July at Shell Cottage

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Chapter 4

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A rather spicy piece, if I do say so myself, with an approach that varies slightly from other chapters. Share your thoughts, please!

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Hermione felt something drop in her stomach. She suddenly felt cold and numb at the same time. "What?"

Just then, a small, musical laugh sounded down by the beach, and Gabrielle emerged from behind the cliff, running toward the water in a skimpy bikini, her silver hair fluttering after her. She seemed no more than a few inches tall from Hermione's perspective. Charlie ran after her and caught her around the waist, swinging her around a few times before nudging her toward the water. They disappeared from view between the thick branches of a nearby tree, the sounds of their laughter echoing after them like perfume lingering in the air.

Fleur chuckled and stood up. "We will go back now, oui?" She began walking back toward the house.

Hermione scrambled after her. Her limbs felt like balloons and she kept tripping over the protruding roots that Fleur avoided with ease. "Wait," she stammered. "Go back to what you just said. I … I don't … well, I don't think I want to be … shared. I'm a person, you know." She knew that there was no reason to be offended, but still Fleur's offhand decision about Hermione's future made her blush angrily.

Fleur laughed and shrugged. "Your choice. But I sink you may change your mind," she added cryptically. "Don't be afraid. Like I said, zis 'ouse 'as some magic to eet. Eet changed people. It 'as changed you, non?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. Fleur was right; the house did have some odd properties that unwound her inhibitions. Maybe it was the crystal clear expanses of sky or the salty smell of the ocean or the almost complete seclusion, but something about it made it clearly unique. Still, Hermione felt uncomfortable with Fleur's question. "Do you need any help in the kitchen tomorrow?" she changed the subject.

Fleur frowned. "I don't sink so."

"All right then, I think I'll want to explore the market a bit in the afternoon."

Fleur shrugged. "I don't know what eez so interesting zer, but if you want, go."

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Hermione felt that she needed at least a few hours away from Shell Cottage, just to breathe. She chose the local market because at least she would get to see a few new faces.

Fleur was in the kitchen, cooking, and Bill, taking advantage of the weekend, was kissing her neck from behind and grabbing her arse. Gabrielle was visiting friends in Hogsmead. Charlie was spread out over the entire sofa, fanning himself with a magazine, when Hermione left for town, which was located a few miles away. It was relaxing just to listen to the shuffling of her footsteps against the dirt road, knowing that each step took her farther away from the source of all her confusion.

Before she made it half a mile away, though, she heard someone running after her. When she turned around, she saw Chalie come into view from around a corner.

She waited for him to catch up to her before asking, "What are you doing?"

"You should've told me you're going into town," he panted. "I want to come."

"Oh. All right."

"Why are you walking? Why not Apparate?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's nice out, and walking is relaxing." The familiar flush was creeping into her cheeks. She couldn't help the childish reaction to being alone with somebody so attractive.

"So, why do you want to go into town, anyway?" Charlie asked.

"I've never seen it before. It seems that I should at least see the nearby town if I'm on holiday," Hermione explained.

The town of Donnawill was a collection of old, rough stone houses strung together by ancient cobblestone and brick road. It stood right on the edge of a tall, sheer cliff overlooking the ocean. No more than three hundred people totaled the town's population. The town was organized in a round, spider's-web like shape, with rough circles of houses working inward toward a large square in the center. The center was usually home to a colorful market, with vendors selling fruits, vegetables, meat, fish, and some clothing in decorative booths. The more permanent stores lodged into the surrounding buildings were modest and small, each with its own specialty. There was only one of everything; one book store, one bakery, one robe shop. The town was too small for much competition between vendors.

Hermione and Charlie didn't talk much as they browsed between the wooden booths.

"Hey, hold on a second," Charlie exclaimed as he dragged her off toward a black booth displaying various objects for the care of magical creatures. "I've been looking for gloves like these everywhere!" He slipped on a pair of large, leather gloves—nothing out of the ordinary to Hermione's eye.

"Why?"

"They're fireproof, waterproof, they take years to wear down, they don't restrict the hand's movements…" he trailed off as he inspected the leather.

Hermione shook her head jokingly. "I want to go to the bookstore. I'll meet you later, all right?"

Charlie nodded his head distractedly and began arguing over a price for the gloves.

There was a sign on the door to the bookstore. Out to Lunch. Feel free to look around, -- Em.

