Chapter Text
"Kiss me."
Charlie Weasley stared at the young witch in front of him. He was rarely caught by surprise. Working with dragons meant he had to be aware, be diligent, at all times. Anyone who didn't could get hurt. Still, as the redheaded wizard continued to gape at the small girl before him, he figured being burned by her was something he'd happily live with.
"I'm sorry?" He heard her before. He knew what she said, but he needed to hear it again; wanted to hear it again.
"Kiss me, Charlie. I want you to kiss me."
Merlin. She was serious. He didn't know her that well, but from the stories he's heard from his family over the years, Hermione Granger was not reckless, nor impulsive. She was brilliant, bossy, a bit of a know-it-all and blissfully unaware that she had several male members of the Order of the Phoenix wrapped around her little finger. "Hermione …"
"Charlie, I almost died two days ago – "
"I know about the attack at the Ministry," he interrupted. His youngest brother and baby sister were with her when it happened. Death Eaters attacking Hogwarts students. Students! It made his stomach roll to think about it. This was a war. People would die, he knew that, but he’d make damn sure his siblings weren't part of the carnage.
"Then you know it's only going to get worse," she told him.
He nodded slowly, forcing his eyes to stay on her face. It was late. The Burrow was quiet, everyone asleep when she walked into the living room. He couldn't sleep. His head was still spinning from the events two nights earlier, so he sat up, making a list of friends, possible allies that he had met over the years, people who might be willing to join the fight against Lord Voldemort, when she walked in, her bushy hair wilder than usual, her face pale with lack of sleep. She was wearing an old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey; Harry's or Ron's probably. It was baggy on her. It draped off her petite frame to expose the creamy white skin of her shoulders. The long sleeves practically covered her fingers while the length of the shirt ended just above her knees.
Do not look at her legs! She's 16!
"Dumbledore … he tells us were fighting for the light, for what's right," Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, the movement making her breasts sway slightly under the jersey. Charlie nearly groaned out loud. "He talks about love a lot; how Harry was saved from Voldemort because of his mother's love, why our ability to love each other makes us stronger than those who hate …"
Charlie nodded. He was aware of the professor's fondness for flowery speeches.
"Charlie I … I don't know what's going to happen, if I'm going to live, if my friends will live - "
He strode forward and grabbed Hermione by her arms, yanking her forward until her body was flush with his. Not giving her time to react, not giving him time to think, he pressed his lips against her in a bruising kiss, his mouth forcing hers open so he could sweep his tongue inside. He moaned at her tentative response, one hand letting go of her arm to wrap around her back and pull her closer still.
"Listen to me," he whispered fiercely when they broke apart, both of them panting slightly. "You are going to be fine. Harry, Ron – all three of you will be fine."
"You don't know that."
He kissed her again, partly to make her stop talking, partly because he had to taste her again. "I do."
Wiggling – Merlin, she needed to stop that right now or he was going to embarrass himself – she pulled out of his arms, breathing heavily as she stared at him. "No, you don't, Charlie. Neither one of us knows what's going to happen. All we do know is that a fight is coming and we're going to be in it. I'm not scared. I've been preparing for this since my first year at Hogwarts. I'm ready to fight; I welcome it! Voldemort has taken too much from us already and he needs to be stopped."
Her hazel eyes flashing, Hermione walked forward, forcing Charlie to move backwards until the backs of his knee hit the couch. Nudging him gently, Hermione waited until he was seated before she climbed in his lap, straddling his waist.
"I'm not afraid of dying, Charlie," she repeated, lowering herself slowly until she could feel him pressed against her. His hands grasped her hips. He didn't push her away and he didn't pull her down further onto his length. He just sat there, waiting for her. "If my death contributes to Voldemort's defeat, then I welcome it."
"Hermione -"
"No. I mean it. Only … " She watched him, as if she wasn't sure what to do next. Bringing her hands up to his broad shoulders, she rested them there, her eyes never leaving his. "I don't want to fight without experiencing what I'm fighting for."
"What do you mean?"
She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. "Love, Charlie. I want to make love before I fight and I want you to be the person I make love with."