CHAPTER EIGHT:
(A/N: thank you to TomasGranger003 for helping me with the title <3)
Third Person P.O.V.:
"What else did you hear?"
"I don't know what Malfoy's up to exactly, but Snape was offering to help him with something," Charlie explained to Harry, recalling the events of the previous night while Harry packed for his holiday trip to the Burrow. "He said he'd promised Malfoy's mother to protect him, that he'd made an Unbreakable Vow."
"An Unbreakable Vow?" repeated Harry, looking thoroughly perplexed. "What does that mean? What happens if you break it?"
"You die," muttered Charlie darkly, leaning against the support of his four-poster bed as snow drifted past the window in front of him.
Harry gulped uneasily, folding his knitted jumper from Mrs. Weasley and putting it in his trunk, before asking, "Are you going to tell Dumbledore what you heard Snape and Malfoy saying to each other?"
"I suppose that'd be best, yeah," Charlie shrugged, heaving a heavy sigh. "My grandfather will be able to put a stop to it before anything can happen... I just have to wait for him to come back to the castle."
"Pity you didn't hear what Malfoy's actually doing, though."
"I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was refusing to tell Snape."
There was silence for a moment or two, then Harry mumbled angrily, "It's annoying, isn't it? Everyone's going to think you've misheard. They'll say Snape isn't really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying to find out what Malfoy's up to."
"They didn't hear him," said Charlie flatly, slumping his shoulders. "Besides, Hermione was with me, she heard them too —"
"Wait, wait," Harry interrupted, his ears perking up with intrigue. "Hermione was with you? What? Why?"
"Uh, we just had a bit of a run in after the party," Charlie spoke convincingly, trying to prevent a cheeky grin from curling permanently on his lips. "Nothing to worry about."
"Really?" said Harry skeptically, freezing in between folds. When Charlie nodded, he grinned, "Well, then, I'm glad you two got the chance to talk it out."
"Well, yeah... something like that," Charlie muttered under his breath, before he even realized what he was saying. His attempt at brushing past the topic was short-lived, however, as Harry's head had snapped towards him, reacting immediately.
"Wait," Harry was puzzled, his face scrunched with confusion, "what did you just say?"
"What? Nothing."
"I could've sworn I heard —"
"I didn't say anything."
"But you did. So, if you and Hermione didn't talk then what did you...?" Harry said slowly, clearly raking his brain to put the pieces together. After a few moments, his eyes went wide and his mouth fell agape, forcing him to speak with astonishment, "Oh my Merlin! Did you and Hermione — ? You didn't, did you? Fucking hell, you did!"
"Nothing happened —"
"Bullshit!" exclaimed Harry, staring at his best friend, looking as though his eyes were permanently bulged out of their sockets. "You sneaky bastard! I was wondering where you two might've gone, even Slughorn asked where you had buggered off to. Now, I understand! You left the party early so the two of you could sha—"
But before Harry could finish, Charlie had smacked a hand over his mouth, silencing him at once.
"Would you keep your voice down? Ron's going to come barging back in here at any minute," whispered Charlie, although he had to resist the urge to laugh.
Harry nodded reluctantly and swatted Charlie's hand away, his mouth still hanging open in shock.
"I don't understand the two of you at all," he muttered, looking towards the door cautiously. "You and Hermione were at each other's throats not twenty-four hours ago."
Charlie shrugged, putting his hands up in a mock surrender, "What do you want from me? You think I planned for this? Everything happened so fast — it was an accident."
"Right," murmured Harry, rolling his eyes playfully. "Somehow you just accidentally stuck your tongue down her throat, is that it?"
"It wasn't like that," defended Charlie, as he picked up a pillow from his bed to smack Harry across the face. "It was a heat of the moment thing."
"And do you think Hermione thinks of it that way?" questioned Harry, raising a suggestive brow. "Or is she half expecting the two of you to get back together?"
"Dunno... all she said afterwards was that we still had a lot to talk about," mumbled Charlie, slumping against the four-poster once more. "I'm not sure whether that's meant to be good or bad."
"Probably should've thought of that before you took her to bed," Harry scolded in a matter-of-fact tone, closing the clasps on his trunk shut. "But once again, you've proven to have thought with the wrong head..."
Registering Harry's joke, Charlie couldn't stop a laugh from bursting from his lips. Not long after, his cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much, although he was now freed of the trembling anxiousness that had inhabited his mind.
And then suddenly, Harry was laughing too, unable to control himself. The two best friends roared with simultaneous chuckles that ricocheted off the walls, somehow reminding themselves that they were still immature children at heart.
"What's so funny?" questioned an intruding voice. Charlie and Harry turned to find Ron stood in the doorway, observing with a toothbrush dangling out his mouth and an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"Oh, we were just talking about the vampire we met at Slughorn's party last night," Harry said, and Charlie subconsciously applauded his quick-thinking. "You should've seen him, Ron, I could've sworn he was gonna sink his teeth into one of the Carrow twins."
"Right," murmured Ron, moving across the room to his four-poster. He stopped just short of the bed frame and turned around, hoping to start a conversation, "So, have you finished packing?"
"Just about," said Harry, patting his closed trunk with a grin; Charlie tensed at the awkwardness, for him and Ron had yet to acknowledge one another. Clearing his throat, Harry added, "You?"
"Yeah, finished last night. Unlike you lot, I didn't have anything better to do, you see... I've already left my stuff with Filch," grumbled Ron waspishly. When he received no response, he narrowed his eyes in Charlie's direction, looking a bit withdrawn, "Are you sure you don't want to come home for the holidays? Mum has been wondering wh—"
"I'm perfectly fine staying here," Charlie interrupted him, his tone rather standoffish. "Honestly, I insist."
Charlie closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He'd been having this argument with Ron since he first mentioned staying at Hogwarts over the holidays. Even though he knew he was more than welcome to go to the Weasleys, he didn't want to go to the Burrow and potentially ruin their Christmas over his fight with Ron. Percy's absence was already going to be hard enough on Mrs. Weasley and Charlie didn't want his problems to be imposed on anyone else.
After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Ron heaved a shaky sigh, "Listen, if you've made this decision just because I've kissed Hermione, then I think tha—"
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Charlie growled, standing straight up, his fists clenching out of instinct. "So help me God, Ron, if you mention her name one more time..."
"Easy, mate," warned Harry, signalling for Charlie to calm down. "Let's not get into this right now — it's not worth it."
"I beg to differ," rebutted Charlie, his mind too clouded with a newfound rage to think of anything else. "I think it's about time we've settled this."
"Don't get your wand in a knot," Ron demanded, finally taking his toothbrush out of his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to happen... the Liquid Luck had a weird effect on me, is all."
"Harry didn't actually give you the bloody potion, you stupid git," Charlie spat, taking a step forward, meeting Ron's gaze with nothing but fury.
