Disclosed Desires

Hermione sat up, raised her arms above her head and groaned when the satisfying pop of long hunched bones filled her silent bedroom.

It was late, that much she could tell by the very dark landscape out of her fourth floor bedroom at the Burrow. The house's many occupants had fallen silent hours ago but she had been so absorbed in her researching the history of House Elves for her latest book on magical creature rights that she had barely noticed.

Her stomach gave an almighty growl, as if it had realized that she was back to conscious awareness and wanted some attention. Sighing, she looked down at the twenty-two foot parchment she had started in the late afternoon and tried not to think about how many hours ago she had eaten.

Mrs Weasley had learnt long ago not to bother her while she was lost in her writings, instead leaving her covered dish in the warm oven for when she was ready for it. Hermione didn't regret for a moment moving into her ex-boyfriends home after the war, because if she lived on her own she would surely wither away to nothing.

Slipping off the bed, she tugged at the over-sized sweater she had borrowed from one of the Weasley men several years ago, letting its comforting warmth fall to her knees over her much abused jeans. She ignored Ginny's nagging voice in her head about dressing more like a girl and shuffled to the door in her socked feet, food the only thing on her mind now.

Padding down the stairs, she tried to make as little noise as possible and made it into the living room without incident. She was just walking past the mismatched armchairs when movement on the extremely large couch startled her. Drawing her wand from her back pocket she froze as a figure rose to stare at her over the back of the red cushions.

"Hermione?" a very familiar voice asked.

"Charlie?" Hermione asked, seeing the outline of his very broad and obviously naked shoulders in the dim light from the dying fire.

"Long time no see," he grinned, sitting up straighter, his voice was husky with sleep.

Hermione pointed her wand at the fireplace watching as the flames crackled merrily once more before coming around to sit on the couch, taking in the older Weasley's appearance with surprise.

"It's only been three months, what brings you home again?" she asked, sitting down on the blanket he had been using, trying not to stare at the hard muscular plains of his abdomen, so perfectly displayed for her.

Charlie Weasley had been more of a presence at the Burrow since the fall of Voldemort. He had been taking more holidays to be with his family and even confessed to being homesick after so many years in the isolated dragon community in Romania. So now he turned up for all the major holidays and everyone's birthday and Hermione had found her schoolgirl crush from fourth year turning into an all-too-real lusting for the redheaded dragon tamer.

"Dad's birthday is tomorrow," he said, as if she should have known.

"It… it is?" she asked, counting the dates in her head, realizing she had lost nearly the whole month being holed up in the library and in her room trying to finish her last year of studies with the type of marks she had become accustomed to.

He bumped her shoulder with his, the contact sending tingles down her arm and to her fingers that itched to brush his hair from his face, "You need to come downstairs more often Granger," he said, still grinning.

"I've just been busy," she sighed, tearing her eyes from his face, trying to hide the effect that grin had on her.

"So I've noticed, you hardly ever owl anymore, and I've been here since before lunch. Mum said you weren't to be disturbed, threatened me with a frying pan and everything."

Hermione smiled at the image of Molly Weasley brandishing her favourite weapon at her fully grown son.

"Did you tell her it was your room?" she asked, rolling her head on the back of the couch to look at him, wondering what he was wearing under the blanket that was still draped over his lap.

"I tried that, but she kindly informed me that I relinquished possession of it when I moved out and was handed a blanket and told I was sleeping here again," he explained, reaching forward to pluck at her sleeve, "Seems my room isn't the only thing I gave up."

Hermione laughed, and reached for the hem of the jumper, "You can have it back if you want," Pulling the jumper over her head, she had to brush her hair out of her eyes before she could meet his again, noticing the funny look in them for the first time.

"Looks better on you than it ever did on me," he said, his eyes sweeping the white tank top she had been wearing underneath. She tried to ignore the fact that she hadn't bothered putting on a bra that day by neatly folding the blue woollen jumper, placing it between them.

"You can have your room back if you want too," she said breathily, "The bed is probably much comfier than this couch."

"And where will you sleep?" he asked softly, his voice going deeper as he leant between them, his fingers fiddling with the jumper.

"Here, I suppose," she said just as quietly.

"If I recall correctly," he murmured as his fingers left the wool, rising up to touch her curls, brushing them away from her face, "That bed had plenty of room for two."

Hermione's heart stopped beating and her brain seemed to freeze as she registered his words. She met his intense gaze; registering the invitation there and the heat she thought she had only ever imagined in her various fantasies about him.

"I-I suppose there would be," she replied slowly, licking her lips nervously.

He watched the movement before leaning in closer, his lips ghosting over hers. Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and giving into the gentle contact that even her most erotic fantasies couldn't have contained.

