"Would you care for some pie, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked, rising to take their dishes to the sink. It was such a rare occasion that the elderly woman felt up to joining them at the table that she felt it deserved a treat.
"That sounds lovely, my dear," she said with a smile so like her old self that Hermione felt a pang of days long gone. George, Dean, Luna, and Kingsley had joined them for dinner as well and it almost felt like old times.
Hermione retrieved the pie she'd labored so long over and sliced them all a piece while Charlie refilled their wine glasses.
"You look lovely in that sweater, mother," he said, aiming a roguish wink at her as he topped her off. "Did you knit it yourself?"
"Actually, it was a gift from your father. He…"
Her voice broke off and a sudden look of pain crossed her face. Hermione looked at Charlie urgently knowing what could quickly come of it.
"Er, you know mother, I was in the garden earlier and noticed we have gnomes again. What's the name of that de-gnoming spray you used to get?"
"Actually, you should leave them, gnomes have many magical properties, my father always said so," Luna began, trailing into an explanation of how gnomes were once wizards who fell upon a curse. Molly seemed to calm while listening to this tale and Hermione and Charlie's eyes met across the room, simultaneously heaving a sigh of relief from the bullet they'd dodged.
George amused them all with a tale of a customer of his today who had imbibed in one too many Ton-Tongue Toffees while they ate the pie Hermione had made. Charlie leaned into her while the others laughed raucously at George's story and whispered in her ear.
"This pie is delicious, Hermione. It makes me wonder how delectable yours is…"
She blushed to the roots of her hair and took a large gulp of her wine as Charlie sat back, chuckling. Luckily, no one had noticed his murmurings and simply thought he was laughing along with the others about the poor boy whose tongue had gotten stuck on the witch's display.
As everyone began winding down, Mrs. Weasley wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked around the room curiously.
"Hasn't Ron come home yet? Where did that silly boy get himself off to?"
The room stilled, everyone dodging glances.
"He's not coming home, Molly. You know that," Kingsley said lowly. She looked at him as if he had slapped her.
"What do you mean? Of course, he's coming home! Why would you say such a thing?"
"Molly, it's been almost a year…"
"What is this nonsense?" she laughed dryly, looking between two of her remaining boys. "Charlie, George, are you in on this joke? Because I don't think it's very funny!"
"It's not a joke, mum," Charlie said as George threw back the rest of his wine, reaching for the bottle to refill his glass, his eyes downcast. "Ron is gone. He's not coming back."
Hermione saw the warning signs and knew there was no stopping it. Molly was on another downward spiral and they were in for a long night. She turned to her other eating companions as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a rhinoceros.
"Maybe you guys should go," she suggested, giving them a pitying look which Mrs. Weasley unfortunately saw.
"Maybe you should as well, Hermione!" she shouted, her eyes glazed with pain and fury. "I don't know who you think you are, sitting here warm and happy while my boy, your future husband, is out there! You go and you bring him back to me!"
"Mum, that's enough. Do not take this out on her!" Charlie shouted, rising. "Do you really think hurting her this way is going to bring him back?"
"Charlie –"
"No, Hermione! I've had enough! I'm not going to stand by while she blames you for this! Not again! It's time for you to get some sense, mother! Ron is gone, so is dad, so is Ginny, and Percy, and Fred! They're all gone! We're all you have left, so you better damn well get used to it!"
"Charlie!" Hermione gasped as tears poured down Mrs. Weasley's face while she gazed up pleadingly at her son who was red with rage.
"You can't keep blaming Hermione for not finding Ron – none of us did! It's not our fault! They took him, they killed him, and they tortured us in the worst way by taking our closure away from us. Hermione is suffering more than you could possibly imagine and yet she is still out there, fighting every single day to help us rid the world of the man who stole your children and your husband from you. And what do you do? Wallow yourself away in your room knitting useless sweaters and turning on Hermione whenever you need to dump your pain on someone else? Well, enough is enough! I'm tired of coddling you, I'm tired of Hermione waiting on you hand and foot, dealing with this treatment without a single complaint! I want you to apologize to her and snap out of this phase and be the woman you used to be!"