Ron staggered, blinking with a remarkable rapidness. The three of them stood in the silence of the dorm room for a few more moments, looking at each other, trying to find words. Harry and Charlie were standing next to one another, while Ron stood stiffly in front them, staring between them with bewilderment and shock in his eyes.
"Harry...?" he whispered at last, prompting his friend for confirmation.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry nodded.
"Listen, I was only trying to boost your confidence," he explained guiltily, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "But yeah, it's true, I didn't actually give you the Felix Felicis."
"Wait — b-but that means..."
"That you kissed Hermione on your own accord? Yeah, that's precisely what it means," finished Charlie, his eyes darkening with the loathing that now flooded his veins. "Funny... isn't it? Merlin, I can't wait to hear what other bullshit excuse you have for me now that you've figured that out."
"Oh, don't act so bloody surprised," retaliated Ron, snapping his head in Charlie's direction. "I told you I fancied Hermione last term!"
"Didn't realize that meant you'd have the fucking nerve to kiss her right in front of me," yelled Charlie in retaliation, balling his fists. "I mean, did you even stop to think about how I must've felt afterwards?"
"Quite rich of you to ask me that," Ron scoffed, his ears turning a magnificent shade of crimson. "You knew how I felt about Hermione, but that didn't stop you from snogging her whenever you bloody well felt like!"
Charlie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "That's because she was my girlfriend, Ron!"
"Exactly my point," said Ron at once, his face contorted in anger. "She was your girlfriend. The two of you aren't together anymore. So, as far as I'm concerned, Hermione's a free agent!"
Blinded by hatred, Charlie made a move towards Ron, ready to punch the daylights out of the finger that stood before him, but Harry, having foreseen Charlie's advances, got between them without missing a beat. He pushed back on Ron's torso before any physical contact was made, sending him back a few steps.
"That's enough! The two of you are being stupid," Harry yelled, his shoulders raising up and down from the exertion. He rounded on Ron, "Just apologize so we can move on."
"What on earth should I apologize for?"
"You snogged his girlfriend, Ron —"
"Ex-girlfriend," Ron corrected, swatting Harry's hand away. "Regardless, I still don't understand what the big deal is! Hermione's already told me off, isn't that enough?"
"Far from it," growled Charlie, glaring at the ginger over Harry's shoulder. With his heart pounding loudly in his chest, he added, "And it's a big deal because we're supposed to be best mates. Our differences aside, I never would've expected you to do what you did. Regardless of whether Hermione and I are together or not, you, of all people, knew how much I cared about her!"
Ron's expression hardened, "So that's it then? I'm just supposed to suppress my feelings in order to spare yours? How d'you reckon that's even the slightest bit fair?"
Charlie glanced up in surprise, leaning back slowly against the support of the four-poster once again. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair, exhaling slowing in attempt to calm himself down. His dark eyes became focused on Ron. Full-blown hurt reflected back at Charlie and he realized that he had started something he didn't wish to finish.
"Is there any chance we could deal with this at another time?" Harry asked after a moment of silence, glancing between his two best friends. "I'd prefer not to get into this right before the holidays."
Charlie slowed, heart thumping, and his head ultimately considered obliging by the pleas coming from the boy with glasses. He looked around, noticing the disdained looks on both Ron and Harry's faces, and heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh.
"Harry's right," he muttered softly, shrugging his shoulders at once. "This conversation clearly isn't going anywhere anyways."
"Whatever Charlie," grumbled Ron, sticking his toothbrush back in his mouth and moving back across the room towards the door. With his hand on the door knob, he cocked his head back over his shoulder, "Harry, I'll just meet you at the carriages... try and get a move on, will you?"
And with that, the door slammed close with a bang, rattling the nearby picture frames that hung on the rustic-looking walls. Charlie's teeth clenched, the muscle in his square jaw began to tick as he continued to stare mindlessly at the floor. He listened carefully to the heavy tread of Ron's footsteps as stomped further and further away from the door.
"Well, that couldn't've gone better," mumbled Harry sarcastically, turning back around to lift his trunk off of his bed, securing it in the firm grasp of his right hand.
"I'm sorry," said Charlie, glancing upwards to meet his friend's gaze with a guilty expression. "I don't like putting you in the middle like that, but I —"
"Don't worry, mate, I get it," interrupted Harry with a reassuring grin. He clapped Charlie on the back with his left hand, his expression softening, "Are you sure you don't want me to hang back at the castle with you? Because I will, just say the word. I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I let you spend Christmas alone?"
"I appreciate the concern, truly, but I can't ask you to stay here with me." Charlie managed a soft smile, "I know how much spending Christmas at the Burrow means to you. What kind of friend would I be if I derived you from that? Besides, I need you to tell Mrs. Weasley how sorry I am that I couldn't make it... hopefully she understands."
"I'm sure she will," nodded Harry, sniggering lightheartedly at the worried expression on Charlie's face. "Just make sure you write whenever you can, okay? I mean it, Charlie, I want to know if that bloody mark on your arm starts to burn up again."
Charlie gulped, glancing briefly down towards his clothed left forearm. He shuddered, realizing far too late that he was to potentially suffer alone over the next few days. With both Harry and Elaina away for the holidays, Charlie, for the first time in weeks, would be forced into isolation with nothing but the jet black mark on his arm to keep him company.
Quickly recovering from this lapse of self-pity, however, Charlie gave Harry a quick, reassuring nod.
"I'll write, I promise."
"Good," beamed Harry, lugging his trunk over to the door. "Now, c'mon, let's go before Ron has a bloody aneurism. We can say our goodbyes at the carriages."
And with a sigh of reluctancy, Charlie followed behind Harry, marching out the door and down the flight of stairs that led to the common room. Snowflakes gently drifted past the windows, but the fire roaring in the hearth kept the room painted with red and gold at a bearable temperature.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Charlie quickly blinked in his surroundings. Majority of Gryffindor students had already left for the carriages that would be departing shortly, but Harry, Charlie and a smattering of N.E.W.T. level students remained behind. The silence around the room was deafening, only broken by the scribbling of a nearby student with a quill or the crackling of the fire.
"Looks like I'm going to be late," sighed Harry, dragging his trunk along, making clattering noises as he pulled it down the stairs step by step.
"Yeah," muttered Charlie absentmindedly, for his attention had been caught by the approaching footsteps descending from the girl's dormitories. "It appears as though you're not the only one."
Charlie looked up, his eyes transfixed. He slicked his messy hair back once more just in time to acknowledge the sight of Hermione parading down the staircase. His throat felt suddenly dry as he watched the girl, who had a sheepish grin plastered upon her lips, walk down towards him.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione tucked a stray strand of her hair back behind her ear quickly, the temperature in the room spiking at least twenty degrees as she laid eyes on Charlie. The two of them had yet to discuss what had happen between them the previous night, making the tension between them awkward and suspenseful.
Hermione bit her lip as she met his gaze, stepping off the last step to stand in front of him. When Charlie caught her watching him, he shot her a crooked grin and gave her a shrug, making her think that he had every intention of breaking the silence between them, but she remained disappointed when the boy was rendered speechless.
