Chapter Text
**Art commissioned by chestercompany aka ene on Twitter/Instagram.**
They were silent all the way back to camp, the only sound Hermione’s ragged breathing as she moved along at a brisker-than-usual pace in front of him. Charlie wasn’t sure exactly what Hermione had experienced during her brief return home, but it had been enough to cause her to return well before her estimated time and bolt off into the woods.
Apparently, whatever she had encountered had been damning enough to convince her that Ronald was not only just divorcing her, but he was having an affair as well.
What a dick.
Charlie did feel regret over the fact that he had bit his tongue so long on the eventual demise of her – their– marriage, but he rarely liked to become involved in such things. He never found it to be his place or give input. Mostly because his input leaned towards staying commitment free and filling his days with his research.
Alas, he had to admit he was rather fond of Hermione.
Her drive for knowledge rivaled his own. The need to discover the unknown. To better yourself. The lack of fear, albeit stupid, was also endearing. She had somehow managed to not only approach a bloody dragon that had eluded Charlie for years, it seemed, but then she had gained its trust to the point that it felt a connection to her. A bond, even. And the way the dragon spoke to her, those deep chuffing sounds that resonated in its chest, were even more fascinating.
It also indicated that they needed to hasten their plans to relocate the dragon; he was swiftly approaching adulthood, his behavior towards Hermione was evidence of that. Perhaps because he was the only one of his species and lacked that needed connection to a female, he was now latching onto Hermione.
Almost as if he were viewing her as a potential mate.
Which was technically not unheard of; Muggle lore hinted at the topic. That dragons, the sex didn’t matter in this instance, could become almost emotionally attached to a human counterpart. There were many ramifications to that, the most concerning being that the dragon would become violent out of sexual frustation. It was commonplace between same-species dragon pairings that many adults bore battle scars from unwanted couplings. The females tended to be the more violent as they tended to outweigh and outgrow the males. But that didn’t matter when it came to a dragon who is obsessed with a human. Even an ounce of irritation directed at a person could be fatal.
The second instance he had heard of where a dragon became bonded to a human was almost heartbreaking to him; as humans live far shorter lives in comparison to the beasts, when one would finally pass of old age or illness the dragon would simply refuse to leave their side and eventually would perish of starvation or predation.
Many dragons mated for life, so if they happened to make the mistake of pairing to a human, the outcome was bleak.
Most of these stories Charlie had believed to be nothing but tall tales, passed down through the years and retold as stories. But seeing Hermione with the dragon gave him pause.
Was there some deeper magic between them? Were they bound together by some unseen force?
It utterly fascinated him.
She did.
Which was wrong.
Right?
Charlie shouldn’t feel anything towards his brother's wife – soon to be ex-wife, he corrected himself. She was no longer obligated to Ron. But did that make any of his thoughts acceptable? He had never had them prior to now. These thoughts were a new development and they put him off balance.
He struggled with the guilt over not only withholding information from her, but that he has even shared it in the first place. He had unintentionally caused her emotional harm and he hated it.
If Hermione were here, under the pretense she was still happily married, he had the feeling he wouldn’t be suddenly interested in pursuing his thoughts. In pursuing her. His eyes fell along the curve of her back, drifting lower with each of her steps until— he jerked his gaze back up, stopping that dangerous train of thoughts. He shouldn’t look at Hermione like that, not when she was in such a state of mind.
It simply wasn’t fair to her.
She needed the time to process her emotions and thoughts over what she was going through.
That was the right thing to do.
By the time they reached the camp, he could tell she was in a right tizzy of a state. She was mumbling under her breath, her hands swinging about her sides as if she were speaking aloud. Her hair had started to break free of the plaited braid she had tried to wrestle it into, curls and baby hairs standing out about her face in a chaotic mess.
And then she fell silent as she strode to her tent, the flap all but slamming shut behind her, followed by the sound of the zipper as she sealed it shut.
Charlie was left standing just outside, staring at the bland green pseudo door of her temporary home. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a sharp exhale of breath followed by a smothered cry. He was torn, a part of him wanting to comfort her but another recognized the need to sort it out herself.
Hermione was emotionally drained by the following morning. She had cried herself to sleep, curled into her sleeping bag and drawing the string to cocoon herself into its depth. She had been left alone, save for a gentle tap at the fabric of the door to let her know the dinner was cooked.
She didn’t eat it.
She didn’t move herself from her cot.
But she wasn’t really hungry, not right now. Her mind was still in turmoil. Grasping desperately at her memories and past with her husband. Trying to sort out where she had gone wrong in order for things to have reached this level.
For Ron to cheat on her.
An affair.
