Merciless Flirt

A/N: I do apologize for the dreadful time between updates, real life mucking up things as usual. But I present to you another chapter, not far from the end, in this story of our two lovers.


Dragons. The Headmaster had come knocking on her door and called Charlie into their meeting to discuss dragons. There hadn’t been any mention of their sordid relationship or even any real hints about forbidden relationships, although there was mention of discretion pertaining to certain subject matters, though that conversation was quickly followed up with the top secret discussion of the dozen dragons that had come to take residence at Hogwarts.

The details were somewhat vague on how Dumbledore had acquired this dozen exotic dragons, and even more vague were the details on how The Headmaster had managed to get the Board of Ministers to approve this experiment, though Hermione was certain that step one involved not telling them.

It was a class to be taken only by students in fourth year or higher. She’d been asked to oversee the class so that she could tend to any medical incidents that would arise, though the Headmaster assured her that these would be minimal. When she had asked why Madam Pomphrey wouldn’t be the more obvious choice he explained that her schedule would have fewer direct conflictions with the class than that of the current Mediwitch’s. When she raised questions about the younger students, she was cited that if Harry Potter could handle a dragon during his fourth year, it didn’t seem so difficult for the others.

All through breakfast Hermione had hardly heard a word anyone said. The sorting ceremony passed by in a blur; students being sifted into houses as if the boat incident had not occurred the night before. Her thoughts were elsewhere; floating between helping Charlie and a bunch of students raise a dozen dangerous exotic dragons and Charlie being at Hogwarts. But her mind stirred when she heard his name.

The Headmaster had announced his arrival to the school. And offered up information about the new Care of Magical Creatures class, stating that it was only for the older students, and would be dealing with dangerous creatures; all those interested were to seek out Professor Weasley or Professor Granger after breakfast, as space was limited.
~*~

“You sure you’re up for this?” Charlie asked her.

“If Dumbledore thinks I can handle it, then I don’t see why not.” She said.

Classes had finished and dinner had ended an hour ago. It had been a long day. The class schedule had filled up before most prospective students had even had a chance to seek her out. Charlie had managed to remain hidden throughout the day, leaving the burden of disappointment on her shoulders to every student that arrived after Deliah Gibbons, a sixth year Ravenclaw girl. Albus had said exactly twelve, and the students had to be of age and the class could not conflict with their current time table.

Charlie had led her down across the Quidditch pitch over to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and into an enclosed wooden paddock. There was a large sandpit clearing in the center and arching around it were twelve enclosures, much taller and wider than any stable that Hermione had ever seen. They formed a horseshoe around the sandpit and each stable had a wooden plaque on the door, some of them with glossy names embedded in the wood.

“You’ve named them all?”

“Not quite,” he said. “Only a few of them. Naming a dragon is a difficult thing,” he said. “You have to understand its temperament before you can place a name on it, otherwise you’ll never be able to work with it.”

“So without a proper name you can’t control it?” Hermione questioned.

Charlie did his best not to correct her harshly. He had been working with dragons for over thirty years. “You can’t control a dragon, Hermione. Even the best of trainers only work with the dragons on a high level of understanding.” He guided her forward into the pit. “So far I’ve named four of them.”

“I see,” she said.

The wooden gate that guarded the entrance to each of the stable stalls was over twenty feet tall. “And will that—will that enclose them? I mean— will it hold them in?”

Charlie chuckled. “For now.”

A puzzled look drew across Hermione’s face. Charlie stood and walked over to the very first stable at the left end of the horseshoe. The name, gilded in blue and gold letters, read ‘Azriel.’ With a mighty growl, Charlie heaved on the wooden gate and pulled it slowly back. The inside of the stall was dark and she couldn’t see inside.

“Azriel…” Charlie whispered. “Azriel, come out, Azriel…”

Silence.

“Stupid dragon,” Charlie muttered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny silver whistle. He placed it between his lips and blew. An awkward almost shrill sounding squeak echoed from the tiny pipe. There was a rumbling from the darkness of the stall. Hermione found herself side-stepping behind Charlie, in hopes of using him as a barrier against the rampaging creature.

A dragon, if you could call it that¸ no bigger than a large puppy came warbling awkwardly toward them only to tumble over his big claws and land on his side at Charlie’s feet. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. Little whisps of blue smoke curled from its nose as the dragon coughed and spluttered trying to get back on its feet.

“How adorable!” she gushed. “It’s got blue scales!”

The dragon was a bright shade of sapphire; glistening despite the lack of light in the large enclosure. Its wings were spotted with black dots and its feet were twice the size of its head. Big eyelashes batted over the thing’s eyes and Hermione knelt down to pet it on the head.

