Note: Thank you all for the lovely follows, messages and reviews. I probably would've abandoned this ages ago if it weren't for such kindnesses. Unfortunately, my posting schedule is going to slow down some after this chapter. I'm aiming for once a week, but I imagine I may be able to do twice a week given that I know exactly where this is going and how it ends. It's just a matter of finding time to type it up. Also: super lemony chapter ahead!

Chapter Eight

Hermione was organizing all parts of "The Centaur Holiday" treaty when the Message Quill on her desk gave a little song.

"How can I help, Clarisa?" Hermione said.

The quill wrote as her assistant's voice projected through, leaving temporary words adrift in the air. "Miss Granger, you have a visitor. The gentleman claims the name of Domedorus Dradle. He states that he has urgent dragon legislation for you to consider." Clarisa lowered her voice to a whisper. "And, may I add, he has a very intriguing physique."

Hermione grinned. "Send him in, would you?"

As the door opened and Charlie entered, Hermione glanced up at him, trying to behave as aloof as possible. "Mr. Dradle, please, have a seat."

Charlie sauntered to the chair, grinning goofily has he sat down.

Hermione took in his appearance: pressed trousers, a gorgeous pin-striped button down dress shirt, black over-robes slung over his shoulder. He face was smooth and his hair was combed, which shocked her—she'd never known him to have anything but wild, loose waves of varying lengths as long as she'd known him.

She cleared her throat. "My assistant informs me you have some dragon legislation for me to—oh hell. I can't do this. Charlie! Hi! What on earth are you doing here?"

Hermione was puzzled to see him frown, but then he hid it with a grin. "Had some business to do in town and thought I'd drop by."

"Really, you were just in London? For business? From Roma—wait, are those flowers?"

He'd shuffled something under the robes and Hermione had caught a glimpse of indigo petals. His ears were brick red as he sputtered, "Well, um, sort of, yes, flowers, yes." He thrust the bouquet at her and she gasped.

"These are gorgeous, Charlie." She took them from his hands: a collection of deep purple and blue-lipped wild irises with long stalks of pink fireweed between.

"They grow wild in Romania," he said. "I saw them outside my home and thought of you. I kept them fresh with a spell or two but they're going to need water soon, I think."

"Well, gods, thank you, Charlie. They're beautiful." She stood and reached for a vase at her windowsill, tapped it with her wand and it filled with water. Carefully placing the flowers in, she said, "I'll rearrange them in a bit, but they should be good for now."

She turned and to face him once more. "So what are the names of these wildflowers? I recognize fireweed but the other—" She trailed off as his eyes slowly reached all the way down to her kitten heels. "No." She shook her head. "No bloody way, Charlie, you and your filthy mind."

Not ten minutes later, she fell onto her desk, bare chest pressed against all of the paperwork she'd just been ordering. He'd pushed her pencil skirt up and pulled her knickers down while spreading her legs. Hermione waited for his length to press her, but jumped when she felt his tongue instead.

"Bloody, fucking Merlin," she groaned as he licked her clit roughly. It felt as though he wrapped his entire mouth around her, his hands on her thighs as he pulled her deeper in short thrusts. It didn't take her long at all, with an orgasm so strong she swore she could feel the pleasure all the way to her ankles. She was thankful she had the desk to hold her up.

He then sank into her with a groan that gave her goose bumps. He varied his speed and depth, eventually falling into a moderate rhythm as he used her hips to pull in with every push. Hermione could feel the tingles of her previous orgasm linger, but was thankful a new one didn't build up, as she wasn't sure if she could handle it. He finally came silently, wrapping his arms around her as he shuddered.

XXX

"Why do you like going down on me so much?"

She'd transfigured her office chair into a wide, soft chaise longue facing the window. She reclined on Charlie's chest and he held an arm around her, his hand so large that it rested on both her hip and belly.

"Going down?" Charlie asked lazily. "Do you mean eat your pussy?"

Hermione scoffed. "Are you always so vulgar?"

"It's just accurate. 'Going down' sounds like you're asking me on a stroll in the woods."

Hermione laughed. "Fine. Why do you like to eat my pussy so much?"

"Mmm," Charlie said, his hand moving to her breast. "I like it when you say that."

She pushed his hand back down. "Stop trying to distract me."

He let his fingers linger over the wire of her bra through her top. "Isn't it obvious? I like making you come. I like the way you taste. I, in general, like putting my mouth all over your pretty cunt."

Hermione inhaled quickly. Hearing him say such things threatened to make her wet again. "Not a lot of blokes like the taste," she said.

"It's intoxicating. It reminds me of dragons' breath."

She turned abruptly. "It reminds you of what?"

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "Wait a minute. Let me explain before you hex me."

"You better explain yourself, Charles Fabian Weasley!"

He kept laughing for a few seconds more. "Well, you've been near dragons, yeah? You know when they huff a bit before they spray fire, that bit of smoke that comes out just before?"

"Well, I guess so. The last time I was close enough to a dragon to smell its breath, I was a little too busy to analyze its notes."

Charlie laughed again. Hermione loved how his whole body shook every time. "Well, allow me, then. You'd think, at first glance, that it wouldn't smell nice."

"Go on."

"I thought it might smell like smoke from a bonfire or something similar. But it's not. It smells cool and blue. Like the ocean. Salty and sweet. That's how you taste."

