A/N: Charmione is really speaking to me, lately. More Let it Burn, soon, too. Hope you like this one.

xx-Kitten.

Begging for Thread

By Kittenshift17

Chapter One

Hermione Granger crossed the threshold of Number 12 Grimmauld Place nearing midnight two weeks into the summer before her seventh year. She was tired, having only just flown back in from France that very afternoon. She'd left her mother and father, their memories modified, on the Continent and she was heartbroken with their loss. Her shoulders were tight with tension, Crookshanks yowling in his cage, hissing for release after so long spent fending for himself at Hogwarts where she'd left him in the care of Professor McGonagall while she got her parents set up in France.

She was tired, heartsore, and could honestly use a stiff drink. Dragging her trunk across the threshold, she flicked her wand to release her familiar, watching him streak away in search of Puffeskins to torment. Sighing, she stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long moment, staring up them forlornly. She didn't think she could face Ginny in the room they'd shared during her past visits when the Weasleys and many of the other members of the Order stayed at Headquarters.

Recalling that there was a room right at the top of the house that no one ever bothered to claim because of it's height and because it was rather cramped and small – in comparison to the other, larger bedrooms – Hermione gnawed her lip for a moment. Ginny wouldn't be offended. Not when Hermione told her that she'd changed rooms to keep from waking the girl with her whacky sleep schedule and the likelihood that she would cry herself to sleep until the ache in her chest with the loss of her parents began to subside.

It would be fine. She could claim the room for herself, and no one would mind. She was an adult, after all, and this was the closest thing she had to a home, now. Sighing again before beginning the long climb to the top of the house, Hermione paid no mind to the muttering portraits as she crept through the house. When she finally reached the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Hermione let herself into the room, standing her trunk inside it and leaning back against the door as she closed it behind her. She let her eyes squeeze shut on the urge she had to cry, for a long minute breathing unevenly as she wrestled for the self-control to keep from bawling. It wouldn't do to give in to torment now. Not when she still needed to unpack and get settled in.

When she opened her eyes, Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight before her.

Across the room, looking mildly amused and comically surprised stood a strapping, red-haired wizard. He was stark naked, his chest glistening and his hair dripping as though he'd recently showered. His whole body was heavily freckled to the point that he looked tanned and he was covered in dragon tattoos. The tail of one curled around and around his left leg from his ankle and up his thigh, talons clawing at his torso and the body of the beast decorating his lithe and muscular torso, the neck of the beast disappearing around the back of his left shoulder and the head of the dragon looping over the top of his shoulder to bare its fangs right over his heart.

His right arm bore a smaller dragon, this one looking like a perfect depiction of a Hungarian Horntail hatchling that climbed the length of his arms and seemed to nip at his jaw. Hermione was able to see both tattoos clearly because they were currently all he wore.

"Oh…. My….." Hermione breathed, tracing her eyes over the delicious specimen of a man. He was all ropey muscles, knots of corded sinew and undeniable strength. Tall – at least six and a half foot - every inch of him was utter perfection and Hermione couldn't keep her eyes from tracing over his powerful chest, skidding down his washboard abs to rest on the jutting manhood nestled among a thatch of crimson curls.

"You're…. Naked," she breathed. "You're…. breathtaking…."

She gulped audibly and the surprised wizard suddenly smirked, his wild eyes tracing over her in return.

"You're in my room," he pointed out, and Hermione's eyes fluttered at the deep timbre of his voice. Merlin, she'd pay to have this man read to her in that alluring voice.

"This is my room," Hermione argued, lifting her eyes – with difficulty – from his package to his face, meeting his wild-eyed gaze boldly and just daring him to argue.

"Been sleeping here for weeks, koroleva," he smirked. "Pretty sure it's my room."

"It's mine," Hermione insisted, unable to take her eyes off him despite the indecency of his nudity. "You're naked."

He chuckled.

"You could be too," he suggested. "In fact, I'll even let you stay in my room if you get naked too, love."

Hermione didn't know if it was the emotional strain she was under, the sleep-deprived state of her brain, or just the undeniable spark she felt as she looked at this man, but without a second thought she found her fingers flicking the spaghetti straps of her sundress from her shoulders, allowing the garment to slither to the floor, pooling about her feet and revealing her braless body to his gaze.

