Chapter Three

Hermione

The ending of the weekend and the arrival of Monday morning allowed Hermione the opportunity to return to work at the Ministry and get out of her own head for a few hours. It was a welcome escape. Anyone who knew anything about the woman wouldn't be surprised to discover that she worked quite a bit. Seeming to be more at the office than outside of it, she enjoyed what she did for a living, the purpose that it gave her.

More than once she'd been accused of using work to avoid having anything resembling a personal life. She couldn't describe in adequate words how much she resented that implication. It wasn't true at all. Did wizards who took their jobs seriously ever get scrutinized the same way? She didn't think that Kingsley Shacklebolt had to fend off questions that he was using the responsibilities of his important job as the Minister for Magic to fulfill the hours of the day he might find himself lonely in. It was a rude and impertinent assumption to make. When she heard it, she wanted to curse whoever said it or punch them right in their irritating faces. She simply just liked her job. Was it her fault that she had yet to meet someone who really understood that?

She worked in the Werewolf Registry sub-department of the Beast Division for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Once she was able to complete her crusade to get the house-elves freed from their bondage after entering the Ministry a few years earlier, she turned her attention to helping another oppressed collection of beings. The disgusting fact that werewolves were considered 'beasts' at all bothered her immensely, but because that sub-division had always been in the Beast Division, there it stayed. Progress took time in the wizarding world. Too much time, in her humblest of opinions.

Working in the Werewolf Registry helped her ensure that all of Great Britain's werewolves were known and not forgotten. Left up to just about anyone else in the entire Ministry and they would be. It was an unglamorous job that no one else seemed to want, but to her, it was vital and imperative that it be done to the best of her abilities. There were no half-measures allowed in her sub-division that really only consisted of herself. Perhaps that was the reason why she found herself perpetually busy. Trying to change the image of her sub-division to help ease the process of progress had been met with near constant pushback.

When she wasn't working on the actual day-to-day running of the Werewolf Registry, which was quite enough work to handle on its own, she also spent a great deal of time trying to change the barbaric and antiquated laws that still left them as permanent second-class citizens. How Dolores Umbridge was still causing headaches in Hermione's life from the tiny cell in Azkaban where she would spend the majority of the years she had left on Earth might be what finally pushed her over the edge into dangerous, villain territory. Thankfully, Kingsley had been very supportive of her efforts and often assisted her when he could find the time.

The Monday following the party where she thoroughly embarrassed herself, Hermione wanted to distract herself with her work. All weekend long she had been unable to think about anything but Charlie and the events that transpired in the dusty attic. Even when she tried to read a book or watch a program on the television or try to focus on any other topic, all she could see in her mind were those few too-short minutes they'd been alone. She thought she could almost still feel his lips against hers. What would it be like if they were able to actually take their time and didn't have to worry about someone walking in on them? She could think of a few things she would like to do with her tongue.

There hadn't been much opportunity for exploration when they went for a quick one in the attic. She didn't even get to see him naked which was a definite pity. Even though she knew she shouldn't, there were plenty of times in the past when they were in the same room together that she wondered what he hid under those robes of his. And that one night they passed each other on the stairs on the way to the loo years earlier when she was staying over at the Burrow for Christmas? She'd forgotten how to breathe for a few moments as she caught a glimpse of his bare chest and the way the bottom half of his pajamas hung low on his hips. So startled had she been by meeting him unexpectedly, she didn't even take the chance to check out his arse. What a horrible missed opportunity!

If they were back in her flat where she lived completely alone and was quite capable of casting the necessary silencing spells to keep her neighbors from pounding on the wall and ruining the mood, she would take the time to divest the wizard of every single stitch of clothing he had on. She wanted to see it all. Once or twice she'd heard him mention getting a new scar from being burned at the dragon reserve. She wanted to see them. She wanted to lick them.

Over and over again the tiny voice in the back of her mind said she should just forget Charlie. Enjoy the good memories from that night and then move on. Don't expect another one to happen again. It was clearly a bad idea. There was too much alcohol, too many emotions that had absolutely nothing to do with what they were doing. More than once Charlie had to remind her that he wasn't going to fall in love with her. She knew he meant it and she was okay with that. It wasn't like she thought she would. He was nice and attractive and remembering the feel of his hard cock thrusting inside of her at that frenzied pace never failed to make her blush, but they were hardly compatible. He wasn't her type. Not for the long-term.

