Luvscharlie's Insanity

Fic: Public Displays (Harry/Scorpius, PG)

2009-11-16T21:13:01Z

Title: Public Displays
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy
Prompt: Age Disparity
Rating: PG
Word Count: 299
Warnings: Age disparity (43/17)
Summary: Scorpius enjoys drawing attention to his relationship with Harry.
A/N: Originally written for the first round of the Harry/Scorpius LDWS at harryscorp100. Thank you mugglemama for the beta.

Harry shoved open the restaurant door and exited, the chilly air biting into him when he reached the sidewalk.

Scorpius was close on his heels. "Oh, don't be like that, Harry. She only got what she deserved."

Harry whirled round. "Might you ever act your age? It's bad enough that people are staring because you look young enough to be my child—hell, you are young enough to be my child. Most people might have assumed it was just an innocent dinner, but you just couldn't let it be, could you?"

Scorpius looked offended. "Are you ashamed of me, Harry?"

"Of course I'm not ashamed of you. I am ashamed of your behaviour. There's a way to comport yourself in public."

"My behaviour? She was the one who should be ashamed. Old bat was looking for a show, so I just went and gave her one."

And when Scorpius had it in his mind to put on a show, he did not do it halfway. The poor gawking lady two tables over's mouth had fallen open and a bite of chicken had fallen out onto her plate when Scorpius slid across Harry's lap, wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and launched his tongue down Harry's throat.

"Do you think we might make tomorrow's headlines in the Prophet?" Scorpius asked. "I think I saw a flash from a camera in there."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Harry grimaced. He could just imagine the headlines now. Boy Hero Becomes Cradle Robber. Just wonderful.

"I'd sure like to see the look on my father's face when he reads tomorrow's paper."

Harry pondered that very thought himself. Shite. "You're giving me an ulcer."

"Ah, Harry, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

"Maybe. But I'm not sure which of those you are yet."

Fin

Drabble: Overcoming His Past (Draco/Hermione, G)

2009-11-04T03:23:56Z

Title: Overcoming His Past
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Prompt: Dangerous
Warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Summary: Hermione sees something in Draco that goes deeper than just the name Malfoy.
Notes: Originally written for Month 6 of the dmhgchallenge

AND 42. Glimpse for Draco 100.1 on 100quills

Every instinct you have says getting closer is bad idea. Draco has a past he's been trying to run away from since the war ended, yet he never seems to run far enough because he always ends up right back where he started.

You know Ron's right when he says, "Malfoy makes no sense." He makes no sense at all. And you're a sensible kind of girl.

Perhaps it's the glimmer of hope that someone might see him as something other than a Malfoy; look a little deeper than the name, that draws you in.

Regardless, you are hopelessly captivated.

luvscharlie @ 2009-10-18T20:51:00

2009-10-19T00:56:15Z

Title: A Quiet Halloween Night… or Not.
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Hestia Jones
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Warnings: A bit of nekkidness. Otherwise, none.
Summary: Charlie has his Halloween night all planned out to be quiet and relaxing, but someone else has other ideas.
Notes: Originally written for feigned_living's request at the 2009 hp_halloween exchange.

The crisp October wind blew as Charlie's shift at the Reserve ended. He'd skived off going to the pub with his co-workers, and he looked forward to nothing more than a relaxing night in front of his fireplace.

He arrived at his cabin without incident, drawing his wand when he noted a candle was lit. He was careful not leave an open flame burning when he was away. When you live on a dragon reserve, there's always the chance of having your abode become a pile of ashes, but to Charlie's way of thinking, if that happened he would have an overgrown lizard to thank for it, not his own carelessness.

He crept through his residence taking note of all around, expecting a Death Eater to jump out from behind the nearest potted plant.

The cabin looked as he'd left it, and Charlie was just starting to believe that he'd simply left the candle burning. He'd almost convinced himself of that when he heard a rustling behind his bedroom door.

He flung open the door, wand at the ready.

"Happy Halloween, Charlie."

There was Hestia, stretched fully across his bed wearing nothing more than a witch's hat and a smile.

Fic: Standing Still While the World Moves Forward (Harry/Hermione)

2009-09-12T08:06:56Z

Title: Standing Still While the World Moves Forward
Made Up Silly Name: She Who Stalks Pretty Dragon Keepers (Now revealed to be luvscharlie)
Pairing: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: On the eve of Ron and Lavender's wedding, Hermione is ready to move forward.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,728
Warnings: Smex
Author Notes: Originally written for the smut4flowers community in honor of simons_flower. My chosen prompt was Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream. Thank you ceirdwenfc for the beta.

Hermione opened the door to Ron's old room, grateful for the bright orange walls that offered an escape from the party going on below. The Burrow was alive with activity for Ron and Lavender's wedding. She had to admit the ceremony had been lovely, and Ron and Lavender seemed quite happy… and she was happy for them… if a bit jealous… but only a bit.

Her feelings (you know those feelings) for Ron had ended long ago. She still wanted the best for him, and there would always be a place in her heart that belonged exclusively to him. After all, he was her first love. But the passionate spark she'd once felt when Ron was near had fizzled and gone out.

Something had happened during the time that Ron had been gone during the Horcrux hunt. Something she'd been in denial about for quite a long time. But she'd come to a point, about six months back, that she simply could not deny the truth any longer…that time she had spent alone with Harry had made her see him in a different way. He was no longer Harry, her friend. He had become Harry… her crush? No, too juvenile. Her intended? No, that made it seem as though things had gone much farther than they had. The fact was, she was a coward, and terrified to admit her true feelings. After all, they were still best friends, and she had a deep seated fear of crossing over that invisible line from friendship to "something more." She'd leave it at "something more" right now, since she wasn't having a bit of luck defining it more clearly than that. Thus, he became Harry, her undefined something or other.

It was strange how Ron's old room could offer her such comfort. It had changed so little since her first visit to the Burrow back so long ago when she was but a girl of fourteen. And in that constant, never-changing (a few new Cannons posters didn't count as change, if you asked her), bright orange room, she found her escape.

The party was in full swing below. She could hear the voices growing louder as the alcohol flowed more freely. The house was buzzing to the point of intoxication with the feel of joviality and well wishes, a milestone passed, and a true putting back together of the pieces. As life tends to do, it was moving on.