The smell, the taste and the feel of him against her as he pushed her back into the cushions - the kiss growing impossibly deep as the sparks flew between them - all proved to overwhelm her. Moaning against him, her hands roamed his naked back, her fingers finding long healed scars and smooth burn marks over all that muscle.

Charlie groaned and ground his hips into hers just as Hermione's wandering hands slipped under the blanket to find him absolutely naked against her.

"What are we doing?" she whispered against his hot skin when he pulled back to make a wet path down her neck.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious," he muttered, his breath washing across her chest, making her shiver.

She sighed when he began to kiss his way back up to her until he could meet her eyes, his happy expression fading to something a little more serious.

"Since when did we go from being friends to this?" she asked, biting her lip as self doubt swept through her. She slowly slid her hands back up to rest on his shoulders.

Charlie studied her for a moment longer before leaning in, kissing the corner of her mouth, "Since I came home and saw that my brothers friend was suddenly a very hot, very desirable witch who just didn't seem to understand how bloody sexy she was."

Hermione wondered if he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. She met those pale blue eyes; his face so close to hers she could almost count the thousands of freckles that decorated his skin. He smiled and she melted back into his arms.

Charlie speared his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back into the scattered cushions as his mouth claimed hers with a passion far more intense than anything she had felt before. Her legs twined with his, her hands returned to learning every marred bit of flesh on his back as she kissed him back.

The white shirt was first to go, his mouth only leaving her a few seconds, the soft fabric being flung somewhere behind them. His large calloused palms cupped her breasts; his thumbs brushing against her nipples, making her catch her breath.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, leaving her mouth to kiss along her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone before replacing his fingers with his mouth, wrapping his lips around one straining nipple and earning him a strangled moan of pleasure.

"Oh God, Charlie," she moaned, when his hands traced down her torso, finding the fly of her baggy jeans, working at the buttons with ease.

"Shh, you'll wake someone up," he whispered against her, chuckling when she squirmed as his fingers traced her hipbone.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she panted, lifting her hips as he slid her jeans and underwear down her legs, kissing his way up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before he reached the apex.

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked, blowing gentle at her curls, hearing her gasp.

"No," she whimpered, looking down at him.

"Good," he grinned, leaning in to take one long swipe at her fold with his tongue, making her cry out and arch her whole body into. He held her hips down at he pleasured her for long minutes, taking in her soft cries and feeling her body tighten when he entered her with one long finger.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, her hands tugging at his hair, her chest heaving now.

Charlie crawled back up, kissing her deeply as he continued to move his hand against her, feeling her grow tighter and tighter. Hermione wrapped her arms his torso, moving her hips into his in an unmistakable invitation.

His fingers left her core when she began to move against him with urgent demand. Their moans mingled when he thrust into her, her body arching against the cushions while her nails left angry red marks down his back.

Gripping her hips tighter, he tilted her into his thrust, finding that spot deep inside her over and over again. Hermione fought to keep quiet, biting her lip until it was almost bleeding until he twisted his hips in a way that had her crying out.

Charlie grinned and kissed her deeply, swallowing that cry when he repeated the move again. Bent over almost double, she struggled to remember why she was trying to be quiet when all she could think about was the incredible man who was driving into her over and over again.

She felt that delicious warmth spread from her core to her limbs, making her breath hitch and her body to lose rhythm. That warmth built and built until it was flames and Charlie cried out as if burnt, losing his own steady movement as her tight sleeve tighten and clutch around him.

Her orgasm swept him up into his own release, neither caring about the noise they were making or the threat of discovery by any one of the house's many occupants. All that seemed to matter was the two of them as they pulsed and writhed in a mass of limbs on the old red couch.

Hermione felt as if she would never catch her breath again as Charlie collapsed against her chest, his head cushioned between her breasts as he recovered. She could only seem to find the energy to sift her fingers lazily through his hair, watching as his eyes drifted closed.

"We should go upstairs," she said quietly, tracing the line of freckles on his forehead.

"Hmm," was his non-committal response.

"Come on Charlie, before your mother wakes up and finds us here," Hermione grinned, tugging gently at his hair until he sat up.

He grinned down at her and leaned in for a kiss, pulling back after a moment, "You know, I hear you might be thinking of writing your next book on Dragons."

"Is that so?" she said, sitting up and leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to resist that grin.

"It was just a rumour of course," he continued, "But if you are then I might just happen to know a few of them."

Hermione smiled, sliding her legs gingerly off the couch, looking for her clothes and only finding the now rumpled Weasley jumper, "I hadn't quite decided on my next magical creature, but Dragons sound intriguing," she told him, biting her lips to hide her excitement, "Why don't you tell me more about them, upstairs?"

"An excellent idea," he replied, wrapping the blanket around his waist and holding his hand out to her.

Charlie's bed turned out to be much more comfortable than the couch, and with plenty of room for two.

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