His eyes widened a little in surprise before he grinned just a bit, one corner of his mouth pulling up. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, and Hermione found herself thinking she'd be more than willing to let him. Without hesitation, she reached for the waistband of her knickers, flicking them off her hips and sending them sliding down her thighs until she was just as naked as him. He didn't say anything snarky or smart-mouthed at her apparent cooperativeness, and he didn't smirk and taunt her for wanting him.

Indeed, he didn't say a word. Instead, he crossed the room until he invaded her space, his strapping form dwarfing her own petite frame considerably. Hermione tipped her head back to hold his gaze, looking up at him hungrily. Merlin, she'd never done anything so reckless and never wanted a man so much. She'd given her virginity away two summers ago to Viktor Krum when she'd visited with him in Bulgaria, and she'd spent a good deal of last year secretly shagging Theo Nott in a forgotten storeroom in the back of the library, so she was no stranger to sex, but there was something about this wizard that simply oozed sex appeal and made her instantly wet.

Merlin, she wanted him. She didn't even know his name, though from the red hair, the dragon tattoos, the dragon fang earring in his right ear, and those wild eyes, she'd be willing to bet that this was Charlie Weasley. Merlin, she'd met him briefly in her fourth year, but had barely noticed him, back then. Now, she couldn't un-see the impressive erection he sported as he closed in on her.

He lifted one hand to lean against the bedroom door at her back, the other smoothing across her right hip and raising goosepimples upon her skin. Without even thinking, she reached for him in return, putting her hands on his ribs and feeling the coiled power of his body under her hands. Lightning shot through her everywhere they touched, and Hermione gulped again, her breath growing shallow as she held his gaze, waiting for him to lean down close enough that she could kiss him. That crooked little smile on his face made her body throb needily, and when he slid his knee between her thighs, pressing it intimately against her pussy, Hermione moaned involuntarily. He used his leg to lift her just a little higher, leaning down toward her, his gaze dropping from her eyes to rest on her lips.

Hermione licked them nervously, stretching up to meet him.

When he kissed her, his lips barely brushing hers, feather-light, like the tickle of a soft flame over her skin, Hermione thought she might actually melt right there. Flames danced behind her eyes as her eyelids slid closed, and she gripped his ribs tighter, stretching higher, wanting more. His lips twitched against hers like he wanted to smile even as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with hers, taking possession of hers, toying with her until she was delirious with the sensation and he hadn't even opened his mouth, yet.

His tongue traced her lower lip experimentally, and Hermione opened to him immediately, her tongue darting out to meet his. They both recoiled in surprise when a bolt of lightning shot through the pair of them at the sensation and he pulled back just a little, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at her before his brow furrowed in confusion. Hermione made a soft sound, stretching up for another kiss, and he gave it, leaning into her harder, his tongue diving into her mouth and making her whole body tremble with the powerful sensation that coursed through her.

She found herself grinding against his thigh needily, her body thrumming with desire, her pussy pulsing with need like she'd never known. Merlin, it felt like he'd lit an inferno deep inside of her and every touch stoked the flames. Hermione groaned when Charlie's hands found their way to her bare breasts, cupping them and squeezing lightly. His hands were hot, his palms calloused, the rough skin tormenting the pebbled peaks her nipples made and Hermione moaned into his mouth, thrusting her chest out, desperate for more.

Her own hands trailed over his washboard abs, marveling at the ridges of muscle, her fingers following the fire-trail of hair that led south from his navel until she encountered auburn curls that nestled about the glorious cock he was prodding her stomach with insistently. Without fear of rejection, and with an eagerness that should've scared her, Hermione wrapped both hands around the hot, throbbing appendage. Charlie groaned into her mouth at the feel of her hands on his dick and Hermione smiled, breaking from his lips to trail a line of kisses over his sharp jaw, dusted with five o'clock shadow, as it was. The rasp of it against her skin just turned her on all the more and she whined when he ground his thigh against her pussy, his hands on her hips encouraging her to rock against him. When he slid his hands further down, cupping her arse, Hermione thought she might die, she was so lustful.

Charlie slid his hand down the back of her right thigh, curling the appendage up, looping it over his hip, and Hermione groaned against his neck, mid love-bite, when he slid his free hand around and speared two fingers deep inside her tight pussy.

"Oh, gods," Hermione breathed, tightening her grip on his cock, pumping her hands up and down, working the full length of it to the best of her ability. When he curled his fingers deep inside her and beckoned, the rough pads of his fingers pressing against that special spot within her, Hermione sobbed against him.