Hermione’s heart felt heavy at the thought of it. How long had that been going on? Had she simply missed the signs? Was it recent? Had he at least waited until she was gone? Not that it made things better, but it hurt less to hope that he had at least waited until he filed the paperwork. To finalize their divorce – she choked back a sob as she withdrew further into her sleeping bag.
She hated this; these emotions. Feeling this way.
They made her feel weak. Small minded, even.
So uncertain, even in herself.
How long had Ron been doubting their marriage? Long enough that Charlie had been aware of it. Were all the Weasley’s in the know of it? Did Ginny and Harry? Where did it end?
By the second day of moping about in her tent, she finally dragged herself out of the mind numbing stupor she had put herself in to make her way up towards the hot spring. She threw some clothes and towel into a bag, grabbed her walking stick, and trudged past the small group gathered around the campfire without a word.
Charlie’s eyes followed her, but he made no comment.
Her mind was starting to acknowledge little instances that had hinted at Ron’s unhappiness in their marriage, unhappy with her. His remarks about how she should be home more often. Continually stating his need to have children. The time he had accidentally lost her birth control.
There were no glaring moments that would have indicated he was having an affair, but it was a small boon to her. He had at least waited, physically. Likely it had been an emotional affair.
Hermione had no idea who the witch was and a part of her didn’t care.
Perhaps because, in her mind, she was quickly rationalizing that she had always known they would marry. Even as teens, it had been known. Their fates, almost decided for them.
An expectation, really.
They would have been better off remaining friends. It was a sad realization, but it was the truth.
They had been doomed to fail from the start.
The forest was quiet around her, save for the sound of the birds as they called. Her steps slowed as she made her way along the winding path to the hot springs, letting the hushed lull of the woods soothe the ache from her mind.
By the time she reached the springs, her thoughts had quieted and settled, the storm inside her dissipating. Hermione deposited her bag on a rock, leaning down to untie her boots and kick them away. She peeled her shirt off and dropped it to the ground, leaving her in a bra as she moved to unbutton her jeans. She shimmied her trousers down and added them to the pile. Hermione made quick work on her underwear and bra, letting them fall to the ground as she made her way to the edge of the spring.
Hermione slipped into the water, the heat of it curling through her body pleasantly to sooth her muscles. She sank beneath the surface briefly, the water slicking her curls straight as she swam to the center of the pool.
When she resurfaced, she treaded water for a moment as she pushed her hair from her face.
She felt a twinge of regret that she had neglected to visit the river the last two days and hoped that Charlie had done so and left a token in her stead. Hopefully her moping about in self-pity hadn’t cost her or taken her research backwards.
“He was looking for you yesterday.”
Hermione spun around in the water, her eyes falling on Charlie as he stood on the edge of the hot spring, his hands dug into the front pockets of his jeans. His blue eyes may have been riveted to her face, but she knew the water was crystal clear. She felt a different kind of heat through her body beneath his gaze.
“The dragon?” She asked in a quiet voice.
How odd that he had voiced her exact concern aloud. But of course he would, she rationalized. That was why she was here, wasn’t it?
To study this dragon.
Charlie started to walk around the outside of the pool, keeping his attention focused on her face the entire time, “Yes. He was at the river most of the day. Waiting, I think. I left him a coin but he rejected it.”
She felt a pang at his words.
“You don’t remind me of the type to linger in sadness, Hermione,” He said quietly as he looked away, continuing his path around her. She turned with him, her hair swirling around her in dark waves.
He wasn’t wrong.
Hermione always moved forward, even when times were tough. She had done so during the war; when they had been hunting Horcruxes, when they had been captured and brought to Malfoy Manor. When she had been tortured. Hermione had never lingered on those thoughts, the hurt. She had moved forward with their plans and their lives. She was always in motion.
Charlie had completed the circle around her, coming to stand next to where she had left her bag. His brows drew together slightly as he looked down at her, his blue eyes darkening with obvious turmoil and thoughts.
“Do you want to go back to him?”
She knew he wasn’t one to talk about private matters and for him to do so now struck her. Hermione shook her head ever so slightly as she swam closer to him, “No. I don’t think I can.”
“Then what do you want?”
His choice of words didn’t go unnoticed by her. Unlike his brother—not that Ron wasn’t, but he definitely was not the smartest Weasley—Charlie was quite literate. He had spent much of his time growing up lost in books, just like her. His fascination with dragons had begun between those pages, in those words.
Hermione treaded water until her feet could touch the bottom. She was silent for a long moment as she looked up at him, her heart aching at what she was losing but her mind urging her to move forward.
“To forget,” she finally said quietly.
A small smile tipped the corner of his lips, not quite reaching his eyes, “I can’t offer anything more than that, you know that right?”
