100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,617
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,617
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Strangers
Title: Strangers
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, PWP
Warnings: M/F, smatterings of DH-E
Summary: #25 – Strangers. Can strangers become friends?
Word Count: 733 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by elawvu3 and whitestar_alpha.
Prompt 25 – Strangers
She thought him to be a complete stranger; Ron’s older brother, the one who worked with dragons in Romania. They had never really talked much, only acknowledging each other at Weasley family functions or at Order meetings years before. But as his rough fingers of his right hand pinched her nipple and his calloused left fingers rasped against her clit, causing her to moan into the shaggy locks of his ginger hair, Hermione Granger wondered why she had not acquainted herself with Charlie Weasley sooner.
In the grass on backside of the garden hedge, Charlie Weasley had pulled open her clothes, like plucking off petals of a tulip. All through the Weasley family meal, celebrating Harry’s thirtieth birthday, Hermione had caught Charlie staring at her. From one end to the table to the other, his cool gaze made the hairs on the back of her arms stand. Ron, now her ex-husband, did not seem to notice the exchange. Ron was still a friend, but as always, he was clueless to the fact that his brother was staring blatantly at his ex-wife. Charlie’s gaze shifted from cool to hot, and Hermione blushed as she realized he was staring at the cleft between her breasts, the low neckline of her dress a bit inappropriate for a family gathering.
After the cake had been cut, the appropriate song sang, the family ate and talked until the sunset as enchanted bluebell lights lit the garden. When the gibbous slivered moon began to climb the clear late July sky, the family began retiring for the night. Ron had left early, Apparating back to his flat that he shared with Dean Thomas in Chudley. Harry and Ginny had returned to Islington, George to Diagon Alley with Angelina, Bill, Fleur and the children to Cornwall, Percy and Audrey to Essex, Molly and Arthur into the Burrow…leaving Hermione and Charlie alone in the garden.
They did not speak, but moved to the edge of the garden where the night was deeper…and soon were in the grass behind the garden hedge, hands searching, mouths tasting.
They had been strangers…even when Charlie had danced with her at her wedding. She remembered how his large hands had molded around her waist, how his blue eyes seemed to be lit by some internal furnace. They had been strangers who could spark something primal and base whenever they touched.
Charlie suckled at her breasts as her hands opened the button of his fly to his old denims. Pushing at the waist back, the peel of a zipper freed his cock, hard and heavy, slapping into her lower belly.
Hermione moaned as Charlie shifted to his knees, his mouth lifting from her breast. With a shrug, he tossed his tee shirt aside so that it was caught in the trimmed hedge. The blue light from the garden and the dim moonlight cast Charlie’s skin in a silver light, accentuating the various burn scars and rippled muscles of his chest…
Ron could only dream to look so delicious…she thought. Pushing his jeans down to his knees, Hermione sighed at the sight of Charlie’s thick cock, and the pearl of pre-cum on the tip.
Strangers…that was what they were, but Hermione wondered why Charlie seemed to know how to move against her, where to touch…
When he entered her, her legs wrapping about her waist, she stifled a cry. No one knew they were still in the garden, and it seemed best that no one ever knew.
Charlie’s thrusts were powerfully hard, but Hermione did not mind. The way he had stared at her, what his gaze conveyed, she knew that he had been restraining himself from taking her atop the birthday cake Molly had made for Harry. His blue-eyed gaze had been foreplay enough.
Hermione’s fingernails raked down Charlie’s scarred back, and he grunted. Clinging to her, Hermione reveled in the fact that he held her as if afraid to let her go…even though they were little more than strangers, she felt safe in his thick arms. His body felt divine, a combination of hard muscle and gentle hands, scars and ginger hair, blue eyes and thick cock.
“Charlie!” she gasped, head thrown back, eyes slamming shut, toes curling…
He kissed her between pants, his lips cool against her heated flesh.