"Fucking hell," she heard him mutter when she timed her pumps on his cock to the speed of his fingers moving inside her, increasing the speed as she chased the delicious fire he was stoking, the inferno building and building until she was sure she would explode.

Hermione whined when he cursed again, withdrawing his fingers from inside of her before she could come and prying her hands from his cock. He lifted her with ease, pinning her against the door and encouraging her to wrap both legs around his waist. The blunt head of his cock nudged at the junction of her thighs and Hermione thought she might die if he didn't hurry up.

"Merlin, Charlie," she muttered. "Please fuck me."

He didn't need any more encouragement, it seemed, because he didn't wait to be asked again. Aligning himself at her center, he eased into her with a tenderness that surprised her, burying himself inside of her until he was fully sheathed, her body impaled upon his glorious cock. Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes lifting to his face, her synapses firing, her mind racing, her heart pounding.

Gods, it was coming. Hard and fast, the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced was coming at her like a fiery tornado, determined to sweep her up in its blazing heat.

"Fuck," Charlie whispered again when he met her panicked gaze, seeming similarly panicked. "I'm not going to last, koroleva."

"Please fuck me," Hermione begged, unashamed of how much she wanted him and how badly she needed to come right in that moment.

Charlie obliged her, withdrawing from her slowly before slamming back into her hard enough to make her teeth crack together. The door rattled in its frame, the wood grating against her spine. He did it again, withdrawing slowly and slamming in so hard she was sure he did it like he wanted to hurt her. Maybe he did. Maybe he was as confused and as consumed by this raging heat as she was. Maybe he was burning with need and just waiting to explode.

"Stupid, bloody door," he huffed, working to a rhythm, the door rattling all the more as every thrust grew faster and harder.

Hermione clung to him for dear life, her arms looped around his neck, and her ankles locked against the small of his back as he took her like a man possessed. When he tore them both away from the door before they could fuck it right off it's hinges and wake the entire household, he reached up to claim her lips for a hot snog, his tongue diving into her mouth and sending lightning shooting through her all over again. He carried her across the room, kneeling on the end of the bed and shuffling on his knees as he kissed her.

The breath huffed from her lungs and her back arched when he dropped down on top of her, his cock driving into her even deeper.

"So fucking tight," he muttered, breaking from her lips to kiss his way down her neck and over her chest. He latched onto her left nipple and Hermione thought she might die even before he untangled her legs from around his waist and lifted them, slinging them both over his shoulders and driving into her from a new angle.

It would be her undoing.

"Fuck," Hermione whispered raggedly, her breath sawing in and out. The inferno engulfed her as he snapped his hips, driving into her so hard and fast that their flesh slapped together, making her crazy, filling her over and over again to the brink and then just a little beyond it, making her ache just a bit.

The orgasm swept her up and Charlie put his hand over her mouth to muffle her scream when she threw her head back, her whole body tightening, trembling, shuddering with the power of her release. Her nails bit into his powerful arms as she came, and her head tossed from side to side with the blinding pleasure that claimed her.

"Fuck, yeah," she heard Charlie mutter triumphantly, his thrusts getting faster, harder, a little less rhythmic. His breath grew harsh and he groaned softly when he suddenly slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt and spilling his seed against her womb.

He collapsed on top of her bonelessly, crushing her into the mattress, but Hermione didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed it. Curling her arms around his powerful shoulders, Hermione traced nonsensical patterns over his back.

"You alright?" he asked after a time as they both got their breath back.

"I'm great," Hermione admitted, smiling sleepily and thinking that she really wouldn't mind if every day ended this way.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Mmm," Hermione admitted. "It's been a long day."

"For you and me both," he muttered. "You didn't… uh… come here with Mum and Dad, did you?"

"No," Hermione said. "Are they not here? Are Ginny and Ron here?"

Charlie shook his head, lifting off her enough to peer into her face.

"Nah, they're all still at the Burrow until they move Harry from his place with the Muggles next month," Charlie told her. "The only ones here are me, Remus, and Tonks, at present."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were supposed to be recruiting for the Order over in Romania on your days off?"