“Don’t!” Charlie cried, frightening both Hermione and Azriel.

“Why ever not at that size he can hardly—”

A blast of blue fire and navy smoke shot forth from the dragon’s nostrils as it sneezed and fell backward onto its rump. Charlie sighed and knelt down behind the creature. “This one has the sneezles,” he said. “Can’t control its flames. A part of that comes with age, but the sneezles doesn’t help.”

“I see.” Hermione grimaced slightly. “Will he be alright?”

“She. And yes, she’ll be fine. Once we give her a bath in a salt and mud solution.”

“We?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, well you didn’t think I just brought you down here to show them off, did you? I need your help.” Charlie stood up and walked over to a shed of sorts and fiddled with the lock on it for a moment. “Muggle locks confound even the brightest of our young students.” He beamed. He disappeared into the shed for a moment and then reappeared carrying a large silver wash basin. “I’ll need you to make some mud.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Simple enough,” she said and waved her wand at a patch of the ground that seemed particularly loose.

“No no, special mud.” He said.

She paused and looked at him. “What?”

Charlie took her by the hand and led her into the stall that Azriel had just come charging out of, and he knelt down near the corner. “Dragon poo, mixed with some sand and milk ought to do it.”

Were it any other girl, Charlie would have expect a tirade or an outburst of just how disgusting it was. But Hermione held her tongue, nodded and summoned herself a bucket to be being mixing it with. “Will any old milk do?” she asked.

“We’ve got some gallons of it in the shed, I’m going to go get the salt crystals. Mixing the bathwater should be easy. Getting Azriel to stay still and soak in it is another story.”

He left her in the stall. Hermione gazed down at the mounds of stacked poo. It was a bright shiny purple, almost black. She knew that various dragons excrements varied based on their diets, but in all her textbooks she’d never seen shiny purplish black poo before. The things she did for Charlie, though she supposed this would be a learning experience as well and if Dumbledore was expecting her to play an active role in the class then it could hardly hurt to get involved a little early.

She took the shovel that was leaning against the wall of the stall and began to heft the dragon poo into the bucket; the floor was comprised mainly of sand all she needed was the milk. Carrying the bucket in one hand and the shovel in the other Hermione made her way back out of the stall and over to the wash basin. A gallon jug of milk was sitting on the ground next to it and she set to the laborious task of mixing the ingredients to a fine runny but sticky consistency.

“Perfect,” he said. Hermione turned around and her breath caught in her throat. Charlie was standing before her shirtless. She’d seen him naked before, but it was something about his muscles that made her swoon. He held a large stone jar brimming with salt crystals up on his shoulder with one hand. “Now all we need is the salt and a dragon.”

Hermione gazed around, trying not to stare at his bare torso. “Where did she…”

“Azriel!” Charlie called. The little dragon poked its head out of the shed. “Azriel! Come here,” he said locking eyes with the dragon. The little blue spec came galloping toward them, tripping over her wings as she ran, and tumbled over herself, landing at Charlie’s feet. “Good girl.” He said.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the way his muscles flexed and contracted as he knelt down in the sand beside the wash basin and he wrapped both arms around Azriel. “You may want to take your shirt off.” He said.

Hermione shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him properly. “What?”

His smile was lopsided. “Aside from my viewing pleasure, this can get quite messy and Azriel isn’t going to sit still.”

A blush to rival his hair crept through her cheeks. It was still quite new to her; having someone find her attractive. And although she’d spent many a night marveling over the wonder that was Charlie Weasley’s body; she found herself awestruck just gazing at his semi nakedness. “Are you—”

“Afraid someone will come peeping?” he teased. “Let me help you,” he leaned over the basin and tugged at her shirt. Hermione froze at the sensation of his hands against her torso and in an instant she was somewhere else, not even aware that he was guiding the fabric up over her head and off her body. It was Charlie’s turn to blush. He’d been intimate with the very lovely woman before him, but something about her sensual curves and delicate features made him slightly nervous. “This is exactly why women don’t train dragons,” he muttered.

“What?” she asked, realizing suddenly that he’d succeeded in stripping her shirt from her. “Should I take my—”

“Yes.” He answered with haste. “I mean— you should— it’s—” he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “It’s very easy to scrub off skin, dragon poo mixed with all this stuff, but when it binds with fabric, that’s another story…so if you don’t want it to stain…then yes, you should take off your…erm…yeah.” He said.

Hermione flushed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent many nights suckling and nipping and loving her breasts, but it was something about being at Hogwarts— however secluded they were just near the Forbidden Forest in the dragon enclosure— that made her skin crawl and her stomach do flips to rival a circus performer.

