Harry Potter Somewhere In Romania

_**Authors Note:**__ This is for __**thekeeperoftime**__, you are completely awesome and I probably don't thank you nearly as often as I should! Thanks to __**angelically-devilish**__ for the inspiration.

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Somewhere In Romania

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Deep in the perpetually snow-capped Romanian Mountains; nestled in a clearing surrounded by an almost impenetrable wall of trees, a seemingly-small tent was pitched.

To the average hiker it would have seemed abandoned; with no fire burning, no line of clothes drying or any other sign that four people had been living there for quite some time.

Even the earlier shouting, which would surely have reached the small village below, had gone unheard, as if by magic.

It was also the work of unexplainable forces that Charlie Weasley had yet to be hit by the multiple flying objects being flung around inside the magically-enhanced tent. He ducked again as his younger brother's on-again, off-again girlfriend took out her frustrations on anything that wasn't tied down.

"You know he didn't mean it like that," Charlie cajoled, his hands held in front of him as if being approached by a fire-breathing dragon. He took another step back toward the tent flap, preparing to escape if necessary.

"Oh please, don't patronise me!" Hermione growled, now digging around in the tiny sequined purse she never seemed to put down, flinging an assortment of things out in her search for something. Charlie was glad she had stopped throwing things in his general direction.

"Maybe he just… said it wrong," even to his own ears those words sounded hard to believe.

His brother was a git; there was no other way to say it. To continually underestimate such a clearly intelligent witch was fool's play, but everyday he watched his brother put his foot in it time and time again. This time, however, he may have gone too far.

The war that had bought the wizarding world to its knees was over. Friends and family had been lost; lives had been destroyed. But the threat that had been building for over thirty years was now well and truly gone. Most of it was due to the three companions who were currently in hiding from the world wide frenzy that had ensued after such a climatic end to a terrifying era.

The Ministry – fearing what would happen to the three teens, whether it be retaliation from rogue Death Eaters or a crazed fan wanting a leg as a souvenir – had sent them into hiding almost immediately and somehow, they had ended up in Romania. Charlie, idle from his job as the Dragon's he helped keep went into hibernation, had been appointed their guardian.

"Does he honestly think that? After all this time spent with me, does he really think I will settle for that kind of life?" she asked manically, turning from her purse to stare at him.

Charlie opened his mouth to attempt a reply, but was cut off by her continual rant. "I mean, one day, maybe. _If_ we have children, then maybe. God's who knows if I even want them, what right does he have to assume?" she ran a hand through her already wild hair, "How can he, after all this time with me, think that I could live like that?"

"He's just excited about having a future at all," Charlie tried to soothe, knowing that wasn't what his brother had meant when he had suggested settling down in the next six months in a nice cottage near the Burrow and having kids. Hermione's explosion had been more out of shock, but as usual Ron's temper had flared.

Ron wanted to get married and start a family; Hermione wanted to finish her education and get a job. Ron wanted her to be just like his mother; Hermione was already the exact opposite of Molly Weasley and would never be content staying at home. Ron had ended the argument by claiming Hermione was too high spirited and needed to act more like a 'normal' witch. It was all Harry could do to drag Ron from the tent before they ended up hexing each other…again.

"Aren't we all? We're alive, can't he be happy with that?" she replied, messing her hair in the opposite direction and sitting heavily on the lower bunk, her belongings now scattered around her feet like discarded toys.

"This is Ron we are talking about. Give him an inch and he will take a mile," Charlie said, approaching the bed slowly, careful not to step on anything before sitting down beside her.

"I gave him an inch, and now he expects me to just lie naked in bed and be happy about it." Her tone was that of disappointment, as if she had expected more from Ron.

Charlie was trying very hard to banish thoughts of Hermione lying naked anywhere. The image was one he had thought many times but kept to himself; lusting after his brothers girlfriend wasn't his idea of a good thing - no matter how beautiful, intelligent and desirable said girlfriend happened to be.

"You know," Hermione continued after a moment of silence, "sometimes I wish Ron was more like you."

"How so?" he asked, completely taken back by her statement.

