Chapter Two

Hermione

Never in all of the years that she had known and loved the Weasley family had Hermione made a faster exit from their home. Nor had she ever left quite so mortified. When she was back inside the safety and solitude of her own flat, she was able to feel those feelings of embarrassment even more acutely. No, she wasn't embarrassed by what happened exactly. The encounter with Charlie up in the attic had been everything she hoped it would be and a little bit more.

But Bill witnessing it first hand and then telling Fleur about it afterwards was too much to bear. She knew she couldn't stay at the Burrow for another minute. If two family members already knew, it wouldn't be long before everyone knew. No one in the whole family could keep a secret for very long. As much as Hermione loved that family dearly, she knew there were very few boundaries. That was a lesson she learned the hard way when she was still together with Ron years earlier.

At least when she was dating the youngest male of the Weasley family no one ever walked in on them in the midst of a rather passionate moment. There were some close calls a time or two, but absolutely nothing like she experienced with Charlie. She should've known before she climbed the ladder to the attic that it was a bad idea. If they wanted to have a casual sexual encounter, they should've gone to a seedy Muggle hotel or gone far off into the countryside where no one would accidentally stumble upon them. What were they thinking going into the attic? It was stupid on many levels. Obviously they couldn't trust themselves to think clearly where the other one was concerned.

There was no one and nothing waiting for her inside of her flat. If she stopped to dwell too much on that fact, Hermione might get depressed. For years she'd talked about getting a replacement pet after Crookshanks passed away, but it had yet to happen. While she certainly wasn't some sexless prude who hid away in knitting circles with elderly widows, she had to admit it had been a while since she last had a man, handsome or otherwise, inside the walls of her home. Sad, really.

Her last relationship fizzled out over a year and a half prior to that embarrassing evening. It had never been built for distance. The wizard she was involved with had certainly been kind enough, but there wasn't much chemistry there. Everything they did felt perfunctory and emotionless. Hardly an encouraging way to imagine the future. She couldn't even remember which one of them decided it was time to end the relationship. Maybe they both came to the conclusion at the same time. All she knew was he was there one day and then the next she never spoke to him again. It was for the best. Who wanted to feel like they were nothing more than an option? She wanted to be the first and only choice, if she was going to choose to be in a relationship again.

She went straight to her bedroom as soon as the front door was locked behind her. As much as she loved her home, she couldn't ignore the fact that at times it felt a bit cold. Sometimes the only comforting part of the entire flat was her bedroom. Or perhaps she only felt that way because it was the one place she spent the most time in the few hours each day she was home. Familiarity and nothing more.

A heavy yawn escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. The day had been exceptionally long even before she arrived at George and Angelina's engagement party. She almost had to miss the party thanks to a mini-crisis at work she was in charge of handling. There rarely seemed to ever be enough hours in the day to do what needed to be done. Exhausted but wishing to clean up before crawling into bed, Hermione entered her bathroom to turn her shower on. Lots of people thought it strange that she preferred to bathe at night. How many times had she had an ex-boyfriend tell her that it was best to shower in the morning so she could fully wake up under the water? She didn't care. If she tried to go to sleep at night without showering or indulging in the rare bubble bath, she inevitably struggled to fall asleep. Everyone was allowed their own idiosyncrasies, weren't they?

When she'd allowed adequate time for the water in her shower to heat up to the optimal temperature, Hermione peeled off the too-tight pencil skirt she insisted on wearing that morning for some reason to drop it on the tile floor. Each remaining article of clothing fell on top of the pile. She moaned at the feel of the hot water splashing down on her tired and sore muscles. Remembering that she'd had a reason to employ that same moan just a short time earlier, all thoughts of her subsequent embarrassment were pushed to the side to remember what happened in the attic.

Charlie had been a surprise. A delightful, delicious surprise. She could still taste his fire whiskey soaked tongue in her mouth. Who knew there was such raw passion in the usually calm wizard? Part of her still couldn't believe she'd agreed to their little rendezvous. What would everyone think of her when the whispers eventually made their way around the family? It likely wouldn't take long before Harry or Ron or both decided they needed to have a heart-to-heart conversation with her about her reckless choices. With both men happily married and her struggling to keep a relationship going longer than dessert, she resented their frequent urges to meddle in her private life. No matter how awkward the discussions would be in the coming days, at least she could still have the memories of the attic to hold on to.

And what memories they were. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of Charlie picking her up and dropping her on top of the chest of drawers. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that he charmed the furniture to be just the right height for debauchery. It was innovative and creative and her esteem for the wizard rose just a little bit more. Perhaps if she was lucky there might be another piece of furniture he bent her over or threw her on.

