Hermione snuggled onto her side, legs curled under the blanket and head resting against the pillow, the novel in her hand opened and close to her face as she read with a contented sigh. She was glad to have the room she and Ginny typically shared to herself for once, she'd hear no end to the teasing if Ginny knew of her little secret. In fact, no one knew of her guilty pleasure.
See, contrary to popular belief, Hermione didn't only read stuffy old books on magical theory and the current Hogwarts curriculum, no. Hermione had long since discovered a pure joy of reading fictional novels. At fourteen, she'd picked up one such novel from her own mother's shelf, and had been instantly entranced at the shameless purely fictional tale of a young woman and her blazing attraction to the dangerous yet loving and oh-so attractive outlaw with whom she found herself entangled.
Hermione sighed. That novel had led her to scour Flourish and Blott's as well as a few other shops in Diagon Alley in search of the magical equivalent to the muggle bodice-rippers she'd come to fancy. The first book led her to what is now her favorite most guilty pleasure. Dragon Tamer bodice-rippers. Hermione knew she'd never hear the end of it from her friends if they had so much as a clue as to her current reading interests, but she couldn't help herself. They were just so bloody entrancing. She'd find herself wrapped up in the stories she'd come to treasure for hours at a time, losing track just as easily in this fiction as she did in her non-fiction tomes.
She had more cause than normal to be wary this summer, the second eldest Weasley was home on a somewhat forced vacation, from what she gathered. He didn't reveal much of his reason for being at the Burrow, just had turned up one afternoon, stating that he had some time off and what better place than home to spend it? However, he'd said it with a slightly faltering smile. Hermione suspected his superiors had sent him on leave, and if that bandage that had adorned his left shoulder for the better part of two weeks said anything, it was probably due to an injury. It was natural, or so she'd insisted to herself, for the hero of her current novel to resemble the only dragon tamer she knew in her life. The fact that she blushed and fought to control a stammer whenever she found herself in the direct line of his sight or attention, was inconsequential.
For his part, Charlie Weasley didn't seem to pay much notice to Hermione, a fact she was becoming increasingly grateful for because, to be honest, she was finding herself becoming more and more curious to know if the fiction of her novels lined up with reality and the academic in her really wanted to quiz him on everything related to his profession. Of course, without giving away what had brought about her sudden interest, she carefully posed her inquiries, trying not to seem too overeager for information or attention from the rather handsome dragon tamer.
She was reading about Blake, the male lead of her novel, wrestling with a particularly nasty Peruvian Vipertooth and though he was distinctly described as having dark waves for hair, Hermione could not help but picture the deep red curls that adorned Charley Weasley's head nor could she stop imagining the hands that were described as gripping the vipertooth's snout as the rough calloused ones of Charlie's. Hermione had nearly choked on a mouthful of rather excellent roast last night at the supper table when she had caught herself staring at those same hands across the table from her. Ginny had been eyeing her rather speculatively when she turned her gaze away and noticed the lone Weasley daughter watching her. Today however, she was curled in bed and still thinking of Charlie's hands as she read about the wild dragon tamer of fiction. A smile graced her lips.
"Corrina was frightened. She'd never seen so large a creature before. Blake had told her how dangerous Vipertooth's were to humans, with poisonous fangs and the ability to carry dragon pox over to humans. To see this man handle the beast with confidence and strength was quite daunting. The flex of muscle in his arms as he gripped the snout was testament to that strength. She couldn't imagine such a thing. He was even grinning as he wrestled the beast. Corrina let out a yelp as the dragon blew steam from its nostrils, Blake flinching as the steam grazed his side, but he didn't release his grip."
Hermione hummed as she puzzled Charlie's injury again. The length of time the bandages remained suggested it probably wasn't a bit of steam. He had been somewhat favoring that arm, though not noticeably enough to entice his mother's fussing over him too much. Hermione suspected he had a lot of practice in evading Mrs. Weasley's smothering. She became more engrossed in her book, as the dragon tamer managed to subdue the dragon enough to herd him back to the area he'd escaped and sealed it off, while the young witch in the novel continued to fret over the safety and alternatively admire both Blake and the dragon. She often got somewhat annoyed with the female characters and their tendency to swoon and be frightened of everything. The heroine of this one however frightened she may be at times, had a true appreciation of the magical creatures of the world, including dragons, though she had never been near one.
She was just beginning a new chapter when a throat cleared from the doorway. She jumped, tossing her book to the floor as she shrieked in surprise. She heard a deep male laugh, and heard the sound of heavy dragonhide boots thumping across the floor. A hand she recognized all too well reached down and retrieved her fallen book. Hermione cringed internally. Just precisely the last person she wanted to know about her indulgent secret reading. She glanced up, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she blushed furiously. He was staring at the cover of her book. The strong fierce male entwined with the bodice-clad heroine, a hand curled into the front of her bodice, ready to shred it in a moment, while they gazed at one another in a lust-filled stare. The scenery behind them, a dark purple and pink sky and unlimited countryside. The scene reset, beginning its loop once more on the magic cover. The two lovers parting, only to come together once more in their embrace. Her blush intensified.
Charlie slowly smirked, reading the title. "Taming the Dragon Tamer" he read slowly, a smirk curling his lips. He glanced up at her. "This yours, love?" he asked, though he obviously knew very well, having scared her into dropping it. Hermione couldn't form words yet and merely nodded, as she tried to shift herself into an upright position and will her heated cheeks to cool. Nothing to be embarrassed of, she reminded herself firmly. "Well." He said with slow deliberation, eyes roving over her features, "The delectable Miss Granger has a thing for dragon tamers, hm? I never would have guessed." He shook his head slightly, looking as though he wanted to say more, he regretfully took a step back with a small shake of the head. "We're heading out to play a game of pickup Quidditch and I thought I'd ask if you wanted to come along."
"I hate flying." She mumbled quickly and somewhat automatically.
He laughed. "Yes, but I do recall you sitting and watching a time or two." He tossed the book back on her cot, beside her. "However, I would hate to interrupt such excellent reading material." He said with an amused quirk of the lips. "Bring your book, call it research." He grinned, backing out of the room. "You know, for educational purposes." With that, he was gone, leaving Hermione to wonder what exactly he meant by all that.