Private Stock

Title: Private Stock
Author: scifichick774
Rating: MA
Word Count: 2897
Category: Fluff/PWP
Pairing: Hermione/Charlie
Spoilers: through HBP.
Summary: Charlie tries out one Fred and George’s products without realizing it’s still experimental.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR, I’m just borrowing them.

~*~

He was skeptical, to say the least. Sure, his younger brothers’ products had been widely touted as ingenious, but…well, the sources of said reviews were a bit sketchy, weren’t they? Teenagers whose hormone levels were already so high that they shouldn’t have needed the Patented Daydream Charms in the first place didn’t exactly sell the product in his eyes.

Then again, what choice did he have? He hadn’t been able to…uh…function properly for weeks now, and Fred and George swore that this little gem from their private stock was just the thing.

Charlie imagined that ‘private stock’ was just a code term used for ‘adult entertainment’, since their mum had chosen that most inopportune moment to walk into the kitchen where they were having their discussion, but one could never tell with the twins.

Which didn’t make him feel any better about trying the product out, now did it?

He sighed and flopped down onto his bed, shooting a menacing glare at the box before deciding to rip into it.

Fred and George might lean toward the disreputable side, but he really didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He fancied a woman, and since it was more significant than just an unrequited crush on his part, the stress over it had ensured that he had no sex fantasies, no wanking in the shower, no nothing for almost a month. If there was even a chance his younger brothers’ daydream charm could help, then he had to try it.

He sighed again and followed the instructions on the piece of parchment inside the bulkier than necessary packaging; muttering the incantation only after he was sure he was in a comfortable enough position on the bed.

And then rolled his eyes as fog effects started to slide into his field of vision. It was almost disappointing that his brothers had resorted to such a cheap ploy, but at the same time, he couldn’t think of a better way to inform the user that they hadn’t just started hallucinating instead of dreaming, so he supposed it worked.

Hrm. Well.

This was interesting.

He appeared to be in a dungeon of some kind; though it was cleaner and smelled considerably better than any of the ones he’d been unfortunate enough to step foot in during the war.

Charlie shook his head and continued walking forward. It really was an impressive piece of magic, he mused as he noticed the detailing in the old stone walls and the dankness that only dungeons can possess. The whole thing felt much more substantial than the majority of his own dreams.

The attire left something to be desired though.

Gods. Wizards hadn’t been decked out in costumes like this since the Four Founders’ time – and even then, it was only to blend in with the Muggles.

“She’s ready for you, m’lord.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow at the man – the guard – who seemed to appear out of nowhere after he’d turned the corner.

Either that, or he’d been there all along and he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the dream.

Both were plausible explanations.

“She…pardon my saying so, but she was actin’ like she was possessed. My men had to knock her out and bind her, so fearin’ of their lives were they.”

The words that slipped off Charlie’s tongue in response were odd feeling since they weren’t his own but part of a script instead, and he struggled to get into character so he could make the most out of the experience.

“She regards our new marriage with a poor eye, I’m afraid. She yearned for another and her parents, as was their right, overruled her.”

Fred and George apparently hadn’t programmed the guard to have a retort to that, so the man simply nodded, unlatched the large wooden bolt that was slung across the door of the cell, and then stepped aside.

His wife – his prisoner – was still unconscious when Charlie entered the room that held her.

He swallowed thickly upon recognition.

Hermione.

Great Merlin.

Not that he was opposed to her playing the heroine in this sordid little tale the twins had concocted, but if this was leading where he thought it was, then the two of them were going to have a bloody lot to answer for.

At least they were considerate enough to give her a bed – and a roomy one at that – rather than let her imaginary self sleep on the stone floor. That was something, he supposed. Though, he suspected that was more for his comfort than for hers.

Seeing as how she wouldn’t care since she was just a figment of his imagination.

Ugh!

Very impressive magic. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let himself believe it.

She stirred and the long chain that bound her ankle to a metal hook in the floor rattled with the action. Her hair, however, remained splayed out over the pillows, and her head softly leaned to one side; a perfectly posed, totally unrealistic version of the witch he had been mooning over from afar.

Fred and George weren’t just going to have a lot to answer for; they were going to get an earful as well.

And perhaps a taste of being on the receiving end of his wand.

Prats.

Hermione’s eyes slowly slid open and then blinked a couple of times in rapid succession as she took in her surroundings; and when her gaze finally came to rest on him, Charlie swallowed again.

They’d gotten her eyes down pat.