He'd felt so right inside of her. There hadn't been a single uncomfortable moment of adjustment or missed rhythm. From the very first thrust, he'd proven that he knew what he was doing and her body reaped all of the benefits. She was used to it taking a couple of times before she was able to enjoy being with a new lover. There had always been a 'breaking in' period. How was it possible that Charlie was able to just quite literally slide right in and make her scream? Magic had to be involved in some way. No way was it just pure, dumb luck.

She used her favorite bar of soap to lather up her bare shoulders. Once Charlie had her jumper ripped open, he paid special attention to the sensitive skin at her collar bone and her neck. Part of her felt a little guilty washing away the places she knew his tongue had been, but she was glad to still have the memories. The bar of soap rubbed against her breast. She gasped when she realized how hard her nipples had grown just by merely thinking about the man. His mouth had been all over her chest. Even as she tried to forget that Bill saw her bare breasts, she clung to the thought of Charlie's skilled tongue. It had all been so hurried. What would it feel like if he had the opportunity to take his time? How much more amazing would it feel?

The ache between her legs couldn't be ignored. Even as she lathered up the rest of her skin and proceeded to stand underneath the spray of the shower to rinse off, all she could think about was how fucking amazing it felt to feel Charlie pounding into her sadly neglected body. Knowing it would only be a poor replacement, she still ran her hand down her stomach straight to her slick and sensitive core. Thinking about the dragon keeper readied her for another orgasm. No one alive knew her body better than she did. Keeping her eyes closed to fantasize about being back on top of that rickety chest of drawers, it didn't take much more than a few well-versed slides of her fingers to recreate the same trembling she'd experienced a short time earlier. His name was a whisper on her lips as she came.

In the aftermath of another climax, Hermione began to feel the mortification return. How could she have been so brash and reckless? She turned the taps off, immediately feeling chilled. Charlie was a distraction she couldn't afford. As much fun as it had been to sneak off to the attic with him, she decided it was best that she not let it happen again. It didn't matter that she wanted to find even more secluded, interesting spots to drag the wizard. A casual, secret relationship with him was too complicated. She liked to keep her life simple.

Slipping between her cold sheets, she turned the lamp off, plunging the bedroom in darkness. It didn't matter how often she did it, she hated going to bed alone.

Charlie

He watched the flustered witch descend the attic's ladder with a pleased smirk on his lips. His boring night certainly got more interesting than he expected. Knowing it would be a bad idea to leave the attic too quickly and risk being seen by someone who just watched Hermione's exit, Charlie took his time adjusting his clothes.

With very little to do while he waited a suitable time, his eyes looked around the cluttered room. There didn't seem to be anything of any real value stored up in the attic. Unfortunately, thanks to the limited amount of funds his family possessed all throughout his life, most of it was just a bunch of junk that should've been thrown out years earlier. He chuckled when he looked at the chest of drawers again.

That whole encounter had been a lot of fun. What other pieces of furniture could he put Hermione on next? As soon as he imagined bending her over the old armchair and taking her roughly from behind, he stopped his thoughts. It had been fun, but probably shouldn't happen again. Casual relationships rarely worked out. Someone always developed feelings and since he didn't believe he'd ever get over her, it was too dangerous. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Hermione. He respected her far too much for that. Besides, as much as she was loved by his family, he would have several brothers at least who would be there to physically harm him for upsetting Hermione. He didn't even want to imagine what his mum or Ginny would do.

After several minutes of waiting, Charlie was anxious to leave. His thoughts kept returning to Hermione. He didn't want to make more out of it than it was. They had fun in the middle of a stressful, yet boring evening. That should be enough. Why did he feel the urge to make it into more? He released the ghoul from the cupboard and made his way down the attic ladder.

No one seemed to even notice he was gone when he made it to the bottom of the narrow staircase. It was a perk of being in a large family that continued to grow. An odd compulsion came over him to look around the immediate area for Hermione, but he quickly stopped himself. He didn't want to seem too eager or draw unnecessary attention. It was bad enough Bill caught them in the act. Eventually he knew he was going to hear about it.

Ignoring his earlier promise to himself not to drink too much, he went straight to the bar again to fix another drink. His eyes moved around the crowded room as he poured. Where had Hermione run off to? Was she already regretting making such a spontaneous decision?

"It was strange of her to run off like that. I hope she's not upset."

His ears perked up at the sound of his mother's whisper. She and Fleur had just entered from the kitchen and their heads were close together. Even in the loud room Charlie could hear everything they said.

