Merciless Flirt

The previous night’s rain brought a chill to the air, but Hermione did not seem to mind it as she sat alone on the back porch swing. Molly had turned in early and even Arthur had headed up to bed after he’d given up fiddling with the muggle photographs that she’d helped him develop earlier that day. Despite the amount of rain, the grass had dried and was back to its scratchy dull yellow colour. She supposed one evening of heavy rain could not account for a full summer’s worth of dry heat.



She rocked the swing slowly, back and forth in the breeze, one bare toe touching the wood of the porch. Her eyes gazed out over the yard. All was quiet. Hermione had spent all day thinking over what he had said. It was a simple enough question, but what for? So that he could talk to her about the girl he was seeing? So that he could ask for her advice? So he could tell her that there was absolutely nothing between them and that for her to think otherwise was foolish?



At first she’d taken his question to heart. It was just dinner; perhaps he had changed his mind and wanted to see her instead of this other girl instead. And so she had waited. But when the clock moved to half-past seven, and Charlie had not appeared at the Burrow, Hermione began to have other thoughts.



By quarter past nine she had found herself on the back porch swing, thinking over, making sure she had heard him right. It had all happened so fast. But he had asked to take her to dinner, hadn’t he? It didn’t matter, if he had meant anything by it, surely he would have come by or sent word by now.



At twenty ‘til eleven she had given up hope. There was no point in waiting up any longer, Charlie wasn’t coming. The thought made her want to cry. All summer long she’d been back and forth with that boy. Flirting and finding herself in awkward situations that made her skin quiver and her blood boil all at the same time, and yet nothing had come of it. This brought her to the conclusion that if there actually were something between her and Charlie that by now something would have happened.



“Hullo,” he said.



Hermione was startled, jarred from her thoughts, and jumped up from the swing, nearly knocking herself over in the process. “You have got to stop doing that.” She said.



“Sorry,” Charlie muttered through a slight smile.



“What are you doing here so late?” she asked, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. The temperature had fell a little and so she had been sure to bring something warmer to sit out back with.



“Taking you to dinner.” He said. Hermione said nothing, and just gazed at him, wide-eyed and confused. “You said yesterday— well, I think you said yes…” he shook his head for a moment, clearing his mind of uncertainty. “Yes, you said yes, when I asked could I take you to dinner. So I’m here to take you to dinner. Well, to take dinner to you.” In his hand he held a large woven hamper and draped over his arm was an old checkered tablecloth. “So…?”



There it was again. That feeling; heart racing, blood thrumming loudly through her ears, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, and her mouth dry with no words on her lips. She hardly trusted herself to speak, but rather nodded her head and waited for Charlie to lead the way to wherever he intended to set up dinner.



Offering her his free hand, Charlie guided Hermione down off the back porch and across the lawn, over to a patch near a large willow tree. He splayed the tablecloth out and then gestured for her to have a seat. It was chilly out in the open, but Hermione could hardly feel the soft breeze, her thoughts too caught up in trying to control her racing heart.



“It’s not much,” he said, sitting down beside her, and placing the hamper in front of them. “Just some fruit, peanut butter and jam sandwiches, and some tarts I picked up from the bakery.”



“It’s fine,” she said in a hurry. Hermione blushed. “It sounds lovely.”



Charlie pulled a plate from the hamper and loaded it up with grapes, little slices of banana, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and a few pieces of fresh melon. Hermione took the plate from him and placed it between them. “Feeding an army?” she teased. It was the first light-hearted thing that had come to hear mouth, and if anymore tension fell upon their picnic she was sure they would both fall straight through the ground to the center of the earth.



“Well…” he turned his head away from her for a moment and reached into the hamper. “Maybe you won’t think so…” In his hand he held a little silver pot propped up on a tripod.



“Charlie, is that—”



“Thought this might be nice,” he smiled.



“Where on earth did you find one of those?”



“It isn’t hard when your dad is obsessed with all things muggle,” he winked. Charlie placed the fondue pot down on the tablecloth just between them and again reached into the hamper. “Some rich chocolate caramel, I think,” he said. There was a large hunk of uncut chocolate drizzled in caramel wrapped in some soft cloth in his hand. Unwrapping it all the way, Charlie placed it into the pot and then waved his wand at the base, lighting the fondue fire.



The sweet aroma of melting chocolate wafted to her nose. Hermione sighed deeply, breathing in the heady scent. “Dark chocolate…” she whispered and could not help the glow that came to her face. “I love dark chocolate…”



“I know.” It was Charlie’s turn to blush. It wasn’t a fact that was common knowledge, he’d pried about poking his mother and sister for information until finally Percy had said that he was certain she favoured dark. “Er, well, I thought— most girls do,” he added. Two long skewer rods emerged from the hamper and he handed one to Hermione. “Here,”



“You still have those peanut butter and jam sandwiches?” she asked.



