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Charlie Weasley was beyond frustrated when he finally arrived at his cabin in the middle of the night. He was on vacation at last. It was the annual family reunion, which had bloody well started without him as he took three wrong Portkeys, made as many time zone changes, and dealt with bureaucrats and paper pushers at the customs office in Cardiff. It had taken all day to explain what each of his gifts for his nieces and nephews was thanks to them. Everything just to go to a beach resort in Wales.
Now, he was exhausted and not at all sleepy. Charlie chucked his bags and shoes into his ‘rustic’ cabin, noting it was far more posh than anything he had seen of late, intending to stretch his legs with a walk on the beach. He’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours, and he needed to truly unwind if he was to get any sleep.
His toes pushed through the sand, and the spray of the ocean kissed his skin. Charlie breathed deep and smiled. No hot, sweaty dragon patrol. No sticky pine tree nests. There was just the sea, and soon, a big, soft bed. In the morning, he’d be surrounded by his family. He could not wait.
Lost in his thoughts, Charlie didn’t realise how far he had wandered until he noticed that the soothing tide was overcome by sound of enthusiastic lovers. There was one private cabin a bit away from the rest of the little clusters. He assumed it was for the retreat’s owner, Draco Malfoy.
Charlie had heard he’d gone into real estate after finishing Hogwarts and stint at some university or other. How this year’s family reunion had managed to get one of the little clusters of cabins at a place like Malfoy’s he didn’t know, but he suspected Harry potter and his fame had something to do with it.
Pausing for a moment, Charlie took stock. He wasn’t ready to lay down yet, and there were no wards preventing him from walking through the tide closer to Malfoy’s place, so he kept on. Malfoy was unlikely to notice him, busy as he was, and the night was finally becoming enjoyable.
Besides, it had been a few months since Charlie had had his own enthusiastic lover. The sounds of those two were compelling, and Charlie had lost any prudishness he might once have had long ago.
Life on dragon reserves usually did that to the keepers.
Near the tide on the beach, there was a large, flat rock a fair bit away from the private cabin. Charlie hopped up on it, listening to the waves and to the moans of the woman.
He was not unaffected.
Stroking himself through his loose trousers, Charlie let himself go to the moment. The ocean air around and the familiar scents of home helped the tension uncoil from his body. The solitude of the moment made him feel completely free, especially to enjoy all of nature’s wonders.
As Charlie became more aroused, he turned his face away from the ocean and toward the light coming from just up the slight hill. He was glad he did: there were two figures framed in silhouette. One was tall, a man with brilliant white-blonde hair that caught the light from the doorway. He looked etched from the light, and he was lean and masculine.
Draco Malfoy had become quite a man.
The woman with him seemed to think so, too. Her silhouette was strung between Malfoy’s hips and something above her head. Charlie squinted. It was an outdoor shower, he thought. He’d seen one outside his cabin as well.
She braced herself with her arms above her head, arse and tits pressed into the night air. She was no waifish model, either. She curved, and Malfoy’s arms traced up and down her body like the greedy git he was known to be.
Malfoy reached up and gathered a mountain of curls from around her shoulders, holding her like that as he began fucking her faster. Their bodies were framed perfectly against the light, and Charlie felt like he could see every motion they made.
He reached beneath his waistband and gave a proper tug. Soon, Charlie was stroking in time with them. He watched the woman take a pounding, listening as their bodies came together again and again. Her grunts and moans spurred him on, and he watched her tits bounce and her legs shake from each thrust from Malfoy.
Her moans turned to loud hums, and Charlie hoped she was close to finishing. He watched as her thighs begin to tense and stretch as Malfoy reached for her breasts. When her nipples were in his fingers, she cried out, “Malfoy!”
She pushed back hard and fast as well, fucking Malfoy in return.
Charlie blinked, confused by the surname, until Malfoy reached up and pulled a vast swath away from her face. “Finish, Granger.”
In his chest, Charlie’s heart pounded. He watched her carefully, seeing now that that woman was his own sister-in-law. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself.
Then, Malfoy slapped the woman’s arse, finally pushing her into ecstasy. Malfoy’s voice sounded as he followed her into bliss. Charlie, too, finished, covering his hand in his own seed but keeping his mouth shut tight.
Soon, their voices faded but not until Malfoy let out a satisfied chuckle.