Hermione stepped inside. Specks of dusts swirled in shafts of bright light when she stirred the air. The store had the familiar, stale scent and muted color palate of a library. Red and brown leather-bound books with gold embossing on the spines lined the walls. She ran her fingertips over the spines, overwhelmed by her discovery. Most of the titles she had never heard of before, and she could tell the books were rare and out-of-print. She picked up a thick work of fiction, Ciao Tesoro, and began flipping through it. It seemed interesting enough, so she left a mental note to find it again when 'Em.' would return. It was relaxing to step into the unassuming haven. Charlie always seemed so excitable, so ready to tackle any challenge or obstacle. Hermione was that way as well, though she took her time; she researched and studied where Charlie dove in headfirst, all inhibitions cast aside. Though it was hard to explain properly, Hermione almost got tired just by observing his spontaneity.

Stepping out into the glaring sunshine, Hermione blinked, got her bearings and went off in search of Charlie. He was still standing by that same booth, gloves in hand, though now he was surrounded by a small hoard of about five tall, slim girls, all tanned to a deep bronze color. They giggled in unison and murmured something in admiring tones.

Hermione froze, wondering whether or not she should approach them. She felt awkward, standing outside the bookstore, until Charlie's eyes fell on her and she blushed as something intense in his eyes nearly pinned her to the wall behind her. He waved her over and she approached slowly, resisting the urge to fix her hair, or at least do something to not seem horrifically unattractive next to the women surrounding Charlie.

"Hermione! This is Sarah, and Bella, and Isabelle," he introduced the girls slowly, as though still trying to memorize their names. "And Samantha and Kathrine."

Each of the girls gave Hermione a halfhearted nod before returning their attention to Charlie. "Do you really train dragons for a living?" one of them asked. She put a hand on his shoulder and Hermione felt a hot flush of jealousy that came seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yeah." Hermione didn't miss the boastful edge to his voice.

"That sounds so dangerous," another girl cooed stupidly, staring up at Charlie with wide, blue eyes.

"There's a bit of danger involved, though for the most part we take precautions and make sure to stay safe." He was staring at Hermione now, his tone more rushed, the boastfulness gone. "Actually, Hermione and I need to be going though," Charlie explained as he began backing away slowly.

Hermione felt a bit of personal vindication at the fallen look in the girls' eyes.

"Well, here's my address anyway," one of them said, extending a folded scrap of parchment. "Owl me sometime…"

Charlie and Hermione made their way to the outskirts of the market.

"Did you find anything interesting at the bookstore?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, actually. The owner wasn't there so I want to go back to buy it."

"Let's go."

They made their way back to the bookstore, though it was still unoccupied. Hermione found the right shelf quickly. She pulled the book out again and saw Charlie smirk almost immediately.

"What?" Hermione asked, curious about his expression.

"Nothing, it's just, I never knew you were into this sort of literature," he explained, clearly suppressing laughter.

"What do you mean?" Hermione inspected the book closer. It seemed dignified and interesting; she had no idea what he was referring to.

Charlie grabbed the book out of her hands and pointed to a little gold rectangle in the corner on the back cover.

"So what?" Hermione asked.

"So … that's how wizards mark erotic books." Charlie sniggered and started flipping through the pages. "My Hermione, I never knew that this is what you liked to read. If you were this lonely, you should have just told me, I would have taken care of you."

Hermione blushed deeply and tried to snatch the book away. "Just put it back!"

"Wait, wait," Charlie objected as he held the book out of her reach. "I want to find a good part!"

"Charlie, I—"

"Oh, here. Here it is," he interrupted. He cleared his throat and continued in an exaggerated lusty voice, "'Agostino locked eyes with her, sending a shocking jolt of lust over her body.'" Charlie looked up at Hermione, mimicking the glance. "'He kissed her passionately and she moaned into his mouth.' Merlin, it's terrible erotica as well."

Even Hermione's ears were pink by that point. Though she was embarrassed, there was also a certain thrill to it. Yes, the literature was horrible, but hearing Charlie read it out loud had its own sexy appeal. This was the sort of thing beautiful, uninhibited girls laughed about with men, and Hermione was proud of herself for achieving that moment, despite its simplicity.

He scanned over the next few lines and burst out laughing. "This is ridiculous."

And he kissed her. Bravely, unapologetically. Hermione's back knocked gently against the bookcase behind her. Her lips froze against his as her mind reeled. She searched for the moment in time when he leaned in toward her or warned her about what he was about to do, only to realize that no such moment occurred. She wondered where he summoned that sort of courage, and then her body wiped her mind clean. She began to respond to the kiss energetically, running her nails through his hair. His lips were soft against hers, and though the kiss wasn't rough, it was hurried; it simmered.

Charlie brushed the hair of out Hermione's face and he pressed his body close to hers. Her body was cast into shadow by his height.