And sometimes, she felt it was moving on without her. Everyone else was moving forward, and she was standing still.

Hermione was so deep in thought that she didn't hear the click of the door or the sound of Harry's footsteps crossing the distance of the room to stand behind her. She started and jumped when his arm came around her holding out a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"I'm told that occasions such as these require ice cream, and your mum told me this was your favourite kind." Harry pulled off the lid and handed over a spoon.

"You shouldn't have gone to the trouble to go into Muggle London for this, Harry," she said, suddenly feeling shy in his presence.

"Trouble?" Harry said with a smirk. "If I'd told Mr. Weasley I had decided not to go, he would have been heartbroken. Of course, I am still a little worried about his head."

"His head?" Hermione asked, moving towards the bed and taking a seat on its edge.

"Well, he's the one who put it in the ice box. Did he really think that door was just going to stay open? Honestly!" Harry shook his own head and joined her on Ron's old bed, setting the carton of ice cream between them and sinking his spoon in the quickly melting sweetness.

Hermione scooped out a bite and brought the spoon to her lips. Her eyes closed as she revelled in the delight of the sweetness on her tongue. She leaned back against Ron's old pillow and relished in Harry sitting so close. If she but pretended a bit, she was in her own bedroom—her married room, and she and Harry were sharing a domestic moment, and—his voice broke the spell.

"So how are you holding up?"

Hermione opened her eyes, a bit puzzled. "Holding up? Whatever do you mean, Harry?" There were times it was easy to forget that Harry didn't know she was "over Ron."

"Well, Ron just got married, and I saw you head up here. I thought you might need a chance to catch your breath somewhere that the happy couple wasn't. So, how are you?"

She did her best to convey her sincerity, reaching across the bed and touching Harry's hand. "I meant it when I said that I was happy for Ron. He seems pleased to be with Lavender, and I'm pleased for them."

"Are you sure? Because it's okay if you're not, you know."

"I am absolutely certain, Harry." She took a deep breath and charged on before she lost her nerve. "Besides, I've set my sights on someone new."

Harry raised his head, and the look on his face was one of surprise. "Oh, Merlin. I know they've hired Malfoy recently to work in your department at the Ministry. Tell me it's not Malfoy. Anybody but Malfoy."

"It's not Malfoy."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, do I know this bloke then? Wait, it is a bloke, isn't it?" His eyes glazed over, lost in thought and a bit of spittle escaped the corner of his mouth.

"Oh for heaven's sake, snap out of it! Yes, it is a bloke. And yes, you know him. And you might want to wipe your mouth because drooling is really not a look you pull off well."

Harry absently touched the corner of his mouth and blushed at the moisture he found there. "'So don't keep me in suspense. Who is it? Oh, wait! Let me guess. Is it someone we work with at the Ministry?"

"Yes, it is."

"Okay. Let me think then. Shacklebolt's hired lots of new people in the last few months. It must be one of them."

"Harry—"

"No, don't tell me. Let me guess… but it's not Malfoy?" Harry looked up at her as if in dire need of confirmation once more.

"No, it's not Malfoy," Hermione sighed more than said.

"Oh, what about that Ravenclaw bloke? What was his name? Sanford? No, that's not right. I knew it all along. I heard they just hired him in the Plants Cataloguing Department part-time. I always suspected you had a secret crush on him. Stanley? Hmm, that still seems wrong. I can't remember his name, but you know who I'm talking about, right? Of course you do. You're Hermione. You always know what I'm talking about."

Hermione grew angrier with every word that passed through his lips. She held her tongue, until she could stand it no longer. "Are you really that thick headed?"

"Thick headed? Hmm, you think so?"

Sighing, Hermione shook her head. "I feel fairly confident of it." She mustered up her courage, reaching down deep inside, reminding herself that she was Hermione Granger. She'd been through a lot—been through it with him—and the time for sitting idly by had passed. She leaned across the carton of ice cream, dropping her spoon down into it, and clasped his face between her hands. He seemed, at first, to want to draw away from her, but she held him close, leaning forward until their noses touched, tilting her head to the side so that they would fit together more easily. Her lips touched his tentatively at first. He responded with a little intake of breath, exhaling warmly onto her skin.

"I think maybe I know him."

Hermione couldn't contain a small giggle. "Do you now? Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"Well, if I'm wrong, you might tell me now, before I continue talking and embarrass myself further." Harry's nose bumped hers once more, and his glasses canted just a bit to the right, as his lips closed over hers. "I guess it's a good sign that you haven't stopped me, yeah?"

"Yeah." Hermione could feel herself heat up, a stark contrast to the goose bumps that raised her skin and the moisture that gathered in the apex of her thighs.

They jumped guiltily apart when Charlie Weasley's voice echoed loudly from downstairs, singing a drunken song very off key.

Harry was the first to recover himself. "Sounds like things are getting a bit rowdy downstairs."

"Yes, well, it's been a long time since there's been something good to celebrate around here. It's nice to hear."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It is that." He leaned forward once more. This time, he did not hold back. His kiss was firm, his tongue begging ingress and permission to explore. She gave it over willingly, kissing him heartily in return. One kiss became two, and with each flick of a tongue, caress of hands and smacking of lips, Hermione could feel herself being swept away by a tide of emotions that had been pent up far too long. Being with Harry simply felt right.

Harry pressed her back into the mattress on Ron's old bed, his fingers fumbling at buttons, and her own hands shaking both in fear and anticipation. The Quidditch players that zoomed in and out of one of the recently added Cannons posters seemed to cheer them on as Harry's hand cupped her breast, kneading, experimenting with pressure as he gauged her response. His knee nudged apart her thighs as he finally managed to free her from both blouse and bra (both skills in which he could stand some practice).

Harry's fingers moved up her thigh slowly, inching her skirt higher and higher as he kissed her tenderly. She found her rhythm, moving in time against his fingers in a way that was so natural it seemed as though they were born for just this moment.

There was a chorus of good-byes and well wishes from downstairs as Ron and Lavender exited their party to start a honeymoon—a new start—a life together. But as Harry and Hermione became one, the world outside that little orange bedroom ceased to exist… at least for a moment.