On the rock by the ocean, Charlie stared into the night sky, waiting until he was sure they were in the cabin before he cleaned himself up. Even then, he felt his world had shifted, and his thoughts were thick as treacle as he wandered back to his cabin and fell into bed.
The next day, Charlie slept through the morning and woke to the usual Weasley ruckus. Hearing his brothers and sister being nagged by his mum made him feel at home. There was the same laughter and chatter as he had grown up with, and he smiled and rubbed his eyes.
After a good stretch, a call to room service, and a shower, Charlie felt ready to face his day. He refused to believe Hermione ‘Granger’ Weasley was in a simple adulterous affair. She had always loved Ron, even when he was the worst git.
Charlie went to his parents first and chatted a minute after a hug for his dad and a kiss for his mum. They were sitting at vast picnic table. His mother had laid out every kind of food he could think of. Then, Charlie was sighted. A shout went up from the lot of them, he found himself under a heap of children, some soaking wet straight from the ocean.
He gave each kid their due, chasing a few of them into the water, delighted shrieks filling the air against his thunderous roar. Once the kids were taken care of, Charlie turned around to see Hermione smiling and waving at him. She was closing her book and beckoning him her way.
Charlie kept his smile as he approached. He really hoped she had an explanation. She stood to greet him, and he swept her into his arms for a great spin. Hermione laughed and kicked her feet.
“Charles Weasley! Stop or I’ll be sick!” He pretended to put her down, but just as her feet were about to touch, he gave her another whirl. She shrieked and laughed and hit him on the shoulder.
When she landed for certain, she plopped back down on her towel and braced herself with her hands at her sides. She was able to adjust her sunglasses and stick her tongue out at him after a moment.
“What time did you finally arrive, then?” she asked with a smile.
“Quite late,” he said and toed the fringe of her towel. “I was so wound up from it all I took a long walk up the beach that way.” Charlie gestured toward Malfoys cabin. When he turned back to Hermione, she wasn’t smiling anymore.
“I see,” she said.
Her body was frozen, a maximum tension appearing in her muscles as if her life was at risk.
“I found it all very… curious, bookworm.” Charlie could tell nothing about her with her sunglasses shielding her eyes.
“Just ‘curious’?”
Charlie crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You don’t last long in my line of work by going off half-cocked, Granger.”
She took a deep, shaky breath and patted her towel for him to sit. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure,” Charlie said as he sat, a touch of bitterness filtering in.
Hermione took her time putting her book in her beach bag, brushing sand from the towel, stretching her legs and bending them back up again. They watched the kids playing in the water.
Ron, Charlie’s youngest brother, was out a little way, snatching children who came too close and pitching them into the air. Some of the older kids were in the water, playing on magicked tides, and Ron would swim underwater and scoop them up before launching them.
He looked perfectly happy with his life, like a man who had no idea about his wife.
“Ronald isn’t in love with me anymore, Charlie. He still loves me, just isn’t in love,” Hermione finally blurted. She didn’t look at him. She stared out at the water, watching all the kids play.
Her lip didn’t quiver. Her voice didn’t crack. Not one tear filled her eye.
Charlie frowned. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out again. She turned to him and said, “After Rose… he… He told me after Rose was born. He loves being a dad – look at him – and he loves me, but not like before. We haven’t… had… erm. For years, we haven’t.”
“And I suppose Merlin left Hugo on your doorstep in a basket.”
Hermione smiled again, although it was a bit sad, he thought. “Healers. Muggles do it without sex quite a bit, actually.”
“You went to a healer to get pregnant?”
“We agreed Rose needed a sibling. And we had tried counselling and everything, but Ron just won’t fuck me.”
“So you turned to Malfoy?” Charlie whispered furiously.
Hermione groaned and dropped her head a bit before looking at him. “It’s complicated!”
It certainly had to be. Malfoys were known to be terrible Muggle-haters, and they and Weasleys had a long history of antipathy for so long, it was nearly a genetic condition. Charlie had never experienced a Malfoy personally. He had been away from most of everything save the actual winning of the war, but he knew that no Weasley should be fucking a Malfoy, no matter if he called her “Granger.” Charlie turned his hand, motioning for her to continue.
“Do you know Duaeflori?” Hermione asked. Her voice was… resolved, emotionless perhaps. She sounded as though she was about to read from her homework.
