Chapter Seven

Charlie

An incessant pounding in his head was what finally woke Charlie up from a deep sleep. Fully dressed on top of his bed, he hadn't even bothered to remove the heavy boots he wore every day even though it had been months since he'd actually stepped foot on the dragon reserve. He slowly lifted his exhausted and stiff body up to a seated position. Only bits and pieces of memory explaining how he managed to make it home the night before trickled through the hazy fog of his mind. It was hardly the most inspiring way to wake up. If he wasn't more careful in the future, he knew he could find himself in some serious trouble. Drinking too much wasn't all fun and games. At some point he would need to grow up and act like the adult he used to be before his heart was trampled in the dust.

The pounding continued. Even when he rubbed his eyes and shook his head, all he could hear was the repetition inside threatening to drive him mad. He should've stopped guzzling the fire whiskey long before he did. Only a rather insistent harsh tap on the glass of his window made the wizard realize he was actually hearing an annoyed and impatient post owl waiting to complete his delivery.

Intrigued by the mystery of who would take the time to send him a letter, he didn't need any further encouragement to pop off the bed, ignore his aching muscles, and cross the floor to the window. Since he moved back home, he had little reason to receive post. Most of his family members had no problem popping their head in the floo when they needed to talk to him and his father often stopped by his desk at the Ministry if there was something important to discuss. Was it unreasonable of him to hope he was about to open a letter of apology straight from Romania filled with frantic pleas for him to return as soon as possible?

Probably. It didn't keep him from feeling that tiny little bit of hope that still somehow managed to survive the utter destruction of his heart. Would he actually consider forgetting all that happened to rekindle his doomed romance with Anca if she did nothing more than just send him a letter? As embarrassing as it was to admit so, he knew he likely would. Wasn't the first step in overcoming a problem actually realizing that there was one to begin with? Maybe he was making the tiniest step into the right direction.

He tried and failed to suppress a small groan of disappointment when he opened the letter and instantly recognized his mother's handwriting. Just a reminder that the entire family was expected for dinner that night. No excuses barring death or possibly dismemberment were to be accepted. As far as he was aware, there wasn't a reason for the family to meet for a meal other than the fact that it was Sunday. His mum didn't need a reason to want all of her children and grandchildren around her under one roof.

Some days he missed the freedom he had in Romania. No one was demanding he do anything he didn't want to do outside of the hours he was being paid to work on the dragon reserve. As much as he deeply loved his family, they could be a bit much. Charlie didn't remember feeling quite so suffocated when he was younger. Had he changed or was it everyone else?

At the appropriate time later that evening, he made certain to arrive at his parents' home when he was expected and well-groomed. Another remark from a concerned family member that he looked 'tired' would not be well-received. He knew what they really meant by that. Already he'd had so many conversations with Bill he lost track of the number. It was all exhausting. All he wanted to do was wallow in his misery and be left alone.

With a family as large as his, it was impossible to just hide away in a dark corner unseen. Despite being back for months, his presence was still a bit of an anomaly. How long would it take before he'd been back so long that every family member didn't see the need to seek him out at every gathering? Hopefully, would be back in Romania treating burns on his arms again before that happened.

If it was someone's birthday, he wasn't sure. Sometimes his mum just made them come because she wanted to see them all at the same time. It was sweet, if also a little annoying. As soon as he stepped inside his childhood home, he looked around to see who was there. He was one of the last to arrive. That had been an accident. Showing up late or nearly late brought too much attention to him. His eyes scanned the familiar faces in the room.

"She's not here."

Hearing Ron's voice behind him was a surprise. When he turned to face his younger brother, he held out a full glass of fire whiskey. As much as he knew he shouldn't drink, Charlie took it.

"Who is not here?"

Ron gave him a knowing look, reminding his older brother that he was far from stupid.

"Just Weasleys and Potters tonight, I'm afraid. Hermione lucked out. Mum's in one of her moods again."

Charlie snorted into his glass as he took a sip which only made his brother chuckle. When was Mum not in one of her moods? Still, he couldn't help that he was disappointed Hermione wasn't there. They might have had a chance to sneak off to the attic again.

"You and Hermione… what's going on there?"

Charlie sighed. Why was it not possible to keep his private life private? Did people with only one or two siblings have the same problem?

"There's nothing 'going on there'. Hermione is merely a friend."

"That's not what I heard."

He clenched his jaw before he could say anything he might regret. Easily able to tell his brother was annoyed, Ron seemed amused.

"You should know by now that there's no secret one Weasley knows that all of them won't know in a week or two."

Yes, sadly that was true. No one knew how to keep their bloody mouths shut in their family. Of course he couldn't get too upset. He was often guilty of spreading the secrets around himself about other family members.

"Hermione is my friend. That is all."

"A friend you meet in the attic when the whole family is downstairs?"