Fin

Recruitment (Roger/Cho)

2009-08-10T04:42:28Z

Title: Recruitment
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Characters/Ships: Roger Davies/Cho Chang
Genre: Gen (sort of)
Summary: Cho hasn't seen Roger Davies in quite a good amount of time. A lot has changed.
Length: 1,597
Notes: Originally written for the 2009 clever_claws fest. It was gifted to the community as my recipient dropped out.

Honestly, Cho wasn't sure she actually saw most of the match. She was sitting there watching, trying to concentrate, directing her new Quick Quotes Quill to take down the plays as she instructed, but it was just hard for her to get excited about a Ballycastle Bats versus Chudley Cannons game, even if she was reporting on it for the Quibbler. After all, she was a Tutshill Tornados girl, through and through. And a year out of school, this was not the job she had wanted, but times were hard. In fact, Quidditch was one of the only things in the wizarding world that had remained somewhat normal. Sure, there was that incident of the missing Keeper for the Wigtown Wanderers, but in all seriousness, Cho had always thought that man had the look of a Death Eater. Perhaps the Death Eaters had thought so as well, and decided that he needed to be recruited… one way or the other.

The victory cheers of, "Bats, Bats, Bats," signalled the end of the match and Cho stood to go making her way down the bleachers along with the small crowd of orange-clad, disgruntled fans when she heard what she thought was her surname. Of course, it could have just been one of the Cannons groupies saying "dang" or something more colourful. She looked around, saw nothing, and continued on her way.

"Chang!"

Okay, that time Cho was certain she heard her name rather than dang. She turned to scour the crowd and was nearly knocked down by a man dressed all in orange wearing that sour look that was recognisable in die hard Cannons fans. He grumbled at her sudden stop, and she couldn't even be angry at him. After all, Cannons fans had it rough… even rougher than the fans of the recently fledgling Tornados. Of course, Cannons fans also had poor taste, so perhaps she was being too forgiving. At least the Tornados had seen a winning season in the past five years. She could not remember the last time the Cannons had a winning season… in fact, she couldn't remember the last time the Cannons had so much as won a match... even against the Arrows.

"Chang!"

Cho moved over out of the aisle to avoid any more collisions and began to scour the crowd for the identity of her mystery name chanter. She didn't have to look long. He came barrelling down the aisle, dark hair bouncing over his brow, blue eyes as attractive as they had always been. Roger Davies.

"Chang, how've you been?"

"Good, Roger. You?"

"Okay, I guess. I didn't expect to see you here. Did you finally get some good taste, become a Bats fan and give up on those hopeless Tornados of yours?"

"Not bloody likely," Cho responded with a snort of derision. "A Tornados girl till I die, Davies!"

Roger held up his hands in surrender, the ghost of a familiar smile playing across his handsome face. "I got it. A die hard Tornados fan, then."

"Absolutely," Cho said, her face refusing to remain stoic at the handsome face before her and the stark blue eyes that were giving her an appraising look.

"So, Miss Tornados-Till-I-Die, do Tornados fans eat?"

"I assume you're referring to times when we're not busy chewing up Bats fans and spitting them out."

Roger grinned, placing a hand over his chest as if wounded. "Ouch. I may regret this invitation if I go home with bite marks—or maybe I won't regret that at all, on second thought," he added, as a seeming afterthought, including a roguish wink that made her blush. "At the risk of my currently good health, might I buy you dinner, Chang?"

"Only if you stop calling me Chang. We're no longer on the Quidditch Pitch." Cho looked around at the stadium, and felt her cheeks reheat. "Okay, we're on a pitch, but you know what I mean. We're no longer school kids, and you're not my captain. Thus, I'll have dinner with you only if you call me Cho."

Roger held out his hand. "Deal. How about the Leaky Cauldron?"

Rolling her eyes skyward, Cho sighed. "Tom's Bangers and Mash is by far the best in all of London."

"On that, Cho, we are in complete agreement." Roger winked at her again. "But don't tell my mum. She's convinced no one's could be as good as hers."

~0-0~

After finding an owl to deliver her completed article on the just played match to the Quibbler, Cho allowed Roger to take her by the elbow and lead the way through the city streets. They could have Apparated, but honestly she wasn't much of a fan of Apparation. She preferred the walk, and was glad Roger suggested it. It was late-August and there was a bustle of activity in Diagon Alley. A small girl, no more than eleven years of age passed them in a frenzied state of excitement. "Mum, Mum," she shouted, her voice cracking in frantic dismay. "Ollivander's is closed. I can't start Hogwarts without a wand! Whatever will I do?"

Cho bit her lip. The girl was impossibly cute in her panic. She chose to focus on the positive aspects, rather than take the hard look at the grimness of their current situation. Mr. Ollivander's shop wasn't the only one empty in Diagon Alley. In fact, there were few that had remained open. "It's hard to believe we were ever that tiny," Cho said.

Roger nodded, and Cho looked up at him, standing at his impressive height of six feet, three inches. "Well," she said, "perhaps not all of us were that tiny when we started Hogwarts. Some people had a head start on others of us."

"Well, I may have been taller than you when we started school, but I'm not so certain I'd consider that a head start." Roger used his wand to press into the bricks in just the right intricate pattern to open the wall into the back hallway of the Leaky Cauldron, and they stepped into the tenuous link between the Muggle world and their own. At least in the Muggle world, Cho thought, they were blissfully ignorant of the dangers surrounding them.

There was a bustle of activity and the Cauldron was quite crowded. Cho wondered if people came here looking for some semblance of normalcy in a world that offered them very little to look forward to of late. Roger took her by the hand and led her to an empty booth far in the back, sliding this way and leaning that in order to weave their way through the throng of witches, wizards, and things that used to cause Cho to have nightmares as a tot.

They sat down, Roger sliding far over into the booth and patting the spot beside him for Cho to follow suit. Rather than taking the opposite bench, Cho did as he suggested and the heat of their touching thighs sent a shiver down her spine. Tom eventually made his way over. "What'll ya have?"

"Bangers and Mash," they both said at once.

"Easy enough," Tom said, hobbling away from the table.