Strangers no longer, Hermione wondered with a faint smirk on her lips, if they could be friends.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, PWP
Warnings: M/F, smatterings of DH-E
Summary: #25 – Strangers. Can strangers become friends?
Word Count: 733 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by elawvu3 and whitestar_alpha.
Prompt 25 – Strangers
She thought him to be a complete stranger; Ron’s older brother, the one who worked with dragons in Romania. They had never really talked much, only acknowledging each other at Weasley family functions or at Order meetings years before. But as his rough fingers of his right hand pinched her nipple and his calloused left fingers rasped against her clit, causing her to moan into the shaggy locks of his ginger hair, Hermione Granger wondered why she had not acquainted herself with Charlie Weasley sooner.
In the grass on backside of the garden hedge, Charlie Weasley had pulled open her clothes, like plucking off petals of a tulip. All through the Weasley family meal, celebrating Harry’s thirtieth birthday, Hermione had caught Charlie staring at her. From one end to the table to the other, his cool gaze made the hairs on the back of her arms stand. Ron, now her ex-husband, did not seem to notice the exchange. Ron was still a friend, but as always, he was clueless to the fact that his brother was staring blatantly at his ex-wife. Charlie’s gaze shifted from cool to hot, and Hermione blushed as she realized he was staring at the cleft between her breasts, the low neckline of her dress a bit inappropriate for a family gathering.
After the cake had been cut, the appropriate song sang, the family ate and talked until the sunset as enchanted bluebell lights lit the garden. When the gibbous slivered moon began to climb the clear late July sky, the family began retiring for the night. Ron had left early, Apparating back to his flat that he shared with Dean Thomas in Chudley. Harry and Ginny had returned to Islington, George to Diagon Alley with Angelina, Bill, Fleur and the children to Cornwall, Percy and Audrey to Essex, Molly and Arthur into the Burrow…leaving Hermione and Charlie alone in the garden.
They did not speak, but moved to the edge of the garden where the night was deeper…and soon were in the grass behind the garden hedge, hands searching, mouths tasting.
They had been strangers…even when Charlie had danced with her at her wedding. She remembered how his large hands had molded around her waist, how his blue eyes seemed to be lit by some internal furnace. They had been strangers who could spark something primal and base whenever they touched.
Charlie suckled at her breasts as her hands opened the button of his fly to his old denims. Pushing at the waist back, the peel of a zipper freed his cock, hard and heavy, slapping into her lower belly.
Hermione moaned as Charlie shifted to his knees, his mouth lifting from her breast. With a shrug, he tossed his tee shirt aside so that it was caught in the trimmed hedge. The blue light from the garden and the dim moonlight cast Charlie’s skin in a silver light, accentuating the various burn scars and rippled muscles of his chest…
Ron could only dream to look so delicious…she thought. Pushing his jeans down to his knees, Hermione sighed at the sight of Charlie’s thick cock, and the pearl of pre-cum on the tip.
Strangers…that was what they were, but Hermione wondered why Charlie seemed to know how to move against her, where to touch…
When he entered her, her legs wrapping about her waist, she stifled a cry. No one knew they were still in the garden, and it seemed best that no one ever knew.
Charlie’s thrusts were powerfully hard, but Hermione did not mind. The way he had stared at her, what his gaze conveyed, she knew that he had been restraining himself from taking her atop the birthday cake Molly had made for Harry. His blue-eyed gaze had been foreplay enough.
Hermione’s fingernails raked down Charlie’s scarred back, and he grunted. Clinging to her, Hermione reveled in the fact that he held her as if afraid to let her go…even though they were little more than strangers, she felt safe in his thick arms. His body felt divine, a combination of hard muscle and gentle hands, scars and ginger hair, blue eyes and thick cock.
“Charlie!” she gasped, head thrown back, eyes slamming shut, toes curling…
He kissed her between pants, his lips cool against her heated flesh.
Strangers no longer, Hermione wondered with a faint smirk on her lips, if they could be friends.