Charlie shrugged. "They just opened a new Sanctuary here on British soil," he said. "Needed some able bodies to run it. I was transferred home. I think Percy pulled some strings, actually, hoping he'd get me on his side in this bloody mess. Haven't heard from him yet, but I'm expecting it any day, now. What are you doing here, Hermione? I thought you spent the first half of most summers with your family."

"I do… I did," she sighed, frowning in surprise that Charlie even knew that. "I um… I sent them off to live in France and modified their memories so they wouldn't recall having me…. To protect them, in case the Death Eaters go after them because of my friendship with Harry. I um… I only just got back tonight."

"You…" he pulled back a little, his eyes widening as he stared at her, clearly noting the way her eyes were red-rimmed, stinging with the tears she had to fight back as she admitted what she'd done. "Bloody hell, love."

Hermione whimpered when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, peering into her eyes sadly.

"You did the right thing," he whispered. "They'd have been made targets in a heartbeat. It's a wonder they hadn't already been targeted, to be honest."

Hermione nodded, fighting back a sob that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Blimey, Hermione," Charlie said, curling his arms under her body before rolling the two of them until she was sprawled over his chest.

Hermione closed her eyes, letting him hold her, unsure why she felt so comfortable with him when she'd only met him once before in her life, and had barely interacted with him when she had. Yet here she laid, having just shagged him senseless and being offered comfort in the form of kindly crooned reassurances that she'd done the right thing, and that she'd had no choice, and that she wasn't a monster.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when a few tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids.

He held her tightly.

"Don't apologize, beautiful. You've got more cause than most to be sad. Even if I did just shag you silly," he said, teasing her just a little.

"Very kind of you," she chuckled.

"It was, wasn't it?" he grinned when she lifted her head to look at him, propping her chin against his chest. "You uh… you're of age, though, right? Tell me you're at least seventeen?"

Hermione chuckled.

"I'll be eighteen in September," she admitted, grateful for the distraction.

"Right. Good. Shit. I'm too bloody old for you," he said, his ears reddening just a little.

"You're what? Twenty-four?" she guessed.

"Twenty-five in October," he admitted.

"Please, you're not even old. Remus and Tonks have more years separating them," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at him.

"You're still in school, though, right?" he confirmed. "Same year as Ron, yeah?"

Hermione nodded.

"Ah, shite," Charlie sighed. "I'm going to hell. Mum will bloody murder me if she finds out about this."

"Who said she had to find out?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, she's not here right now, is she?"

Charlie smirked.

"How long are you staying?" he asked.

"Here, in this bed with you? Or here at Headquarters?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Headquarters," he said.

"The rest of the summer, I suppose. I'm sure I'd be welcome at the Burrow but I… I don't want to face them so soon after what I've done," Hermione admitted.

"You're going back to Hogwarts in the Autumn?" he confirmed.

Hermione shrugged. "If Harry does. I doubt it," she admitted.

Charlie frowned at her.

"So, you're here for the rest of the summer, at least?" he confirmed.

"Mmhmm," Hermione nodded, her eyelids growing heavy with her exhaustion. "And you're in my room."

"This is my room, witch," he argued.

"It's mine. I've claimed it. It even has my stuff in it."

"Yeah, in a trunk, by the door," he rolled his eyes.

Hermione waved her hand at the trunk, practicing wandless magic to pop the locks on the trunk and watching as all her things levitated themselves around the room, her books slotting onto the narrow bookshelf by the window, her stationary arranging itself on the desk, and her clothes hanging themselves neatly in the cupboard and folding themselves into the drawers. Her photo frames arranged themselves around the room, settling on the mantle and the beside table, a large one of her, Harry, Ron and Ginny that had been taken at the World Cup even hanging itself on the wall across the room.

"Now it's unpacked," she said. "More so than any of your things, Weasley."

"You think so, Granger?" he taunted, raising one eyebrow before pointing out the collection of dragon pictures hanging from the walls, the picture of a busty brunette scantily clad and riding a dragon that had affixed itself to the ceiling, the pile of clothes in the hamper, and the collection of knick-knacks he'd arranged throughout the room.

"Well," Hermione frowned, noting with slight alarm how easily their belongings all fit together despite the small size of the room. "I have more stuff."

"I was here first."

"This time," she muttered. "I was using this room last summer."

"You were not," he rolled his eyes. "You shared with Ginny. Mum told me whilst directing me to this room since it was one of the only ones that hadn't been claimed by anyone who revolves through this place."