The air seemed filled with tension, and Cho found herself working hard to come up with a topic of conversation. She'd always had a bit of a crush on Roger Davies. Could she even call it a crush? Perhaps not. Maybe it was more that she always admired his pretty-boy looks and his prowess on a Quidditch pitch…

And then it happened… just as it always happened… anytime she went out with someone new, the question always came up.

"So," Roger began, "I hear you dated Harry Potter."

Honestly, you kiss someone once and seem attached to them for like five minutes, and it seems as though there was a memo that went out to the entire wizarding world. Well, this time she wasn't sitting around for the rest of it. The questions about dating the Chosen One. One bloke even asked if she'd caught a glimpse of Harry's cock and if it looked the same as other blokes or was it special. Nope, she wasn't sitting through that nonsense again.

She got up to leave, but Roger grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. "It's not what you think, Chang. I didn't bring you here to hit on you or to ask questions about your love life." He ran his wand over his left hand to reveal a singular gold band, then quickly cloaked it once more.

"You're married?!?!" Cho practically shouted.

"You know, cloaking the ring does little good if you go and announce it to the world," Roger seethed through clenched teeth.

"But I thought…"

Roger sighed and shook his head. "I know what you thought, and I'm sorry to deceive you. I keep the ring cloaked so no one knows I'm married. Times are too dangerous and if I get caught, well, no one needs know that I have a wife. I wouldn't put her in danger like that. I've brought you here to recruit you, but to everyone else who may be watching, we should look like a couple out on an ordinary date."

"I'm just a journalist. A sports journalist at that… for a rag like the Quibbler. Whatever could you possibly want to recruit me for?"

"I heard you were a part of Dumbledore's Army back in school."

"Yeah, so?"

"There's an Order. A very secret Order. And we need all the people we can get…"

And thus, for Cho Chang, the revolution began.

Mending Bridges Broken (Harry/Cho, R)

2009-08-05T19:41:01Z

Title: Mending Bridges Broken
Author: luvscharlie
Recipient: nonprofit_whore
Pairing: Harry Potter/Cho Chang
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,606
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Cho Chang is determined to mend what went awry between she and Harry Potter.
Author's Notes: Originally written for nonprofit_whore's request at the 2009 hp_summersmut

Cho knew where to find him. He was not all that difficult to figure out. Boy hero or not, he was still just a boy on the cusp of manhood, and she'd learned from experience they were all very much the same.

She could hear the roar of the crowd outside as she wandered the empty corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had only heard second hand about the incident between Harry and Draco Malfoy that had landed Harry in infinite detention with Professor Snape, and the details were vague at best (at worst, hyped up to the degree that the rumours of lascivious goings on in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom between Harry and Draco only grew wilder and more detailed with every passing day). She turned a deaf ear whenever she could.

The only sound as she moved down the seventh floor corridor and farther away from the pitch where the Gryffindor Quidditch team was bravely facing down Hufflepuff without their star Seeker was the gentle swish of her skirt as she rounded a corner. She passed by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet once, twice, then a third time and the door appeared. She wasn't sure whether she should knock, but thought better of it and turned the handle.

Harry startled at the sound of the creaking as the door swung forward to allow her entry. He stood alone in the centre of the room, worried lines etched far too deep on such a young face, Cho thought. This war was aging him; aging them all, and stealing their innocence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone one of clear contempt. He still had not forgiven her for Marietta's indiscretion last year. Perhaps "indiscretion" was sugar coating it, but that was the way she preferred to think of it.

"I thought you could use some company."

"You thought wrong." Harry turned from her to stare at a spot somewhere over the suit of armor that had seemed to stand sentry over their secret meetings last year.

Cho opted for a smile, in an attempt to thaw the air. She walked briskly around to place herself directly in his line of vision. "Perhaps. Yet the room did let me in, so it must be in agreement with me. You shouldn't be alone."

Harry opened his mouth to offer protest, seemed to think better of it, then closed his mouth without sound, doing a fairly impressive mimic of a fish. Cho attempted not to smile. Smiling would not earn her any bonus points with Harry. She hated this really. It was a paying of dues, in a way, but in truthfulness, she hated that the tables had turned. After all, last year it was Harry vying for her attention. This year, he could barely look at her without disgust so evident in his face.

"You know, Harry, you might throw me a wand here. I'd like to mend what was broken between us last year."

"Broken trust doesn't mend so easily, Cho."

"Look, I don't now, nor did I then, agree with what Marietta did, but how long do you plan to hold that against her? Against me? Last year things were—well they were hard for all of us, not just for you, Harry."

Harry let out a sigh and the emptiness of the room made it reverberate off the walls. He walked over to the velvet draped sofa that appeared out of nowhere just in time to catch him as he sat. There are times this room is just creepy in its ability to read our needs.

"Harry," Cho more sighed than said as she moved to sit beside him, "can't we move past this? I don't agree with what Marietta did, but she was scared just like—"

"Just like the rest of us. We were all afraid last year. None of us wanted to cross Umbridge, but some of us felt there was no choice, and none of the others gave us up no matter how scared they got, or who it put at risk for them to remain a part of Dumbledore's Army."

Cho sighed and turned for the door. She opened it and started to walk through, looking back once, then growing angry and slamming it closed again. This was important after all. Far too important to give up so easily. She'd worked all of summer holiday planning out in her head how this would go, how she would mend this bridge between them and make things right again, and she wasn't about to let his streak of stubborn male pride go and ruin it all.

It was time to be firm.

"All right, Harry. I've had enough. This whatever-it-is between us ends. Now."

Harry looked up from his place on the sofa clearly startled at her new found voice of confidence. She noted his attention and silently reminded herself not to let her voice crack in fear. Confidence. Confidence was of the utmost importance.

"I want to put this behind us. I want to move forward. I want to go back to that place where we were only starting to discover this thing that was happening between us." Cho took a place beside him on the sofa, scooting in so close that Harry might have moved away from her had there been anywhere else to go. The sofa had immediately shortened itself so that there was only room for the two of them to sit there—very closely together. There were times she loved this room's intuition… even if it was creepy. It was dead useful in moments like these.

Before Harry could interrupt and tell her to leave, Cho charged on. "A lot's happening, changing outside these walls, Harry. I'm not sure that the school's even safe anymore. I mean, Dumbledore's only one wizard. How long can he really keep us all safe from what's waiting out there?"