Charlie nodded. It was one of those archaic spells that triggered another spell. It was very old world stuff, the sort of thing no one ever thought of anymore. Only very old wizard lines would have a spellbook that even mentioned it.
Hermione sighed. “Peeves, in fifth year, at Valentine’s day, got a hold of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes “Scratch My Itch” Powder. He got all of the fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin students waiting in the hallway for Charms. It was chaos.”
“Bloody Peeves?”
She nodded. “Malfoy was pushing everyone out of his way, walking around with his eyes shut. He pushes me: I push him back. We look at each other. Then, snarling. Shoving. Grabbing. Snogging. Stop laughing, Charlie!”
He couldn’t, though. Enemies with benefits never had a better match. He could easily imagine the scene in the hall. Still, that didn’t explain it all.
“We fought it for three days. We weren’t the only ones who imprinted, but we did everything we could to avoid each other. The powder brought us together no matter what we did. Finally, I was in the Restricted Section; he was in the Restricted Section. Virginities lost.”
“Duaeflori. Not surprising from a Malfoy.”
“The Blacks, actually. Tonks told me. Now, I have to fuck him at least once every year and a day, because in some nanosphere of this planet we are married or something.”
All Charlie could respond was a grunt. He could imagine their resisting, her research, and his disgust. Each avoiding the other only to wind up on the same backward turnaround. It must have been maddening.
“Does Ron know?”
“Of course! I told him before we got married. I wouldn’t keep something like that from him. He knew about Duaeflori, knew I hated Malfoy, that I love him. It was fine the first couple of years. A quickie in a motel, and Malfoy and I were on our way. But when we started trying to have a family, I think Ron was worried Rose wouldn’t be his. Then she was born, and he… fell in love with being a dad. Look at him out there.” She finished with a raise of her hand to her daughter, who was riding Ron’s back like a surfboard. “He loves our family. That doesn’t mean he has to be in love with me. We aren’t kids anymore. People change I suppose.”
“And nobody knows.”
“It would hurt your parents so much, Charlie. And the family, and our kids. And then there’s the press. And Harry! No. This is better. It’s not so bad, really. I’m still married to my best friend, we just sleep in a bed so big we never ever touch.”
“And he knows you fuck Malfoy? And he’s okay with that?”
“Yes, he knows. And no, he’s not okay with that. No one is okay with my fucking Malfoy. I don’t want to fuck Malfoy. Malfoy doesn’t want to fuck me. He’s got his own wife, his own son to take care of.”
“That’s not how it sounded last night.” Charlie turned to look at her and saw heat rise in her cheeks. He let his eyes slip down her neck to her bosom. He couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t want to fuck her, whether it be a git like Malfoy or her own husband.
“It’s complicated, Charlie! I need Malfoy. I don’t fancy him, or think he’s the best man I’ve ever met. We share an unbreakable bond.” She paused and turned away from him. “Malfoy is a convenient solution to an inconvenient situation. A situation which may, in fact, have been facilitated by Malfoy to begin with, but no more so than Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.”
“Right,” Charlie mumbled as he pushed his toes into the sand.
“It is also possible, predictable even, that marrying the girl you went to war with in school isn’t a sound plan. What’s more, Ron just doesn’t seem interested in sex with anyone at all, particularly me.”
That he was hearing these things about his brother bothered Charlie, but not as much as it bothered him that a Malfoy was doing what a Weasley should.
“So he doesn’t care who you sleep with at all?”
“Well, not Harry. That’s the rule. Ron’s always been so envious of Harry; always thought Harry would steal me from him, or that we’d run off and leave him behind. It’s just one of those insecurities I have learned to live with. Apart from ‘not Harry,’ Ron doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want any sign or indication. It all has to be a secret.”
“I see.”
They sat in silence for a while. He could feel Hermione’s tension next to him. She must have been terrified that he would expose her. All of her hard work and sacrifices to make the family appear perfect would be for nothing. Her sighs deepened, and after a last sidelong look at him, Hermione reached into her bag and took out her book once more.
Charlie turned toward her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “It’s going to be all right, bookworm,” he whispered. Then, he got up and left her to her own devices, seeking out his favourites from his mother’s buffet.
After dinner, after all the kids’ goodnight stories and hugs and cuddles, after raucous joke telling and a swig of amber liquid with his siblings, Charlie excused himself to seek out the management.