"Okay, so it wasn't mine, but it is now," she said.

"I'm not leaving, koroleva," he warned, a stubborn gleam in his eyes.

"Neither am I," Hermione argued. "I can't share with Ginny again. My schedule drives her mad. She gets huffy when I keep her awake with my light on to read until the wee small hours. And she snores, which drives me batty. And I'd probably keep her awake when I end up crying myself to sleep in grief at losing my parents. I can't go back to sharing with her."

Charlie watched her, slowly shaking his head from side to side even as he slowly smoothed his hands up and down the length of her back in a way that was lulling her toward sleep.

"When you say the wee small hours," he said. "How wee are we talking?"

"I've been known to read until three or four in the morning, if the book is engaging enough," she admitted.

"Do you sleep in, as a result?" he asked curiously.

"Often, during the summer," Hermione admitted. "Another reason that sharing with Ginny is torture. She's always up at the crack of dawn and never fails to attempt to drag me out of bed to play with her."

Charlie snorted.

"Do you snore?" he confirmed, tipping his head to one side as he regarded her.

"I don't think so," she said. "Ginny's never said so, and my dorm-mates at Hogwarts haven't complained."

He stared at her for so long after that that Hermione almost looked away, embarrassed.

"I take it you're not currently seeing anyone?" he asked after an unbearable silence.

"I… do you think I'd have shagged you if I were?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"No, but you never know. You've had a pretty bad day."

"Not bad enough that I would cheat on someone, even if I did stumble on you in here, naked."

"It's my room, I can be naked if I want," he said. "And anyway, you said I was breathtaking."

"I may have taken a blow to the head during my portkey home," Hermione needled.

"You may be going the right way for a smack on the arse, Granger," he informed her. "So, you're not seeing anyone, you don't have anyone to answer to, you are of age, and you do find me irresistible."

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione scoffed, though it ended on a squeak when he swatted her on the rump just sharp enough to sting.

"Don't interrupt," he chided, though he looked wickedly amused. "The point is, I'm not leaving and you're refusing to install yourself somewhere else in the house, and neither of us have anyone to bark at us… so, logically, we could potentially share this room until the end of the summer when you figure out what you're doing, or until I get my arse into gear and get myself a flat somewhere."

"What are you saying?" Hermione frowned, lifting her head from his chest to peer into his face seriously. "You want to… what? Share the bed? Or are you suggesting something else?"

"I could be persuaded to share the room," he fixed her a wild-eyed look that made her pussy clench needily, making her realise that despite their change of position, he was still inside of her. "Of course, that would be on the condition I laid down when you came in here."

"I can stay as long as I'm naked?" she guessed.

He winked at her and Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the very idea.

"Are you suggesting we… um…" she trailed off, unsure how to voice what she thought he was asking, not daring in case she was reading too much into it.

"Look, Hermione, this house is big and pretty empty most of the time, what with Remus and Tonks coming and going at all hours for work and Order business. I've been out of the country a long time, don't have a whole lot of friends in this neck of the woods and sure as hell don't have a girlfriend. If you wanted to spend the summer shacked up in their dingy little room, shagging when it's convenient, and generally offering company that doesn't grate on your nerves, I could be amenable to that."

"You want us to be… lovers?" she asked.

Charlie shrugged. "If it suits you. If not, it might be awkward sharing the bed, 'cause I ain't leaving."

"Are you actually bargaining sex for my being allowed to call this room mine?" Hermione asked, laughing just a little.

"How bad do you want to sleep in here, love?" he smirked.

Hermione traced her eyes over his handsome face before leaning back to trace her eyes over his muscular torso where he laid against her. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want him, and she could certainly think of far worse people to have an arrangement for casual sex with. It would hardly be the first time she'd had a fuck-buddy, either. She and Theo had indulged just that sort of arrangement all of last year, in fact, and she was no stranger to keeping sex and emotions separate.

But Charlie Weasley was no Theodore Nott. For one he was older, handsomer, and far more important to the other people in her life. For another, he lived here at Grimmauld Place and eventually Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan would likely all move back in here for the remainder of the summer.

"How, exactly, would we explain sharing a room and a bed to your mother if we share it all summer?" Hermione raised one eyebrow.

Charlie's grin faltered, and his ears turned red again.

"Shite," he muttered, clearly knowing as well as she did that Molly would probably have a cow if she found out they'd ever been in the same room as one another whilst clothed and being entirely appropriate with one another.