"That's none of your business."

The smirk on Ron's face disappeared only to be replaced by a stern expression that meant he was no longer joking around.

"Hermione isn't some cheap slag you can take advantage of when you're lonely and have an itch to scratch. She's special, worth a whole hell of a lot more than just a few minutes in a dusty attic."

Feeling defensive, Charlie blurted out the first words he could think of.

"If she's so wonderful, why did you break up with her?"

Ron's smile was pained which caught him by surprise. Years had gone by since their relationship ended. Did he regret it?

"Afraid I wasn't given a choice in that matter. She was the one who ended it. Left up to me, I wouldn't have gone anywhere."

His revelation was news to Charlie. When he heard their relationship ended, he made assumptions that evidently weren't true. Never once had he heard Ron say anything negative about Hermione. He just assumed that was because he felt guilty for being the one that ended it. Why had he never said anything? How could he keep from spewing out his anger and hurt at anyone who would listen? Charlie might have been careful about who he spoke to, but he'd had plenty to say about the wretched, beautiful woman who broke his heart.

"Oh, I didn't realize."

"Don't misunderstand me. I love my wife. More than I ever realized it was possible to love another person. I don't have any regrets about what happened. Sometimes it all has to fall to pieces before you can rebuild your life the way it was meant to be."

He had a point even if Charlie wished he was wrong. Looking at Ron smiling at his wife across the room made him suddenly very envious. Sure, it might have worked out for Ron, but who could say it would for him? Life wasn't perfect nor did he expect that would change.

"Why did Hermione end it if you loved her so much?"

The sad smile was back on his brother's face.

"That's not my story to tell. She had her reasons, but you'll have to ask her."

Before Charlie could say another word, Ron excused himself to cross the room to his wife. He couldn't bear to be apart from her for very long. It was both sweet and a little nauseating. Charlie knew what it felt like to want to always be in the presence of the witch he loved, but he couldn't recall Anca ever looking at him the way Mandy looked at Ron. Was there ever a time she loved him as much as he loved her? Doubtful.

All over again he felt like a pathetic idiot pining after a horrible woman who didn't want him. He downed all of the liquid in his glass in one swallow just for something to do. Instantly he regretted doing so. He didn't want to drink too much around his family. Far too many uncomfortable observations might be made.

Carrying his empty glass into the kitchen, he was briefly tempted to refill it when he saw the open bottle. He was proud of himself for placing the glass in the sink and grabbing a bottle of butterbeer instead. When he turned around, he nearly ran straight into Bill's chest.

Somehow he was able to keep from groaning out loud. He really was not in the mood for another helpful talk with his older brother. It was getting to where he dreaded seeing his best friend.

"Very interesting picture on page seven. Did you see it this morning?"

Bill held up a copy of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. Rarely did Charlie even bother to open one up. Nothing ever interested him and experience taught them all that they couldn't believe everything they read.

Annoyed, Charlie grabbed the paper from his hands to flip it to page seven. In the middle of the page was a picture of Kingsley and Hermione walking down Diagon Alley arm-in-arm smiling and talking. The accompanying article said they were spotted having an intimate dinner in a cozy cafe. Having seen enough, he folded the paper and returned it to his brother.

"Good. I'm glad. I encouraged them both the other night to go to dinner. Glad they listened."

Not wishing to continue the conversation, he pushed past Bill before he could respond to return to the lounge. His gratitude to Harry for immediately asking him his opinion on the current Quidditch League standings was immense. He needed a topic to keep his mind off of Hermione.

Hermione

Monday morning Hermione felt nervous to return to the Ministry and all of her curious coworkers. The photograph of her with Kingsley in Diagon Alley and the article that was underneath it had been impossible to miss in the Daily Prophet. Would the other Ministry officials get the wrong idea about what was happening? She would hate for anyone to assume she was doing something inappropriate just for a chance to advance her career.

Everything with Kingsley had all been very innocent, a stark contrast to what she did with Charlie in her office. That was definitely not innocent. Her cheeks burned as she remembered what it felt like to be bent over the top of her desk. It had been incredible but reckless. What if they had been caught? She would have to move to another country and change her name. As much fun as she had with the wizard, he was a bad influence. Kingsley was the opposite. He was perfectly respectable. She really could do much worse. She had done worse.

No one seemed to care much about the picture in the paper. As she entered the Ministry Atrium and then made her way to her own department, Hermione didn't generate any unusual attention or rude whispers behind her back. It was a nice change of pace considering what usually happened when she was featured in the newspaper. Even years later she was still an occasional victim of Rita Skeeter's nasty articles. The woman could hold a grudge.

Each person she came into contact with was kind. Maybe they hadn't seen the picture or maybe they just didn't care. They all had their own lives after all. It was ridiculous to assume that everyone cared about hers. She wasn't that special.

