A/N: *Cackles wickedly*
*Waves the chapter in front of your nose*
*whispers* "I have to go back to work tomorrow. Kill me?"
*bribes you to do so with an 8k word chapter*
*waits patiently, trying to hold back the sobs*
xx-Kitten.
Home for the Holidays
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Six
"Bloody hell, Charlie! What is that!?" Hermione exclaimed, scrambling up the bed and clutching the quilt to cover herself as the flames exploded far enough to almost scorch the ceiling.
"Oi!" Charlie shouted, leaping off the bed. "Hold your bloody horses, yeah? I'm coming."
He turned back to the bed, searching the rumpled bedcovers for his wand and scooping it up quickly.
"Charlie?" Hermione asked, frowning at him as he wriggled back into his jeans as quick as he could.
"Don't worry, Hermione," Charlie grinned at her. "It's just a few of my friends."
"In your trunk?" she frowned at him.
"Yeah, I've got an Undetectable Extension charm on it. It's been re-vamped from just a trunk into something of a haven for a few of my dragon friends," Charlie explained. "I've got to duck down there and feed them, love. They're hungry. I've been a bit distracted."
He grinned and shot her a wink.
Hermione shook her head as he turned away and she sat up slowly, watching him use his wand to contain the creature inside that was breathing fire, and descend into the trunk. Sitting up, she pulled back the covers and frowned, squirming at the unpleasant feeling that made itself known between her legs. Darting a look at the still-open trunk where she could hear Charlie sweet-talking someone or something named Boris, she peeled back the covers, spreading her legs to try and figure out the cause of that unpleasant feeling.
Hermione's eyes widened when she realized that it was the sickening feel of used latex being slowly dragged out of her.
"Oh… gross," Hermione whispered, frowning and reaching for the condom that had apparently come off during their passionate encounter.
Oh, that wasn't good.
Fishing it out of herself, Hermione held it up before her eyes, frowning and screwing her face up in disgust. It wasn't broken, from what she could see, but it had definitely come off. The question was… had it come off before or after Charlie had ejaculated?
Setting the condom aside, Hermione curled in on herself, trying to get a better look at her pussy and frowning as she poked her fingers into the now-swollen and abused passage. She dug her fingers in before pulling them out coated in liquid and she squinted, bringing it close to her face and trying to figure out based on the consistency whether it was just her own juices, or if semen was intermingled. She darted another look at the open trunk on the floor of the bedroom before narrowing her eyes and sticking her fingers in her mouth.
The flavor was less than pleasant, Hermione scowled, the taste of latex and condom lube intermingled with her own wetness. Rolling the flavor around in her mouth, Hermione narrowed her eyes. Yup. That was definitely also the taste of semen.
"Bugger," Hermione said, glancing at the open trunk again before looking down at her pussy once more.
She didn't know what to do.
The contraceptive spell – which she really ought to have cast before they'd begun – was ineffective after the act. She wasn't on the Potion because until this evening, she hadn't had intercourse with anyone in a little over three years. What was more, she didn't even have a spare pair of knickers with her, let alone a Morning-After-Potion. And tomorrow was Christmas. Any she had in her possession at her flat would be long out-of-date, and the stores would all be closed for the holiday. Asking Fleur was out, because the woman had been urging her for years to seduce Charlie into knocking her up and she'd gotten rid of all her contraceptives when she and Bill had begun trying for the baby she now carried. Asking Ginny was out too – she was allergic to the Morning-After-Potion. She'd be a great help for Hermione to get her hands on the regular contraceptive Potion, but again, its effectiveness wasn't guaranteed within the first month.
Indeed, Ginny tended to three-fold her protection, so the Potion, condoms, and the Spell were all in her repertoire, but were currently useless to help Hermione.
"Shite!" Hermione whispered, running her clean hand through her wild curls and trying to figure out what to do. She wasn't about to ask Molly Weasley for the Morning-After-Potion…. The woman would have kittens to think her son was shagging Hermione right under her nose. And after everything they'd discussed this evening, Hermione wouldn't put it past the woman to refuse her request, hoping for more grandchildren.
Glancing at the trunk Charlie had disappeared into one more time, Hermione bit her lip.
She would have to tell him.
Wouldn't she?
She couldn't just… risk pregnancy without telling him.
Could she?
Mentally, Hermione began counting in her head, trying to remember when she'd last had her period. There was a window, she knew, when she would be able to fall pregnant, and the rest of the month it was only a very slim chance, if non-existent. Had she started her period two weeks ago? Three? What bloody day was it, anyway?
"I usually get it during the first week of the month," Hermione muttered to herself. "Mmm… but it was late this month, wasn't it? I didn't get it until around the 9th…. Oh, shit!"
Hermione glanced down at her stomach, narrowing her eyes. She could usually tell when she was ovulating and though she hadn't noticed any of the usual signs, she was right inside the ten to twenty day stage of her cycle where she should be ovulating.