Charlie looked down, his smile fading. Was she not pleased with the elaborate fondue concoction? He reached into the hamper and pulled out a small stack of sandwiches, handing them to her. Hermione smiled and unwrapped one. They had been cut into four little triangles, the best way, in her opinion, to cut sandwiches. She took her skewer and forced it right through the middle of one of the triangles and smiled. “Fondue sandwich,” she said.



His smile returned and a tiny chuckle escaped his lips. “Brilliant idea.” Mimicking her motions, Charlie skewered himself a sandwich triangle and dipped it into the fast melted chocolate. It drizzled and dripped all over, running down the skewer, absorbing into the bread, but when he tasted it he could hardly suppress a groan.



“Amazing, isn’t it?” she laughed and licked a tiny blob of chocolate from her fingers.



He nodded. “I never would have thought of it, that’s for sure,” he said.



“I used to do this as a kid, with my parents…”



“I see.” He said. The subject of Hermione’s parents was always a touchy one, and often a subject not discussed. It had been difficult for her to leave them behind, and even though she thought of Arthur and Molly as family, even calling them mum and pop, she could never replace her real parents. It was almost worse than if they had been killed, or so she thought at times. “Maybe some butter beer?” he offered, reaching into the hamper.



“Classy,” she smirked, and took a bottle from his hand. “Twist off, even better.” The top of the bottle flipped off and rolled across the tablecloth, disappearing somewhere into the grass. Hermione took a sip. It was warm and bubbly; it felt good soothing down her throat with the thick chocolate. Why had he gone through so much trouble. It didn’t matter, she was enjoying it.



With the sandwiches all dipped and eaten Hermione stabbed a large strawberry with her skewer and dipped it into the fondue. “Chocolate covered strawberries…” she giggled. Charlie stabbed his skewer with a banana piece and mixed it into the pot. When their skewers were withdrawn, neither could see the fruit, just a chocolate covered lump. They both giggled.



Her heart was racing once more. Charlie Weasley and chocolate fondue; she was going to have a heart attack. She watched; eyes glued to his lips as he drew the dribbling chocolate covered banana close to his mouth. In one slow swipe, he passed his tongue around the fruit, licking the chocolate off before sucking it into his mouth from the skewer.



Her fingers trembled and she almost dropped the skewer. Hermione closed her eyes, bringing her own chocolate covered fruit to her lips, unaware that she too was being watched with just as much fervor as she had watched him. The chocolate was rich on her tongue, just barely sweet, with the hint of caramel and the luscious juice of the strawberry ringing through as an after tone. She pulled the skewer slowly from her mouth and set it down beside the fondue pot.



“You’ve got a spot…just there…” he said.



Hermione froze. He was leaning toward her, his hand reaching slowly for her face. Her heart thudded so strongly against the inside of her chest that she was sure it was going to burst through leaving a gaping hole any minute. He cupped the side of her jaw ever so slightly and tilted her head toward him. “A drop of chocolate…just…” he whispered and slowly slid his lips against the corner of her mouth. “…here…”



Sprays of water squirted her face and Hermione shrieked, pulling back from his almost-kiss. Water was everywhere. But there had been no approach of thunder or a storm; just a sharp jagged hissing sound. “The bloody sprinklers!” Charlie cried.



Arthur, feeling the need to keep his lawn green in a way that appeased his obsession with all things muggle, had installed water sprinklers all across the backyard lawn, and timed them for midnight. Hermione was practically drenched, the chocolate in the fondue become water-downed.



She couldn’t stop the fit of laughter that rose out from her mouth. She stood up too late to avoid getting wet and faced Charlie who was still frantically trying to avoid getting sprayed. Her shawl was on the tablecloth, getting wet, and her dress was clinging to her, weighed down with water that was meant to quench the thirst of the lawn.



Hermione rushed to him and took his hands in her hands with a smile. It took him a moment before he realized that she was practically soaked. They stood there amidst the sprinklers gazing into each other’s eyes. Water droplets ran down her forehead and dripped off her nose. She was chuckling. Charlie’s eyes were wide, a goofy grin on his face.



“This is ridiculous,” he said, and pulled her closer to him.



A sprinkler that was pressed into the ground just between them shot up a particularly powerful blast of water, spraying both of them clear up from their stomachs to their cheeks. It was Charlie who pulled away first, but he did not release her hand. He tugged her through the onslaught of the sprinklers halfway across the lawn. Hermione had followed him willingly right up until he stopped at the edge of the pool and broke the grip he had on her hand.



“Are you mad?” she cried.