But the short-term could be a lot of fun. Back in her flat when she finally got him naked, she could take her time tracing every single centimeter of his hard flesh with her tongue. He seemed like the sort who would beg if she wound him up enough. Having Charlie Weasley at her mercy would be diverting indeed. The corner of her mouth curled up into a satisfied smirk. Yes, she would use her lips and her tongue to torture him into submission. While it had been enjoyable that he took the lead the last time by finding the chest of drawers and picking her up to drop her down on it, she also enjoyed when she was the one in charge. There was a lot of power for her to wield even when she was on her knees with the tip of his cock gagging her in the back of the throat. Those who didn't understand the power the giver had over the receiver clearly didn't know what they were doing or they allowed a partner who spent far too much time watching those hideous videos of pure degradation to set the tone of the encounter. No one would ever use her mouth like it was just another hole to stuff at their pleasure. Any who tried never got near her again. There was an art to making a man come with her mouth, tongue, and hands that had to be properly respected. She thought Charlie might be the sort to just sit back and enjoy without needing to direct.

And then when she made him see stars and could feel his pleasure sliding down the back of her throat, he would beg her to sit right on his face. Remembering how good of a kisser he was, she knew that he would be able to return the favor in no time at all. Maybe even a few times. He seemed like a good boy she would be happy to praise. Only when she could no longer trust she could hold her weight up on her own shaking legs would she allow him to flip her over onto her hands and knees. She wanted him behind her, slamming into her aching body, pulling her hair, and screaming her name.

"Hermione?"

Her mind continued to wander down a delicious path for at least another five seconds or so before her name was repeated. Startled to realize she was no longer alone in her office, Hermione looked up to see the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, standing in her doorway with a warm smile. Thoroughly embarrassed, she jumped up to her feet so quickly she knocked her teacup over. All of the parchment she was scribbling on would've been ruined if the former auror didn't possess the impressive reflexes to cast a spell to stop the liquid's spread. His laughter only made her feel even more embarrassed.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm all right. You caught me deep in thought."

"Hopefully in thoughts that are much more interesting than…" He reached across the desk to pull on a document for a better look. "…Silas Crump's new address. Can't believe you were able to convince that frustrating bugger to finally register."

There was nothing short of Veritaserum combined with a Cruciatus Curse that would encourage her to tell him the actual truth of her thoughts. That was too much even for old friends like them. Attempting to laugh off any concern he might have, she gestured to the empty chair on the other side of her desk he quickly sat in.

"I hated to miss George and Angelina's engagement party the other night. I didn't get back from Spain until Saturday morning. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Flashes of the time she was in the attic with Charlie immediately rushed into her mind. She could feel her cheeks turn red.

"Oh, yes, it was a lovely party."

"Are you sure you're all right, love? You are terribly flushed. Do you think you might have a fever?"

Because her office was so small he was easily able to cross the room to place his hand on her cheek to check her temperature. The kind act only made her feel more embarrassed and no doubt increased the flush. What must he think of her? She couldn't even seem to keep herself under control.

"I'm all right. It's just a little warm in here."

"Maybe you should get out of your office for a bit."

He gently pat her cheek with his hand, offering her another of his warm smiles that usually put her at ease when she didn't have extremely inappropriate thoughts about a certain Weasley invading her thoughts. She knew he was being kind, but it only served to make her feel even more awkward. Sincerely she hoped he wasn't a Legilimens. Though it would no doubt be an advantage in his position, just imagining Kingsley being able to see what she was thinking in that moment would be enough to mortify her to death.

"You're probably right. I should get some air."

She stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking his hand off of her cheek. His smile slipped for half a second before it was back to full power. Getting out of the confines of her tiny office would probably help. Perhaps she should even exit the building to go for a short walk in the sunshine.

"Was there something you needed to speak to me about, Kingsley?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to make sure you had a good weekend."