Swirled chocolate and caramel, with flickering specks of amber that lit up when she was angry…

Oh.

That must mean she was angry now, then.

“Charlie.”

He let out a breath of relief. However perturbed she sounded, at least she’d called him by his nickname and not his given name. It would have been just like the twins, or his imagination, or whatever was in charge of this dream, to have her call him Charles – and that would have put an end to his burgeoning erection straight away.

“Would you care to explain why I appear to be chained up in a dungeon?”

“So I can have my wicked way with you?” he replied in the smarmiest voice he thought he’d ever heard come out of his mouth; and then inwardly cursed his brothers once again, this time for coming up with such rubbish for dialogue.

Alright, so things needed to move along at an accelerated rate because the charm was only supposed to last for a half-hour – he got that, he did – but…

That was the best they could come up with? Seriously?

“Very funny. Now let me go.”

He stalked toward the bed with the slow, steady pace that a predator reserves solely for hunting prey, and smirked when he saw the first glimpse of uncertainty flit across her face.

“I think not,” he said, and lowered his hands to the bed to begin the process of closing the space between them.

“Charlie…”

“You tried to leave me.” And suddenly he noticed that his mood matched his tone – upset, jealous, and vengeful. “By law, I could claim your head for such treachery.”

He hovered over her and stroked the back of his hand down her cheek and neck, then placed his lips against her skin to follow the same trail.

“But…I have a different punishment in mind.”

She stiffened under his touch and while he could distantly feel the pleasure his alter ego took in her fear, the only thing Charlie could think was what a low opinion his brothers must have of him.

He might be used to the slurs and ignorant, idiotic assumptions from others due to his chosen profession, but members of his family should know better. Working with dragons required muscles, certainly, but it also demanded a fair amount of quick thinking from an intelligent mind.

That Fred and George had overlooked that and cast him in a very shallow, caveman-like role was nothing less than insulting.

Not to mention that he would never treat Hermione like that.

He knew from observation that the whole dominance act tended to get really old, really fast, for both parties involved; and even if Hermione was willing to indulge in a little of it as sex play, he had no doubts that she would hex the bollocks off of any bloke who dared try it for real.

The soft press of her hand onto his shoulder jerked him from his thoughts, but at the same time, made it that much harder to think in general.

“Charlie? Are you alright? We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind.”

Uh…what?

He frowned and shook his head, then balanced on his left elbow, letting his right hand drift over her tempting curves before settling on her waist.

It was a game, he realized abruptly. His brothers had thrown him into a scenario that masqueraded as one thing, but was actually something else entirely.

There were no words to describe how very clever he thought they were at that moment, or how much he wanted to wring their necks for being so.

“No. No, I…I’m okay.”

Hermione grinned and lifted her head up off the pillow just enough to kiss him. It was reasonably chaste and ended far too soon for his liking, but it was difficult to protest when he saw her try to get back into character and she continued on where they’d left off; her voice a breathy purr that he now knew was just for show.

“What are you going to do?”

Good question. Excellent, really.

Even with the chain, she had a lot of freedom for movement; and while he briefly contemplated putting restrictions on that in the form of spreading her limps across the bed and anchoring them to the posts, right now there was something else he had in mind; something his cock twitched at the very thought of.

Because it had been entirely too long since it had done that, he decided to follow through on what would hopefully keep it up until he was able to find the released he so desperately craved.

His fingers dug into her side in a silent gesture for her to rise, and he half pulled her with him as he moved to sit himself.

“Across my lap,” he said roughly.

“I beg your pardon?”

Still the same brave yet skittish voice she’d used from the beginning, he was pleased to hear. She knew exactly what he desired, and precisely how her character would react to the request.

Circe, she’d be the death of him.

“I want you across my lap with your pretty little arse in the air. I dare say you shan’t ever entertain the idea of leaving me again if you find yourself too pained to ride a steed to do so.”

She whimpered low in her throat, but expediently rose and adjusted her position accordingly, belaying the real reason for the noise: excitement.

He pushed the long ivory bed dress she wore up over her thighs, over her rear, and let the material pool in the direction of her breasts as he stared down at her bare posterior with a little too much admiration.

He knew from an incident during the war when he’d accidentally stumbled across her bathing in a lake that Fred and George had gotten it right too. The question arose as to how they’d done it without her consent – for surely she hadn’t given it to them – but he forced himself to set aside his suspicions and concentrate on the matter at hand.

Literally.