The worst part of the entire matter, Hermione realized as she rose shakily to her feet and began to pace back and forth across Charlie's bedroom, was that there was an insidious little part of her that was doing cartwheels and crossing its fingers for pregnancy. Her Biological Clock had just begun ticking like crazy and the idea of having Charlie's baby was making that insidious part of her positively giddy.
She should tell him the condom had come off and that she suspected insemination. It was the only responsible thing to do, wasn't it? She couldn't just… blind side him with an accidental pregnancy in a few months. That would be… no, she'd have to tell him. Charlie would never believe the child was his if she didn't tell him right away that the condom had come off.
Her mind made up, Hermione hurried to pull on the pyjamas he'd given her, smiling a little at the dragons dancing all over them. She didn't bother with underwear, not wanting to put the damp ones she'd been wearing all night back on.
"Charlie?" Hermione called, scooping up the discarded condom and making a face at the stickiness of it as it began to dry.
She went to the trunk and saw that there was a step ladder leading down into a wide room filled with supplies and even a bed. There was also a baby dragon perched on one of the benches.
"Crap," Hermione muttered, hurrying down into the trunk and pulling the lid closed over her head as she did so to prevent the little blighter from escaping. "Charlie!"
"Hermione?" Charlie called back to her from somewhere deeper in the trunk.
Narrowing her eyes when the baby dragon – a Romanian Longhorn hatchling, by the looks of him – hiccupped and spread his wings like he might try to fly to her, Hermione scooped up a spare pair of Dragon hide gloves and shoved her hands into them quickly. She really wasn't at all surprised that Charlie apparently had a trunkful of dragons in his possession, and when the baby leaped off the bench and flew in her direction, Hermione held her gloved arm out – the one not clutching the condom – and waited.
The baby squeaked at her when he landed, his talons digging in through the gloves but not piercing her skin, thank Merlin.
"Charlie, where are you?" Hermione called, holding the baby aloft the same way she would an owl.
"Through here," Charlie called. "Not so loud, koroleva, you'll startle the dragons."
Hermione frowned, following the sound of his voice when she heard more sweet-talking coming from somewhere to her left.
She found him carrying a big bucket of raw meat with dragon hatchlings crawling all over him in the middle of a magically-manufactured green landscape.
"Charlie?" Hermione asked quietly, her stomach flipping as she watched the babies scurry all over him.
He was still shirtless, wearing only his jeans but he didn't seem to mind the way the claws of the babies pricked his skin, leaving tiny dots of blood that more than one of them were licking back off. He turned toward her, and Hermione's eyebrows rose when she realized he was cradling a young dragon on it's back, holding it like a baby and feeding it little chunks of meat that one of the others kept cooking, perched on top of his head.
"Hey, you got one," Charlie grinned, looking pleased.
"Yes, he was in the supply room," Hermione explained, squeaking when more baby dragons began flying in her direction, apparently thinking she had more food and that she'd be an excellent perch.
"Oi," Charlie said. 'No, don't just… Shoot, sorry Hermione."
Hermione cringed as ten dragons began using her for a perch.
"It's fine," she said, though her voice was pained as the little devil's claws pierced right through the thin flannel of her pyjamas as the dragons perched on her shoulders and her arms, clinging to her chest and her back. She winced when one of them began making a nest for itself in her hair.
"It's not," Charlie said. "They're hurting you."
"I'll be ok," Hermione said. 'They're only little."
"Aye, but their claws and teeth are needle-sharp. Oi, you little buggers, come back here."
He scattered some hunks of meat around his feet and Hermione whimpered when the dragons clinging to her all took flight to pounce on the food.
"They're as bad as pigeons," Hermione commented, laughing as she watched them when all but the dragon in her hair left her.
She almost got her feet burned off for her trouble when the little dragons all breathed fire in her direction.
"Oi!" Charlie growled. "Be nice, or I'll leave the lot of you out in the cold to fend for yourselves!"
They all growled at him and the one in his arms bit his shoulder.
"Ouch! For fuck's sake, Balthazar!" Charlie growled at the dragon biting him before leaning in and biting the creature in return.
Balthazar – a Welsh Green, she suspected – roared in annoyance before squirming out of Charlie's arms and flying away to perch on top of a tree branch across the field. It roared and breathed fire at him from it's branch and Hermione noticed that he was missing a foot.
"What happened to him?" she asked quietly, nodding at Balthazar.
"When he hatched we had a Horntail in the Sanctum – the hospital where we care for the wounded dragons. The big bastard busted loose from his enclosure and invaded the nest. Balthazar's mother fought him off, but a few of the eggs and the hatchlings were trampled in the process. Balthazar's foot was spiked on one of Karstark's horns. We had to amputate it when the wound got infected."
