yes, Charlie..." He knew she was close and, just in time, he remembered to cup her bottom with his other hand, the way she had liked it before. It sent her over the edge and she cried out his name again. This time, she didn't wait to recover before she made her request. "Make love to me..."
And he did. Pulling her gently towards him, Charlie lifted her top leg and held it over his arm. As he slid his cock into her, they both groaned at the sensation; familiar and achingly lovely. He began to move in and out of her; not too fast, but enough that it didn't take long before his own breathing was ragged, matching hers. Hermione's orgasms never seemed to end when she was making love with Charlie; she would tumble from one to the other with little sense of where she was or what else was happening. He loved being able to make her come undone to that extent. She whimpered, tumbling into another release as Charlie's body tensed and he came inside her, calling her name.
Afterwards, they sat on the balcony sipping champagne in the early evening heat; Charlie in a pair of boxer shorts and Hermione in her sarong.
"Just think," he said. "If you hadn't come flooing over to see what my light was about that night..."
Hermione smiled. "You'd be unbelievably grumpy by now."
Charlie nodded, tipping his glass towards her. "Thank you for climbing into my bed. All bossy and 'come ON Charlie' in your pink stripey pyjamas."
Hermione smiled, returning the gesture. "Thank you for keeping me warm in your big strong wizardy arms."
Charlie laughed. "I'm glad you haven't stopped sounding like George sometimes. He's going to be beside himself to see you, you know."
"I am aware," Hermione laughed, taking another sip of champagne. "He and Fred have sent three separate owls this week, letting me know that my potions expertise is required at my earliest convenience. And that they will be stocking up on 'good English grub' in the flat lest we have had enough foreign food."
"Four," Charlie said, pulling a second brown paper-wrapped parcel from his pocket which looked like it had been shrunk for the journey. "He's sent you a new book for the flight; says it's to sweeten you up and remind you how much he misses you. Best enjoy our last night and dinner on the road and get home then?" Charlie smiled and Hermione nodded.
She refilled their glasses and then raised hers again. "To our next adventure then?"
"Our next adventure. That sounds great, love..."