"I'm never going to let this go, by the way," Charlie muttered as his lips skimmed over her cheek, toward her ear. "You will be hearing about this book for the rest of your life."

Hermione groaned, humiliated. "Can't you just let it go?" she whispered.

Charlie's wet lips closed around her pulse point, sucking gently on the skin. "No." His teeth grazed gently over her skin and a tiny sound akin to a whimper escaped Hermione's mouth. By that point, she didn't care if he would tease her forever; all she wanted was for him to keep doing whatever it was he was doing to her. His hands grasped the fabric of her skirt and hiked it up her thighs. One of his hands came to rest against the outside of her thigh and the other grasped her waist. His palm and the pads of his fingers felt hot against her skin.

Charlie's hand wrapped around her thigh to cup her arse.

Possibilities swam wildly through Hermione's head. For a flashing instant, she saw herself marrying Charlie in a forest, though she knew it was just a crazy fantasy that she never really wanted before. Next, she imagined what would happen if 'Em' were to return right at that instant. Would Hermione pull away?"

"Here," he instructed, breaking the string of thoughts short, "get on this thing." He pointed toward a sliding ladder a few feet from where they stood.

Hermione frowned, but complied. Though trembling slightly from the excitement of the past few moments, she began climbing up the ladder. More excitement flushed through her as she wondered what would happen next.

"All right, stop," Charlie said softly when she had climbed the first few steps. "Turn around and sit on the step."

Hermione did what he said, sitting with her knees at eye level with him. Blood pooled in her cheeks and she could tell what was about to happen.

Charlie put a hand on each of her knees and gently pushed them apart. Hermione spread her knees with some hesitation, though she didn't object. Charlie's fingers curled around the waistband of her panties and she rose slightly off the step to allow him to take them off. Hermione felt a bit lightheaded. She had never been so close to a man, and all possible thoughts on the matter were forming an incomprehensible black hole in her mind. She couldn't think straight. All she really knew was the heat that was coursing through her, the instinct to let him keep going.

Charlie's hands slid up her thighs as he kissed her stomach, still covered by a simple cotton shirt. His lips worked lower, toward the juncture of her thighs.

It was embarrassing for Hermione to look down, but she couldn't help stealing glances at Charlie's bright eyes and his strong hold on her. Being so vulnerable, so open for him was something she was unaccustomed to, but it was arousing at the same time.

Charlie parted her slowly with his tongue, exposing her to the cooler air in the shop. Hermione couldn't help imagining what he was seeing; pale pink lips framed by dark curls, her clitoris aching for contact, the little dark hole of her entrance.

"You're really wet," he murmured.

Hermione blushed furiously. She moved to close her legs instinctively but Charlie stopped her.

"Don't be embarrassed." His breath was hot against her thighs, and his cheeks felt a bit rough against her skin. She shifted a bit in her seat, aching for him to begin. Finally, his tongue hit some magic spot—not too sensitive but still pleasurable, the hooded part of her clitoris. The flat side of his tongue moved in rapid circles, from what she could tell. Hermione arched her back almost instantly, her hands gripping his strong shoulders tightly.

She couldn't tell what he was doing with his tongue, and she was damn sure she wouldn't be able to replicate something so expert, but it was sending her into a rapid spiral. It was like sliding over ice without a handhold. She was hopelessly lost in the current of pleasure and she couldn't get a grip on herself. Before her mind could even comprehend how good it felt, she came, calling his name out softly. The pleasure surged through her a drug from a syringe into the bloodstream. It hit her in a violent wave, followed by a less powerful rush of guilt, of feeling dirty and a little sleepy.

She panted as he slowed down, coming out of her high, but then without warning he picked up speed again.

Hermione moaned something in protest, her hands pushing against his shoulders. Her clitoris was sensitive after the powerful orgasm and the feeling was a bit uncomfortable, but before she could form an actual objection, the discomfort melted away into more pleasure.

Her orgasm built up slower this time. Charlie inserted a finger into her slowly, just the way Gabrielle did, though his fingers were thicker and his movements sharper and more aggressive. Hermione's breathing quickened and she could tell she was close again.

Just as the orgasm spiraled upward, dangerously close to its peak, Charlie dipped another finger into her, moving them hard and fast inside her wet heat. His fingers curled very slightly, and Hermione experienced a very brief sensation similar to the need to urinate, and then it was swept away in the most dazzling orgasm of her life.

Stars swam before Hermione's eyes. Logic and balance and strength failed her as she swayed on the thin step, and then finally collapsed.

Charlie caught her around the waist and helped her down onto the floor.

Hermione was disoriented, and so she barely heard the little tinkling sound as someone stepped into the shop.

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