Hermione nodded, biting her lip and watching him give more of the babies some food. There were at least thirty, all different breeds, in the enclosure.
"What happened to needing to be quick and dragons making for lousy house-pets?" she asked, almost chickening out of telling him about the condom situation.
He grinned at her.
"They're babies," he pointed out. "And all the lads were heading home for the holidays, so we couldn't just leave them. Not with the blizzard raging. We've all taken home them that would otherwise have died in the cold without us there to care for them."
"Why do I get the feeling that one of these babies wasn't the one responsible for the fountain of flames that emitted from your trunk?" Hermione asked.
Charlie's ears turned red.
"Boris was hungry," he admitted sheepishly.
"Boris? The same Boris that almost burned the Burrow down when you were a teenager? I thought you said he was sent to live in a colony?" Hermione frowned.
"He was…" Charlie said, his neck getting red too. "But he… well… when dragons hatch, they imprint on their mothers, see? But since his mother wasn't around when he hatched, and I was…"
"He thinks you're his mother," Hermione finished for him.
Charlie nodded.
"The lads running the African colony were only too happy to release him into my care as soon as I got my permits," he admitted. "He's… uh… a bit of a handful."
Hermione's lips twitched a little bit as she tried to keep from laughing at Charlie's sheepish expression as though he felt he'd failed as a father for not being able to control a dragon.
"Of course, he is," she said, giggling a little.
Charlie shrugged. "You want to meet him? I still need to feed him. Had to feed the babies first, otherwise they flap around him when they're eating, and he tries to roast them."
"Is he going to try to roast me?" Hermione asked.
"Nah," Charlie grinned. "You smell like me all over. He'll love you."
He held his hand out to her, inviting her to follow him as he left the babies and started walking toward a door across the field.
"Um… about that…" Hermione began.
"Oi, Ashtari," Charlie interrupted. "Down, love. You can't nest there. Hermione, love, hold still, yeah?"
He turned back to her when they reached the door, stretching up as he tried to extract the baby Shortsnout from her curls. Ashtari bit his hand viciously, roaring and growling before breathing fire at him.
"Bitch," Charlie grumbled, hissing as he waved his bitten hand and clutched his burned forearm. "Hold still, Hermione."
She held perfectly still, her stomach flipping when Charlie suddenly narrowed his eyes on the dragon in her hair, baring his teeth in return and crouching a little. Ashtari roared again.
"Don't move, koroleva," Charlie whispered, reaching out slowly and pressing the tip of his gloved index finger to her chest, indicating he was talking to her and not the dragon.
Hermione quivered nervously.
She'd never seen Charlie look like that. He looked both angry and downright scary. Indeed, he looked like someone she would cross the street to avoid on a dark night. He looked mean. Mean enough to strangle someone with his bare hands. Ashtari breathed fire at him again, clinging to the top of Hermione's head and digging her claws into Hermione's scalp.
"Charlie," Hermione whispered, realizing he planned to snatch the dragon free. "She's digging her claws into my scalp."
She didn't want to be scalped in the process.
Charlie never took his eyes off the dragon, but he tapped his finger against her sternum twice to indicate he'd heard her. When he moved, Hermione had to bite back a scream. He lunged to Hermione's left and the dragon on her head released her scalp as she tried to right herself when she dodged Charlie's attack. As soon as her claws were free, Charlie snatched her out of Hermione's hair, dragging her by the throat with one hand while the other hand gave Hermione a little shove to one side.
When the dragon was free of her hair, Charlie opened his mouth and roared like an angry beast right into Ashtari's face as she snapped her jaws at him. Fearing he would end up with fire spewed all over his face, Hermione was surprised when Ashtari went limp in his grip, her flailing body ceasing its struggle.
"Did you… kill her?" Hermione asked fearfully, shocked by the way he'd roared at the beast. He'd sounded just like a real dragon.
"No," Charlie said, releasing the young dragon and watching her drop to the floor. She landed on all four feet before scuttling away in the direction of all the other babies – all of whom were cowering. "Just had to remind her who's boss."
"By… roaring at her?" Hermione asked.
Charlie looked over, that mean expression melting off his face as he smiled at her.
"Yeah," he nodded. "I was there when all these little buggers hatched. Me and the lads always all try to be there when a new batch of eggs hatches. They imprint with their mother, but a residual imprint carries over to each of us, as well. We divide the batches up during times like this when they all need to be cared for but they're beyond the age where their mother's still worry about feeding them."
"But they're still so small… you know, comparatively," she protested, eyeing one of the dragons who was already nearing two meters from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail.
"Aye, and they can all fend for themselves in the wild, already. It's only because it's so cold and they would die or be eaten for invading the cave of an adult that they're rounded up and brought along home like this."
"Then why roar?" Hermione asked.