"That was kind of you, but hardly important enough to warrant a visit from the Minister. You're a very busy man. You shouldn't waste your time on me."

It was meant as a self-deprecating joke, but Kingsley didn't laugh. He didn't even seem to want to smile. After clearing his throat, he wished her a good day and left the room with some excuse about needing to review some reports. He was a dear man, but sometimes she thought he could be a bit odd. His moods could change quickly and she felt she was always saying the wrong thing. It didn't used to be like that. She wondered what changed. Maybe it was all in her head.

Convinced more than ever that she needed a few minutes away from her desk, Hermione headed for the stairwell. The thought of being confined inside one of the lurching lifts filled her stomach with dread. She wanted to be away from other people for a bit.

Charlie

The buzzing from the overhead lighting in the Ministry of Magic was the only sound Charlie could hear as he sat at his desk trying to make some sort of sense of the endless paperwork his position required. Was he the only one who noticed, the only one who feared he was on the verge of losing his fucking mind? One glance around the immediate area surrounding his desk seemed to confirm he was. Maybe they had all just gotten used to it because they'd been working in the windowless underground Ministry for so many years. The thought that he could ever get used to the infernal hum depressed him. He would rather die.

Despite having an entire weekend to relax in preparation for another week at work, he entered the Ministry feeling like he'd been trampled by a Hungarian Horntail. Too much alcohol wasn't good for him, but he didn't know of any other way to help him sleep or to cope with the misery his life had become since he tucked his tail between his legs and ran out of Romania. All he needed was just a little tiny glass in the morning to help stave off the hangover and get him through to the end of the day.

He was ready to leave the moment he arrived at his uncomfortable desk. There wasn't anything he liked about his job beyond the paycheck that allowed him to buy more fire whiskey, but at least it kept him busy. Piles of parchment greeted him each day. When he completed one, another would appear in its place. It was maddening. How did any of his cheerful coworkers keep from sending an avada straight to their own chest at the thought of a lifetime of the same drudgery? He'd only promised the Head of the department that he'd stay for two years and already three months in he was ready to explode.

Hopefully two years would be long enough to get over her. It seemed like it should be plenty of time when he was signing his Ministry contact. All he wanted was to get back out in the field to work with his hands again. He missed the dragons. All of the paperwork his position required was tedious and felt unnecessary. Would the world really end if he didn't fill out the forms in triplicate and file them in the right drawer correctly? He used to save lives on the refuge. Both human and dragon. Nothing about his new job was exciting enough to keep him interested for very long.

His coworkers were nice enough people, he supposed. Once he'd gotten used to dodging fireballs on a daily basis, somehow office gossip wasn't nearly so exhilarating. One of the witches at a nearby desk had been trying to catch his eye since the day he started. She was certainly pretty and seemed kind enough, but he really wasn't interested. Besides, he already learned the hard lesson of getting involved with someone he worked with. Never a good idea.

Deep in the pocket of his robes he pulled out a photograph he knew it was madness to keep with him. What would everyone else who knew him think if they knew he looked at a picture of his ex sometimes multiple times a day? He could just hear Bill telling him what an idiot he was for choosing not to move on. As much as he loved his brother, Charlie kindly wished he'd shut the fuck up. He was happily married to the love of his life. What did he understand about heartbreak?

Sneaking a look at his favorite picture of Anca didn't make him feel any better. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, but he continued because he was obsessed. Of course he knew it was unhealthy. He needed to move on even if it felt like that was impossible. Anca already moved on. He wondered if she was married to that arsehole yet. Furious and embarrassed, he crumpled up the photograph in his fist and threw it in the bin underneath his desk.

Unable to sit still for another moment, Charlie got up from his desk to take a walk. The walls of the Ministry were closing in on him. He didn't believe mankind was ever supposed to work indoors. It was too confining, too unhealthy. He pulled open the door to the stairs. Maybe he just needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to calm his nerves. The buzzing wasn't as loud in the dim stairwell.