Naturally, Hermione smiled gently in return before raising her hand to give a little uncomfortable wave.
"H-Hi, Charlie," she stuttered, hating that her voice came out more timid than she'd intended. To hide the blush arising in her cheeks, she forced her gaze away from him, "Harry," she added, thankfully meeting the eyes of her best friend.
"There you are, Mione," grinned Harry, although he was well aware that Hermione's mind was elsewhere. "Blimey, I looked for you after Slughorn's party last night, you know?"
Hermione's face flushed, her voice uncharacteristically high. "O-Oh, did you?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't find you anywhere," explained Harry, his tone had an underlying hint of amusement. "Strange, isn't it? Especially since Charlie, here, was nowhere to be found either —"
Coming to his senses, Charlie's eyes widened as Harry's words registered in his head. Hermione sent a confused, yet accusing, look in Charlie's direction, but he avoided her pestering gaze enough to direct his attention to Harry, giving his best friend a rather harsh nudge on the shoulder.
"Oi! Watch it!"
Rolling his eyes, Charlie cleared his throat, slowly turning back around to be met with Hermione's glare yet again.
"Anyways," he said quickly, desperate to change the subject, "Hermione, did you, uh, need help with your trunk? I can carry it down to the carriages for you if you'd like."
"Oh, thanks for offering... but that actually won't be necessary," Hermione told him, looking incredibly bashful. When Charlie lifted a brow in curiosity, she explained, "I've decided to stay at the castle over the holidays."
Charlie blinked, licking his ever-so-dry lips, "Y-You have? But what about your parents? I was under the impression you'd be taking a trip to America."
"I told Mum and Dad that I'd changed my mind. They were a bit distraught, mind you, but they seemingly respected my decision," Hermione admitted, biting her lip and looking at her feet, shamefaced.
"And what, may I ask, is the reason for said decision?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows discretely in Charlie's direction.
Although annoyed by Harry's antics, Charlie couldn't help but wonder the same. His eyes searched Hermione's face for a long moment before lowering to roam over the rest of her. Hermione felt his gaze like a hot caress, rendering her motionless. All she could manage to do was stand still and keep from quivering or squirming under his attention — she wanted so badly to reach out and close the distance between the two of them.
"Well, I, uh," she began, evidently nervous, "I figured it'd be best to get ahead on some of the N.E.W.T. level teachings... you know me, I always like to be prepared," she concluded her lie with a breath of relief, thinking she had gotten away with it.
But she hadn't.
"And you expect us to believe that?" Harry questioned, smirking ever so slightly. "Honestly, Hermione, even for you that's a bit excessive."
"Right, well, I suppose there might be another reason," Hermione admitted, as soon as Charlie shot her a sideways glance full of questions. With a guilty sigh, she added, "I kept thinking about what you told me, Harry, last night at Slughorn's party... don't you remember?"
"Oh, you mean when I told you that Charlie would be staying at the school alone over the break?" Harry recalled with a slight chuckle, causing Hermione to balk at his lack of subtlety.
She nodded timidly, opening her mouth with intent on explaining further, but before she could, Charlie had chose that very moment to dart her a look, catching her as her cheeks brightened to pink. His brow pulled into a confused expression for a long moment before he shot her a grateful half-smile.
"You didn't have to do that, I —"
"I know," Hermione cut him off, silencing his protests before they even began."But I wanted to."
Charlie gaped at her, a rush of heat flashed across his skin. He was sure he hadn't misheard her, but his confidence in his ability to understand anything was pretty irreparably shattered at that particular moment.
"Well, it looks like you'll be in good company after all," Harry told Charlie, grinning happily from ear to ear. "Now, I'd better get going. Char, I'll save you the trouble of having to walk down to the Entrance Hall."
Charlie faltered, forcing his gaze reluctantly away from Hermione, "You sure?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it," said Harry, dismissing the notion. He glanced between them once more, "You two have a good holiday, alright? No funny business while I'm gone, I mean it."
"Yeah, yeah," Charlie briefly rolled his eyes before pulling Harry into a quick hug, clapping him on the back. "Take care, mate. See you when you get back."
When the two boys spectated, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. "Have a good Christmas, Harry."
And with that, Charlie watched Harry bid one last farewell before dragging his trunk through the portrait hole, disappearing from view as the Fat Lady sealed up behind him.
"And then there were two." Charlie joked, although he had anxiously began to play with the cufflink of his dress shirt.
"Yeah," Hermione chuckled lightly, catching on to the awkwardness. With every intention of changing the subject, she gave him a curious look, "So, I take it that you've told Harry about what happened between us?"
To say that Charlie was caught off guard was an understatement.
"Well, so much for subtlety."
"At this point, we're beyond subtlety — so, did you?" Hermione asked again, determined to receive an answer.
Charlie cleared his throat uneasily, "He found out, yes, but not because I deliberately told him. He put the pieces together on his own."
Hermione sighed, gathering the courage for what she was about to say.
"And what exactly did you tell him? When he found out, I mean, surely he had questions."
"Questions that I, myself, don't even know the answer to," Charlie admitted defeatedly. He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice, "Last night was... unexpected."
"That's putting it lightly," Hermione giggled softly, but her eyes glistened with contradicting worry. "But it still meant something, didn't it?"
"Yes, of course it did," Charlie spoke quickly, not willing to let a second of doubt cross her mind. "But you said it yourself that we still had things to talk about —"
"And we do," Hermione affirmed, her tone delicate as she scanned the room for eavesdroppers. "Actually, that's part of the reason why I've decided to stay — we now have two weeks to figure out whatever the hell is going on between us."
"Right," nodded Charlie, unsure of how to handle his current situation. "So, when would you like to sit down and talk?"
"Tonight," Hermione said quickly. "Right now, I have to go talk to McGonagall about my Prefect duties, but meet me upstairs in my dorm room after dinner — all of the girls have gone home for the holidays."
Charlie cocked an eyebrow at her, "Perhaps you're forgetting that I'm not permitted to go into the girls dormitories."
"Yes, but that's never stopped you before," Hermione reminded him, a grin falling graciously upon her lips. "You were pretty persistent with your actions last time, if I remember correctly."
"Things were different back then," Charlie countered, colour flushing his cheeks. "That was back when I was sure to be rewarded for said persistence."
Hermione nibbled her bottom lip, gazing at him through her eyelashes, "And who's to say you won't be rewarded again?"
Charlie swallowed thickly, his mouth opening a little like he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure he should. Absentmindedly, he took a small step back as though realizing that they were standing intimately, and a little too inappropriately close, together.
The silence stretched between them, as Charlie opened and closed his mouth several times, proving that she'd actually managed to leave him speechless. Hermione began to wonder if she'd come on a little too strong. Her cheeks warmed the longer he looked at her without saying anything and she bit down on her lip harder, looking around the common room and squinting against the urge to blurt out an apology for being too forward.