"Because they've been on their own long enough to assert their own dominance, but in here, I'm in charge," he shrugged his shoulders. "If you tried it, they'd eat you alive, but because I was there when they hatched, in their minds, I'm their Dad."
He grinned.
"And even a cranky dragon will mind his Papa," Hermione finished, chuckling.
"Exactly," Charlie said. "Now, let's take a look at that head, shall we? I can see the blood from here."
He moved in closer, invading her personal space and reaching up to card his fingers through her hair.
"They're not too deep," he told her. "But if you ever shave your head, you'll have scars. Let me heal them, real quick, and then we'll go and feed Boris before he…"
Right at that moment there was an earsplitting roar from beyond the door and Hermione had to clap her hands over her ears.
"Before he starts whining," Charlie laughed. "He doesn't like it when his Mum is challenged."
"You're his Mum?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Yup," Charlie nodded. "I'm these guys Dad because I've helped raise them, but their mothers still taught them how to hunt and how to survive. I had to teach Boris everything myself."
"Dragons are matriarchal, aren't they?" Hermione asked, following him when he opened the door leading into the next landscape.
Hermione blinked against the harsh sunlight over the desert landscape. An African savannah stretched before her eyes and in the midst of it, lazing on the banks of a small watering hole sat the strangest looking dragon Hermione had ever seen. She squealed when Charlie suddenly snatched hold of her and dragged her to the right just in time for Boris to breathe an enormous jet of fire toward the doorway. The hatchlings beyond all shrieked and hissed as the flames entered their sanctum before Charlie closed the door.
"Easy, Boris," Charlie spoke to the African Chura. "I've got your food."
Boris made a grumbling sound and flopped onto his back.
Unlike most dragons – who tended to resemble enormous lizards, Boris looked more like the biggest, fattest, most brightly colored toad Hermione had ever seen.
"Chura means 'toad', in Swahili," Charlie told her when he caught her astonishment.
The size of a cement truck, Boris was scaled all over, his scales a deep shade of red that matched the red sand of the desert landscape surrounding him. A rusty shade of red like partially dried blood, he was intimidating to say the least, even if he wasn't anywhere near as large as some of the bigger breeds of dragon. His snout was short and wide like a toad's mouth, but when he opened it, he revealed row upon row of razor sharp fangs like a shark's and Hermione shuddered.
"He's pretty harmless," Charlie told her, chuckling at her reaction. "Aren't you, big guy?"
Boris made a grumbling sound again, kicking one of his back legs like he wanted a belly-rub. The sound was something akin to a toad 'croak', only much, much deeper. So deep in made the ground beneath her feet shudder.
"You can rub his belly if you want. You smell like me all over after what we did upstairs. He won't mind," Charlie told her. "Here, Boris? Behave, you hear? I brought someone special to meet you. She's going to rub your belly, alright?"
Boris emitted about grumbling noise and relaxed even more. While Hermione carefully approached the dragon and cautiously reached out a hand to rub his belly, Charlie rounded his head and began holding up hunks of meat. With exact precision, Boris breathed small puffs of fire onto the meat before opening his mouth and letting Charlie hand-feed him.
"Um… Charlie…" Hermione said, frowning when she went to pat Boris with both hands before remembering the condom she still clutched. "About what we did upstairs…"
Charlie looked over at her.
"You're not about to give me the easy-let-down, are you, Granger?" he asked, frowning a little.
"Uh… no," Hermione said. "It's just… um… this?"
She held out her hand in his direction, showing him to balled up condom.
"What?" he frowned, coming closer to investigate. "The rubber?"
"Yes," Hermione said, her cheeks turning pink. "It came off."
Charlie frowned before pulling out the front of his jeans and checking down the front of them to make sure the condom wasn't still on his cock.
"As in… came off when I was getting dressed?" he frowned.
"As in, it was still inside me when you came bolting down here," Hermione replied.
"Hanging out?" Charlie asked, his frown deepening.
"A little," Hermione said, her cheeks scarlet. "I… um… I'm not on the Potion, and I don't have any Morning-After-Potion at my house that isn't at least four years old…"
Charlie's brow furrowed even more.
"Fuck," he whispered before lifting his eyes to stare into her face. "Why is it all so old?"
Hermione was sure she could've cooked an egg on her face, it was so hot with her embarrassment.
"Because until today I hadn't slept with anyone," she confessed quietly.
"Ever?" Charlie's eyes widened, his expression horrified. "Blimey, Hermione. Why didn't you say anything? I must've hurt you, being so rough…?"
"Not ever, you idiot," Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing a little in spite of her mortification. "I wasn't a virgin. I just… hadn't slept with anyone in three and a bit years. Hence, not needing to be on the Potion, or needing Morning-After-Potion on hand."
"Bloody hell, woman. You a saint?" Charlie asked, shaking his head at her and Hermione's heart sank a little, wondering how recently he'd shagged someone else.
"No," she whispered.