"She iz tired, I'm sure. She works too much."

"Yes, you're right. She does. I just worry about her. Do you think she was bothered by seeing how big Mandy has gotten? It can't be easy when she's…"

"No, no, Hermione loves Mandy. She iz very happy for them. She told me zo earlier."

"Yes, but did it sound like she meant it or did she say it because that's what she believed she was supposed to feel?"

Charlie didn't understand their conversation. It upset him to hear that she'd run out of the party so quickly it caused his mother concern. That wasn't like Hermione. He worried that he was responsible. Too much alcohol made him behave foolishly. He should've never propositioned her, especially when she was clearly in a vulnerable state. Could she really be jealous of Ron's wife Mandy? Why? Because she was still in love with his youngest brother and the lovesick fool couldn't keep his hands off of his heavily pregnant wife? Weasley men weren't exactly known for their sensitive natures.

Annoyed that the poor woman felt like she had to leave, he decided to take his drink outside. He needed some air. Every square centimeter of the interior of his childhood home was filled with another human being. As much as he cared about each of them, he desired space. Charlie stood at the fence that surrounded the back garden to look out over the familiar countryside. Being back home was nice, but he already missed Romania. He struggled with his new reality. Would it get easier as time wore on or was he destined to stay miserable until he made his way back to the dragon reserve?

Only a few minutes passed of him outside alone before Bill came out to stand next to him at the fence. Charlie wasn't surprised. It would only be a matter of time before his older brother confronted him. Best to go ahead and get it out of the way, especially when they were somewhere private and less likely to be interrupted. He took a deep gulp from his glass, wishing he had more.

"How many glasses is that?"

"You're not my mum, Bill. No need to keep track of my alcohol consumption."

It wasn't the first time Bill made an unsolicited remark about his drinking nor did he think it would be the last. Every member of his family had a severe problem minding their own business. It got old. What did it matter if his drinking had gotten more frequent since he left Romania? Sometimes it was all he could do to keep from thinking about her.

"When did you and Hermione..?"

"Also none of your business."

Bill sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with his younger brother. All their lives he'd been able to tell when there was something wrong with Charlie. They had always been close. Best friend or not, he didn't have the right to be so nosy. Wasn't Charlie allowed to have a personal life without being forced to live in a completely different country than his family? Other people managed to have that.

"I think of Hermione like she was my little sister. Wish I hadn't seen quite so much of her, of course…"

"Shut up, Bill."

He didn't know why but the thought of turning Hermione and what they did up in the attic into something a joke made him defensive. It wasn't right that anyone laughed at something that they both took seriously. Sure, it had been an itch they both wanted to scratch, but nothing about what happened in the attic had been a joke or should be treated like it. Was that why Hermione ran off? Had Bill said something in the few minutes between her leaving the attic and Charlie following? He wasn't sure what he would do if that turned out to be the case, only that no one would like it.

"I care a great deal for her and she hasn't had an easy time of it these last few years…"

Yet again someone else mentioned that life had been difficult for Hermione. What did he miss while he was tucked away on the dragon reserve in Romania? There seemed to be so much that no one bothered to tell him. Charlie worried about the witch. Should he try to find out more? Was there something he could do to make her life a little bit easier? He'd always cared about her too. Perhaps not in the same way that Bill did, of course, but he only wanted her to be happy.

"… so if you're just using her as a way to get over Anca…"

"Don't say her name."

Charlie didn't even want to think about the woman he left behind in Romania. Why would Bill bring her up during a time like that? Part of him wished he'd never confided in his brother the real reason why he chose to leave the dragon reserve. It certainly wasn't because Kingsley offered him a lucrative position within the Ministry of Magic.

"I'm tired. I'm going home. Please make my excuses to Mum. Or don't. I don't care."

Irritated and feeling like he was on the verge of losing his temper, Charlie emptied the rest of his glass and banished it to the kitchen with a spell. He didn't even bother walking across the garden to the gate when he could easily climb over the fence. Not caring that he was being exceptionally rude, he rushed to the edge of the property to make it to the other side of the security wards. Bill didn't bother trying to stop him.

A short couple of minutes later he was climbing the stairs to his Diagon Alley flat. Why he chose to let a flat in such a busy part of London, he still didn't know. Thanks to Apparition he could've just as easily found a small cottage in the quiet countryside that would've made him much happier. But perhaps that was why he didn't do that. He made up his mind long before he left Romania that he wouldn't be happy back home. His flat was another part of his fucked up penance, he supposed even if he didn't want to come right out and admit it.