He had heard one side of all of this, but what he knew was much, much more. This was the problem with Muggle-borns. They didn’t always know to think of the full, magical picture.
Hermione was a Weasley now, and her needs should be handled in house. Modernity didn’t change that, nor did her ignorance.
A Weasley bride should enjoy a Weasley bed. That was the nature of a clan, and Charlie would see to it that the commitments Ron had made were held true.
He had been working through all of this all afternoon. From her letters, he knew she was quite busy with her kids, their education, and her own career, as was Ron. It was a challenge for Charlie to reconcile this with what he had seen last night: a woman, naked to the night air, stretched and spread before Malfoy.
Charlie wanted to envelope all of what Hermione had become inside of the Weasley name.
It was late when he went to the front desk and politely requested that the clerk summon Mr. Malfoy, and that, yes, he would wait in his private office. It did not take too much time for Malfoy to appear, although he did appear a bit tousled, which seemed unusual.
“Ah, Mr. Weasley, how is it that I may help you?” Malfoy asked, coming in from a nearly seamless door in the woodwork. He seemed unsurprised to be summoned, a mask of neutrality carefully in place. He wasn’t falsely congenial, and he didn’t try to shake hands.
Charlie looked at him for a long moment, wondering what Hermione had been doing when her lover had been pulled away. “I wanted to compliment your resort, and thank you for the two flowers I found upon my arrival last night.”
Malfoy took a deep breath and smiled. “I was informed of the… clerical error. Are you here to ask for something to make up for the oversight?”
Charlie walked round to Malfoy’s side of the desk and leant against it, staring out the window to the ocean view. “I am, but it’s not what you think.”
Malfoy took a couple of steps toward Charlie, standing next to him and turning to look out the window as well. “I am ever so curious.”
“She’s a Weasley, and I want that understood. Your family isn’t the only one with old spells.”
Malfoy’s mouth turned down, and he turned his face to sneer at Charlie. “Are you claiming bond rights to her? I don’t think she’ll like that. She can be quite a tempest when there’s something she doesn’t like.”
“As if you know what she likes,” Charlie said, his voice turning aggressive much more quickly than he’d have liked. “It’s just an annual shag.”
“You misunderstand, Weasel. She’s my fucking flower. Where do you think she could turn when your loutish brother broke her heart, which I assure you he did? Harry Potter? Not with Ronald’s rampant insecurity. Ginny? Don’t make me laugh. There is one person in her world who is not a Weasley, who has an ounce of understanding for her, and that person is me.”
Charlie stood and stepped closer to Malfoy so they were nose to nose. “That world has changed, and I’m here to see that she gets her due.”
“And you as well?”
“If she’ll allow it.” Charlie looked deep into Malfoy’s eyes. Talking about Hermione like this and remembering the night before had him very aroused. “I’ll allow this to continue, but I want her to know the full scope.”
Charlie’s and Malfoy’s breaths fell in the same space for a moment, and then Malfoy turned his head, waved his wand, and once more the hidden door showed itself.
Without another word, Charlie followed Malfoy through, his heart racing.
When they arrived back at Malfoy’s cabin, Hermione was sprawled on a bench in front of a great window overlooking the ocean. She was wearing a gossamer negligee that made her look like Venus fresh from the sea.
She was looking through a wizarding art book. It was half-hearted which was obvious when she sat up as she heard the door. The sight stopped Charlie in his tracks.
Malfoy had preceded him through the door, announcing them to the room. “We have company, flower.”
Hermione twisted in a flash, shielding herself behind the over-sized book. “Charlie?” The colour had drained from her face, and she looked at him as though her whole world was over.
Charlie couldn’t answer. Now he had no trouble at all in seeing his bookworm as the sensuous, sexual creature he had witnessed last night. “Wow, Hermione."
By the liquor cabinet, Malfoy scoffed as he filled his glass.
Charlie couldn't be bothered. "What've you done? You look... Wow."
Hermione blushed, dropping her shoulders and ducking even further behind the book. "Draco knows some spells. He likes it when I'm pretty." Then she swallowed. "I like it when he makes me feel pretty. Charlie, what are you doing here?" She asked, desolation taking over her voice.
Charlie stepped forward, feeling all of her heartbreak. "I’m not here to catch you out, love.”
“He’s here to fuck you,” Malfoy added bitterly, snarling into his glass before knocking it back.