Charlie's eyes searched her face carefully for a long moment before he sighed out a heavy breath as he slumped back a little until he leaned against Boris's belly.
"Right," he said. "So, where was this, exactly?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning at him. "One edge was poking out and getting caught on the sheets when I slid across the bed, partially pulling it out. The rest was balled up inside me."
"It's got come in it," he pointed out, taking it from her and holding it up to examine it.
"Yeah, well, so does my vagina," Hermione said bluntly.
"How do you know?"
"Because I know what my excretions look and taste like, and I know what latex and lubricant taste like, and I recognize the look and taste of semen, you bonehead," Hermione huffed.
"You… tasted?" Charlie asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Well, I couldn't be a hundred percent certain just by looking," Hermione shrugged defensively, her cheeks getting even hotter. "This time during my cycle things get a bit sticky…"
Charlie's eyes widened.
"You're ovulating?" he asked, beginning to look worried now.
Hermione nodded. "You got that from 'sticky'?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm an expert in dragonology, Hermione," he reminded her. "It's kind of my job to know everything from nutrition to breeding, including what to look for in an ovulating female. I might have gotten curious about the human reproductive cycle after I did my research on the dragons…"
He blushed a little.
"Right," Hermione said, unable to keep from smiling a little at the idea of him being as interested in learning as she was.
"How much come would you say ended up inside you?" he asked, frowning at her.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted.
"Can I…?" he stepped toward her, snapping his fingers to Vanish the condom and then peeling off his gloves, indicating to her pants.
Hermione held still, nodding once. Charlie slid his hand down the front of her pants and curled it around, cupping her sex for a moment before burrowing two fingers inside her.
"Heh," Hermione huffed, reaching to grip his arm with one hand when her knees almost buckled.
His free hand moved to her waist, holding her steady before he withdrew his fingers from inside her.
When he pulled his hands from her pants and held it up between them, Hermione blinked. His fingers were coated in sticky white ejaculate.
"Well… shite," Charlie said. "That's definitely mine."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, watching him pull out his wand and use it to clean his hand. "And the biggest issue is that the shops will all be closed tomorrow for Christmas."
"Maybe ask Fleur for some Morning-After-Potion," he suggested.
"She doesn't have any," Hermione told him, shaking her head. "She stopped keeping contraceptives handy when she and Bill started trying for the baby. And she hardly needs them now that she'd pregnant."
"What about Ginny?" Charlie said.
"Ginny's allergic to the Morning-After-Potion. She and Harry have to be super careful – usually triple blocking with The Potion, the Spell, and condoms to avoid situations like this one."
"Well… fuck!" Charlie said. "What about…? Fuck! Why do two of my brothers have to be bloody bent? Percy and Ron will both be useless… What about Fred and George, they're both married to pretty witches?"
"Did you not notice that Angie wasn't drinking this evening?" Hermione asked, raising one eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty sure they have an announcement to make…. Actually, if I know Angelina, she'll surprise Fred with the news tomorrow morning."
"And Luna?" Charlie asked, referring to George's wife.
"Luna's a free spirit," Hermione said quietly. "I can ask her in the morning, but I'm not holding out much hope. She and George are married… the way she would see it, it's up to the Fates. They likely don't use contraceptives at all."
"Bloody hell," Charlie said. "Well… Merlin, I hate to think it, but what about Mum? Maybe check the bathroom cupboard? She's not that old. She and Dad must still use something to keep from popping out any more kids. They've already proved how bloody fertile they are."
"I believe your mother had her tubes tied after she had Ginny," Hermione admitted quietly. "Not by choice…"
Charlie frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"When Fleur was pregnant with Victoire, Molly fretted the entire time that there would be complications and more than once, I heard her say she was terrified Fleur would be forced to resort a C-section for the birth and that it would go badly. That she'd have to have her tubes tied when they cut the wrong section… I think that when she had Ginny, that happened to her. They had to perform a C-Section to prevent her from prolapsing after having so many kids, and the surgeon accidentally cut through one of her fallopian tubes. They weren't able to re-attach it in any way that would allow her to continue having kids."
"Meaning she doesn't need contraceptives… Fuck!" Charlie exclaimed, running a hand through his red hair and searching her face. "What do we do?"
"The shops will be open again on the 27th," Hermione said. "And I'll check with Angelina and Luna. If all else fails, I could try taking one of the out-of-date ones at my place…."
"You'll get sick," Charlie shook his head. "Never take out-of-date potions, Hermione. They're not like muggle pills. The magical ingredients can turn deadly."
"I know," she nodded. "But the alternative…"
"I'd rather you pregnant than dead, koroleva," Charlie said, reaching up to cup her cheek, shaking his head at her like she was mad.
"But you…" Hermione frowned. "You said not two hours ago that you aren't ready for a family, Charlie. And I'm hardly ready, myself. I have a Foundation to run and somebody trying to get me killed. The last thing I need with someone out to get me is a baby."