"That was a joke, of course," Hermione corrected herself, and Charlie winced at being dismissed in such a manner. "I don't think we should — you know — without having a proper conversation first."
"That didn't seem to stop us last night," Charlie blurted out, as the swirling sensation in his stomach became too hard to ignore.
"Yes, well, as you said, last night was unexpected," Hermione muttered sincerely, resisting the urge to take his hand in hers. "You know, on second thought, maybe it'd be best if we met here in the common room."
"Y-Yeah, that's probably for the best," Charlie nodded, slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to worry about being alone in her bedroom after curfew — he was unsure whether he could trust his resistance around her after what had happened.
"I'll see you later, then," said Hermione, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth despite the awkward sexual tension looming between them. It was hard not to smile when Charlie was looking so sheepish right in that moment.
Without waiting for a response, Hermione quickly made for the exit, nearly trampling over a couple of first years because of how fast she was walking. Charlie watched her leave, laughing as she stumbled forward, before gathering himself together, shaking his head as he staggered over to the fireplace and collapsed on the common room coach.
This holiday was already proving to be more than he had bargained for.
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A couple of hours later, Charlie put on his winter cloak and headed down to take a walk outside. He thought the fresh air might do him some good, and if he could avoid thinking about his relationship with Hermione at the same time, he would be more than happy about that.
Charlie set off and noticed that the castle had buried itself in several feet of snow. There was a bitter wind that blew around the spires, and an icy chill descended in the drafty corridors. The boy glanced out of the corridor windows as he passed; the sun was already sinking over the grounds carpeted in deep snow. In the distance, he could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in front of his cabin. Charlie looked forward to visiting him later.
Everywhere you looked, festive activities were in full swing. Most of the younger years were making the most out of the cold weather by building forts and starting snowball fights, which Peeves the poltergeist was more than happy to facilitate. Bunting and tinsel hung across hallways and fireplaces, while small Christmas trees lined the corridors, each with unique decorations: some sported glass baubles, while others had hundreds of miniature candles; each illuminated the usually dim atmosphere with multi-coloured lights.
Night time approached quickly and the Great Hall roared with its holiday-inspired feast, regardless of the significant absence of majority of the school. Charlie decided against joining in on the festivities, however, for his mind was far too focused on trying to calm the nervousness swelling inside him as his meeting with Hermione dawned closer.
"Baubles," Charlie muttered, when he circled back around and reached the Fat Lady, who was looking more festive than usual, dressed in variants of red and green.
"Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall?" she asked, much to Charlie's confusion at her reluctance to open the door. "Violet told me there's to be a grand feast —"
"I'm not hungry," he shrugged, hoping this to be a valid excuse.
"Very well," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and she swung forward to reveal the portrait hole. "Go on in, dear."
Muttering a quick goodbye, Charlie clambered through the entrance with ease, the portrait immediately sealing up behind him. The common room was oddly vacant, nothing but the crackling sounds of the fire remained. Pulling off his cloak, he sat next to fire, attempting to warm his frozen features after being out in the cold.
Charlie sat back in Hermione's favourite armchair, bringing his knees up to his chest. In attempt to occupy himself, he looked up, noticing that there were little details in the ceiling that could form shapes if you managed to look past the shadows. Then, for some odd reason, his mind trailed off, wondering helplessly about the conversation he had overheard between Snape and Malfoy.
There was no doubt in Charlie's mind that Malfoy was acting on the Dark Lord's orders, but his thoughts seemed to conclude when trying to figure out what the blonde-haired Slytherin's mission might be. He shuddered at the thought of confrontation, unaware whether it was worth the added worry to figure out Malfoy's intentions.
And what did Snape have to do with it?
All too quickly, Charlie recalled the events of his last detention with the ex-Potions Professor, hoping to find clues to Malfoy's truth hidden beneath Snape's patronizing rubbish.
"He said something about the vow," Charlie thought aloud, unaware he was doing so, "and about it being... my fault... consequences for fighting against Voldemort —"
It was as if the name itself was a curse.
The second the Dark Lord's name left Charlie's lips, his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. He'd had the good fortune, until then, of not having been tortured in a long while. Suddenly, it felt as though every tendon in his body was ready to snap, while his muscles seized from the wave of inescapable pain he found himself bathed in.
"AAARGH—"
Charlie bit his lip to stop the scream that threatened to escape his lips as the agonizing pain coursed through his body. He dug his teeth so deep into his bottom lip that the metallic taste of blood danced across his tongue. The source of his torture came from beneath his clothes and he extended his left forearm, pulling back the sleeve of his jumper, exposing the vivid black lines of his Dark Mark.
The mark burned brighter than Charlie had ever seen, reddening the unaffected skin around it. It flared like a Fiendfyre, sending a burning sensation of excruciating pain through his veins.
It felt like a hellfire coursing underneath his skin, then it turned so cold that it seemed to burn even worse. Charlie tasted salt on his lips, and realized that the tears had fallen, streaming carelessly down his cheeks. The pain never seemed to stop, causing the young boy to thrash uncontrollably on the common room floor.
The agony that burned along his veins consumed him, rendering him utterly helpless. Charlie broke out in a cold sweat and he could've sworn that he heard the menacing cackle of his father taunting him — a high cruel sound that seemed to echo around the room. He felt as though death would've been a healthier alternative to the pain he now faced, realizing all too late that he was fighting a never-ending battle.
He tried fighting against his father.
He tried fighting against the Dark Lord.
He even tried fighting against himself.
But he never seemed to win.
And that's when everything... went... dark.
*
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"Charlie?"
The word was soft and delicate, alerting him all too quickly.
"CHARLIE!"
His name seemed to be coming from far away as Charlie swam gradually back into consciousness.
"Wake up! Please, wake up!"
He recognized that voice — her voice.
Charlie's mind registered everything so quickly that he jolted awake, opening his eyes wide and forcing himself to sit up with sharp intake of air. He tried to remember what had happened but his faculties didn't stretch to memory just yet. His body was spasming from the aftershock of the torture and so he lay there, limply and unable to move.
"Oh, thank god," the comforting voice soothed, and Charlie felt someone press up against him, wrapping their arms around his neck and holding him tightly. "Merlin, you scared the hell out of me."
Charlie blinked, immediately acknowledging that the sobs against his chest belonged to none other than Hermione Granger. He looked down, her bushy brown hair fell around her face and her dark eyes glistened with tears. His mouth was dry as he tried to speak. He swallowed a few times.
"Hermione," he breathed her name like a silent prayer. "I'm s-sorry."
"Sorry for what? You did nothing wrong. You're just lucky I found you before someone else did," Hermione told him, pulling back ever so slightly. "What the hell happened?"
"I-I dunno," Charlie stammered, terror painted on his face as the veins running along his forearm, and through his slightly faded Dark Mark, protruded due to the tenseness of his body. "It j-just started t-to burn... and it w-was too much, it's n-never been that b-bad before —"
"Hey, shhhh, I'm here," Hermione whispered comfortingly, reaching a hand up to wipe the tears that stained his cheeks. "Just look at me, Charlie, look at me... it's okay, you're okay."