"If it weren't for the red hair, freckles and insatiable appetite I would almost say you two weren't related. Compared to Ron you are so calm and rational about things. Ron just jumps to conclusions and makes assumptions, yet I have never once seen you lose your temper. It's… refreshing," she finished, blushing slightly as she picked at the blanket beneath them.

"He does have a tendency to fly off the handle. He doesn't appreciate you Hermione; the fact that he wants you to change despite everything is evidence of that." Charlie said quietly, a small twinge of guilt niggling at him for not fighting to keep Ron and Hermione together. He didn't normally like to interfere in other peoples business, but he was sick of seeing her so miserable and his brother so oblivious to the damage he continually caused.

"You really think so?" she asked in a small voice, looking up through her curtain of hair.

"He doesn't deserve you," Charlie replied, watching her face flush all over again.

Despite his best intentions he suddenly became aware of their close proximity. He bought his hand up to brush the hair from her face and she captured it with her own small palm against her cheek. He began to lean forward, head tilting and eyes becoming heavy when the sounds of loud crashing outside the tent alerted them to company.

Charlie jumped back as if burned and Hermione's face turned from a becoming pink to a pale white as realization that she had almost kissed him dawned on her. They both drew their wands at the same time the tent flap began to peel back.

Ron stormed in, red-faced and dishevelled. Harry wasn't far behind; looking tired and more than a little stressed out. Ron stormed over to his side of the tent where his belongings lay strewn from one end of his bed to the other. He began angrily packing and Harry turned to Charlie and Hermione, shrugging apologetically before moving to collect his own things.

"And where do you two think you're going?" Charlie asked, realizing that he was about to fail his mission for the Order by letting two of his wards run away.

Ron finished packing, refusing to make eye contact as he stomped from the tent as quickly as he had entered. Harry finished packing much more slowly, straightening from his things and turning to stare at them once again, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Ron has decided he doesn't want to stay here any longer. He isn't listening to reason, but I have convinced him to stay in the village overnight. Hopefully he will have changed his mind by morning." Harry picked up his rucksack.

"Harry?" Hermione called as he walked toward the door. He paused and looked back at her, eager to get going before he lost Ron again.

"Yes Hermione?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to be stuck in the middle of this," she said, watching as her friends shoulders slumped when he turned back to the door.

"I'm sorry too. See you around," he replied before walking out.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched her friends leave, feeling not only guilty about her treatment of Ron but confused by what had happened with Charlie and saddened by the fact that Harry was being forced to choose sides.

Charlie, seeing the glisten to the witch's eye, quickly excused himself to go and chop some wood. Hermione was left to her tears alone.

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Charlie flipped over to his other side, drawing the thick blankets around his shoulders as he tried to settle down into sleep. It wasn't the bitingly-cold night that was keeping him awake though, but the witch in the bed not two feet from him who was quietly sobbing into her pillow. Just when he thought she had finally exhausted herself, a fresh wave of tears would start.

Charlie had never dealt well with tears; not his sister's, not the girls he had been at Hogwarts with, and especially not his mother's. Normally he would excuse himself from the scene as quickly as possible; in this case there was nowhere to escape to.

Sighing, he swung his legs from the bed, hissing when his bare feet touched the freezing floor. He took a moment to get used to the cold air swirling around him before pushing off the old bed and making his way toward the kitchen. Hermione's sniffles seemed to quiet behind him, and he was fairly certain she was watching him from her spot under the covers.

Flicking his wand at the stove, he set a pot on to boil. Casting a warming charm around the tent he rubbed his hands together and set about making two cups of tea. If he had learnt anything from his mother, it was that a warm drink and a hug had the ability to cure almost anything – even a broken heart.

Hermione sat up as he approached her bed, sitting by her hip as he handed her the second mug and took a sip of his own, "I was sick of pretending I was asleep," he explained, avoiding her watery gaze, afraid she would start crying again.

"I'm sorry. I'm probably over reacting, it's not like this is the first time he's left me," she sniffed, taking a tentative sip from her mug, sighing as it warmed her from the inside out.

"I don't know why you keep letting him come back," Charlie muttered, more to himself but she responded anyway.

"I asked myself the same thing actually. Besides Viktor, Ron has been the only person to ever…well… show enough interest in me to stick around. I guess I am afraid if I push him away for good then I will be alone forever."

