Authors Note: Thank you for a fabulous year, this fic is for all of you who chose to follow us in 2009! Happy New Year!

Battle Scars

"So what made you decide to study dragons?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose I'm fascinated by the fact that they're not meant to exist."

"They're…what?"

"I mean…in the Muggle world. I grew up thinking that dragons were just in fairy tales. I suppose I wanted to work with them to make sure they weren't."

Charlie Weasley regarded the petite young woman in front of him, her big brown eyes fixed on the faded wood grain of his kitchen table, her unruly brown curls tumbling down her pale shoulders. He smiled slightly as he looked at her, taking in her delicate features and knowing that a few weeks with the dragons would roughen her edges a little. She looked the part of the trembling English rose, but if the stories Charlie had heard were true – and he had no doubt that they were – Hermione Granger was anything but a swooning little flower.

"Thank you," she said after a moment of somewhat awkward silence passed between them. "For taking me in as an apprentice, I mean. I know you just did it as a favour to your family but I really do…"

"Hermione, stop," he said with a slight chuckle, a lopsided smile crossing his face. "I don't know if you've noticed this, but I rarely do anything my family wants me to do."

A faint blush appeared across her cheeks, and Charlie was somewhat surprised as it started to do odd things to his insides.

"Yes, well…I know I probably wasn't your first choice…"

"A smart, funny, good-looking girl living in close quarters with me for two years? I don't think I could have come up with a better option, to be honest."

Her blush deepened, and Charlie felt a familiar stirring in his loins.

"I…yes, well, thank you," she said, smiling at him with a nod as she nursed the flagon of mead in front of her. "And thank you for inviting me up for a drink. That was nice of you."

He shrugged, leaning back.

"Well, considering we're going to be working so closely, I figured we should get to know each other a bit better, beyond the paperwork, I mean. The only thing I know beyond your file is that you're Harry, Ron, and Ginny's best mate, and Ron's ex-girlfriend. And that you're wicked smart."

"Oh, I'm sure you know a little bit more than that," she said dismissively, taking a tentative sip of her mead.

He chuckled.

"Well, I know you're not a drinker," he commented, taking a heavy swig of his own. "We've been here for twenty minutes and I'm almost done with my drink. You've hardly touched yours."

She laughed nervously.

"I suppose I'm just…unsure how to act around my superiors."

Charlie lifted an eyebrow.

"Superior, eh? Now listen, Granger, you might be working under me but that doesn't mean you have to treat me like a nagging old employer, alright? I'm not that much older than you and you're practically family, so drink up and stop being such a prude."

"I'm not a prude!" she argued.

He grinned.

"Oh no? Prove it."

Her eyes narrowed and within seconds the flagon was to her lips and Charlie's eyes widened as she finished the last of her mead in three swigs. Slamming it back on the table, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked him in the eye with a defiant stare.

Charlie felt a thrill of desire shoot up his spine.

"Well," he said with a mock sort of bow. "Welcome to Romania, Miss Granger."

She gave a prim nod.

"Good to be here, Mr. Weasley."

After a moment of staring each other down, they both broke into big grins and Charlie stood to get some more mead.

"So," he said, bringing back the jug and pouring generous helpings for both of them before flicking his shaggy hair out of his face and looking at her with smiling blue eyes. "The lady can drink. What else can she do?"

Hermione chuckled, taking a sip.

"I'm not that interesting, Charlie, honestly. My youth was spent in the Muggle world, my Hogwarts years were spent in mortal peril, and now I'm here."

"Ah yes, let's talk about that mortal peril," Charlie said, leaning in. "You and Ron and Harry always seemed to be getting into scrapes but the only ones who seemed to get bloodied up were the two boys. How did you keep out of trouble?"

She shook her head.

"I have my share of battle scars," she said, somewhat evasively.

He looked at her a moment before smiling slightly.

"Don't we all, love."

She glanced up at him and after a second of consideration, unfurled her arm on the table and pulled up the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal a rather nasty burn on her bicep.

"First year. A troll was let loose and cornered me in the girls' bathroom. Knocked out some of the pipes before Harry and Ron came in and distracted him. I got burned by some residual steam."

Charlie contemplated it for a moment before nodding, pulling back the hair from his neck and pointing to a scar just under his right ear.

"My first year. Fell off my broom onto a third-year Slytherin. And his quill."

Hermione flinched.

"I have a quill injury," she said, leaning over the table as she pulled back the heavy curtain of her hair from her forehead to reveal a small scar above her eyebrow. "Third year. Lupin's class, actually. Final exam. My boggart turned into Professor McGonagall, who said I'd failed everything. I scrambled out so quickly I cut myself with my quill," she said with a laugh, shaking her head at her naïve fears at the tender age of thirteen.