Monday turned out to be wonderfully ordinary to her immense relief. Not a single person asked her about the picture. No one had impertinent questions about her private life. She was glad to be left alone to deal with her own confusing thoughts and feelings.

Near the end of the day, she had to take a file she had been working with back to the office from which she borrowed it. Wishing to stretch her legs after being stuck behind her desk all day, she avoided the lift in favor of the stairs. She hadn't dared to enter the dimly lit secluded stairwell since the day she was alone with Charlie.

Her cheeks burned at the memory, especially when she recalled how he made it up to her in Diagon Alley after they were rudely interrupted by a wizard just going about his day. Charlie was a menace. Part of her wished she hadn't agreed to meet him in the attic. Mostly though, she was glad she'd done something as out of character and spontaneous for once in her boring, well-ordered life.

Returning the file didn't take long. Only a matter of a few minutes passed before Hermione was back in the stairwell climbing up the steps to her Level. As she reached her destination, she realized with a start that she was no longer alone. Standing in front of the door that would take them both back to their respective desks was Charlie. He hadn't been there earlier. Was he waiting for her to come back?

"Hello, Charlie."

She would've walked right past him without another word beyond her polite greeting if he'd allowed her to do so. Once she was close enough to touch, Charlie reached for her arm. Goosebumps exploded on the flesh he touched. The effect he had on her physically was impossible to deny.

"How did your romantic date with Kingsley go last week?"

Was he jealous? For a brief moment she could almost swear she heard it in his voice. She didn't understand. His behavior didn't make any logical sense. As she recalled, he was the one who practically pushed her right into Kingsley's waiting arms.

"It was lovely."

"Yes, I'm sure it was. He's a gentleman."

"Yes, he was."

Still keeping hold of her arm, Charlie easily pulled her entire body close to his. She could feel her heart start to race. Was it nerves or anticipation? The man didn't scare her in the slightest, no matter how much she suddenly felt like a helpless fly caught in a spider's web.

"That's what you like, isn't it? Perfect proper gentlemen?"

Hermione swallowed hard.

"Yes, yes, I do."

His kiss shouldn't have caught her by surprise, but somehow it did. Full of the very sort of passion that took her breath away, she didn't even mind that they were once again in public, even if it was a quiet, fairly isolated pocket of civilization. Any moment another Ministry official like the other unsuspecting wizard from before could stumble upon them behaving very unprofessionally. It should have concerned Hermione that she didn't really care.

Charlie knew how to kiss. If they did nothing more, she would still walk away from him rather reluctantly with wobbly knees and a mild sense of shame. No doubt for the rest of the day, no matter what happened next, she would be useless, unable to focus on anything important if she tried. Where did he learn such skills? Or was it something that just came naturally to some people? And why did she care? It wasn't as if it mattered.

"I saw you walk into the stairwell and I knew I had to follow."

Knowing she had enough of an effect on a man like Charlie to encourage him to wait for her in the dim stairwell was an intoxicating feeling. Some days she didn't feel like she was anything very special or all that attractive. Most lustful gazes went straight past her to other targets. Feeling Charlie's strong hands grip and squeeze her body made her forget all of her worst insecurities. At least in the moments of passion.

There was no question what his intention for waiting for her was. Only a dimwitted fool could miss the fire in his eyes. He'd been planning to push her up against a wall from the second he watched her disappear behind the door to the stairs. No verbal confirmation of her suspicions were necessary. He was bored, trapped at his boring desk far from the dragons he loved so much. A man of great passion and energy, he needed an outlet. She was happy to help. It wasn't as if she had anything more interesting waiting for her at her own desk.

"We will not be interrupted this time."

If there was a good reason for her to contradict his assertion, she couldn't think of one. Remembering how they had to stop before either one of them was ready, she knew it was a moment she would always regret.

"You seem rather sure of yourself."

"Because I am. We will take the necessary precautions this time."

In the same moment he led her back into a dark corner, he began to coat the area in a heavy curtain of disillusionment spells. She could feel the atmosphere around them change. If some other Ministry official stumbled upon them, they would be well-hidden. Clearly he had no intention of stopping before he was finished.

"No one will see us, but they can still hear. We must be as quiet as we can be."

She could never explain in any sort of logical sense why his warning only made her more excited. Was there something abnormally devious about her? Remembering how they could've easily been caught the night he pressed her against the Magical Menagerie didn't horrify her as much as she was sure it should.

The stone wall at her back was hard and uncomfortable, but she didn't notice. Not when Charlie's bold hands were pushing up her skirt and tugging at her knickers while his sinful tongue kept her own engaged in a fierce, passionate kiss. He could've pushed her against nails or broken glass and she wouldn't have cared. Maybe the additional pain would've even been worth it, heightened the experience. She couldn't imagine how it was possible to make what was happening even better than it was. If there was someone that could improve an already incredible experience, he was the one to do it.