The room rang with Charlie's tirade, every eye on his apoplectic face, his finger still suspended over the table as he pointed accusingly at Molly who looked as if she'd seen a ghost. The older woman glanced between Hermione and Charlie and swallowed several times. Finally, her eyes fell on Hermione.
"I'm so sorry, my dear, I didn't mean, I – I…"
"Mrs. Weasley –"
She tore from the room as quickly as her emaciated body could take her, sobbing harshly. Her heart breaking for the poor, disordered woman, Hermione turned and rounded on Charlie, throwing her napkin on the table in fury.
"Very mature, Charlie! You know she's confused; you know she doesn't understand! How could you say those things to her?" she screamed.
"I'm sick of her treating you this way!" he roared. "You shouldn't have to put up with it! Not after everything –"
"She doesn't know what she's saying! And she's always taken care of me, she took me in as her own! So, for as long as she needs me, I'll be taking care of her, and I'll thank you to mind your own business about it!"
Hermione stormed upstairs after Mrs. Weasley. She knew her anger wasn't aimed entirely at the words Charlie had spewed at his mother because, quite frankly, she'd wanted to say all those things a thousand times to the woman. But he'd touched something deep inside her in his defense of her and she hated him for making her feel this way. She hated Mrs. Weasley for blaming everything on her and she hated Ron for leaving her in this mess to begin with.
Shoving down her own anger, Hermione knocked quietly on Mrs. Weasley's door and let herself in, steeling herself for a long night of dodging knick-knacks. Instead, she found the woman shuffling around the room nervously, tucking in bedclothes and rearranging pictures on the mantle in a confused whirl.
"Mrs. Weasley?" she asked softly. Molly looked up from refolding the throw blanket on her chair and stared at her for a moment as if she wasn't sure who she was.
"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you're here," she said in a tremulous voice. "I'm afraid I'm feeling rather lost at the moment!"
"Lost, Mrs. Weasley?"
"Yes, I'm afraid I've forgotten the reason I came in here in the first place!" she chuckled nervously. "Those cobwebs just grow thicker as the years go by, don't they? Now, where was I?"
"You were just about to make us a spot of tea," Hermione encouraged with a small smile, the contention downstairs obviously forgotten.
"Oh, that's right! Thank you, my dear, I'll do just that! Grab us a couple of mugs, won't you?"
"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," she said gratefully, slipping a Draught of Living Death in her companion's cup before serving the tea Mrs. Weasley made in the pot hovering over the fire. The two of them settled into the soft couch Charlie had heaved in here as if nothing had happened.
"Now, have you settled on a dress yet?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sipping her piping hot tea. Hermione's heart sank. She hated these conversations.
"No, not yet," she responded, the same way she always did. She let her mind wander to the kitchen and wondered if Charlie was very angry at her for her rant. She rarely lost her temper that way but the look on Molly's face and her own guilt-laden feelings had gotten the better of her. She wondered if anyone had found Charlie's intense protectiveness over her out of place.
Nodding at appropriate times and muttering "mm-hmm" occasionally, Hermione fretted while Mrs. Weasley's voice grew slower, her sentences more rambled until her eyes drifted closed. Hermione watched her for a moment, sadness welling at the image. She missed the plump, boisterous woman who defeated Bellatrix and hugged you like she never would again. She missed the loud Weasley dinners and quiet moments like this by the fire with Ron and Harry. Everything had gone so wrong; she had lost sight of the light at the end of this long tunnel. Would the suffering ever end? Or would they all end up in the ground or driven to madness like Mrs. Weasley?
Sighing over her morose thoughts, Hermione Levitated the woman to her bed, tucking her in with her clothes still on. Putting out the candles with a wave of her wand, Hermione watched the woman who had been like a mother to her breathe softly, unhindered for a few moments from the demons in her mind.