"We'll handle it," Charlie told her, his bright blue eyes searching her face for a long moment before he tugged on the front of her shirt and pulled her into his arms.
Hermione burrowed into him needily, her heart in her throat and her mind racing a mile a minute as the full repercussions of getting pregnant started racing through her mind. She might've daydreamed a hundred times about one day marrying Charlie and starting a family with him, but it'd always been a fanciful notion, not a looming fate.
"How?" she asked.
"Get you a potion," Charlie told her. "The Morning-After-Potion is effective if you take it within seventy-two hours, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Then we'll get you one on the 27th and everything will work out. You'll see," he reassured her, cuddling her to him and leaning back against Boris.
Boris the dragon chose that moment to emit another of those grumbling sounds before he unleashed the worst smelling fart Hermione had ever experienced.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Boris! You bloody feral!" Charlie laughed. "Run, Hermione."
Hermione dashed away from the beast alongside Charlie, laughing in spite of her terror, knowing that the smell was almost impossible to get out of fabric. Charlie was laughing as he pulled the door closed, trapping Boris in his own miasma of toxicity and cutting off the smell before it could spread.
"Come on," he laughed. "The kids are fed. Let's get to bed, yeah? You can dive into that book I gave you and stop worrying yourself so much."
Hermione bit her lip when Charlie held her hands as they crossed the paddock where the baby dragons were now all sprawled all over the place, their bellies full, lulling them to sleep. He waved her ahead of him to climb the stairs out of the trunk.
"Go on up," he said. "I've got to tidy things up in here and fix the latch Boris broke to blast those flames out of here. I'll be up in a bit."
Hermione nodded, frowning a little when he turned away from her to begin cleaning up the chopping board and knife that he must've used to cut the meat for the dragons.
"I'll go and look in the bathroom cupboard for a potion," she said quietly, biting her lip.
Charlie nodded but didn't turn and Hermione's eyes prickled as she turned away and carefully climbed the ladder out of his trunk.
When she reached the top, she closed the lid once more, suspecting Charlie wanted a few minutes to himself. She didn't blame him. He'd taken the news better than she'd thought, but his insistence that they would 'handle' the situation with a potion – and the unspoken implication that there was another potion she could take if it failed – made her realize that despite having just shagged like bunnies, Charlie wasn't in love with her.
She closed her eyes when she reached the hallway, letting herself out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom. She'd hoped when he'd looked so intensely at her while she'd spoken of waiting for him that he might reciprocate her feelings, but it seemed clear now that he didn't. Abortion was hardly the first solution one came up with someone you loved said they might fall pregnant. Tears trickling down her face, Hermione hurried down that many flights of stairs to the bathroom, locking herself inside and lighting the room with her wand.
She ran to the cabinet, searching it for a Morning-After-Potion wildly, shoving things aside as she raided it desperately.
Nothing.
Unless she wanted to attempt to solve the problem with mouth-wash or cotton-tips, she was shit out of luck.
"Fuck!" Hermione screeched before clapping her hand over her mouth, recalling that she wasn't still in Charlie's room and that the bathroom hadn't been Silenced.
Burying both hands in her hair, Hermione stared at her reflection and tried not to hyperventilate.
There was a part of her that hoped she would get pregnant. She'd dreamed of having Charlie Weasley's children for years, and knowing it might soon be a reality made her giddy with the thought, but the pit of dread in her stomach and the ache in her heart at the thought of raising such a child without Charlie's help or approval… it almost tore her apart.
"Fuck!" she said again, a little less loudly.
Making sure the bathroom door was locked, Hermione yanked down her pants and climbed into the bathtub. Running the water, she squatted in the tub, cupping hot water in her hands and scooping her fingers inside herself, trying to wash out the residual come. She barely noticed that she was sobbing as she did so, repeating the actions over and over until her whole body began to ache from the pain of the vicious cleansing. When there was nothing left, she rose to her feet and reached for one of the bath-towels from the fresh pile Molly kept of them on the shelf above the sink. She dried off and redressed herself quickly.
Letting herself out of the bathroom, Hermione thought about waking up George and Luna to check with the blonde woman if she had a potion handy but dismissed it when she heard the grandfather clock in the kitchen begin chiming the hour. Three o'clock. Fuck.
Unsure she could face Charlie again so soon but not wanting to appear a coward, she hurried back up to his bedroom. It was empty. He still had emerged from inside his trunk and Hermione bit her lip as she crossed the room to the bed, the sheets rumpled from their love-making. She wanted to run. Wiping her cheeks and realizing they were still damp, Hermione crossed to the bed and climbed in carefully.
Maybe she should just go home. If he was still in the trunk, he was probably hiding from her. Merlin, she'd seen a cot down there in the supply room. What if he slept down there?