Impatient and anxious, he didn't spend a lot of time on foreplay. There really was no need. Seeing him standing by the door waiting for her with that look in his eyes was enough to prepare her body for what was to come next. She likely would've even been willing without the disillusionment charms hiding their location and their blatant debauchery. It was almost embarrassing to realize how swiftly she had become the sort of woman to jump straight into such reckless behavior without giving it much thought. Charlie was addictive. Even when she couldn't believe what she was doing with him, she never wanted it to stop. It had been a terrible idea to meet him in the attic, one she was sure she would always regret.

Or maybe not.

Gripping the underside of her thigh, he wrapped her leg around his waist. She wasn't even fully aware of how her knickers ended up on the floor. There had been far more pleasurable thoughts to dwell on. He filled her completely with one swift, determined motion. Hesitation was for someone who didn't know what he was doing. He was getting to the point where he knew her body better than anyone had before.

Worried that her initial cry of pleasure would echo through the hopefully empty stairwell, Hermione bit her bottom lip and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He didn't waste a single moment increasing his movements to a steady, nearly manic pace. What they did there wasn't going to last long, but he was going to make it memorable. She had no doubt whatsoever in his abilities. Each thrust pushed her harder against the unyielding wall. If he wasn't careful, she might have visible marks on her flesh when it was all over. It wouldn't be the first time. She would wear them as a badge of honor.

"This could be only the beginning if you wanted to leave early and go back to your flat."

"Very tempting. Ahh."

She saw the smirk spread across his lips, positive proof that he was proud of himself already. Ordinarily she wasn't eager to feed a lover's ego too much. More often than not they weren't worth the bother. Charlie, however, definitely was. She had no reason not to tell him how good he was. It was obvious he enjoyed the praise. Maybe there was something deeply disturbing and psychological about that fact, a feeling of never measuring up to the others around him or a need to make his mother happy, but she didn't want to even try to analyze the truth. No doubt she possessed her own hang-ups and issues that were just as troubling.

"I have work to finish."

"I don't. I want to keep doing this until you don't have a single coherent thought left in your pretty, little head."

To further emphasize his point, he snapped his hips forward with enough force to make her eyes start to roll. More of that and she would do whatever he wanted. What would be the harm in leaving the office a little early? It wasn't as if she made a habit of doing so. Would it be the end of the world to push the report she was working on off until the morning? Her job wasn't a matter of life and death or national emergency. Likely no one would even notice she was gone.

"Say the word and we can be naked in your bed in ten minutes."

Part of her wanted to say 'absolutely' and rush off for an afternoon she was sure to enjoy. He had a talent for making her want to behave recklessly. Perhaps as his way to encourage her to run away, he slid his hand between their entwined bodies to pluck even more intense sensations out of her. Feeling the rhythm of his thrusts match the swipe of his thumb in just the right place was going to be the death of her if he wasn't careful. What a way to go!

"Charlie, you can't… ahh… Charlie…"

"Shh."

He pressed his lips hard against hers to stop the flow of barely coherent words dribbling off her tongue. The sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs ever closer to them startled her enough to open her eyes and Charlie to his movements. Terrified that they were about to be caught and the knowledge of what they had been up to spreading across the entire Ministry, she could hardly breathe.

A witch from the Wizengamot Administration Office shuffled through some parchment she held in her hands as she walked right past the hidden lovers. Charlie's spells worked. She was within a meter of them and noticed nothing at all out of the ordinary. As she climbed the stairs above their heads, Charlie offered Hermione a cheeky grin.

Nearly getting caught was a thrill. Even more excited than he was before the interruption, Charlie didn't need any time to return to the same pace with even a little more gusto. All Hermione could do was close her eyes and try to hold on. Both of them soon found their own explosive release as the witch's footsteps drifted down the stairwell.

In the very same moment that both of her feet returned to the ground, reality began to set in for Hermione. What was she thinking letting her base desires take hold of her better senses when she was alone with him? They were being foolish, dangerous even. As she pulled her knickers up and adjusted the rest of her clothing, she grew mad at herself for giving in again. Both of them knew they were wrong. Why else were they so desperate to keep their arrangement hidden from the rest of the world?

"Thank you, but I really should be getting back to my office."

Before he could say anything in response or even try to persuade her otherwise, she was pulling open the door to their Level. If she wasn't careful, one raised eyebrow and another grin would be all she needed to run out of the Ministry against her better judgment.

Two steps out of the stairwell she nearly crashed into the firm chest belonging to the Minister for Magic. When Kingsley realized it was her, he greeted her with a wide smile.

"You look a bit flushed. Please tell me you didn't over-exert yourself by taking the stairs."