The next day, her mood returned to the bin once more. She flipped on another episode of Battlestar, but realized nothing good could come from having yet another pity party, and so she set about cleaning the entirety of her flat. As she crept around, looking for hidden corners to dust, she caught a glimpse of her hair in the mirror, which, she noticed, resembled a pygmy puff nest more than anything else. "Hmm, I suppose that could use a cleaning, too," she muttered. So she hopped in the shower and washed her hair, combing it, as she learned through the internet, with a wide-tooth comb as it was saturated with conditioner to avoid breakage.

She then decided a good, long bath with some wine sounded like a good way to—not have a pity party, of course, it'd be a celebration, she decided—but to celebrate what? Her new whore status? Being temporarily censured? No, she'll celebrate her newly cleaned home. Good enough reason as any.

She drew the bath, the one she'd been desperate to have for months now, turning capful after capful of sandalwood and rose oil into it. And when she slipped into it, wine bottle in hand, she moaned. Nothing, in a long while, had felt this good. Nothing except for, perhaps, Charlie's tongue. Or his giant dick. Then she banished all thoughts of Charlie as she opened up The Secret Language of Dragons, one Ginny had bought her ages ago for some birthday or another.

XXX

The light in the bathroom had nearly receded into the blue of evening. She'd been using her feet to refill the water to keep it warm for the last couple of hours. She was about to finish her last sip of wine when a glow of white shot through the window. It settled right in front of her, and she recognized the blurred edges of a gorgeous, ghostly mare. "Hermione. I just had the hugest row with Mum because she insisted the, ah, dragon keeper bring you your food. And as we were having it out, he just, just disappeared, and I think he might be there, but he must've locked your floo because we've been trying for the last three minutes—"

"Hermione?" She heard his voice echo through her flat.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself. She grabbed her wand and sent her patronus back to Ginny. "Yeah, he's here. But don't worry, Gin. I'll take care of him," she added darkly. She pushed herself out of the tub and threw her robe on, not even bothering to dry. She flung herself out of the bathroom to catch Charlie setting her table, having just deposited a massive amount of food in the middle of it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He smiled at her, but, she noted victoriously, he also looked half terrified. "We're going to have dinner."

"Oh, really, is that right? We're just going to sit down and discuss this Romanian girlfriend of yours, and her perfect bloody hair, are we?" She'd grabbed a plate and was waving her hands about. She realized she must've resembled an intoxicated octopus and slowly lowered her arms.

He grimaced. "So you've heard about Rama, huh?"

Well, he didn't deny it. So Hermione did the only thing she could think of at that moment. She threw the plate at him. "Holy shit, Hermione," he gasped as he ducked. The plate hit the wall behind him, smashing into a thousand spectacular pieces.

"Yes, I've heard you've been going behind her back to screw me all over, god, your parents' home, Charlie! What the fuck!" This time, she hurled a fork at him, the handle of which hit his stomach and clattered to the ground.

She stopped, her chest heaving as he looked at her up and down, just noticing, perhaps, that her hair was dripping, and beads of rose-scented water clung to her chest and legs. He walked to her slowly, in the way she thought he might've been trained to approach an ornery beast. She looked him over, too—couldn't help it, really, as he looked as cut and beautiful as ever—and noticed the prominent bulge in his trousers. What the hell was wrong with him? "Don't you dare touch me," she warned.

"Rama's a dragon."

"What?"

"Rama. She's a Peruvian Riversnout."

"You're dating a Peruvian Riversnout?"

He burst into laughter. "I told Mum I was seeing a bird named Rama because she wouldn't get off my case about you. She knows, you know. About us. Or at least, she thought she did, 'til I threw her off course." He'd stopped laughing now, and added, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I didn't think she'd owl you the first chance she got."

"Oh," Hermione said. It was all she could say. She reached her hand out, trembling, as she ran it over his shoulder, down the hard river rock of his pec, down each abdominal, until she reached his erection. By now, his breath had also increased.

"Hermione?" he said. She tensed her thighs and realized how wet she was. Merlin, what the hell was wrong with her?

"Mm?" She'd pressed her palm onto his cock, which twitched against her.

"Can I touch you yet?"

She nodded, and he reached in her robe and slid his fingers over her clit. "Fuck," she said, her knees buckling. He walked closer, his thumb stroking her clit as he slid two fingers inside her. She leaned on his arm and moaned, grinding against his fingers. She reached and unbuckled his belt, pulling out his cock. It was so hard she could feel it pulsing in her hands.

"You want it now?" he mumbled, his fingers curling into her g-spot.

"Oh, gods. Yes. Now."

He pulled his hand away and grabbed her bottom, lifting her onto him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed her against the wall and slid his cock inside. "Oh, God," she said as he groaned in her ear. He thrust into her hard and slow, taking nearly the whole of him out each time before dropping in. The only sounds that could be heard were their moans and gasps between the slaps of skin contact.

She came in ten thrusts, the orgasm coming slow and hard, the same way he fucked her. She bit his shoulder as she shrieked, her arms tightening around his.

He lifted her from the wall and sat back on one of her dining chairs, putting his hands on her hips. She got the hint and pressed her feet flat on the floor, riding him with the same sort of ferocity she'd just used to fling kitchenware. "Oh, fucking, bloody—" she couldn't finish her phrase as another orgasm rocked through her. She arched her back and couldn't move, couldn't feel her legs, so he took the liberty of gripping onto her hips even tighter and continued to rock her on him.

"How can your cock feel so good?" she asked, almost a whine in her voice. She realized she must've sounded very buzzed but couldn't stop. "How can anyone's cock feel so good?"

He tightened his jaw and exhaled fast, his hands grasping even tighter as he bucked his hips up. One, two, three pumps and he shuddered, the grunt of her name on his lips.

She waited a few seconds for him to catch his breath. Then she said, "So. No Romanian girlfriends."

He grinned wildly and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, sweet kiss. "No. Not at all."

XXX

So another short one, but there are longer chapters to look forward to, ones with dragons and keepers and lemons! So, kudos to Red Garden Gnome for predicting that Rama wasn't real, and also to lareepqg for knowing Rama's a dragon. I very much enjoyed all of your Charlie suggestions, from Mark Peacock (from Red Garden Gnome, and I had to look him up and I must say, oh thank you for that gift, I found a photo of him wearing a knitted Christmas sweater which is oh, so Weasley-perfect) and tigersmeleth, who suggested Jamie from Outlander, which is also a fabulous visual. I thought he was fairly handsome until I saw a clip of the show and OH MY GOD THAT MAN'S VOICE IS SOOOO SOOO SEXY, very much what I imagine CW to sound like (and now, of course, I think he's delicious). Hope you all enjoy this, love your reviews as usual, new chapter coming soon.