Doing as he was told, Charlie met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair flying around her as if a small tornado had come through and kissed only the top of her head, and even in his pain and confusion at the situation, he was momentarily gobsmacked by how beautiful she was.
Hermione became more flustered under his gaze than she had intended. Before she could worry about blushing or trying to clear her throat, however, Charlie stooped a little and curled his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body once more and into a bone-crushing hug. She smiled against his shoulder, burrowing her face into his neck and breathing him in as she hugged him back. He smelled of smoke and pine wood cologne. Hermione closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling of his strong arms around her, holding her as though he had no intention of ever letting her go.
"I'm here, it's okay," she told him again, but this time Hermione felt him nod against the crook of her neck. After a while, Charlie untangled himself from her embrace, leaning back ever so slightly.
As afraid as he was, Charlie found comfort in her eyes. They were nose to nose at this point, so close that they could feel the other's breath dance across their skin. Charlie absentmindedly glanced down to her lips, remembering all too vividly the salvation he found when he kissed her the night before.
He wanted to feel that way again.
Hell, he needed to.
And so, he leaned forward and captured Hermione's lips with his own before any protests alarmed in the air. The second their lips met, Charlie's body seemed to relieve itself of the leftover pain that remained embedded in his veins, automatically replaced by an electrifying intensity that he just couldn't get enough of. As cliché as it was, the world faded away and nothing else mattered to him other than kissing her the way he'd always wanted.
Slow and deep, full of pent up love.
Hermione remained frozen for several seconds but, when he deepened the kiss, she suddenly tangled her fingers in his hair and matched his fervour, throwing caution to the wind. She returned his kiss in full, completely lost in the sensuous feel of his body pressed against hers. Her hands moved to his sides and clenched at the material of his shirt. She had intended to push him away, firm in her belief that they should talk before escalating any further, but she ended up pulling him closer.
When she felt Charlie lower his hands towards her waist, however, the reality of the situation set in. Being true to her word, Hermione pushed back on his torso, forcing their lips apart despite the profound ache in her heart that so desperately wanted him to continue.
"We can't," she muttered raggedly. "You know, we can't. Not until we've —"
"Talked... right, yeah," finished Charlie, nodding ever so slightly. He heard the urgency in her voice and tore himself away. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."
"Don't apologize," Hermione surrendered, rising to her feet quickly. "Never apologize for kissing me like that."
Charlie felt like his heart was going to explode. He took a deep breath and followed her, pulling himself off of the common room floor. He felt dizzy as he stood up, the room around him going in and out of focus. He kept his balance, fixating his gaze on the remarkable woman in front of him.
They both stood there, staring at each other and breathing hard. Charlie's eyes flickered towards her swollen lips for a brief second before returning to her eyes. They were alit with an expression that he couldn't quite decipher, appearing to be made of iridescent glass.
"Come sit with me," Hermione said, inviting him to find refuge next to her on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Charlie did as he was told and took a seat next to her, but he made sure to leave a significant distance between them, not able to trust himself.
"So, let's talk," he broke the tension-filled silence between them. "What do you want to know?"
"How long has that been happening? Your mark burning, I mean." Hermione inquired, tensing slightly at the hoarseness of his voice. "Is it normal for you to pass out like that?"
"No, that's never happened before," Charlie told her, answering truthfully. "Ever since I got this bloody thing carved into my skin, it's kept burning like I'm being branded all over again. At first, it was bearable, but the pain just keeps getting stronger — I guess this time around, my body had had enough. That, or the Dark Lord is a little fed up with my reluctance to abide by his orders."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just see what he wants?" Hermione suggested after taking a moment to process, treading carefully. "You can't possibly think that suffering like this is a better option."
"Isn't it?" Charlie shot her a look. "Do you honestly believe that if I were to go to the Dark Lord right now, I'd live to see another day?" He let out a light, rueful chuckle. "Not bloody likely. At this point, I imagine I'm more useful to him dead, then alive."
"Don't say things like that," Hermione whimpered, lowering her head to avoid his concerned gaze. "Even the thought of something like that happening to you is unbearable."
"As harsh as it sounds, you know I'm right."
"While that may be true, I don't need the cruel reminder." There was a moment of silence, then Hermione cradled her face in her hands. "Merlin, Charlie, what have you gotten yourself into?"
"I think it's pretty obvious that I've made a literal deal with the devil," Charlie spoke lightheartedly, trying his damnedest to lighten the mood. With one look at her distraught manner, however, he added softly, "But, even if I could, I wouldn't change anything."
Hermione looked up, her face contorted with confusion as though what he was suggesting was utter blasphemy.
"You can't be serious!" She ridiculed him. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"
"Yes, I'm well aware," Charlie grinned bashfully, speaking ever so lowly. "But regardless of how stupid it may be, I was always going to choose you."
Hermione blinked, gaping at him, "Me? What's this got to do with me?"
"How you ever stopped to wonder what the Death Eaters threatened to take from me had I not accepted the mark willingly?" Charlie asked her, his eyes narrow. "It was you or me... those were my only options. I told you that they would've killed you if I refused."
"And while that's very admirable, I never would've asked you to make that decision in my favour," Hermione spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, emphasizing the words. "You think I wanted this for you? Honestly, think about what this means. You don't see it now, but you'll resent me for this, I know you will —"
"I could never hate you," Charlie denied, inching towards her and taking one of her hands in his. "You don't understand how much you mean to me, do you? I don't know how much clearer I can make it. I would rather endure a lifetime of torture than ever having to live without you. So, get that resentment nonsense out of your head. My only hope is that you will not care how selfish I am being as I try to make the rest of my life — whatever length — happy, by spending it with you."
Hermione's head began to spin, her stomach flipping uncontrollably. Once again, she was surprised by the intensity of her feelings. She hadn't realized just how deep she was in with him. Charlie squeezed her hand, but that couldn't prevent the single tear from rolling down her cheek.
"But you were the one who gave up on us," she sniffled, her eyes locked with his. "When things got even the slightest bit difficult, you let me go —"
"Because I knew I didn't deserve you," Charlie looked to the ground, his head cowered in shame. "Once my father interfered, I didn't know how things between us would ever work again — and I still don't, if I'm honest. The only thing I know for sure is that all I want is for you to be happy."
"But you never stopped to ask me what I wanted. I mean, don't you get it, Charlie?" Hermione drew circles on the back of his hand and Charlie closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "It's really sweet and everything, but you can't just sit there and put everyone's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. I don't want our relationship to ever reflect our misconceptions. Because, contrary to your belief, all I've ever wanted was you. Yes, I liked the boy you were when we first met, but I love the man that you've become — isn't that enough? Because it is for me."