His right hand lifted and then, with swift precision, swept in a downward arc to mark her lovely flesh with a stinging slap. She cried out, but he was no longer in possession of mercy; not after he’d caught the anticipatory note in her wordless wail.

He brought his hand down again, sending tingles shooting through his palm and fingers, while the greater part of the blood in his veins rushed to a different part of his anatomy altogether.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Soon her cries held a pleading quality he couldn’t ignore, and the sight of the dark rosy stains he’d left on her arse only served to reinforce the urgency of both their needs.

What happened next really was only possible in a dream, but by this time, it hardly mattered. With a deft push of his left arm, he managed to nudge her off his lap, but somehow keep her in a similar submissive position as she’d been in as he moved to his knees behind her.

The laces on his tights-like trousers fell loose at the gentlest tug of the knot, and with their slack came his erection’s emancipation.

One hand dug into her hips as he aligned himself with the glistening wet center between her thighs, and the other bruised the opposite side of her body after he finally thrust forward and sank home.

Fred and George’s dialogue had been pathetic at best up until then, but the slew of profanities that hissed off his tongue now made up for it.

She was tight, and slick, and hot, and his crass language, crude as it might have been in any other context, almost poetically expressed how it felt to be inside her.

He didn’t last long – couldn’t after so many weeks had passed for him without the grace of release – but he hadn’t left a woman unfulfilled since his fumbling teenaged years, and out of habit, his fingers sought out the button nestled beneath her wiry curls.

He rubbed in circles and stroked, still pumping in and out of her with his hardness, and only when she started to tremble did he allow her to collapse under his weight and the strength of her orgasm; his own body following her along to lie listlessly, partially draped across her.

To his great surprise, she rolled over to kiss him. Her lips were soft and pliant, and as they parted to let her tongue come into play, all thoughts he had of hexing his brothers went out the window.

He nuzzled his face against her neck, basking in the dream for as long as it would hold; which, if his inner clock was right, wouldn’t be much longer.

“You’re not mad?” she asked.

He blinked, but didn’t stop planting kisses along the column of her neck. “‘Bout?”

Surely there couldn’t be much more to the barely-there storyline, he thought. The charm’s time was almost up and…well. They’d already covered the most important part, hadn’t they?

“Erm…Charlie,” Hermione began hesitantly; enough so that Charlie’s stomach knotted with suspicious worry. “Fred and George did tell you this was an experimental charm, didn’t they?”

He pulled back, stared at her, and waited a second before speaking as he mulled that over. “Not…exactly.” Or at all. Though, he’d guessed as much from the ‘private stock’ comment. “Experimental how?”

She blushed and he thought the pink hue that colored her skin wasn’t just adorable; it was lovely.

“Maybe you should talk to them…” She moved as if she was going to push herself up, but he was stronger, and his hand on her waist kept her pinned down. Stuck, Hermione sighed. “Shared dreaming inside a preset construct. I am sorry, Charlie. They were supposed to ask, to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

He realized with a start that he was gaping at her and rapidly closed his mouth to remedy the situation. “So you’re…real?”

Bugger it all! Why did his voice have to squeak on that last word?!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“My consciousness is, yes – just like you.”

“And I…you…I mean…we…we just…?”

Hermione flushed again and she looked away. “They were supposed to tell you,” she practically whispered. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it if I knew they hadn’t.”

Charlie frowned. Personally, he couldn’t see how his knowing ahead of time would have made a difference, unless…oh.

His mouth twitched and the corners of his lips quirked upward.

“You like me?”

She glared at him, but there was no malice in it; only truth.

His grin broadened to a smile.

And then he kissed her.

Although she was clearly startled, she returned it after a moment; and he chose the second after to pull back enough to speak, dragging her lower lip with him as he parted. “So.”

She grinned; it was a slight tip of her lips, but it was there. “Yes?” she replied, her breathing just as heavy as his was.

“The charm’s going to be ending soon, yeah?”

“I imagine.”

“You want to…?”

Her smile blossomed, and if possible, made him feel like more of a love-struck idiot than he had already. “Alright. You come to my place, though. Portkey travel makes me queasy.”

He laughed at that, but silently agreed it was a good idea for different reasons. Being on the Reserve, he could get faster access to an international Portkey than she could if she went through filing all the paperwork at the Ministry – and he definitely wanted to see her as quickly as possible.

Besides, if he was in England, he could have a word or two with Fred and George afterward. And though he’d vacillated on what to say, he now knew exactly what those words were going to be.


~end~