Charlie couldn't help but snort into his cup of tea, "Hermione, you're only eighteen."

"Age is irrelevant," she argued stubbornly, her voice gaining confidence, "Any men I have ever attracted have either been intimidated by my intelligence or they have wanted me to change who I am. I can't help being smart and I am certainly not going to change."

"Have you ever wondered what attracted them to you in the first place?" he asked, "I mean, you seem to know what turns them away in the end. But they must be attracted to you on some level for them to hang around."

"Well…" Hermione faltered, obviously never having pondered this question herself, "I always just assumed it was because of Harry. A lot of people would do anything to get closer to him, even if that means feigning interest in his bushy haired know-it-all friend."

She sounded so sincere that Charlie had to stare at her hard in the dark for a few long moments, not quiet believing that she had such a low opinion of herself, "Did it ever occur to you that they were interest in you? Merlin, Hermione, a beautiful, brave and incredibly intelligent witch, at any age, is hard to come by. I know men who would cross the globe to find someone like you."

"You're just saying that," she whispered, her eyes showing some of the hurt she had experienced over the years at the expense of others poorly chosen words.

"No, I'm not," Charlie replied, tipping her chin to meet his eyes, "I have never met anyone like you. I meant what I said Hermione, you are all those things and more."

She blushed and bit her lip, staring up into his pale eyes, the utter sincerity of his statement shining through. It seemed only natural when his head began to tilt towards hers and their lips brushed. Hermione let out a shaky breath, her empty tea cup falling forgotten in her lap when he repeated the motion.

She bought her hands up to sift through his thick hair, longer than she had ever seen it before but somehow it made him look more rugged, sexier. He groaned and deepened the kiss, letting her pull him closer until their chests were pressed tight and their limbs began to entangle.

His own cup gave a dull thud as it hit the worn Oriental rug on the floor, his hands now free to tangle in her unruly hair. Hermione's breath hitched as he lowered her back into the pillows, her blankets tangled around them as Charlie restlessly inserted one strong leg between her own.

His hands untangled from her hair, caressing the delicate column of her neck before moving down to cup her breasts. The thin oversized shirt she had worn to bed was no barrier between his hot palms and her responsive nipples.

Arching her back into his touch bought her flush with him, his knee pressing intimately against her and his fingers seduced her skin. Hermione's head dropped back, her jaw going slack as his lips moved to the smooth skin of her neck. Her whole body was set alight by this man. She pushed the niggling doubts that this was her ex-boyfriends brother and focused on him as the man to bring her more pleasure than she had ever experienced in her life.

"Hermione," he murmured against her skin, his lips ghosting over her salty flesh, the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her now. She rocked against him and they both cried out, her hands moving to grip his shoulders as his lips found one pert nipple.

Giving a hard suck, he payed homage to the tiny pebble, clearly visible through the shirt she now wore. She had never felt so sexy or alive in her life. Never with Ron had it been like this, never had she felt the burning need to tear off all his clothes and sink herself down onto his length.

Charlie glanced up at her flushed face, taking in the look of pure rapture that seemed to transform her features. She was beautiful and undeniably responsive. He reached between them, drawing his palms from her ankles to her shapely thighs, causing her to hiss as he brushed against her wet core. Gripping the hem of her shirt, he pulled it over her head and sat back to admire her glorious body.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, almost falling back onto her in his haste to taste her lips once more.

She moaned and shifted restlessly against him again. Her small hands never stopped moving as she traced every scar, ever burn mark and every small line of his numerous tattoos. She hesitated for only a moment when she reached the elastic waist band of the loose fitting pants he had chosen to sleep in, but his tongue duelling with hers was enough encouragement for her to explore more.

He hissed when she gripped him boldly, giving an experimental squeeze and squirming in delight. He was like silk over steel, hot and hard against her palm. She felt only a small moment of fear when she realized he was much bigger than his brother, but then she quickly squashed it as she once again gave in to the sensations, ignoring her brain in favour of her hormones.

Several moments of heavy groping was all it took for Charlie to flip them. Hermione's breath whooshed from her lungs as she landed on him, her legs straddling his waist, her hand braced against his chest, which glistened gold in the fires weak light. He reached up to grip behind her neck, bringing her down for another kiss, his other hand drawing a path down between her breast and straight to the only piece of clothing she had remaining.