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And she'll already be on the lookout for untoward behavior because Harry and Ginny are finally dating, so she'll be squinting at everyone to make sure there's no funny business going on under her nose."

"If she's looking at them, she's unlikely to be looking at us," Charlie reasoned. "As far as Mum knows, you and I have only met that one time at the Triwizard Tournament."

Hermione stared at him drolly.

"Until tonight, that was true," she reminded him.

"Right," he agreed, frowning a little. "Point is, with me coming and going at all hours for work, she won't figure out we're sharing a room unless she comes looking. And I'm a grown man. She doesn't look in on me."

"Yeah, right," Hermione muttered. "She'd be in here fussing with the bed, changing the sheets, and collecting the clothes from the hamper every other day. You know how she gets with a whole houseful of people to worry over. Especially with everything else so tense. She'll go on a rampage, cleaning everything. And I hardly think Ginny will be oblivious to the fact that I'm not sharing her room. She, Harry and Ron will want to know which room I picked."

"They don't know I'm using this one," he pointed out. "It'll be fine. And if not and they figure it out… well… we're both adults capable of making our own decisions, and she's my mother, not yours, so she can't tell you what to do, and I'm a grown man. She can't tell me what to do either."

"She wouldn't try to tell us what to do," Hermione huffed, turning in his arms and disengaging their bodies, holding her hand out and summoning her wand as she rolled to her back to lay beside him. "She'd just cluck her tongue a whole lot, and make pointed comments about propriety and "don't you think it's much nicer to be in a relationship than a casual sexual arrangement, Tonks?" and "what a wonderful husband you are, Arthur, wouldn't it be lovely if all of our children were heading toward a marriage like ours?" and "why yes, Remus, I do think it's just delightful you've asked Tonks to marry you. Everyone sets out in a relationship with marriage in mind." And when that doesn't work it'll be, "Oh, Charlie, there's a lovely girl working at Gringotts with Bill. Why don't you introduce yourself? And "Hermione, dear, wasn't there some boy you mentioned at Hogwarts last year? What was his name again? Are you two still an item?" and if that doesn't work, she'll get crafty and start inviting people around for dinner in the hopes of forcing the two of us to make some kind of commitment beyond shared living space and casual sex, or will attempt to make us jealous with the inclusion of others more suited to our personalities. Of course, that doesn't even take into account how Ron will splutter and angrily hiss about breaking things off with Lavender because when he was dreaming he said my name instead of hers and the bloody git thinks, even after trying all of last year to make me jealous by dating that bint, that I might still bloody fancy him, and he'll have a thing or two to shout about, beginning with the age difference, personality difference, and a laundry list of those people we've both dated in the past, because he's a petty little sod when he gets his wand in a knot."

Charlie laughed, turning his head to look at her.

"You're putting way too much thought into this, Hermione," he informed her. "It's none of their business what we do, but if it's easier, and you don't mind, and if they ask, we could say we're an item. It'll get Mum off my back for a while about girls, anyway. She was hinting the other day that maybe I was bent, and that if so, I could tell her because she wouldn't think of me any differently."

"You're not, are you?" Hermione turned her head, raising her eyebrows.

"You ever had a bent bloke shag you the way I just shagged you?" he asked.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "But I'm hardly all that experienced with men."

"Yeah?" he asked, suddenly paling so sharply that his freckles stood out. "Blimey, you weren't a virgin, were you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "You weren't my first."

"Thank Merlin for that," he muttered. "Else you'd probably be in pain, right now. I got a bit rough."

Hermione grinned, tipping her head to look at him.

"I certainly wasn't complaining," she said quietly, her cheeks turning pink when he fixed her a smoldering look that kind of made her want to shag him all over again.

"No," he agreed. "You were just begging, oh so sweetly, for more."

Hermione swatted him lightly and he laughed. She traced her fingers over a burn she found on his chest, unsure what else to say, unused to sticking around for long once the orgasms had been traded and the mess cleaned up.

"So…." Charlie said after several long minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence.

"So?" Hermione asked, tipping her head to meet his gaze, blinking at him sleepily.

He looked quite serious as he peered back at her, raising one eyebrow as he asked, "You want to go again?"

Hermione didn't even have to think about it as she reached for his lips and stole another dizzying kiss.