Almost immediately he heard a soft muttering coming from further down the stairs. Far too curious for his own good, Charlie chose to walk down a flight to see what the noise was. When he saw Hermione talking to herself with lightly flushed cheeks, he had to smile. She wasn't even trying to be adorable, but she was. What had her all out of sorts? He needed to know by some strange compulsion he didn't understand.

"Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?"

At the sound of his voice, Hermione spun around with wide eyes. Her cheeks blushed an even brighter red. Was she aware how expressive her face could be when she didn't have it under control? He remembered how flushed her skin was the night in the attic. That had been a lot of fun. Despite not having been a hormonal teenager for many years, he felt suddenly out of control of his own body. As he cleared his throat, he adjusted his robes in what he hoped was a discreet manner.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to intrude."

Charlie turned around to go back up the stairs. Everyone deserved their privacy and it wasn't exactly his business what was wrong with her no matter how curious he was. Too much curiosity could get him into more trouble than he knew what to do with.

"You don't have to leave."

As soon as she gave him permission to stay, he stopped. He was glad. Even though he would've done it, he didn't really want to leave. Turning back around, he walked towards her until they were only steps apart.

"Are you all right?"

The smile she gave him was fake. It was easy to tell when one knew where to look when someone was trying to be something they weren't. He wondered what was wrong. The thought of her being upset made him upset too.

"I'm fine."

She was lying. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. Why did he care? Clearly, she was going through a personal issue and it wasn't any of his concern. It would be less complicated for both of them if he just turned back around one more time and returned to his damned requisition forms. But, the decision had already been made whether he liked it or not. Deep down he knew that if he was able to focus his attention on someone else, he was less likely to wallow in his own head. A break from that would be divine.

Some of her hair had come loose from where she had it pulled back. Did she have the bad habit of running her hands through her hair when she was frustrated too? That was half the reason he liked to keep it longer than his mum thought he should. Without even thinking twice about it, Charlie gently pushed a heavy curl behind her ear. Her eyes widened and suddenly she seemed like a nervous hatchling still unsure about the big, scary world outside of the nest. It threatened to pull a smile out of him he didn't think she would appreciate. The tension between them was electric. He wished they were back at his flat and not in the middle of the stairwell where anyone could stumble upon them. Though he had to admit the thought of pushing her up against the wall and risking being caught was exciting.

"You ran off so suddenly the other night. Did Bill say something to upset you?"

She sighed, the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. He would call it progress.

"No, but I'm not sure I can ever look at him in the eye again. Not after he saw…"

When she gestured to her breasts with her hand, he flashed back to the attic. Remembering how they felt in his mouth, he wanted to do it again and for much longer. It was a shame they'd been interrupted. And that they had to be quiet. He would very much like her to scream her throat raw.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, I think you should be rather proud of them."

Her laughter made him smile too. Thoughts he knew he shouldn't be having in the middle of the workday kept taking over his senses. Putting them into action would certainly help him keep his mind off of his broken heart. Would she be interested if he whispered in her ear what he wanted to do to her?

"Oh, so I should just go around and show them to everyone?"

"Certainly not, but I wouldn't mind having another peek at them."

Feeling just as daring as he did every time he stepped into a pen with a dragon with only his wand for protection, Charlie stepped closer. Hermione was still laughing, but there was a change in her breathing. Subtle, hardly noticeable by anyone who wasn't used to paying very close attention to wild animals and their nonverbal cues. Whatever had her so bothered and upset when he first arrived didn't seem to be as big of an issue. If he played any part in calming her down, he was glad to be of service. The closer he got to the witch, the bolder he grew. What did it matter if he told her the truth?

"I had a lot of fun the other night."

"So did I."

"I'd very much like to do it again."

"So would I."

Hearing her agreement was all he needed to close the distance between them. Before his brain could tell him they were making a dangerous mistake, his lips were against hers again and then his tongue was tangling with hers. He thought the night in the attic that she was a woman full of passion on the verge of exploding if she didn't have a proper outlet. Each quiet moan that came out of her only confirmed his theory. If only they were somewhere private…

A strangled groan broke the near silence of the stairwell when Hermione confidently put her hand on the front of his trousers to feel his growing bulge. Clearly she wasn't as worried about being caught by some other poor, unsuspecting Ministry official just trying to go about their day. If she wasn't concerned, neither would he. Charlie used his body to press her up against the wall. How far was she willing to go? Her hand squeezed him just enough that he worried he was about to come right there in his pants. It was impossible not to feel her devious grin against his mouth.