Charlie gave Malfoy an evil look but turned back to Hermione. “Hermione, it would dishonour my family if I didn’t offer you shelter. Ron has broken his marriage vow; I’m offering to mend it.”
She looked back, dumbfounded.
“You’re a Weasley, and you should be taken care of by family.”
She stared at him, her mouth open, and her brows turning down in confusion.
Charlie smiled again. He moved forward slowly, stepping her way with care and confidence. When he could reach it, he lifted the book from her lap. He tried to ignore all that it revealed and laid the book on the floor. “You may have married Ron, but you’re a Weasley bride. We are all accountable to his failings. Do you see?”
Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, who was finishing another glass of drink. Charlie turned, too. Malfoy’s neutral demeanour was gone. He gave Hermione a nod, rolling his eyes in apparent disgust. “Imagine it’s two hundred years ago and Ron got killed by a bear. One of his brothers would likely take responsibility of you.”
“Not 'likely'. We would. It’s in the marriage rites.”
At last, Hermione seemed to catch on. Her face was screwed up in distaste at such a hypothetical. “But Ron would be so embarrassed,” Hermione whispered and fidgeted with her wedding ring. “No one will understand.”
“I understand, Hermione. Malfoy, come here.” Charlie waited and watched Draco toss back a third drink before stalking to the bench. “I know Ron has not forbidden this, exactly. That is not enough. I want to allow it. I do allow it. Just show me what it is. Give me that.”
“I don’t understand,” Hermione declared. She turned to look at them, momentarily embarrassed by her state of undress, but soon she had other ideas to master. “You think you can just come in here and take my husband’s place?"
“If you want me to, I will.” Finally, Charlie let himself look fully at Hermione. “I can’t imagine what my brother is thinking. You’re a bloody goddess, Hermione. And I don’t mean to keep you from Draco; that’s what you need, but there are my family’s rites involved here. You’re a Weasley bride, Hermione.” Charlie moved to where she was standing. “We love you. We want you in our family. You don’t have to live like a stranger among us.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Hermione whispered, looking between the two men. Again, she turned back to Malfoy for help.
“He has first rights to you, flower. You don’t have to do anything, but I can’t stop him or you.” He looked at her for a long time, then Malfoy turned and stretched across the bench.
He was looking up at the ceiling, unwilling to look at either of them anymore. His voice was quiet but clear. “Taste him. Remember when Ronald first told you? Take back that day.”
Charlie watched as Hermione’s face turned from surprise to determination. Just as Charlie was about to ask, Hermione knelt in front of him, pulled his cock from his trousers, and wrapped her lips around it. His knees nearly buckled, and he put his hands in her hair to ground himself to the moment.
From across the room, Malfoy explained, “She was working so hard on their marriage, trying to give him everything. His rejection made her feel so inadequate.”
Hermione looked up at Charlie, uncertainty in her eyes. He swore under his breath and shook his head. She took that as a cue to keep going, and soon she was bobbing up and down on his prick as quick as she could. Broken grunts were falling from his mouth, and Charlie couldn’t help but thrust his hips in rhythm with her. When she became overwhelmed, Hermione pulled away from his cock and caught her breath, still tugging as her breath came back.
Then, as though she remembered where she was, she turned to look at Malfoy again. Charlie looked, as well, finding Malfoy stroking himself through his trousers. He was looking at Hermione, longing plain on his face. Hermione started to move to him, but stopped.
“Charlie?”
“Please go. You’re allowed. I want to see you with him.”
Charlie watched Hermione as she came to understand this idea. She took two steps to get up from the cabin floor and two more before she was on the bench with Malfoy. She pulled his cock out and soon was sucking him in a much practiced and gratifying way. Charlie moved toward the bench again, watching Hermione swallow Malfoy deeper and deeper and thinking about all Malfoy had said. Observing them made his cock drip. He didn’t want to stop them, but he had to have her mouth again. Stroking his hand down her back, Charlie whispered her name.
When she turned, she was met with Charlie’s erection. After a slight adjustment so she could kneel over Malfoy’s prick and still reach Charlie’s, she took him into her mouth once again. They spent a while at this. She moved between the two, taking gulping breaths when she could. Charlie would come close to the edge, and then she would switch again, giving him a chance to calm down. After the fourth round, when Charlie was almost too close to slipping over the edge into orgasm, he stopped and, pulled her up so she was standing again. “Hermione?”