Hermione leaned back on him and laughed. "Ginny was right," she said. "In an alternate universe, you'd shag all your dragons."

"Maybe not all," Charlie chuckled. "I prefer monogamy, myself." He nipped at her ear. "Perhaps you should let me have another taste." His hand was back on her breast.

"What? You want to—" she made her voice husky—"eat my pussy again?" She smiled as she felt him harden beneath her thigh. "Put your tongue on my cunt?"

"Yes," he said simply, his hand now under her blouse.

"Well, I think I'd rather taste you."

He stopped pinching her nipple. "Is that so?"

She responded by turning over and unbuckling his belt. She pulled out his length, running her fingers over it very gently at first. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You have freckles here."

His cock twitched in her palm as he chuckled. "There are very few places on me unpopulated by freckles."

"Suppose I licked each one of these?" Hermione said. Before he could respond, she swirled her tongue over three at once. His breaths turned into deep gasps.

She sucked his cock every way she knew how, wanting to know exactly what made him curse, what made him hiss in air and squirm. She finally released him with a pop, then dragged her tongue along his sack. His hips jerked as he groaned. She chuckled. "There are freckles, there, too, you know."

"Get me off with your hands," he said, his voice strained and gruff.

She found that if she fisted his length with both hands, then turned one each way 'round, back and forth, increasing pressure, his hips literally bucked in the air and he yelled louder than she'd ever heard him. She continued this motion until he exploded, drenching her chest and belly.

"Oh, gods, Hermione," he said. "Where on earth did you learn that?"

Hermione laughed and grabbed her wand. "Just something I picked up along the way." He watched as she performed the necessary cleansing spells on her clothing. She glanced at her smart phone. "Oh, my lunch is almost over. God, I'm starved now, all thanks to you and your freckles."

"I can take you out," Charlie said quickly, buttoning his trousers. "There's a French restaurant just 'round the corner. Le Cinq, it's called. Does lunch all the way 'til 2:30."

Hermione groaned. "I wish, Charlie, but I'm going to have to take a rain check. Not that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed your, ah, company, but I'm rather behind. I'll just have my assistant grab some take away."

He smiled, but she could tell he was disappointed. "It's fine, love." He stood. "You've got that proposal next week, haven't you?"

"Yes! The day before George and Angelina's celebration, in fact."

"Well." He leaned over and gave her a long, sweet kiss. "Good luck."

"Hey Charlie," she said as he walked to the door. "What business did you have in town, anyway?"

"Well, you see." He grinned sheepishly, his ears tinged pink. "I had to bring some flowers to a pretty lady." He waved, then walked out the door, shutting it gently over a shocked Hermione.

XXX

At lunch a few days later, Hermione watched as Harry take a breath as if to say something, then decide to stuff his mouth with a large bite of ham instead. After swallowing, he turned to her, lips parted in the beginning of a word, and he shoved a piece of bread in instead. She frowned. "Harry James Potter! Just spill it, would you?"

His eyes widened—clearly he'd thought he was being subtle—and he swallowed. "Saw Charlie here a few days ago."

"Yes? What of it?"

"He said he was here to surprise you and take you to lunch."

"Really." Hermione furrowed her brow.

"I just thought you weren't really dating, is all."

"We're not. I mean, he didn't even mention lunch, not until after we…" she trailed off. "Discussed dragon legislation. And by then, it was really too late."

Harry smirked. "I thought Charlie was a dragon tamer, not a lobbyist." She decided to take a bite of tomato soup instead of responding. He went on, "I just think if you were to start dating him, perhaps it would be nice to let Ron know."

Hermione frowned. "And why is that?"

"I know you've both moved on. Things are finally friendly, or at least mostly friendly, again. But you don't think Ron would be a bit gutted to find out you were dating his brother through hearsay?"

Hermione sighed. "Charlie lives in Romania, Harry. We're just discussing dragon legislation. That's it."

"But he traveled all the way from Romania, Hermione, to take you to lunch—"

"Which didn't even happen because he was too busy discussing drag— Harry, don't psychoanalyze this thing. It's, I'm going to bloody say it because we're adults, it's sex, nothing more. And I'm not going to owl Ron to alert him to the fact that I just shagged Charlie over my work desk."

Harry coughed. "Well, alright, then. I was merely suggesting that if it turned into something—"

"It won't, Harry. He's going to meet some witch in Romania and then he and I will fizzle just as quickly as we started."

"What makes you so sure?"

Hermione took the opportunity to take a giant bite of her sandwich. The fact was, she was the teensiest bit unsure of Charlie's intentions. But there were more facts on the side of it just being a casual fling: they'd only shagged in secret under pretenses, even if those pretenses were flimsy at best. Sure, he'd gone out of his way to stop by her work and supposedly had planned on taking her to lunch, but fucked her instead. Seemed to her that if he wanted more, he'd just go on and bloody say it. She told Harry as much.

"I don't think Charlie's ever had a proper relationship," Harry said. "At least, not from what I've heard."

"Well, that's even worse, Harry. If he's never had a proper relationship with a woman who lives in the same country, how's he going to manage one with me?"

Harry finally conceded. He didn't say it, but she knew he was seeing sense now. "So can we please change the subject?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Well, I think Ginny wants another baby."

"Really? Oh, Harry, that would be amazing."

"I know it, Hermione, but I'm a bit terrified of having another boy."

Hermione responded with laughter and the rest of their lunch went much more pleasantly than how it'd started.