Harry sighed in response and lowered his head. His posture slouched in a manner that seemed, for lack of a better term, defeated.

Cho wasn't sure what possessed her to do it. Perhaps it was some unknown pull over her that this magical room had, but she leaned forward and kissed him. A soft brush of her lips over his, timid at first, but growing in confidence when he didn't push her away.

There were things Cho knew she was good at; things of which she had some experience, and she felt fairly certain Harry had none. Well, assuming those rumours about him and Draco Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom were fabricated. Dear Merlin, let them be fabricated.

It was now or never.

"I can make you forget… for a little while. Things we do in here, well, maybe they'll block out the outside world for a bit. A safe haven, if you will. It's somewhere you don't have to be the chosen one. You can let down your guard and just be Harry."

Harry swallowed visibly hard and leaned back. She could tell she was getting through to him, wearing down his defences. "Will you let me, Harry? Will you let me help you forget?"

Rather than answer her, Harry kissed her. His lips were warm against hers, his resistance at an end as they broke apart, and she moved from the sofa to kneel between his knees. Trembling fingers reached for his zip, and she waited for his nod of assent to tug it down.

Harry raised his hips as she pulled down both trousers and pants to his ankles. The warmth of his hardening flesh as her fingers wrapped round felt right in her hand. Harry gasped as she made contact.

"Have you done this before?" she asked.

He shook his head reaffirming her belief that he had not. His eyes were closed, head thrown back against the sofa. "No. Have you?"

"A few times." Cho took him in her hand and began to stroke, his hard, velvet skin moving easily within the circle of her fingers. He moaned lightly, head lolling about at the new sensations her ministrations were drawing from him. "I can make it better, if you want?"

"Better?" Harry croaked incredulously. "Better? Seriously? It gets better?"

Cho smiled then leaned over him, flicking the under side of her tongue over the head of his cock.

"Oh, Merlin!"

"Better?" she asked.

"Uh-huh. Better." Harry's voice was so high pitched that the words came out in a squeak.

Cho wrapped her lips around him and began to move, her tongue trailing up and down his shaft as she suckled. She felt Harry's timid hand move into her hair, stroking her locks and brushing them behind her ear so that he could watch her.

Looking up at him as she moved her mouth, setting a rhythm, Cho winked, and she noted that the corner of Harry's mouth turned up in a conscious smile.

Her mouth moved no more than five times up and down before he lost control. He pulled her from her knees to snuggle in beside him on the sofa.

"That was— well, I don't know what that was, but I do know I liked it."

"Your eloquence astounds me, Harry," she said with a snort of derision.

"Give me a break, yeah? My mind's not exactly functioning at full capacity."

~*~

It wasn't perfect. She'd certainly had far more spectacular sexual encounters. But, it was a start to mending what they once might have been on the path to having… perhaps could have again. And for now, that was enough.

Fic: What's in a Name Anyway? (Charlie/Katie, Hard R)

2009-06-18T13:12:10Z

Title: What's in a Name Anyway?
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Katie Bell
Summary: Charlie Weasley has lost his charm as well as his ability to remember names thanks to a spell cast upon him for calling out the wrong name during a recent sexual encounter.
Warnings: strong sexual content
Word Count: 2,324
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Author's notes: Many thanks to redheadsarehot for the beta help!

Originally written for the da_angel729's request at the 2009 weasley_fest

AND 01. Fiery Days for 16candles_fics; 36. out of my mind for potterprompts

Katie would know that ginger hair and that abundance of freckles anywhere. She wasn't sure you got to call yourself a Gryffindor for seven years and not recognise a Weasley when one passes you by on the street (or in this case, in a corridor). Of course, this particular Weasley caught her eye for reasons that few people knew. Okay, well Alicia and Angelina knew, but you couldn't hide things from your best mates, not when you were all of fourteen and giggly to boot. Things just slipped out of your mouth as you ogled. Plus, they tended to know things about her before Katie recognised them herself. That was the thing about best mates; hiding things from them was next to impossible.

Charlie Weasley had been the object of her affection for a good many years. She wouldn't consider herself a Quidditch groupie or anything—not really—okay, maybe. But, really, it was hard not to admire a man with all of those rippling muscles, zipping around on a broom, winning the cup for her House. Granted, she'd been young back then, but he'd been charming just as well. And even a young girl recognises the charms of a man like Charlie Weasley.

She very nearly dropped her clipboard when she saw him in the corridor of St. Mungo's; still handsome, but no longer a boy. No, he had grown into a fine specimen of man, his chest and shoulders filled out to muscled perfection.

"Charlie? Charlie Weasley, is that you?"

Charlie's eyes scanned the faces in the hallway until he met her eyes. "Alicia? Alicia Spinnet?"

Okay, that was less charming. "Erm, no."

"Well, that's a bit embarrassing. Fuck, how long is this damned spell going to last?"

That question seemed directed more at himself than her, so she chose not to answer.

"Ooh, you're that Hufflepuff keeper that I did in seventh year. God, what is your name? No, don't tell me. It's on the tip of my tongue."

Yes, his stock in charming was plummeting. Katie tapped her foot in impatience.

"Prudence. No, that's not it." Charlie looked over at her with a cocked eyebrow. "It's not it, is it?"

"No."

"Patience?"

"No. And what little of that—patience that is—which I had, is quickly leaving me."

"Stop it. That look you're giving me. Most of the time women don't look at me like that. I'm handsome, athletic, adventurous, and fuck it all, I'm a catch, dammit! Do you have any idea what women do to be with me?"

"And most women find this kind of behaviour charming?" Katie hoped her voice conveyed her scepticism.

"Well, yeah. They do. They really, really do." Charlie looked weary. "Whatever hex that Death Eater hit me with, it appears to be worse than I thought."

"Oh, God! You're a patient here?" Katie looked down at the clipboard she'd just retrieved from the healers' station, but that had gone forgotten in her hands when she saw him, and there in front of her was his name, plain as day, as her next patient. "Oh God again. You're my patient." She looked around to see if any of her supervisors might have seen, and was relieved to see no white robes anywhere in sight. Way to go, Bell! Perfect way to start your first day as a Medi-witch, by berating your patients in the hallway for not remembering your name back during your school days.