Her face was flushed red, and she fought to catch her breath. “I feel alive again. Like a woman.”
“I bet her pussy is dripping. She hasn’t sucked cock like that since before she was married,” Malfoy whispered.
Hermione smiled, and Charlie smiled back.
“Should I see? Should I finger you then let Malfoy do it, too?”
“Yes!” Hermione turned and wiggled as she pulled the negligee over her head. She bent over until she was on her hands and knees on the bench, her naked body a bridge over Malfoy.
Charlie smoothed his hands over her arse and down her thighs. Her pussy was waiting for him, and it took no effort at all to slip his little finger inside. When he did, she pushed back, fucking herself on his digit.
“Do you like teasing two men, Hermione?” Malfoy asked. “Do you like having both of us please you?”
She moaned, turning toward Malfoy. Her mouth was on him, and she licked and sucked his torso.
Charlie had watched a shiver run down her spine at Malfoy’s words, and he slid his ring finger into her hot, wet hole. With his other hand, he held her hips still, taking control of the rhythm and angle.
Below them, Malfoy was stretching, extending to have Hermione suck as much of his skin as she could reach. Then he whispered, “So many rituals for one pussy, Granger.”
She moaned at his words, and Charlie flinched. He was pulled from the moment, Hermione’s maiden name jarring him. He slapped her arse with his free hand. “Weasley. Say it.”
She did, her body arching away from Malfoy’s. Hermione looked back at Charlie, trying to push her pussy down his fingers again.
Charlie held her still. “Again.”
Hermione blinked at him and licked her lips. “Charlie.”
It was so erotic, Charlie almost didn’t notice when fingers brushed against his. Malfoy had reached for her clit and was rubbing it quickly.
Malfoy’s voice was low, but he, too, suggested Hermione say her surname now. Charlie began moving his fingers again, pumping into her faster and faster. He watched Hermione’s lips purse to make the ‘w’, but then they were trembling, as were her hips and thighs.
Her orgasm came fast. Beneath her, Malfoy moved his hands to pull on her nipples.
Charlie couldn’t really see what Malfoy was doing, but it looked like he was milking one side and then the other, and soon Hermione was trembling around his hand, and he could feel her pussy squeezing around his fingers.
Her cries echoed around the cabin. It sounded far sweeter than it had just last night. Charlie wanted to make Hermione finish as often and as well as he could.
When she was through, Hermione moved to lay on top of Malfoy, her head resting on his shoulder and her mouth near his neck. Charlie was certain, now, that it was more than just a tumble every year. What a curious situation for these two to find themselves in. He cleared his throat. “I realise the next step was to allow Malfoy to finger you, Hermione, which I certainly do allow, but I think I’d rather see him eat your pussy. Shall I allow that?”
Hermione looked up at him and licked her lips. She looked like a little girl being offered her favourite candy.
“I want to hear him say it, first.”
Hermione frowned and looked down at Malfoy.
“I want to eat Granger’s pussy.” Malfoy started, sounding as if the warmth of the liquor he’d had earlier was in full force. “I want to eat Hermione Malfoy’s pussy.” He reached out, sliding a hand up her thigh. “I’m going to eat Hermione… Weasley’s pussy.” He moved her hips toward his face, but he also slid his body so that she was kneeling over him.
Hermione’s head fell back, and Charlie watched as they settled into yet another familiar rhythm.
“Lovely.” Charlie moved to trace his fingers down between Hermione’s breasts, and then up and over her nipple, her neck, and behind her ear.
As she began to roll her hips over Malfoy’s chin, Charlie stroked his hand over her hair.
“Will you let me bed you, Hermione? I would love to bury myself deep inside your delicious pussy, watch your breasts bounce as I drive into you.”
Her reply was a moan, spurred on by Malfoy’s thumb on her clit. She lifted her gaze to meet Charlie’s and watched him.
“Draco can watch and wait his turn. He brings you such pleasure; I have to allow him to have you in all ways.”
Hermione smiled and let Charlie pet her as she rode Malfoy’s mouth. Her body rolled, and her chin bobbed, but she never broke eye contact.
“Can I kiss you, Hermione? Don’t you want him to kiss you, too? Everything that brings you pleasure.” She licked her lips and she looked at his mouth. Her eyes shut slightly and her jaw dropped open as Malfoy began to fuck her with his tongue.