(A/N: this is my favourite movie of all time, so if you've seen it, I automatically love you <3)
Charlie took a deep breath, trying to ignore the adrenaline that was coursing through his body that rendered him unable to form clear thoughts. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her skin gently. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, he could finally read her expression. For a second the sadness was there, in her eyes, but it seemed to be replaced by something else, something much more powerful —
"We've been acting foolish, haven't we?" Hermione asked him, and Charlie cocked his head to one side, taking her in, before he nodded slowly.
He had tried to suppress these questions over the last few weeks. He was too afraid of the answers.
"Endless fighting," she pressed on, staring helplessly in his eyes, ready to get lost in them forever. "Overwhelming jealousy. Reckless behaviour. Secrets being kept from one another — but did it actually amount to anything? Did anything change?"
"No," Charlie drew his unoccupied fingers through his hair. "My heart still lies with you, Hermione, no matter how many times I tell myself that I should move on. Believe me, I'm sorry for all the foolish ways I've tried to manage things. The truth is," He leaned closer, ghosting her lips with his own, "I'm still yours — truly... faithfully... yours."
Their foreheads touched and Hermione moved slightly, so that her nose nuzzled against Charlie's. His hand came up to her cheek, caressing it softly, while the other remained interlocked with one of hers, rubbing her skin with the pad of his thumb.
Charlie stroked her cheek with his rugged fingertips, slowly gliding down to her neck and moving her hair to one side. Being this close to Hermione was the most comforting thing he had ever experienced. He began to leave tiny kisses on her neck, on her jaw, then on her nose, kissing away the tears she had cried because of him. Hermione reached for him, curling her arms around his neck and pulling herself as close as she could, her heart melting as he peppered kisses across her face.
"Hermione," Charlie whispered against her skin, his heart pounding rapidly.
The way he pronounced her name, so emotional and full of admiration, gave her shivers. Their bodies moved closer and their lips brushed gently. Charlie looked at her with an expression of amazement and wonder, and then, his lips touched hers for the second time. It was a sweet kiss, Charlie pressed his lips softly against hers and Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the moment of being this close to him.
"Charlie," she let his name fall from her lips when they broke free. She had meant it as a response, but it sounded like an invitation.
He gave her an answering grin before he leaned down and claimed her lips hungrily. He kissed her hard, his hands sliding into her hair and his body pressing flush against hers. Hermione thought she might explode with pure happiness. Charlie's tongue swept against the seam of her lips and she parted them for him greedily, only too eager to draw him closer still.
The heat pouring off of him and the desire raging through her would surely send them up in flames. He moved his assault of kisses down to her neck and Hermione tipped her head, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Low groans of pleasure tore from her lips when he reached the sweet spot just below her ear, driving her crazy. Charlie kissed her until Hermione couldn't think straight — couldn't see straight — couldn't breathe.
"Stay with me tonight," Hermione begged, her lips by his ear, and Charlie placed a final kiss on her neck before he pulled back to meet her loving gaze.
"Are you sure? I thoug—"
"Charlie, I've never been so sure about anything in my life," Hermione cut him off, rolling her hips a little and carding her fingers through his thick brown hair.
Without having to be told twice, Charlie pulled her into another dizzying kiss. He growled against her lips as she kissed him back, holding her tightly in his arms, his hips bucking just a little against the junction of her thighs when she wrapped her legs around him. He lifted her from the couch with apparent ease and walked her backwards towards the staircase up to the dormitories, all without breaking their fervent snog.
They stumbled into Charlie's vacant dorm room and collapsed on the bed together. As soon as their bare chests met, they were both gone. No more thoughts engulfed them as they made love in the blinding darkness.
———————————————————
Charlie gasped for breath as he ran. He maneuvered his way through the dark depths of the graveyard, weaving through the remains of the long-dead that laid helplessly around him. Shrouded ghouls sang the stories of their death to him as he passed, but he appeared unable to acknowledge them.
It was far too dark. He couldn't see where we was going, but he could hear the taunting cackles and the snapping of branches coming from behind him.
A startled gasp left his lips as his foot got caught and painfully twisted on a crackled tombstone, causing him to come crashing down to the hard ground with a thud.
Charlie scrambled to get up, but the shouts from before were already upon him, hovering before he could even stand. A sharp kick to his ribs pushed him onto his back, and he stared blankly up at the Death Eaters surrounding him. Charlie froze, desensitized to it all, for they had already taken so much from him.
The man who had kicked him looked down with a malicious smile. Charlie wasn't frightened by this display, but grudgingly admitted that the rotting, yellow teeth, matted hair, and ragged robes he was wearing did make him look as terrifying as something you'd only found embedded in a nightmare.
"Time's up, Hawthorne. The Dark Lord wishes to see you now," the Death Eater spoke, purposefully showing that same deranged smile.
The comeback on the tip of Charlie's tongue was quickly forgotten when the Death Eater forcefully pulled back his victim's sleeve and placed the tip of his wand to the boy's Dark Mark. Blinding pain seared through Charlie's body, his veins pounding as profusely as his heartbeat.
A scream tore its way out of his throat.
The Dark Lord was coming.
The battle was over.
Charlie had lost.
"Charlie... Charlie... Charlie..."
——————————————————
"Charlie... Charlie... Charlie..."
"Charlie, c'mon baby, wake up."
"Charlie!"
With a harsh nudge to his ribs, Charlie jolted awake, gasping for breath. He quickly sat up and scanned his room, looking for any hidden foes. He saw nothing but the same scarlet walls that he had seen all his life.
"Hermione?"
"I'm still here," Hermione's face was white with concern, and she quickly placed kisses along his bare chest, trying to calm him down. "You're not alone, I'm right here."
Hearing her voice was like finding refuge to Charlie. And so, he began breathing erratically through his nose, willing himself to calm down. He was drenched in sweat, terrified, but somehow feeling her lips against his skin made everything better.
He was home.
Everything was fine.
It was just a nightmare.
And yet, no matter how many times he told himself that, Charlie didn't seem capable of shaking the uncomfortable feeling of terror, and even went as far as to contemplate whether he'd rather cut off his own fingers than ever consider sleeping again.
He raised his head off his pillow ever so slightly.
3:46 A.M.
That was the time on the analog clock that hung above the door, next to Ron's Chudley Canons poster. Overwhelmed with tiredness, Charlie remained still for a moment, listening carefully to Hermione's heartbeat and letting his mind wander.
He shook his head, desperate in his attempt to rid it of intruding thoughts. It was happening again. Night after night, he was there. He couldn't stop it. Charlie travelled there in his dreams — but it never felt like a dream.
Each time he vividly felt the pain running through his veins, the scream fresh on his lips.
It was more than a memory.
It felt like reality.
"It was just a nightmare," Hermione told him gently, as though she had overheard his thoughts. A few seconds later, she naturally maneuvered herself to tighten her grasp around him.