"Of course I'm a patient here." Charlie appeared to be attempting to think fast. "It was rogue Death Eaters. Yeah, that's what it was." He said in a voice that sounded unconvincing even to her. "I was doing a mission for the Ministry—top secret—you can't tell anyone about this, I mean absolutely no one—when a group of rogue Death Eaters ambushed me and--" He stuttered in an attempt to continue.

Katie rushed him into a room before one of her supervisors noticed. "You know," she said, closing the door behind them, "I thought Death Eaters were more or less… well non-existent these days."

"It was Death Eaters. Lots of them. And they were big and ugly and dangerous and—"

"—and even if this weren't my first day, I'd recognise a Disenchantment Spell. So, pissed off a female, did you? That's terribly hard to imagine, what with your charming personality and all."

"Sarcasm really does not look good on you, er… Amy? No, that's not right either. And they gave me a firstie to take care of me? Why do I get a Medi-witch on her first day? Besides, I think I'd like a man to take care of me. My luck with the ladies doesn't seem to be holding out these days. I'd rather it not get any worse, and I think for that to happen, I should request a male."

"Oh no you don't, Charlie Weasley—see, I remember your name well enough—"

"Yes, but I tend to leave a lasting impression on females wherever I go—Lisa? No, you don't look like Lisa. I'm fairly certain she was tall, blonde and leggy."

Katie snorted her contempt. "I'm amazed that it was only one Disenchantment Spell. With a mouth like yours, it's surprising you're not here daily. Have a seat," she said, patting the examination table. "I need to check your vitals."

Charlie opened his mouth in protest, and she shoved a thermometer into it. She took a spell book from a shelf and found what she was looking for then removed the thermometer from between his lips.

"I thought this was a respectable wizards' hospital," Charlie snapped. "What's with the Muggle nonsense?"

"Oh, that was just to shut you up until I found what I was looking for. All that yammering you were doing was beginning to give me a headache." Katie raised her wand and began to chant the words of the spell—then stopped.

"What'd you stop for? You're supposed to be fixing what the Death Eaters did to me."

"If Death Eaters did this, then I'm a chicken." Katie snorted her contempt. She knew a liar when she saw one.

But Charlie was not about to back down. He'd found his story, and he was sticking to it. "Well then, Ms. Cluck, fix it," he demanded.

Katie raised her wand ominously and pointed it at him. "You were probably mid-shag with some bird and called her the wrong name. I wouldn't doubt for one minute that—"

The guilty look that crossed Charlie's face told her everything she needed to know. Her presumption was correct. Someone had performed an avenging Disenchantment Spell, and a rather good one. It apparently kept women from finding him charming (no small feat, in and of itself), and made it impossible for him to remember the names of women he encountered. She raised her wand to attempt a counter-hex and flicked her wand over him. Katie knew immediately something had gone wrong. Her head began to cloud and the room grew hot, but more prominent than those feelings was how much Charlie Weasley's presence seemed to fill the small space between them, so that the distance was all but non-existent. She sensed his every move, and wanted more than anything to feel the weight of his hands upon her. She wanted him, plain and simple.

The heat from his skin ghosted over her. The warmth of his breath against her face raised goose flesh on her own skin. Charlie seemed to feel it too. He brushed his forearm over his head to wipe away the perspiration. "I don't think that worked the way it was supposed to—Carrie?"

"I'd have to give you an 'O' in persistence, Weasley. You certainly don't know when it's in your best interest to stop." Katie took a step back in an attempt to clear her head of all things Charlie.

Charlie rose from where he was perched on the examination table and closed the small distance between them. His hand grasped her wrist and his nose bumped against her own. "Godric, I want to kiss you."

Katie could feel the weight of the spell—clearly not the one that cured a Disenchantment Spell, not that she much cared at the moment--settling over her. She wanted him with a deep and demanding lust. "What are you waiting for?" The words were out of her mouth before she could reign them in.

Charlie's lips closed over hers. They were softer than she had expected, a stark contrast to his rough demeanor and weathered skin. The heat from his body enveloped her as he backed her against the already closed door. "Suddenly, I want—"

"—me too." Her hands clutched at his hair as he kissed her once more, this time hard and fast. "I don't think the spell worked," she said.

"I don't know about that. You can't keep your hands off me. I'd wager there's nothing about that which is disenchanting. I'd say I've--kiss--gotten--kiss--my charm--kiss--back."

"Maybe we should test that theory a bit more," Katie retorted, tugging at the zip of her healer robes as Charlie pressed into her, his want for her nudging at her thigh. She let her robes fall open and Charlie pushed them to the side, pushing her bra up over her breasts as he palmed them, his thumbs doing things to her nipples that made her gasp.

Katie tried not to think how wrong this was, how she shouldn't be doing these things with her patient, but all sense of right and wrong had left with the flick of her wand. All she thought of now was her deep and desperate desire for Charlie Weasley to be inside of her.

Charlie's thoughts were apparently running along the same track. She closed her eyes as his lips wreaked havoc upon her neck, down the column of her throat and over her breasts. Her fingers, as if working of their own accord or in some collusion with his lips, grasped hands full of his hair pulling him to her, when she should have been pushing him away. She heard the sharp clank of his belt buckle as it struck the tile of the floor and she gave no resistance when her knickers joined his pants somewhere amongst their feet.

He lifted her, using the door to bear her weight and Katie's legs wrapped around his waist in blissful abandon. "Gonna fuck you now… erm… Marcy?"

Katie levelled a punch against his shoulder hard enough to knock him momentarily off balance. "You moron. Whatever happened to 'baby,' 'honey,' 'sweetheart'? Hell, I'd even settle for 'hey you, girl'. But no, you had to go and call me Marcy." She punched him again.

Charlie used his body to trap her hands between them. "Hey you, girl. I don't think you cured me, since I clearly buggered up your name again."

He was clever. And she couldn't help but giggle at the curve of his lip and the dimple that played in and out of his cheek as he goaded her. And when he moved in to kiss her once more, she let him, kissing him back with equal fervour. The man could kiss. And if he continued to kiss her like that she'd probably not even protest to being called Marcy or Marcia or even Bob, if that was what turned him on.