Hermione turned when light from the hallway filtered into the room, temporarily blind when the door shut again, though she didn't need to see who it was to know. She turned back to Mrs. Weasley, unsure of what to say, and started when she felt him behind her, his warm arms wrapping around her, his face burying in her hair.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath skittering over her ear and making her shiver. "I'm sorry."
Hermione melted into his embrace. It was as if he'd been made to hold her, fitting against her like the feel of her wand in her hand. She forgot about the past, forgot about the future, forgot about everyone and everything except the way that he made her feel. She felt so safe, so cherished, she didn't know how this could be wrong.
One strong hand trailed down to wrap around her waist, pulling her tighter against his muscular chest while the other rose to tuck her hair onto her right shoulder so that he could press his lips to the crook of her neck. Hermione gasped, pleasure pooling within her as he continued to nip softly at her shoulder, her neck, the spot behind her ear she'd never known existed. His ragged breaths were the sweetest music as he showed her just how affected he was by her.
Charlie turned her head towards him slightly, his thumb learning the line of her jaw. She looked up into his blue eyes, dark in the dim room, and gave in.
Just as she leaned up to seal their fate, a soft knock came to the door and they bolted away from each other, Hermione's hands shaking as she straightened her shirt and hair. George crept into the room.
"How is she?" he asked quietly.
"Better, I've given her a potion, she'll rest tonight," Hermione murmured, her voice shaking from their near discovery. George eyed them curiously for a moment and Hermione's heart stopped, wondering if he'd seen anything.
"Mind if I have a moment alone with her?" he asked.
"Oh!" Hermione said, grateful for the opportunity to escape. "Not at all, I was just about to head to bed myself. Goodnight."
She left hastily, practically throwing herself down the stairs to her room, slamming the door and slumping against her dresser, her nails digging into the surface. Unresolved lust still coursed through her veins, warring with the fear of nearly being caught kissing her fiancé's brother.
He's not your fiancé anymore, he's just Ron, and he wouldn't want you to suffer forever…
But would he want her falling into bed with his older brother?
Wracked with indecision, Hermione hurriedly readied for bed, pulling an old nightgown over her head and crossing the hall to brush her teeth, thankful it was empty of all Weasleys.
Too worked up to attempt to sleep, Hermione took to pacing her small room, chewing her thumbnail, staring at the bed she'd shared with Ron, the bed Charlie had slept in for two days before he was strong enough to make it to his own. She heard the boys bid each other goodbye downstairs and Charlie's footsteps retreat towards the kitchen, away from her. He felt guilty, as she did, and she scrubbed her face raw, her feet wearing the floorboards thin in her anxiety.
How could this have happened? How could she have fallen for the older brother of the man she'd thought she would spend the rest of her life with? And why didn't it feel more wrong? It should taste abhorrent in her mouth to even think about, but whenever she thought of Charlie, of his smile, his touch, his warmth and kindness…it didn't feel wrong, it felt right, it felt whole, it felt like –
Like she'd never felt about Ron.
Her stomach twisted, sick. She'd loved him, she knew it deep down, and there wasn't anything she wouldn't do to bring him back. But the way she felt about Charlie was different, deeper, more intense. Maybe it stemmed from learning each other as adults rather than the silly children she'd been with Ron. Maybe it was that he saw her as something other than the frizzy-haired know-it-all he'd grown up with. He saw her as a woman, needed her as a woman. It was exciting and frightening, something she'd always felt lacked with her and Ronald.
Still, nothing could change the fact that Charlie was his brother. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't she have fallen for someone else, someone Ron had never met, maybe someone Ron would have liked…
Hermione glanced up at the small creak outside her door and realized she hadn't shut it all the way when she saw Charlie standing just beyond, his face filled with lust and the same painful yearning that she felt.
"Fuck this," he muttered, striding forward, slamming the door shut behind him as he grabbed her up. Yanking her into his arms, his lips crashed down upon her in a wave of passionate heat.