"I'm sorry," Charlie muttered mindlessly into the darkness, and he felt her nuzzle her face further into his chest. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I'm glad you did," Hermione whispered, her voice tickling his skin. She leaned up to place a kiss along his jaw, "I'm always here for you, you know? And if you want to talk abou—"
"I'm fine," Charlie ran a hand over his face and carefully detached himself from Hermione's embrace. He could hear her groan of confusion as he slipped out from under the covers, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. "I th-think I just need some air."
Charlie never was good at lying.
The truth was that, whether he liked it or not, as long as he endured life with that mark on his arm, things would never be the same again.
Yet, there he was.
Charlie Hawthorne was exactly where he'd always wanted to be, feeling as though nothing could ever harm him again as long as Hermione was next to him every step of the way. It was a false sense of security to him now, this type of comfort, for it had been stolen from him far too many times.
He wouldn't let it happen again.
He couldn't.
Ultimately, Charlie's mind was made up.
Ever so slowly he started to stand, squinting through the darkness to try and find his clothes. He began second-guessing everything, wondering if he was better off somewhere that wouldn't disrupt anyone's peacefulness but his own.
But, like many other times, his thoughts were interrupted, for Hermione had caught his wrist before he could put any significant distance between him and the bed.
"Charlie, it's nearly four in the morning," she reminded him, her face falling ever so slightly. "Please, just come back to bed."
With his pride in the way, Charlie didn't have it in him to say anything in response. Instead, he gently pulled his hand from her grasp and took a reluctant step towards the door.
"Fine, then, I'm coming with you," Hermione sighed, sitting up at once, clutching one of the bedsheets firmly to cover her exposed breasts. "Just let me get dressed."
"Hermione —"
"No, I don't want to hear it."
"Hermione, please," Charlie said again, turning to face her this time as he did. The hurt was living in his face. In his posture. In his heavy breaths. In the clenching of his hands.
"I said no." Hermione quickly scrambled out of the bed, taking the thin bedsheet and wrapping it around herself. "You don't think I know what this is? I know exactly what you're doing. And I won't stand for it this time, do you hear me? I won't let you do this to us again. Can you, for once, stop trying to push me away? Merlin, stop letting your fear control your life! I know that you love me and that you're scared of what it could mean, but I'm not. Please, you can't keep running from something that makes you happy."
"I'll only hurt you, don't you get that?"
"I don't care."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't!" Hermione screamed at him, her voice carrying around the room. Charlie hadn't been prepared for her yell. It sounded like a strangled cry and his chest tightened with it. "Merlin, why do you have to be so damn stubborn? I know that when you claimed to be mine earlier that you were telling the truth. You can't fool me, no matter how hard you try. I'm yours, you're mine... and every time you leave, all you're doing is hurting us both."
"And I hate myself for it," Charlie spoke ever so lowly, his throat clogged with emotion. "I mean, fuck, Hermione, I never meant to hurt you —"
"Then, why are you leaving me now?"
"Because I'll hurt you more if I stay. This," he pointed to the Dark Mark on his forearm, tears dancing on his eyelids, "this guarantees that."
"That only means you need me more."
Charlie gulped, eyeing her as she stood in perfect alignment with the moonlight peering in from the window. He hesitated, struggling with right and wrong, good and bad. Before he could even reach for the doorknob, Hermione had shuffled forward. She grabbed his face and made him look at her — at her face, in her determined eyes, and with said eyes she could see his scared ones.
"You need me, Charlie."
She spoke to him with the softest tone known to mankind. Still, Charlie tried to avert his gaze, but her hands held him steady.
"You need me."
She placed a delicate kiss on his cheek.
"Say it."
She moved downwards, peppering small kisses along his jawline.
"I want to hear you say it."
She made her way to his neck, persuading him with the quick caress of her tongue.
"Say that you need me, Charlie."
Charlie closed his eyes. He wanted to savour every press of her lips. Every touch of her tongue. The heat of her skin. Yes, her skin, because somewhere along the way Hermione had let the bedsheet slip to her waist. He could feel every curve of her chest as though he was in the presence of the most intricate piece of art imaginable.
"I need you," Charlie muttered at last, and he opened his eyes. They were still for no more than a second before he kissed her with all the urgency in the world.
Debatably, this was an emergency. Charlie needed her to forget the horrors of his life and to cherish something that was good. Hermione needed him too. She needed him so that she didn't feel lost and alone. She needed to feel cared for, and he knew how to do that and how to do it well.
Whenever he kissed her it was always a quick press of his lips before pouring his all into her mouth and onto her skin with the caress of his hand. Her thoughts were split between his taste and touch. Hermione broke the kiss to let her bedsheet fall completely to the floor. She took his hand and led him back to the bed that he had ran from. The bed that, he truly believed, had been the catalyst to his crumbling resolve.
"You need me."
Charlie cracked, soaking in the sight of her beauty as she pulled him closer.
"I need you."
They fell back onto his bed, her legs wrapped around him and, soon enough, he was buried deep inside her, pouring everything he felt — his love, his hate, his frustration, his confusion — into every thrust he gave. His hope, in the end, being that her cries of pleasure would somehow hold an answer.
He felt her come undone around him once, twice... he honestly lost count. All Charlie cared about was getting lost and forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be there. That he wasn't supposed to be relishing in her warmth. That he wasn't supposed to be happy. That he wasn't supposed to be in love.
But he was.
He was all those things.
And, for the first time, he was not scared of admittance. Instead, he had every intention in the world of screaming it at the top of his lungs because she was right, in more ways than one, all he needed was her.
————————————————————
8:32 A.M.
That was when Hermione's eyelids fluttered open. The sun was poking through the curtain making her perfectly warm. She was staring up at the ceiling of Charlie's four-poster, grinning bashfully as she remembered the events of the previous night.
A cold wind brushed her exposed skin, causing Hermione to shiver. Rather than cower deeper under the covers, she stretched, reaching out mindlessly for the boy she adored.
"Good morni—"
Hermione cut herself off, for when she extended her arm, she was met with nothing but intangible air. Still wrapped up in the bedsheets, she turned her head to confirm her suspicions.
Indeed, Charlie was gone.
Her face paled. After everything, the last thing she expected was to wake up alone. Hermione propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes scanning the room. She wanted to see him stumbling out of the on-suite, but her hope had died after moments of waiting, nothing but the silence had come to greet her.
Had Charlie actually left her?
He couldn't have, could he?
No... no, there's no way...
Hermione clutched the bedsheets at her side as though her life depended on it. She didn't want to believe that the boy she loved could've been so heartless, but yet, there she was: alone. No note, no boyfriend, no nothing.
"Stupid prat," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. "He does realize that I'm going to see him again at some point, right? Oh, and when I do, I swear to Merlin, I will —"
As if on queue, the dorm room door opened with a loud creak, only to shut again a few moments later. Hermione's sleep-worn eyes went wide with shock at first, but then suddenly squinted to adjust to the bright light floating in from the window, for whoever it was pulled back the curtain.
Charlie appeared, standing in the middle of the light, obscuring some of the brightness, for which Hermione was only slightly grateful for.