Charlie kissed her. His tongue sliding between her lips, desperate to devour her. "Close your eyes, honey," he whispered in a breathy gasp as they broke apart. "Stop thinking. Just let yourself go and feel."

And she did. She leaned back her head, closed her eyes, tightened her thighs around his hips and felt him slide into her, one time after another, carrying her just to the peak of pleasure then pulling her back, withholding his touch from where she most wanted to feel him. "You like that, do you, baby?" Charlie held still, sheathed deep within her, but not moving, no matter how she wiggled to urge him on. "Want more, sweetheart?," he asked flicking his finger over her clit, so that she arched her back off the door and knocked him off balance sending them tumbling to the floor, and Charlie flat of his back.

She seized upon the opportunity to take control, riding him with a frenzied need.

"That a girl," Charlie said encouragingly, sliding his hand between them to tweak her clit, rolling it between his fingers expertly, so that her muscles spasmed in exquisite ecstasy, as she came undone amidst his ministrations. His orgasm followed her own, leaving him breathless as she collapsed upon his chest.

"You know," he said, when he found his voice once more. "I might like to ask you out if I knew your name."

Katie chuckled and raised herself up bracing her elbows on his chest. "You moron, I wear a name tag," she said, pulling her askew healer robes together so that the nametag met him at eye level.

"So you do." Charlie rolled his eyes skyward. "Well, that's embarrassing. Katie, would you like to have coffee with me. I'm told there's a decent café about two blocks from here."

"I'll think about it," she said as they both began to dress.

When she had her robes back in proper order, and as Charlie started to walk out of the room, Katie called to him. "Hey you, bloke!"

He turned to her, mouth twisted up into a half smile. "Yes, Katie?"

"I get off at nine. You're buying."

He left the hospital with a sweeping bow and a scandalous wink, and Katie thought he might have taken a piece—albeit a small piece…for them moment anyway—of her heart with him. Charlie Weasley was worth getting to know, and she was determined to see the day he moaned her name—or Marcy's—in ecstasy.

Fin.

Fic: Harry's First; Their Last (James/Lily, NC-17)

2009-06-12T15:35:20Z

Title: Harry's First; Their Last
Author: luvscharlie
Pairing(s): James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Word Count: 3,240
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry's first birthday party comes at a time when the wizarding world is in upheaval.
Warnings: Um, sex, and characters who refuse to hush.
A/N: I did sort of toy with the timeline of the books I believe in order to make this work. It was my first time writing this pairing, and frankly they were a lot of fun.

Originally written for the lunalovepotter at the 2009 hp_porninthesun fest.

"All in all, I think Harry's first birthday party was a smashing success," Lily said, turning towards James as she waved her good-bye to the final guest. "I mean it wasn't all that big, but there will be other years for that, when times aren't so dangerous. Just imagine what it will be like when he's older and this war is over, and all of our friends can be here." She closed her eyes in what could only be described as blissful dreaming of better times to come.

James saw the look that crossed his wife's face. Times were bad, and getting worse with the passing of each day. No one was above suspicion anymore. For that reason, Harry's first birthday party had consisted of only the most trusted members of the Order and their very best friends. Dumbledore had told James of the threat to them, this newly revealed prophecy, but James had convinced him not to tell Lily, prolonging their move to Godric's Hollow until after the party. She should get that, James thought. It's not too much to ask that she should get one birthday party, one happy day before they left and went into seclusion, where only Sirius could know their whereabouts. He'd have to tell her, he knew that, and it would have to be soon. But she'd had today; he'd made certain of that.

James shook off the thoughts. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with that. He looked around the room and cocked an eyebrow at his wife. "Well, it was certainly 'smashing'." He picked up the remains of what once was a ceramic umbrella stand. "Not that I ever liked this anyway, but whatever possessed Sirius to get him a broom? He just turned a year old for Godric's sake!"

"Really, James, do you need more reason than because he's Sirius? I mean, that seems reason enough to me. It's outlandish, far too old for Harry, and the one thing guaranteed to drive me mad as a hatter—really, it's exactly the gift I would have expected him to buy."

"Hm, I hadn't really thought of it like that. Of course, you have to admit that he does love his role as godfather."

"I think he likes it a little too much." Lily sighed, but James noted that the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smile.

"Is that a hint of a smile, I see?"

She rearranged her face quickly. "I have no idea what you're talking about, James Potter. You clearly had too much punch—which I did see Sirius spike, so don't even try to deny it—at the party. It's made you delusional."

"Delusional perhaps, but I do believe that you, my darling wife, are starting to soften towards my friends."

"I am not," she said, in staunch defense of her James'-friends-are-idiots-stance. "Sirius Black is a buffoon if ever I saw one and you bloody well know it!" She used her wand to remove the bright red, paper streamers from the ceiling.

James crept up behind her and slid his hands around her waist. "Ah, but he's a charming one, eh?"

She leaned back against him, vanished the party favours away and said, "I'm not sure that a buffoon can be charming."

"Well—"

She cut him off. "But, I will give you this much. Were it possible for a buffoon to be charming, I suppose Sirius Black would have figured out how best to pull it off."

"See, you do like my friends," James taunted.

"I like Remus and Peter is—well, tolerable, I suppose. It's only Sirius who is a—"

"—buffoon," James finished. "Yes dear, we've established that. Something tells me he'd be rather proud of that fact."

"I don't doubt that one tiny bit," Lily agreed. "I've never met such a thick-headed man in my entire life—present company excluded, of course."

"Oy! I do believe that comment was a bit uncalled for!"

"Perhaps." Lily walked towards the kitchen, stopped in the doorway to survey the mess and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Harry's adventures on his new broom had upended anything that they hadn't been quick enough to charm firmly to the floor. James hadn't seen Lily's Kneazle for hours. Smart cat!

He stood behind her once more. "Would you listen to that?"

"What? I don't hear anything. Is it Harry? Is he—"

First time mother that she was, Lily was already striding off toward the nursery when James grabbed her arm, whirling her back toward him. "That's the point. It's quiet. The party guests have gone home. Harry's sleeping. There's no broom zipping through the house to put our shins in mortal danger—or better yet my bollocks—Damn kid needs to grow a bit. His head's at a dangerous level when he's zipping around on that broom. The family jewels are in serious peril of being smashed," James said, cupping himself for emphasis.