"My my, Charlie Weasley. It seems like it would be awfully uncomfortable to walk around the Ministry in this condition."

"It is and it's all your fault. I was perfectly fine until I saw you with your flushed cheeks and remembered how you looked when I was making you come on my cock."

"You're a naughty one, aren't you?"

"I can be."

With one hand curled tightly in the hair at his neck, she pulled his mouth back to hers for another fierce kiss. Damn, the woman knew what she was doing with her tongue. It made him want to see her on her knees staring back up at him. She used the distraction of her kiss to sneak her other hand inside his trousers. Hissing at the feel of her hand on his sensitive flesh, it was only partially because her little hand was cold. Soon that didn't matter. There was enough heat from the friction caused by her motions he didn't remember ever feeling the least bit chilled.

More than once he had to stop to press his hand against the wall to offer him enough stability to keep from just melting to the floor. Up and down his shaft her hand moved, deftly knowing exactly where to gently squeeze as she moved to create the most exquisite of tortures. Concerned that the noise of what they were up to could travel up and down the stairwell, he tried to keep his thoughts mostly to himself, but she seemed to take pleasure out of making him forget himself. Each little groan or moan earned him a firmer tug, nearly driving him to complete madness. Somewhere inside her there was a sadist, he was sure.

"Let's go to my flat and spend the rest of the afternoon making each other pant."

She laughed at his suggestion, pulling him a little harder. He nearly came right then. Another moan he couldn't stop slipped out of his lips.

"We can't do that. I have work to do and I'm sure you do too."

"Forget it. I'd rather spend all day in bed instead."

"That sounds like more than just sex. We agreed the other night."

"If you keep touching me like this, love, I might forget what I agreed to and fall in love instead."

Hermione's hand tightened its grip. Near to the point of being painful, he gasped. Still stroking him in a steady pace that really was in danger of doing his mind in, she leaned back enough to be able to look him in the eye. Even in the dim light he could see she was serious.

"No love. Just sex. Remember?"

The jerk of her hand prompted him to immediately agree. In that moment, she held all of the power and he would be a fool to not recognize that fact.

"Good. Now be a good boy and come for me."

Almost as if he no longer had any control over his own body, he felt the pressure build within him until he could stand it no more. He closed his eyes to focus solely on the intense pleasure. When he dared to open his eyes again to look at Hermione, her little satisfied smirk set him off. Needing more than to just touch her, he fell straight to his knees. He wanted her coming on his face as soon as physically possible. Startled by his abrupt change in position, she seemed confused when he pushed up her skirt with one hand and pulled down her knickers with the other. His tongue could feel the heat coming off of her, but before he got even a hint of a taste, she was frantically pushing him away.

Sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs headed their direction stirred them both into action. It was a mad dash to rearrange their mussed up clothing to not make it obvious what they were doing alone in the near dark. Before their intruder stepped into their line of vision, Hermione was already rushing down the stairs acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Whether she was annoyed or embarrassed they were almost caught, Charlie wasn't sure. Nor did he know which one he hoped it was.

When the wizard responsible for ruining their moment reached the same landing he was on, Charlie returned the oblivious fool's nod of greeting and turned around to return to his office. There was nothing left for him in the stairwell any longer. Even if he managed to catch up with Hermione, the moment was over and lost. Frustrated, he tried to push away his anger to focus on the near-bliss he just experienced. Maybe if he was able to keep his eyes open for the rest of the afternoon, that would be just the push he needed to get through the awful day.

No one seemed to even notice he'd been missing. He sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh. More piles of parchment arrived in his absence. If he kept his focus solely on work, he might be finished with them before the end of the day. Knowing there was no delaying the inevitable, he picked the first sheet off the top.

The corner of his eye caught the rubbish bin under his desk. His hand was already fishing out the crumpled picture and smoothing it out before he could tell himself it was better left where it was.