Her stomach muscles clenched as his probing fingers pushed aside the scrap of black fabric. She cried out against his mouth as he explored her damp heat, finding her more than ready for him. He lifted his hips as she drew his pants down around his hips, letting him spring up happily between them.

Biting her lip she watched his face as he pulled aside her underwear and surged up beneath her. They both seemed suspended in time; her back arched and breasts straining forward, his hands gripping her hips to the point of bruising. Never had she felt so full, so whole, and so complete.

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, and his answering moan told her he was feeling the same things she was. He pulled how down to him once against, her breasts brushing tantalizingly against the course hairs on his chest, only adding to the sensations. His mouth seemed to devour hers as he gained leverage and began to pound into her more than willing body.

It was quick, it was messy, but by the gods it was the best sex she had ever had in her life. Charlie seemed to know exactly which angle he needed to aim at every time, sending shocks of fireworks through her system. A slow warmth seemed to start in her belly, spreading across her body and through her limbs until she was crying out in satisfaction and practically begging him for the release she could feel on the horizon.

He braced his feet against the old mattress, the sound of her underwear giving way to his tugging fingers causing them to pause for a second before he found new leverage. His fingers were now free to move between them, finding her sensitive nub.

Hermione was certain she saw stars; he was giving her just what she wanted. Her ears barely registered his strained groans beneath her, but she instinctively knew he was close to release as she gave another sharp roll of her hips.

He cried out her name as his pace increased even more, his fingers definitely leaving bruises now. Her breath heaving, she pulled up from him and sat astride, continuing to pull herself up and down. Her eyes opened, her lids heavy with arousal, as she watched him stare up at her. His fingers continued to torment as she deliberately bought her palms up to cup her breasts. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sight and she felt him tense beneath her.

Feeling her own release approaching she watched as his neck strained and he let out one long explicit. Biting her lip she felt her body respond, her tight sleeve clamping around him as her vision blurred. Her orgasm was all consuming and carried on for long minutes; her milking clasps had him crying out beneath her as the sound of their combined pleasure filled the tent.

Hermione collapsed against his chest as his strong arms wrapped firmly around her. She felt like jelly, her limbs tingled and her lower back protested at the position, but she didn't care.

Charlie seemed to have melted beneath her, his harsh breath against her ear the only thing telling her he was still alive. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to sleep was her name sighed softly against her hair, and the sweet kissed pressed against her temple.

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She woke to harsh morning light streaming through the open tent flap. For a moment she was blank on the events of the night before, but the pleasant ache between her legs and the distinct smell of sex on the air was a sharp reminder. She flushed with embarrassment when she recalled the other three times he had woken her up, having never been so bold or passionate with Ron.

It took her another few moments to process that she was alone in the bed, and that was enough to prompt her to sit up from her warm cocoon. Charlie stood by the tents front door; his loose pants slung low around his hips, the sharp tail of one of his dragons poking up from beneath the waist band. She bit her lip as memories of exploring every one of his marks with her tongue came flooding back to her.

He turned when he heard the rustle of the bed clothes and a brilliant smile transformed his features. She pushed her mop of hair from her face and returned the smile, all embarrassment fleeing in the face of the beautiful man before her. He had made his intentions toward her quite clear the night before and she had no doubt that she was much more than a pity shag.

She saw the letter in his hand and raised a questioning brow.

"Kingsley is taking Ron and Harry back to the Burrow under the cover of darkness. He encourages that you stay here as long as possible," Charlie explained, dropping the letter on the low coffee table and approaching the bed, his hands moving to his waist band already.

"And what do you encourage?" she asked, her voice a little scratchy from her very vocal approval of his ministrations the night before. She chose to ignore the pang at Ron's departure, she was sure in time they would patch things up. Time apart would be good for them.

"I am inclined to agree with him," he murmured, giving her his most devastating grin. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat, but instead of replying she merely held out her arms, letting him fall into her embrace. As his lips claimed her once more she let all thoughts of Ron, the war and the little village far below them leave her mind.

For now, Charlie was all she wanted and needed.

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_Thanks for Reading!_


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