Hermione gasped, suddenly overcome as his lips took hers expertly, savagely. They danced together as if old friends, though the feeling was unlike any she'd ever experienced. His desperation clawed at her, dragging her up so he could plunder her deeper, his hands in her hair, on her waist, gripping, holding them together for dear life.
"I'm done fighting this," Charlie growled against her jaw which he bit and licked, taking her lips harshly again before moving to her cheek. "You're mine now, dammit!"
"Yes!" she gasped, her world a haze of desire finally recognized. She couldn't stop this even if she wanted to.
He took her lips hungrily again, shoving them backward until her lower back crashed into the desk which he lifted her hastily on, shoving his way between her legs, yanking her hips against him so she could feel the enormity of his need for her. She groaned at the sensation, pulling him closer so that he could ease that ache.
"I'll not be gentle," he warned, ripping her gown at the shoulder and shoving the material down so that he could pull her breast into his hot mouth. Hermione hissed, bucking against him.
"Thank the gods," she replied, her nails digging into his hair, grabbing at his shirt to divest him of it. She didn't want gentle, she didn't want slow or soft, she wanted fast, hard, and as desperate as every moment she'd denied up to this point.
As soon as his shirt hit the floor, Charlie fisted her nightgown and ripped it to her waist, his mouth devouring her other breast as he moved against her, his erection grinding against her hood making her whimper with want.
"I'm going to take you now," he growled, their eyes meeting as he tore away the rest of her tattered gown, his hand moving to her exposed center, his fingers driving into her making her gasp as the thick digits pumped her cruelly. "And when I do, it's over, Hermione. You'll be mine and only mine."
"Yes!" she panted, pressing into his hand as he worked her higher, her mind white with want.
"Say it, Hermione," he demanded, biting her lip so hard he drew blood, sucking it into his mouth.
"I'm yours, Charlie," she moaned, knowing it to be true. He groaned at her words and shoved down his jeans, pulling her to the edge of the desk and angling himself.
He drove into her and her world shattered on an exalted cry.
True to his word, Charlie took her harshly, pounding into her, his generous size stretching her as he rode her, taking her to the peak hot on the heels of the first, his hands and lips everywhere, holding her tighter, tasting every inch he could reach.
"Charlie!" she cried as her orgasm crashed over her, her fingers digging into his skin as she sought to find something to ground herself while the earth broke into pieces around her, her body thrumming with joy.
"More," he grunted, kissing her hard. "I want more."
Lifting her easily, Charlie threw them on the bed, pressing her back against the mattress as he angled her pelvis up, slamming into her so that he struck her pleasure point with each thrust. Hermione sobbed with euphoria while Charlie explored her body, rearranging her to see just how deep he could sink in, how much harder he could thrust. He sent her tumbling over the edge for a third time before leaning forward and cupping her face with both hands, swallowing her cries, never stopping.
"Say it again," he panted, driving into her mercilessly.
"I'm yours," she gasped, sight and sound intermixing and exploding as his thrusts turned frenzied and he shoved them both into oblivion, his strangled cry of release jolting straight into her heart.
He slowed his movements, dragging himself leisurely in and out of her, eking out the last dregs of her release. Hermione shuddered beneath him, utterly sated and destroyed, her body numb with rapture. He collapsed atop her, wrapping her in his arms, his lips coming to her brow, every inch touching.
When he could manage, Charlie rolled off her and dragged her against his side, stroking her hair as his heart thundered beneath her ear.
"Bloody fucking hell," he croaked.
"I'll second that," she replied, too stunned at the earth-shattering encounter they just had to come up with anything more sensible. She'd never known it could be like that, so crazed and raw and elemental. And she'd never come so hard that she literally saw stars.
They reveled in the sensations of their over-wrought bodies until the room became cool and Charlie dragged a blanket half over them. Hermione had no idea what to say, her mind as numb as her body.
"Mine," Charlie whispered tiredly before his breathing turned into the deep cadence of sleep.
"Yours," she whispered back, nestling into his comfort and falling away into contented bliss.
...
XOXO
RynStar15