When he pushed open the door to his empty flat, he grumbled. There wasn't a single part of his new home that he liked. It was all terrible. He hated every teeny tiny part of it. Instead of being a place where he could relax and look forward to coming to, it was just a place where he showered and drank until he couldn't stay awake. Even his bed left a lot to be desired.

Alone with his thoughts again, he could finally appreciate how bloody angry he was with his older brother. Not only did he bring up her, but he practically accused him of planning to hurt Hermione as if he didn't care anything at all for her. Of course he wouldn't intentionally set out to cause the woman pain. How could his brother think so poorly of him? He should have known him better than anyone. It was none of Bill's business that he and Hermione made an arrangement. If he hadn't been so judgmental and nosy, he might have even explained it to put his brother's mind at ease. All participants were consenting adults. No need to be worried.

All he had in his cupboard was a bottle of fire whiskey he hadn't opened yet. It was truly pathetic. If he wasn't forced into having a meal at his parents' home, he usually just chose to eat in the pub. It was easier and rarely did anyone judge him for drinking when he was there. Deciding there was no way to possibly salvage his night, Charlie picked up the bottle and took it with him straight into the shower. He wasn't nearly drunk enough yet.

Underneath the spray of the hot water, his thoughts went back to the attic earlier that evening. Who knew he would experience something like that when he set out for the Burrow? He chuckled, amazed that life was able to still surprise him from time to time. Hermione certainly had. While he had always thought she was attractive, he had no idea. There was a lot of pent-up passion in that woman that needed an outlet. She would burn up if she didn't find a release. What was she doing wasting her life working so much when she could've been engaged in far more pleasurable alternatives?

All of the details of their tryst in the attic replayed in his mind. He had to admit that he enjoyed himself. If he wouldn't come off sounding too pathetic or embarrassing, he would even be willing to do it again. Every second of it had been unbelievably hot from beginning to end. He wanted to hear her scream, beg him for more. They'd had to be so quiet with so many potential witnesses. Charlie had never been opposed to more public locations, but he certainly couldn't deny there was a lot to enjoy about private places where they could both scream out to their hearts' content. He was vocal and he liked a vocal partner.

How could he bring up the idea of doing it again with her? He was afraid of seeming too eager. Maybe she didn't enjoy herself as much as he thought she did. But the very moment that thought crossed his mind, he had to laugh. No, she did. The way she held back her cries by biting her bottom lip entranced him. He couldn't stop staring at her lips when she did that. Or tasting them. Her mouth tasted fucking amazing. What did the rest of her taste like? He wanted to run his tongue over every bit of her skin and just set up camp between her thighs. How many times could he make her come with his tongue before she begged him to stop? Would she tell him what to do? Praise him when he did it just right?

She had an effect on his body that few other women had in the past. Even just recalling the way she said his name while he was slamming into her made him hard all over again. Impressed by his cock's resilience in the aftermath of so much whiskey, Charlie wished Hermione was right there in the shower with him. He'd push her up against the wall and… or would he rather feel her lips around him while she was looking up at him from her knees? Both. Definitely both. They could stay in the shower for hours, damn the water. What was magic useful for if he couldn't charm the tap for unlimited hot water?

He set the half-empty bottle of fire whiskey down just outside the shower. Any further thoughts about the enchanting woman would push him over the edge. If he didn't do something about the nearly painful erection just thinking about her caused, he would never get to sleep that night no matter how much fire whiskey he'd consumed. Charlie had to close his eyes to get into the proper mindset for fantasizing he wasn't alone. His hand made for a poor substitute for where he really wanted to stuff his cock. Beggars, however, couldn't be choosers. If he'd truly upset Hermione like he feared he had, he likely wouldn't have another opportunity to feel her tight walls clamp all around him and tremble. It had been fucking maddening in the best sense of the word.

Only a few strokes were required to get him off again. If he'd had an audience, he might have been embarrassed by his speedy performance, but he didn't and he didn't have enough energy to care. His grunt of satisfaction accompanying his completion was louder than the sounds he made in the attic. He wished he'd had the presence of mind to suggest they go somewhere more private than the top of his parents' house. He wanted the neighbors he didn't give two shites about to bang on his walls in frustration that they were being too loud. Sneaking around and being quiet had never been his preference.

After turning the shower off, he used a towel hanging on the rack nearby to dry off. Not caring that he was making a mess, he dropped the towel on the floor, turned the bathroom light off, and went straight to his empty bed completely naked. He would never get used to sleeping alone again.