Charlie took this opportunity to press their mouths together, sliding the tip of his tongue between her lips.
Hermione jolted upright and began devouring him, wrapping her arms around his neck and grinding her hips down on Malfoy’s face. Charlie felt as though he was falling into her, until her body began to tremble again, and she broke the kiss to scream her release into the room.
Malfoy’s hands gripped Hermione’s arse, and Charlie watched as he lapped at her again and again, drinking of her like a man starved. Hermione still clung to Charlie’s neck, and her body trembled with every contact from Draco.
Charlie held her in his arms until Malfoy was finished, wriggling away from her body and licking his lips. “How informative.” Then, he traced his finger down Hermione’s hip, stood, and walked to a closed door. “Bring her.”
His curiosity piqued, Charlie scooped Hermione up, bending her over his shoulder, and followed Malfoy into what turned out to be the bedroom. “How so?” Charlie asked, before dropping Hermione in the middle of the bed.
She only bounced a little, but she shrieked a bit anyway.
“Since fifth year,” Malfoy said. “It has been very natural to be with her, for lack of a better word. Despite everything, it was as easy as breathing. When she was married, it still felt right, but constrained, as though we were confined by something invisible.”
“It wasn’t our imagination, after all,” Hermione said. She stretched her foot out, pointing her toes so she could reach beside Malfoy’s knee. “Each of your allowances, Charlie, has dissolved whatever constraints there were.
Charlie frowned. “What about your marriage? She’s not the only one out of bounds.”
Malfoy shrugged and caught Hermione’s ankle in his hand. “My marriage contracts are more careful, to say the least.”
A puff of air escaped Charlie at the thought, and he watched Malfoy kiss up Hermione’s legs. It occurred to him that, while their clothes were askew, he and Malfoy were still dressed in contrast to Hermione’s nudity. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it at the foot of the bed without any concern. Charlie looked between Hermione and Malfoy. They were at such ease with each other, one that was years in the making.
"Draco Malfoy," He said; his voice was soft but firm.
Malfoy's eyes snapped to his. They both knew the power of what Charlie was about to do. They had been passing Hermione's fidelity back and forth all night.
When this was over, Hermione would be secure on all sides. "I allow you." He reached out, touching the Malfoy's arm just below his shoulder. It was a grazing touch, but enough to cement the magic.
Malfoy took half a step back, yielding the place between Hermione's thighs to Charlie. She was on her back on the bed, now, staring up at them with wide eyes and an open mouth. Charlie thought back to her wedding, how she must have looked as Ron stripped her down.
With her calves in his hands, he pulled her until her hips hit his. He let them drop, bending over the bed. Then he removed his linen trousers and pants. Finally he bent over Hermione, bracing himself on one arm and teasing the other up her body. He stroked her cheek and pushed the hair back from her face.
“I allow you, Hermione.”
His name fell from her lips in a shaky whisper. Charlie pressed his lips into hers; his free hand pushed back down her torso and between her legs. He moved to stand, spreading her labia with two fingers. With no hesitation, he pushed deep into her.
Hermione’s back arched as he did, and Charlie started at a good pace. In the periphery, Charlie could see Malfoy stroking his cock. Hermione, though, only had eyes for him.
Charlie held her hips, fucking steadily and watching her body undulate as he did. He wouldn’t last long, such as the night was, but for now it was perfect. She was beautiful; her breasts and arms and body all curving for him.
He was lost in observance of her when he felt her pussy clench around his cock. Charlie’s rhythm stuttered, and that low dark chuckle he’d heard before from Malfoy curled into his ear.
“She has you now,” Malfoy said.
Charlie squeezed her hips, frowning when Hermione winked at him. Her body clenched around him again, spurring Charlie to go faster. Her voice filled the room as he did, and Charlie thought he wouldn’t be able to see her finish again before he came at last.
Luckily, or perhaps not, Malfoy reached over; his pale finger plucked at her clit. Hermione’s thighs began to tremble in Charlie’s hands, and they tumbled over the edge together. Their voices were out of sync, but it sounded right to him
He needed a moment to catch his breath. Charlie had closed his eyes at some point, and as he came back to reality, he saw Hermione before him. Her head was cradled in her arms, and she was smiling and licking her lips.
She didn’t look finished at all.
Charlie pulled away from her, grunting as their bodies came apart. Malfoy was near, a towel in each hand. Charlie accepted one from him, delighted in finding it, too, was soft and warm and wet for him to clean up with.