"Good morning," he beamed, blissfully unaware that he had just given Hermione a heart attack.
She looked him up and down, her mouth slightly agape. He was wearing a pair of light grey sweatpants and a black tank top, deliberately exposing his muscular arms. His dark hair fell messily in front of his face, covering his eyes ever so slightly. In his hands, he was holding two steaming coffee mugs and a plate of buttered, honeyed toast.
"Morning," Hermione greeted him, finally comprehending the situation. She caught sight of her breakfast and beckoned him to her with a finger. Charlie took tentative steps towards her, placing the two mugs and toast down on the bedside table and then leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on her lips.
"You okay?" he asked when they broke apart, recalling the look of disdain from when he first entered the room.
Hermione nodded slowly, their foreheads touching.
"I just... I thought you —"
"Left?" Charlie finished, and despite her shame, Hermione nodded. He placed his right index finger under her chin, making her look deeply into his eyes, "I'm not going anywhere — not anymore."
"That's all I've ever wanted to hear," Hermione told him truthfully, placing another kiss against his lips. When lack of oxygen became an issue, they pulled back. She cocked her head, reaching for a slice of golden brown toast before biting into it. "Mmm," she moaned, indicating that the toast was just nicely buttered, honeyed, and toasted — all to perfection.
Charlie watched her finish her toast with a smile, his eyes naturally looking over her face, noticing every little detail — her flushed skin, her plump lips, her wild hair, areas of bruised skin from his own doing. He stared a bit longer at what appeared to be a bite mark on her right shoulder. He frowned as he drew his fingers over it.
"Sorry about that."
"I'm not."
He kinked an eyebrow, grinning mischievously, "You know, it never ceases to amaze me how calm you are at having a Death Eater in your bed."
"Well, technically, this is not my bed," Hermione corrected, filling the room with her giggles. Charlie smiled, loving the sound. "But in all seriousness, we both know you're not a normal Death Eater."
(A/N: this whole scene was inspired by a prompt I saw on tumblr)
Charlie said nothing in response, but as she reached for her second slice of toast, he caught her wrist, and pinned her down onto the bed. He leaned his face close to hers, muttering, "You have some honey at the corner of your mouth."
Hermione smiled up at him, before reaching, with her free hand, to brush the drop of sticky-sweet liquid from her mouth. But she was too late. Charlie had already leaned down and licked off the honey before she could reach it. He then moved down to kiss the sweet flesh of her neck, making her squeal with anticipation.
The second she started to respond to his assault of kisses, however, Charlie pulled away.
Hermione groaned as his lips left her skin, annoyed at his sly tactics, "Tease."
Charlie's mouth curved into a grin, as though to taunt and agitate her further, but then suddenly he couldn't stop himself from sniggering lightly. As his laughs were reduced to soft chuckles, he nodded his head towards the nightstand once again.
"I want you to try this and tell me what you think," he told her, leaning over to pick up one of the two coffee mugs. "I tried to follow the instructions, but I can barely follow Wizard recipes, let alone Muggle ones."
"Muggle recipes?" Hermione repeated with an expression of utter intrigue.
"Well, yeah," Charlie blushed, scratching at the back of his neck anxiously. "You like cappuccinos, so I figured I'd try and —"
Hermione swore she saw him move his lips to speak, but she couldn't hear him after the word 'cappuccinos' left his mouth. Instead, she leaned forward to gently capture his opened mouth with hers. She kissed him slowly then, wanting to devour him with all the raging passion that roared like wild fire between them, but also needing to savour the moment. He kissed her back once he got over the initial shock, the pair of them finding a rhythm as she slowly traced the dimensions of his body.
Charlie pulled back first, coming to his senses slowly after being dazed by Hermione's affections.
"What was that for?"
"You remembered."
The cappuccinos. Muggle London. Their first date.
"How could I forget?"
Hermione felt her heart swoon and she leaned in again, ready to snog the daylights out of him for being utterly adorable first thing in the morning. She was surprised, however, when Charlie maneuvered his head at the last second, forcing her to kiss his cheek.
"You've got to try it first," he laughed. "No sense in rewarding me if it's rubbish."
With a pout of reluctancy, Hermione did as she was told and brought the rim of the mug to her lips. Letting the liquid trickle down her throat, she welcomed the steamed milk foam and espresso coffee as they blended on her tastebuds. When she finished her sip, she looked back up at him, smiling contently.
"It's good, definitely not bad for your first try."
"I'll take it," Charlie cheered, collapsing back on the bed victoriously. "Remind me to thank Winky next time I go to the Kitchens, I wouldn't have known what the bloody hell I was doing had she not been there to help."
Hermione nodded before finishing the last of her breakfast. Charlie laid next to her, stroking her arm affectionately, almost as if he was reminding her that he was still there. When she was done, Hermione put her dishes on the bedside table and leaned backwards, landing against the soft pillows.
Charlie held his arms open for her, obviously intending to spoon her, and Hermione smiled just a little when she went into his hold willingly. She curled into the bed, pulling the covers over the pair of them before snuggling down in his arms and sighing. He wrapped himself around her completely, tucking his knees into the backs of hers, looping his arm over her waist and holding her close until she was pressed back against the full length of his warm, powerful frame.
"I've missed this," he murmured against her ear.
Hermione smiled sheepishly, "Me too."
There was a moment of hesitant silence. Charlie was silently gathering the courage to ask a question that been plaguing his mind over the last two days.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Mhm." She nuzzled her body closer to him, using his arm as a pillow. "What is it?"
"What are we to each other now?"
"I don't think we have to put a label on it just yet," Hermione responded, after taking a moment to think. "I mean, not until we're both certain that we can make this work again. Let's just take things slow and see where it leads us."
Charlie smirked mischievously against the crook of her neck, "Sleeping together is taking things slow?"
Hermione blushed, and even though he couldn't see the redness on her cheeks, he felt her body shiver with embarrassment.
"I didn't hear you complaining."
"That's because I definitely wasn't," He assured her, placing even more kisses along her neck, attacking the sweet spot behind her ear.
Hermione let out a content sigh, his scent wafting under her nose as she did. Charlie could hear her heart beat erratically in her chest, shuddering as she hummed against his skin. Signs of happiness — she was happy, and that was all that he wanted.
"Happy Christmas, Charlie."
"Happy Christmas."
He kissed her cheek tenderly before settling down to cuddle; Hermione drew circles on his skin with her fingertips, both of them savouring every moment in the other's embrace.
As it turns out, Christmas of 1996 turned out good for Charlie Hawthorne after all.
———————————————————
Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*
hope you enjoyed this chapter of PURE Charmione fluff lol
lmk if you guys like these chapters or if you prefer the action filled ones! or maybe a bit of both? idk
[insert begging for votes and comments]
also, thank you for over 170k reads!!!
THAT. IS. INSANE!
much love always <3
xo, selena
p.s. if you haven't already, follow me for updates regarding the story! see you guys soon!
(A/N: couldn't resist lol)