She nodded her head, understanding what he was offering her. A mere temporary solace, the comfort of a friend. Judgment free companionship that she so desperately needed. An escape. A balm for the ache she felt. He was offering her a way to forget . She knew it could never be anything more than a moment between them. Charlie was bound to this place, his dragons. He had stated clearly he would never enter a serious relationship.
By agreeing to his question, it was an understanding that this would be fleeting.
Hermione felt her face growing warm as he pulled his black t-shirt off, tossing it to the side. The motion caused the muscles of his chest and abs to stretch and flex, the faded scars light against his deeply tanned skin. She sank a little beneath the water, as if to cool the heat that was curling through her but only managing to increase it, her eyes following his hands as he unbuttoned his jeans. Her breath caught as she watched him. He had kept his eyes on her the entire time, as if waiting for her to change her mind. His pants fell away – of course he didn’t wear boxers.
And suddenly she felt it hard to breathe as desire– there was no other word for it– completely swept over her now. Hermione hurriedly looked up at his face, biting back her embarrassment. She had never been with another besides Ron and suddenly she felt awkward. Lusting after anyone but him seemed odd to her, even now as Charlie lowered himself into the water.
A mere moment later he was beside her in the water, sinking down so he could meet her gaze, “Are you sure?”
She didn’t know how to voice her confusion over this situation, her aching desire for him, the lingering pain she felt in her heart. His hand reached up, his fingers stroking along her cheek in a gentle caress until they sank into her hair.
He dragged her closer, his eyes searching hers as he lowered his lips to hers, “Please tell me you want this, Hermione.”
Their lips were almost touching now, but he held himself back. Waiting for her confirmation.
“Yes,” Hermione whispered as she slipped her arm around his neck.
That was all he needed; Charlie’s lips collided with hers hungrily, his other arm wrapping around her waist and dragging her against his body. Heat curled through her as their bodies molded together, his all hard planes and muscles. The hair along his chest teased her skin and breasts, her nipples pressed tight to him as he slid his hand along her back. His hands were rough, calloused, sending shudders through her body as he traced the curve of her spine.
His tongue swept into her mouth, conquering it as his fingers twisted into her curls and held her tight. His other hand continued its journey along her back, sweeping along the underside of her arse until he caught the underside of her thigh. He dragged her leg up to wrap around his waist, the hard length of his cock teasing her pussy as he exposed her to him. Her nails bit into his neck as she fervently returned his kiss, lifting herself against him as she stroked herself along his length.
Charlie groaned into her mouth, his hand leaving her hair to roughly pull her other leg around his waist as he positioned himself at her entrance. Hermione wriggled against him, teasing the head of his cock.
A shudder tore through her body as she lowered herself onto him, his hands gripping the underside of her thighs and guiding her down along the length of his cock. He was thick, filling her and stretching her as she bit back a moan. The water lapped at their bodies as he eased her all the way down until he was buried deep into her.
“Fuck,” He said against her lips as his fingers dug into the tender skin of her thighs, only giving her a moment to adjust to his cock. He pressed his forehead to hers as he broke the kiss, watching her as he lifted her to the head before lowering her again.
Hermione tightened her legs around his waist, her thighs gripping his hips as she followed his movements. Each time she came down onto his cock, a tremble rippled through her body.
They fell into a rhythm, Charlie thrusting himself into her cunt as she rode him. Each movement teased her nipples against his chest, sending waves of pleasure through her.
She let her head fall back, closing her eyes as his lips pressed against her throat. She could feel his moans against her skin as he fucked her, his pace increasing as he drove her towards her climax. She could feel it roaring towards her with each stroke of his cock inside her, the angle causing the head of his cock to slide along the perfect place that made her toes curl with pleasure.
Hermione’s climax hit her as he bit down on the side of her neck, burying himself deep into her pussy as she felt herself clamping down onto his length. She rode out the waves, his cock stroking her until he reached his own. He pulled himself from her cunt, his cum hot against her pussy as he spent himself against her lips.
They stood momentarily frozen together, coming down from their highs as she held onto him. In this instance, the water no longer felt searing hot in comparison to their bodies; it lapped at their skin, cooling them down.
Charlie’s grip gentled on her legs as he slid his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight to his chest as his breathing steadied.
Hermione let her body sink against his as he slowly walked backwards to the edge of the hot spring, leaning against the wall as he continued to hold her.
“I’m not going to lie,” Charlie said quietly into her ear, “But that was better than I had imagined it would be.”
She hadn’t known what to expect, but her body still trembled from her orgasm and Hermione knew she had to agree with him. Their moment together had burned through her stress and temporarily eased her mind, and she knew it would allow her to focus once again on her task at hand.
Or so she hoped.