But if she left when Arthur was under the impression she was staying the night, he would ask questions. Then again, if she stayed, Molly would have questions, too.
"Bugger," Hermione whispered. Sitting back up, she swung her legs out of bed and was just rising to her feet clutching the book he'd given her and planning to sneak home when the lid of Charlie's trunk creaked open and the red haired Dragon Tamer emerged.
He took one look at her guilty expression – undoubtedly noticing her swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks – and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice hard and Hermione pressed her lips together guiltily.
"I should go home," she told him quietly. "Your mother will have questions if I sleep over. Everyone will."
"Dad will have questions if you leave," he told her.
"Less than everyone else if I sleepover in your bed, Charlie. You know what they're like. Fred and George will crack jokes all day, and Fleur will give me her smug expression since she's been insisting we should shag for years. Bill will give me that I-told-you-so look, and Ron will probably crack a shit about his ex-girlfriend shagging his big brother. If I leave, Arthur will say something about thinking I was going to stay and that will be the end of it."
"You're running away," Charlie accused.
Hermione didn't bother denying it. How could she? He'd caught her red-handed trying to sneak out, so she wouldn't have to face the further embarrassment of continuing to make small talk with him. Hanging her head, Hermione simply stood and waited for him to say something else. She didn't have any excuses to offer and if she was being honest, the lump in her throat was becoming painful with how badly she wanted to cry all over again.
"Is this about Ron?" Charlie asked after several long minutes of silence.
Hermione lifted her head, frowning at him.
"No," she said. "Why would this have anything to do with Ron?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"You just tried to use his reaction to finding out you shagged me as a good excuse to leave," he pointed out. "So, the question is, are you running away because you're afraid of his reaction? Or did you only shag me in the first place because you've still got feelings for him and don't know what to do with them now that he's admitted to himself that he's bent?"
Hermione's mouth opened in surprise.
"You think I slept with you to… what? Get him back?" Hermione asked, scoffing just a little.
"Did you?" Charlie asked.
Hermione shot him a positively scathing look, curling her lip at him in anger.
"Believe me, Weasley," she bit out coldly. "What you and I just did had absolutely nothing to do with Ronald."
"Then why are you running?" he wanted to know. "And don't give me the excuse about everyone finding out you shagged me. If you get pregnant, they're going to bloody know."
"Yeah, well, you're the one pointing out that the potion to avoid that can be taken for up to seventy-two hours, Charlie," Hermione said bitterly. "And considering the cleanout I just handled in the bathroom, the likelihood of pregnancy is practically non-existent, now. So, to avoid the awkwardness of standing here and fighting with you, given that you've been hiding in your trunk this whole time, I thought I'd go. You clearly don't want me here."
"And you have that impression because… why?" Charlie asked raising his eyebrows. "Because after you approached me to inform me that we fucked up a little bit just now - looking terrified, I might add – I suggested options to handle the situation? Because I've argued with my parents all evening about settling down and having kids, and now you're telling me that I might've just knocked you up? Because I specifically said downstairs when you were asking about it that a wife and kids are still in my 'someday' box because I'm still an immature bloody dickhead running after lizards that want to kill me? You're going to run away because of that? Potentially with my kid in your belly? That's a good way to handle this?"
"Well, what do you want me to do, Charlie?" Hermione demanded. "I've made my position in all of this perfectly clear."
"Oh, have you?" Charlie asked. "And what position is that? That you don't want anyone to know you fucked me? What? You thought I'd make a good, dirty little secret, did you? Charlie comes home once a year and he's the big brother of the man I'm still hung up, I'll fuck him and sneak off; no one will know."
Hermione gasped in outrage, stamping her foot and raising her finger to point at him furiously.
"If that's what you think, Charles Weasley, then you need to pull your head out of the bloody dragon's arse," Hermione hissed angrily. "Which part of my not having fucked anyone in three years lends itself to a secret tryst over a once-off bloody shag? Which part of my being the one to suggest to Ron that he was bent in the first place lends itself to being hung up on him? Believe me, I was glad to be shot of the little shit. I no longer have to put up with someone nagging me about putting his dick up my bum, and I no longer have to listen to incessant chatter about Quidditch box scores. He's Goyle's problem now, so the big buffoon can deal with the socks in the bottom of the bed and the whining and the chewing-with-his-bloody-mouth-open bollocks.
"I'm not running away because I don't want your family to know we fucked. Believe me, I'd gladly shout it from the rooftops, and what's more, the whole lot of them will probably congratulate me for finally gathering the bloody courage to do more than perve on your from across the room! I'm leaving because you aren't ready for a kid and if I stay, I'm just going to cry over that very fact. Again!"
She stomped her foot again for emphasis, scowling at him hatefully before shuffling her book tighter under her arm and beginning to turn away.