Charlie swallowed hard, trying not to push a curl that had fallen into her angelic face out of the way, or kiss those full, pouting petal lips that he was suddenly so fascinated with. Shaking himself slightly, he cleared his throat, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a long, jagged scar on his forearm.

"My first year with the dragons," he said, registering the mild panic in her eyes. "Don't worry, nothing like this will happen to you. I was being cocky – showing off for a visiting witch from Sweden. Swedish Short-Snout caught me by the fang."

"How many stitches did you need?" Hermione asked, her hand automatically going to his arm, her fingers tracing the thin scar. Charlie felt lightening bolts shoot over his skin under her touch and he tried to make his mind register the question she had just asked.

"Stitches?" he managed, blinking as though to appear uncomprehending.

"Oh, I suppose even out here they have enough rudimentary magic to fix deep cuts like this," she said, more to herself he supposed than to him, and he was once again reminded that this was, first and foremost, an educational experience for her.

He pushed out of his mind the many, many, many different ways he could educate the dear, sweet, innocent girl in front of him.

"I have a long scar like that one," she said, lifting her shirt to reveal a long, thin scar that made its way from her left ribcage down to her navel. "Fifth year. Battle of the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Charlie said, his mind tantalized by the creamy skin she was showing him, his cock definitely paying attention to the witch now as she traced the scar with her own fingers, and once again he swallowed hard, imagining they were his fingers on her body.

"I was unconscious for the end of it," she said. "It wasn't until later that I had heard what had happened. Harry was devastated, of course. We all were. Sirius was…well…"

She trailed off, and Charlie knew better than to say anything. Ginny had whispered to him the guilt her friend had felt due to the tumultuous rows she and Sirius used to get into whilst he was still alive, as well as the guilt over the fact that Hermione never got to apologize for all of the ugly things she had called him.

"I don't suppose that's your worst one, is it?" he asked, deciding a change of subject would be best. "Because this one's mine."

Standing, he pulled his shirt off to reveal a scar that ran diagonally across his chest, still fairly new but healed. He was actually slightly proud of it, considering it was one of the only ones he had that hadn't occurred while he was doing something stupid, but as he looked at Hermione, he saw something flicker in her eyes that told him the scar was the absolute furthest thing from her mind.

"How'd you get that one?" she asked, her voice taking on a huskier tone that made Charlie's cock stir in his shorts.

"Well, er…you remember how the Hungarian Horntail from your fourth year was a mother?"

"Yes?"

"Well, her baby's all grown up now, and he's a handful, really. Anyway, he overpowered one of his handlers and was about to fly away, but I grabbed onto one of the chains and pulled myself up onto his back and guided him back down. He was thrashing as I was pulling myself up, though, and he caught me once, but I'm fine."

Hermione stood up slowly, her eyes on him, and slinked over with an almost predatory look in her eyes.

"You climbed a metal chain onto an angry dragon and landed him all while you had a large gash on your chest?" she asked softly, stopping in front of him and running her fingers over the scar.

"I…er…yes."

"I've only ridden a dragon once. I was terrified," she revealed, her fingers tracing up and down the healed flesh, their movement almost mesmerizing, "So brave," she breathed, watching the moment too.

Charlie could think of other things she could ride as the blood fled from his brain to other parts of his body. He knew it was a little bit wrong, but for some inexplicable reason this woman, who came across as so innocent but was known to have a colourful past, did something to his hormones that made him want to throw her back against the kitchen table and ravish her then and there.

He licked his lips, determined to reply, or move away or do something other than stand there like a sex deprived idiot, but the moment she looked up from her hand and into his eyes his brain froze and he knew there was no other option but to kiss her.

She sighed at the first tentative brush of lips, the chaste kiss that was the complete opposite of what he really wanted to be doing to her. Her fingers stopped their restless movements and she flattened her palms against his naked chest, the rest of her body slowly moving in to press against him intimately.

Deepening the kiss her sigh turned to a moan, one hand creeping up to grip the back of his neck, playing with the hair that had been getting a bit on the long side. He had never tasted such sweet lips, his tongue clashing with hers as he lost himself to her feminine allure and gave as much as she took.

The kiss seemed to go on and on, rising in intensity as he curled his fist into her hair, his other hand sweeping down the curve of her back before finding her rounded backside, drawing her hips into his now aching arousal. The feel of him pressed hard against her core drew another tortured moan from her throat, setting him on fire.