As he did, Malfoy stepped between Hermione’s thighs. He tended to her with a delicate touch, wiping away all of Charlie’s seed with great attention. Her pussy was dark pink, swollen with all of the licking, fingering, and fucking the night had offered.
When Malfoy was satisfied, he dropped the towel on the floor and reached up to the smallest part of Hermione’s waist. He helped her turn to her stomach, positioning her knees on the bed so that her opening was presented for him. It was the ideal height for Malfoy to just slide in, which he did.
He hummed and whispered, “Weasley.”
Charlie leaned against the foot of the bed and watched. They took their time building a rhythm. Malfoy’s hands played over her body, and her body rose as the pace increased. She went from writhing on the mattress with her arse offered up to having her thighs splayed wide, pushing herself back against Malfoy’s cock, and broken pleas for more falling from her mouth.
Her skin was glistening, and Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes away from her tits and arse. He kept from touching her, but only because he was fascinated by how sexual she had become in Malfoy’s care.
When they finally found climax, Malfoy’s was strangled in his throat, and Hermione’s sounded like she’d hit a glass ceiling. Charlie had lost count of how much she’d enjoyed herself that night, but he imagined she would be quite worn out.
Hermione’s body fell away from Malfoy’s, and although he cleaned himself up, he left Hermione as she was. She curled into a mass of feminine curves. Charlie thought she was might even be glowing.
He watched as Malfoy whispered in her ear. She wasn’t even half awake, though, and the two men agreed to let her sleep what few hours were left of the night.
Malfoy offered the spare room to Charlie, but he decided to return to his own cabin to recuperate on his own. He showed himself out, leaving Malfoy and Hermione alone in the cabin.
Charlie did not get a chance to be alone with Hermione again until the last full day of the reunion. He wasn't sure when she had crept back to her cottage the morning after, but she was up with Ron and the kids as though she'd been there all night.
Then, the four of them had gone out snorkelling as a group all day. After that, it was brothers-only dinner in town, and after that, different packs going off in different directions until the last full family dinner.
Hermione, Charlie noted, looked more relaxed each day and smiled at him shyly when she thought no one else was looking.
The last day was also when Malfoy appeared with a photographer, and Ron, grumbling, explained that Malfoy had cut them a deal on the week's stay for a little publicity work. They spent a couple hours in the late afternoon taking ‘candid’ photos.
Apart from grumbling about Malfoy, Ron seemed to enjoy the attention and made certain the kids looked good for the camera. Harry had grown into his fame, and, while he seemed abashed by it, smiled willingly enough.
Nothing suspicious transpired between Hermione and Malfoy during the event. The only sign to Charlie of anything was a waggled eyebrow between Hermione and himself at the close. Then, she encouraged the kids to go out on the boat with their dad, cousins, and Harry one more time before they left.
Once they were pulling away from the land, Hermione turned to Charlie and smiled. She gave a look around to see if the others were paying attention before saying, “Thank you for the other night, Charlie."
Charlie felt dizzy, as if he were thirteen again. He cleared his throat and said, “You and Malfoy certainly have an arrangement.”
She still smiled at him, but now she was blushing as well. “So it seems. But, I meant with you... I mean, erm...” Without moving her face away from him, Hermione’s eyes flitted around the beach. She looked so mischievous. “I really like being a Weasley, Charlie, you know?”
His heart stuttered a moment. Hermione was wearing a knock-out red sundress over her bikini. She was rather timid in her bathing costume at the beginning of the week, but Charlie had watched her relax into that as well. It was just one more way in which he still couldn’t see why Ron didn’t want her.
“I love that you are,” he whispered back. He felt like he could stand there all night and be a bumbling fool with his sister-in-law, but he knew that soon there would be dinner and everything else. “Unfortunate that I only get to come in once a year.”
“There’s always Christmas. You’re always welcome at ours, and it’s… hard to be away from the ones you love.”
“I’d be keen on that. You know how my mum can be.”
They shared a last private smile before turning back to where the Weasley matron was getting ready for one last feast. Charlie didn’t think Hermione had been talking about lost family members. It occurred to him that Hermione and Malfoy had done a fair bit of sacrificing in their own relationship to make it work in other arenas. It made him sad and relieved at the same time. That would be his lot as well, now.