"You said you weren't ready for a kid!" Charlie exploded, and Hermione spun back to find that he'd apparently lost his temper. He pointed at her furiously. "You said that you have a foundation to run. You said that you have someone out to get you and that having a kid will complicate that!"
"You were the one who said we'd handle it, Charlie," Hermione snarled in return. "How much clearer do you need to be?"
He narrowed his eyes on her.
"I meant we'd handle it, as it's we would get through this," he snarled, stomping closer to her. "If you think for a single second that I was implying abortion by saying handle it, then you don't bloody know me, Granger."
"Meaning what?" Hermione demanded, too angry to let his words about getting through it sink in.
"Meaning that I might be pro-choice but if you think for a hot bloody minute that I'd ever demand or push or even ask you to terminate my fucking sprog then you're a bloody moron!"
Hermione scowled at him, unsure what to say in response.
"You were the one who came down there in a panic, Hermione," Charlie went on. "You were the one who suggested the morning after potion in the first place. And since you did, I assumed you didn't want to risk having a bloody sprog with me. So, I offered other suggestions to see that goal come to fruition."
"What are you saying?" she asked. "That if I get pregnant you won't… feel like I've trapped you into something? That you think I shouldn't take the potion?"
Charlie's eyes narrowed as though he smelled a trap, though it hadn't been her intention to lay one.
"It's your body, Hermione," he told her quietly, some of the anger tightening his features beginning to dissipate. "It's your life."
"It'd be your kid, Charlie. It's your life, too," Hermione pointed out. "And you've made your stance on the matter clear. You're not ready."
"I wasn't ready when the need for going out and wooing a witch into marriage and one day coaxing her into having some kids was looming over me with my mother's voice echoing in my head," Charlie argued.
"And… what?" she asked. "If the hard-yards aren't necessary, you're just fine with it?"
Charlie looked away, his jaw clenching and his hands balling into fists.
"Well?" she demanded, setting aside her book and crossing her arms over her chest.
"You said the chance of you getting pregnant now is practically non-existent," Charlie reminded her. "So, I don't see why we're fighting. You've been bloody crying you're so scared, Hermione. What does what I think or feel on the subject even matter?"
Hermione frowned, her lips pulled down at the corners and her brow furrowing. He looked like he was holding something back. Something he didn't want to tell her, and her stomach flipped, her heart beginning to pound a little harder inside her chest.
"You… we're not even an item, Charlie," Hermione told him. "You pounced on an easy lay because you could, even though we both know you're not interested in me… are you trying to tell me that if I get pregnant you want to… keep the baby?"
Charlie's blue eyes snapped to her face and he scowled at her for a long moment.
"An easy lay? Is that what you said?" he asked quietly, his brow furrowing so fiercely that for a moment it looked like he only had one eyebrow, rather than two.
"You don't need to lie to me, Charlie," Hermione told him. "You've never looked sideways at me before, and tonight I guess I was a little too forward, and you…"
She broke off when Charlie uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between the two of them, both his hands coming up to tangle into her hair as his lips crashed down on hers.
"Hmm," Hermione hummed in surprise, unsure how to react to suddenly being kissed.
He snogged her until she couldn't breathe, his tongue tangling with hers, his lips hard against her own. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard and he glared down into her face.
"You're not an easy lay, Hermione," Charlie told her sternly. "And if you get pregnant, I'll support whatever decision you make. If you don't want to take the potion, then don't. If you want to take it, then do so. But don't stand there and point that bloody finger at me whilst trying to tell me what you think I feel or what I think. And don't ever call yourself easy ever again. Not in my hearing."
He released her, stepping back before he turned away from her completely. Hermione watched him drop his jeans as he crossed the room before he cast a cleaning charm on his body, and pulled on his pyjama pants that matched hers. He didn't bother with the shirt before rounding the bed and peeling open the covers. When he was lying in bed, he looked over at her where she was still standing by the door.
"Well?" he asked. "Are you going or staying?"
"If I go?" Hermione asked, raising her chin.
"Then go," he shrugged his shoulders, though she noticed the way his jaw tightened and the frown lines around his mouth deepened. "Go, and I'll see you tomorrow when you come by, or when I come to the clinic to collect the Frostfang eggs."
Hermione frowned at him.
"And if I want to stay?" she asked, watching him closely.
She blinked when he flipped open her side of the bed and held his arms open invitingly.
"Then come here," he said gruffly. "And get the light."
Hesitating for a long moment, Hermione knew that the most logical thing to do would be to leave. She knew it was. If she left, she wouldn't have to worry about the knowing looks and the teasing and the probing questions from his family members tomorrow. But Merlin, if she stayed… if she stayed, they might figure out a way to make something of this. And if they couldn't… well… at least she'd always be able to look back fondly on a night spent curled into his strong arms.
"Nox," she whispered, flicking her wand to douse all the lights before padding across the room and crawling under the covers.