"Tell me to stop," he gasped as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses against her neck, finding the deep valley between her breasts and nuzzling the soft flesh along the scooped neck of her shirt.

"No," she moaned, "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Her words spurred him on as he came back up to her mouth, seeking her tongue once more as he backed them toward the straight-backed chairs they had been seated in earlier. He dropped to his knees when she tumbled down into the seat, his height bringing them to eye level.

His beautiful witch was flushed with arousal, her hair a riot of curls where his fingers has wreaked havoc, her eyes ablaze with a flame only he could douse. He had never seen anything so breathtaking in all his life.

She stared back at his shirtless frame, equally flushed, his chest heaving from their heated kisses and the promise of what was to come. She licked her lips and spread her thighs, her head dropping back with a moan when his hands traced along the denim line of her jeans.

Suddenly her clothes seemed too confining.

Sitting up straight, her hands left him to pull the cream-coloured shirt over her head, tossing it behind her in the general direction of the table. She only had eyes for the red-headed man in front of her whose pale blue gaze had set a fire going inside her hotter than anything the dragons outside could produce.

He pushed forward, his lips tracing along the thin scar she had shown him earlier, making her shiver in his arms.

"Charlie, please," she sighed, tugging at his hair as he made it to her breasts, his lips seeking one pert nipple within the lace cup of her bra.

Charlie smirked at her cries of satisfaction as he worshiped her sensitive breasts, filing away her reactions for later while sincerely hoping there was going to be a later. He kissed along the upper swell, tasting the sweet flesh before finding his marks on her neck from earlier, licking at them as if to soothe the wounds.

Tugging his hair once more, Hermione recaptured his lips and stood up, taking control of the kiss as her passion overtook her senses and all she could think about was the man in front of her. He didn't protest when she reached for the wide leather belt at his waist, fumbling with the clasp enough for him to brush her hands aside to remove the offending accessory himself.

When he finally stood naked in front of her, Hermione pulled back from the mind-blowing kisses to stare at all of him. Resisting the urge to lick her lips when she caught sight of his length, she reached behind her to remove her bra and gasped when his hands were on her once again, ridding her of her jeans with blinding speed.

Both naked now, Hermione drew on her confidence and pushed him back to sit on the chair, straddling him in a bold move and staring him in the eye with a smirk. Charlie's eyes had become hooded, and in another display of strength and speed, he manipulated her hips until she was in a position to slide down over him.

The groans of delight filled the kitchen as she impaled herself, and once again she threw her head back. Charlie latched on to her breast, feeding off her cries of pleasure as she clutched at his hair, wriggling a little to adjust. He ran his hands down her thighs until he reached her knees, using his palms as support as she used him as leverage.

Hermione took his unspoken signal, and between them found a building rhythm. She gasped and groaned as she rode him into the chair, trusting in his strength as he lifted her. The slow pulsing heat between them built and built until the loudest sound in the room was the straight back chair hitting the table with every rocking thrust.

"Oh God Charlie, oh God," Hermione breathed, her chanting words getting louder and louder as their movements grew to a frantic pace, her body clutching him sweetly, her nails sliding down the sweat-slicked skin of his back and digging into the tense muscles.

The pleasure outweighed the pain, however, and though Charlie couldn't find his voice, his release overcame him and he found sweet bliss in the younger witch's body. His low, gravely groan of pure carnal pleasure echoed off the walls of his sparse dwelling, but it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

Hermione collapsed against his chest, Charlie's hands releasing her knees so her cramped legs could unfold to drape on either side of his. When she recovered enough to lift her head, she smiled lazily and kissed him deeply.

"Well that…" he croaked, pulling back, but stopped when a look of horror crossed her face.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry," she gasped her eyes no longer on his face, but focused on his shoulders.

Frowning, he turned his head and found five bloody scratch marks decorating his freckled flesh. He stared at them for a moment before remembering the sharp bite of pain when she reached her peak around him. Instead of getting angry as she obviously expected, he grinned and kissed her cheek.

"I'll just have to think of it as another battle scar. Probably my new favourite."

Hermione continued to stare at the marks for another moment before turning back to him with a small smile of her own, "I'll have to be more careful next time," she said shyly.

"Next time," Charlie repeated softly, thinking of all the fun he could have with the little witch in his bed.

"If you want," she breathed, waiting for some kind of rejection.

"Oh I want," he growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting up, grinning as she squealed and wrapped her legs around him. In two strides he was at the bedroom door, "Maybe this time I can give you some scars of your own," he promised before kicking the door shut with his foot.

It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

Thanks for reading!