Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: She had read all about this sort of ritualistic magic, but reading about it and seeing it in the very naked flesh were completely different things. Charlie/Hermione.
Word Count: 1180.
A/N: For inell.
The rain fell gently down upon them as they danced naked beneath the moonlight. Hermione had never spent Halloween quite like this. She had read all about this sort of ritualistic magic, but reading about it and seeing it in the very naked flesh were completely different things. Normally, it was all drunken parties and fancy dress on Halloween, so watching the dancers made a drastic change.
She tilted her umbrella so that the rain didn’t fall in her face, blushing a little when she turned to the left and a pair of bare legs filled her vision. Hermione looked up, eyes skipping quickly over one area - it was neither the time nor the place for that - and up to the freckled face that seemed to tower above her.
“Feel like joining in?”
Hermione bit her lip. “I think I’ll pass. Thanks for bringing me here,” she added. “Tonight’s been amazing, Charlie.” There was no exact definition of their relationship, but Charlie Weasley was her sort-of boyfriend, or as close to that as you could get. They went out for drinks, had very energetic sex several times a week and Charlie cooked an exceptional fried breakfast on Sunday mornings. It was pretty much the only thing that he could cook, but he did it very well.
Much like the sex, actually.
She wished that she could share his bravery when it came to this festival, but she wasn’t sure she could face a group of complete strangers seeing her naked. Charlie certainly seemed to appreciate her body, whispering all the things he wanted to do to her tits or cunt when he was shagging her, but Hermione wasn’t really one to show her body off. She was sure that she was just a little bit too curvy and she didn’t do any exercise, so the thought of combining nudity and dancing was a little off-putting.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come and dance?” Charlie asked, glancing back at the other revellers. “Nudity is entirely optional.” He stood proudly before her (and, as far as Hermione was concerned, he had a lot of be proud of), not at all ashamed of his own nudity.
Hermione looked over at the dancers dubiously. “It is?”
“Yeah. And, trust me, this festival is much more fun when you dance.” He held out his hand and Hermione cautiously took it. “Tell you what, though, be glad it’s June and not December.” He smirked and added in a lower voice, “The cold weather’s not quite so flattering.”
“I’d much rather be doing naked dancing of another kind,” Hermione grumbled as he helped her to her feet. She collapsed her umbrella, turning her face upwards and letting the raindrops fall on her. Hermione sighed, resigned to what would inevitably happen. “You know, I’m probably going to end up with a cold and regret this,” she told him, shrugging off her robes.
Charlie grinned, looking over her naked form. “We can do that sort of dancing later,” he murmured. Charlie inclined his head, kissing her softly. “For now, though, this is definitely an improvement.”
They were still dancing long after midnight, when the fire was starting to die and people were leaving to go back to their real lives. Charlie pulled Hermione close, his hair burnished red in the light of the fire. “Feel like doing that other sort of naked dancing now?”
Hermione wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. It was surprisingly cold, as the puckering of her nipples clearly indicated, and the light rain had made her hair frizzy. “Your place or mine?”
His smile was sly as he grasped her hands. “Who says we have to go anywhere?” he asked. He pulled her way from the other dancers further into the wood. Hermione barely even noticed the twigs and stones beneath her feet, although she was sure that she could be able to feel them in the morning.
Charlie kissed her hard, his fingers tangling her in hair. Hermione gasped against his mouth as her back met a tree, the bark digging into her skin. The rain was starting to get heavier now, filtering through the trees. Her leg hooked around his waist and Hermione as sure that this shouldn’t be arousing her as much as it was. There was something about tonight, she decided, something about the festival and the dancing and the moon.
Charlie’s hard cock pressed against her belly and Hermione ground against him, trying to ignore the tree pressing into her back. “I told you this got more interesting without clothes.” She had never heard such a possessive tone in his voice, and it almost frightened her. Almost.
His hands clasped her thighs, lifting her up so that he could thrust into her in one motion. Hermione cried out, her head falling back and breasts pushing out to Charlie. Kissing her neck, Charlie nipped at her ear with a growl. “So fucking tight,” he ground out. “Want to take you back to my place and fuck you ‘til daylight.”
Hermione whimpered. She wasn’t going to argue with a suggestion like that, especially when he was thrusting into her so hard that the leaves on the tree were shaking. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so, either. Just a few weeks ago, he’d turned up at her flat on a Friday night with a bottle of wine in his hand and a rather obvious hard-on in his trousers. Hermione had been sore and aching on Saturday, only managing to get out of bed mid-afternoon for coffee, a shower and badly-needed food.
Charlie had been her sort-of boyfriend - although neither of them would admit to it being more like a real relationship than anything they had had before - for nearly eight months, and knew her body as well as she did. He knew what she liked. He knew that she got off on the dirty little things her told her when they were having sex. His breath was hot on her face as he told her how he was going to touch her breasts. How he was going to use her tongue on her and kiss her and let her taste herself from his lips.
He told her how fucking gorgeous she was when she came, how he thought she looked like some pagan deity with autumn leaves in her hair. How he could see the flush on her cheeks even through the darkness.
Hermione came with a low groan, shaking and clinging to Charlie. Her legs wrapped around him, needing instinctively to keep him close. Charlie grunted, finishing after a couple of thrusts.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Never done that at one of these before.”
Resting her forehead against his, Hermione told him, “I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”
“I’ll kiss it better.” His eyes met hers and Hermione nodded, feeling a strange sense of realisation, although she had no idea what she was realising.
“I think there’s a lot to kiss.”
His lips brushed against hers. “Better start right away, then, hadn’t I?”