Charlie had crossed his arms over his chest and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. It stuck to his torso in spots where it was thoroughly wet, and it fell to the concrete around the edge of the pool with a squishy thud. “Well, I won’t have it weigh me down,” he chuckled and reached for his belt buckle. The leather was seemingly more difficult to undo from the wet belt loops but he managed to tug it free and stepped out of his trousers.



Hermione couldn’t help but blush. Charlie Weasley stood there wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs, with a red and gold dragon emblazoned on the front. Her only thought was thank heaven they weren’t white. His skin shone bright in the moonlight and the glistening drops of water that had soaked him reflected like pearls against his pectoral muscles. She was certain that her nipples were straining through her bra and the top she wore just from looking at him.



“Well?” he asked.



Hermione stood firmly rooted to the cement, unable to believe what she was seeing. Her body was tense, but that hardly described it. “I am not going swimming. It’s bloody freezing.”



“Oh, well.” He said and turned toward the pool. He spun around and lunged toward Hermione, grabbing both of her arms and he began to pull her toward the edge of the water.



“No!” Hermione cried, trying to struggle against him, but it was no use. Charlie was much stronger, and although her skin was slippery from the water, she was no match against him. “No! No! I don’t want to go swimming! It’s too cold!”



Charlie dragged her to the edge, despite her frantic thrashing about. With a chuckle he grabbed her around the middle and lifted her up. With Hermione in his arms, Charlie jumped into the pool.



The water was freezing. It surged all around her, tearing through her clothes, attacking her skin. Her lungs tightened. Normally she could hold her breath under water for quite some time, but this was like ice. A thousand little icicles assaulting every inch of her and Hermione struggled to break to the surface, only to be rushed there sooner than she had realized.



Hermione spit a mouthful of water into Charlie’s face as they broke the surface together. “You’re bonkers!” she cried, her teeth chattering. His arms wrapped around her, holding her afloat as he pushed toward the shallow end of the pool. With his feet touching the bottom, he stood easily, holding her close to him.



Her top clung to her body, but it did little to warm her. Goosebumps broke out all over her skin, and she shivered in his arms. It didn’t stop her heart from racing, though she was sure her blood had turned into metallic slush and was failing to heat her from the inside. She couldn’t see her own reflection but swore that her lips were turning blue. “Charlie!” she chattered.



He said nothing, gazing into her eyes for a moment. One hand slid around behind her head, pulling her closer, and the other held firm around her waist, pulling her body closer to his. Charlie pressed his lips against hers. There was no interruption, no sprinklers to spray them apart, no one screaming her name or calling her away. He kissed her lips, pressing his tongue against them until she parted them and allowed him to deepen the kiss.



Hermione was stunned; unable to move; unable think or breath. It was happening. That thing that had crossed her mind for months. That thing that had plagued her insides every time she saw him. It was actually happening. His lips were against hers and his tongue was moving in her mouth. She let her tongue slide timidly against his, wondering if perhaps this were a dream. But his hand tangling in her wet hair and his warm breath against her nose told her otherwise.



Their lips remained locked for several moments, her mouth moving against his, his tongue exploring hers. It was the moment she had been waiting for, everything she\'d thought it would be. The cheesy romantic swell of music echoed in her head and she felt herself going dizzy. It didn\'t matter that they were in a freezing cold pool in the backyard. All that mattered was that Charlie Weasley had finally kissed her. After several moments of the intense snog, she pulled back, panting and shivering at the same time, her eyes searching his, as if waiting for the bottom to drop out.



“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked.



“All summer?” she smiled. “Because that’s how long I’ve been wanting you to do it.”



Charlie pressed his lips to hers once more but this time she was eager to pull back. “What?” he asked.



“I’m freezing.”



“Yeah, should have saved falling into the pool for a warmer night, I suppose.” He released his arm from around her waist and Hermione fell into the water with a splash. She wasn’t as tall as he was, but she could still touch bottom, and quickly waded over to the ladder.



It was difficult to pull herself out of the water, not because she was heavy, but because her arms and legs were numbed from the cold, and her clothes were soaked through weighing her down. Hermione put one foot up and then the other and she blushed. “You’re not staring at my bum, are you?”



“In those jeans?” he teased and then gave her wet bum a playful smack. It sounded more like a splash but had just enough zing to be felt despite her body’s lack of sensation.



“Inside?” she asked as she stood on the cement and offered him a hand.



“Yes, I think.” He smiled and took her hand, trying to pull himself up the ladder as well. As soon as Hermione had a firm grip on him, she pushed hard on his hand and sent Charlie spiraling back into the cold water. A moment later, he resurfaced.



“That’s for pushing me into the pool,” she smirked and sauntered off toward the house.



A/N: Finally a kiss! So please- leave me a review! Thanks for those of you that have done so already!