She reached behind her back and fumbled with the clasp but in a moment her bra had come free exposing her breasts to him. Hermione folded her bra and her shirt and walked over to the shed, flung them over the open door, and returned to Charlie who was already topless, and pouring salt crystals into the mud mixture. “These are dirty work pants.” He said.

Hermione glanced down at her own jeans. They were a non-descript worn pare of denim pants. A little stained poo wouldn’t hurt them. “Alright, so how do we do this?” she asked, trying once again not to stare at his bare chest.

“Like this,” he said. Charlie scooped Azriel up into his arms and deposited her into the wash basin. The dragon sputtered and wheezed at first, smoke and fire in all shades spluttering and shooting out of its nostrils. Mud bits flew everywhere as Azriel tried to flap her wings, trying to do a makeshift doggie paddle until she realized she could touch the bottom the wash basin. Hermione held her hand against her eyes and tilted her head away as a wave of mud sloshed over the basin’s edge when Azriel lifted herself up and did a makeshift jump in the mixture.

“That’s a good girl,” Charlie cooed. He reached his hand into the basin and dumped a scoop of the mixture right onto the dragon’s nose. Azriel went cross-eyed trying to look at it before she shook her head several times and sneezed. Wads of mud mixed with salt flew everywhere. Charlie laughed. “Very nice, Az.” He smiled.

The dragon seemed quite content to romp around in the tiny wash basin, stomping her feet that were too big for her; flapping her wings and causing sprays of mud to cover them both. And she hardly wanted to leave the bath when Charlie made to grab her after nearly a half hour of soaking. She would dart to one side of the tiny basin as Charlie would lunge at her and then to the other.

“Hermione, creep up behind her while I lunge forward and then we should have her.” Charlie moved forward while Hermione shifted around behind the dragon and as he leaped, Hermione leaned in and grabbed Azriel around the middle. “Great catch!” he cheered. A faceful of muddy poo followed as Azriel dipped her head into the pool and spat the concoction into Charlie’s face.

Hermione couldn’t stop laughing. The dragon seemed to laugh too, if dragons laughed, after all. Little bubbles of snot bounced out her nose and suddenly she sneezed. Hermione nearly jerked back, afraid she might get burned but nothing other than dragon boogies issued from her nostrils. “Wow, Charlie, I think she’s fixed.”

“Told you a little mud and salt bath would do it.” He muttered wiping dragon poo mud from his eyes. “Come on, you tosser,” he muttered, reaching in to grab Azriel around her middle. “We need to hose you down.”

Hermione watched as Charlie hefted the squirming creature with ease. He didn’t even notice when her claws scraped over his skin, tearing at his flesh and drawing blood. There was a large hose on the side of the shed, which he wasted no time in blasting all over the dragon until she was mostly clean. “Namaday.” He said and pointed to the open stall. Azriel sat there looking up at him with big glowing eyes. “Namaday.” He said again and gave her a little nudge on the rump with his foot.

Azriel took off charging toward her stall and disappeared within it. He followed the creature and closed the gate, locking her inside for the night.

“That was interesting.” She said. Hermione stood, covered in flecks of mud, her nipples standing erect despite it all.

“Yeah. Dragons can be odd little buggers.” He smiled. “I think we need to get you cleaned off too.” His smile twisted into an almost smirk.

“A shower?” she asked.

“I was just going to hose you down, but a shower wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Prefect’s Bathroom.” She smirked.

Charlie’s eyes flew open wide and he nearly began to choke on his words. “What?”

“No better water pressure than the Prefect’s Bathroom. It’s after midnight, the place should be deserted.” The idea seemed to blossom in her head before she had time to really think it over. “And the password is hellebore.”

Charlie said nothing as she sauntered toward him and wrapped her mud covered arms around him and pressed her lips to his. They embraced, her hips pressing against his, his hands traveling down her back. Her tongue dueled wildly against his.

“Forget the shower…” he muttered. His fingers tugged at her mud soaked jeans, trying to guide them down her body as they fumbled against each other, landing back against one of the wooden gates that penned in another dragon.

“Charlie…” she whimpered.

Boom! The gate shook with a mighty shudder and Hermione fell over, falling to the ground away from Charlie.

“What in bloody hell was that?” she panted.

“That’ll be Ches.” He rolled his eyes. “Tempermental bugger.” He gazed at the gate as it shook violently in its holster. “Prefect’s Bathroom, then.” He said as he offered her a hand.


A/N: Again thanks so much for reading! I do apologize for the crazy delay. Hope you guys enjoyed this and where its going! PLEASE leave me a review! Cheers!