"It really would be a terrible shame for some harm to come to something I value so highly." Lily turned towards him and stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout. She rested one hand on his belt buckle and curled the other up around his neck. "I would be most upset were something to damage them."

"Then tell the wee beastie to watch where he's going!"

"You did not just call our son a little beast."

"Well, I think actually I called him a wee beastie but--oomph" Lily's hand connected soundly with his midsection.

"You know perfectly well that he's a darling child. He only looks like a wee beastie."

"Oy, Lil! He looks just like me!"

"Does he now?" she asked, her demeanor coy. "Why, I hadn't noticed the resemblance."

"I'll just bet. But, have you noticed that for such a gorgeous child, that he has the nasty temperament of his mother?"

Gasp!

"Aw, so you did notice then. You should meet her someday. Spiteful witch, I tell you." Lily sprang into motion, freshly manicured claws out and ready to draw his blood. James had been expecting it. He knew her well, so he anticipated her next mode of attack, and was quick to put an overstuffed armchair between them, skirting around it, careful to stay just out of her reach.

"When I get my hands on you, Potter, I'll---"

"Oh, do finish that sentence. Please. You'll what? Run them up and down this fabulous body of mine? You'll peel away my clothes piece by piece and throw me down to the ground and have your wicked way with me?" James arched an eyebrow and winked. "Go on, witch. You have me on wands and cauldrons in anticipation of your answer."

"You wish."

"Boy, do I." He pouted as Lily turned back towards the kitchen. "Where are you going? Did you forget our game? You're presently supposed to be peeling away these annoying layers of clothes and worshiping my body with your tongue."

Lily snorted in response. "There's a mess in my kitchen to clean up. You know, Potter, you could help and then that whole tongue-worshiping thing you seem to fancy might actually happen." Lily winked to punctuate the statement.

James rolled his eyes. They wouldn't be here tomorrow. This house, this town… all of that would change tomorrow. He didn't see the point of wasting time cleaning up, but Lily didn't know that yet, and he wasn't about to ruin this day for her. "I suspect if I don't help you that tongue worshiping thing will quickly turn to a tongue lashing I won't soon forget."

"You are a very astute man, Mr. Potter. If only you had better taste in friends, I might even consider you marriage material… or something."

"Admit it. You only want me for my body, Evans." James used his wand to vanish away what remained of the balloons—the ones Harry and his new broomstick hadn't already obliterated. "And really, who could blame you? I mean you do have eyes and all." James plucked a strawberry from the frosting of Harry's cake, and tongued it clean of sweetness. "You coordinated the colours of the streamers with the strawberries. Admit it."

"Oh, I most certainly did not. Even I am not that much of a perfectionist." Lily's words lacked conviction.

James pounced on the opportunity to tease and taunt. "You know, it's a real shame that I vanished away those streamers 'cause I'm betting that if I laid this strawberry—James held up the strawberry in question--on it, that it would be the exact shade of matching red."

Lily moved in right as he finished and plucked the strawberry from his fingers with her teeth, her lips closing around his fingers suckling the juice from the tips. James drew in his breath.

"What strawberry, Potter?"

He pulled her close, running his tongue across her bottom lip. "Perhaps I should go and find that pesky strawberry so you can examine it thoroughly. I'm sure I'll need evidence to make my case." He slid his tongue between her lips, kissing her deeply.

Lily grasped his shirt, clinging as he backed her against the table. James used an arm to sweep the table free of party favours, sending it all crashing to the floor… all except the cake. He swiped his hand across the frosting. "You got to eat that very succulent juicy berry. I think it's only fair that I should get a bit something in return. Don't you, love?"

Lily breathed harder, and dug her nails into his shoulder. "What would you like?" She leaned in and they bumped noses.

Rubbing the frosting down her cheek and over her chin, James whispered. "To lick you clean."

He lifted her to sit on the edge of the table and Lily arched her back into him. Her voice came out in a low purr. "I should like that very much."

"Should you now?" James began to push her back as he licked the frosting from her chin.

Resisting, Lily pushed forward. "Don't you get cake in my hair."

With one quick swish of his arm, he pushed the cake to the floor in a heap.

"You are so cleaning that up, James Potter!"

"Shush." James's tongue teased its way from her chin, over her mouth and up her cheek, removing every sticky, white smudge. "So sweet."

"I'm going to pretend you're talking about tasting me and not the frosting."

Chuckling, James nipped her ear. "A bit of both, I think. Have I mentioned how much I want you right now?"

Lily's hand trailed down his chest and ghosted over his crotch. "There are some things that you really don't need to verbalize, Mr. Potter." She reached for his belt, and he groaned when it gave way beneath her hands. She lowered his zip and lay back on the table, looking up at him coyly. "I can think of much more enticing things for you to do with your mouth. Talking is so overrated."

"But, I'm just so good at it. The jokes, the wit, the verbosity. I mean, really, sweet talking a girl is what we Marauders do best."

Lily snorted. "Yet, I noted that not one of your friends came with a date tonight."

"They just need a bit more guidance from their fearless leader in how to woo a woman. I'm working on it."

Hiding her mouth behind her hand, Lily erupted in giggles. "Does Sirius know you are the leader? Because I'd be willing to wager all that I hold dear, he'd have something to say about that."

James pushed his trousers and pants down past his thighs. "Can Sirius do this?"

Lily didn't let him finish. "Pull down his pants? There's that whole streaking past McGonagall while Peeves chased him hurling spit wads in the fifth floor corridor during sixth year which earned him about a million nights in detention that leads me to believe that he's rather good at it."

"I'd forgotten about that," James said, teasing her nipple over the cloth of her shirt with a flick of his thumb.

"That's because you weren't Marianne Everson's best friend, and Marianne had a massive crush on Sirius. With all his bits flopping about as he ran down the corridor, well, let's just say that Marianne got an eye-full of Sirius, and I got an ear-full from Marianne, rehashing all the details. Did you know his cock is this—she used her hands to show him, stretching them far apart—big?"

"First of all, Marianne should take up fishing. Or at least the telling of fish stories. She has a knack for it. I've shared a dorm with Sirius for a good many years." James used his own hands to shorten the distance between hers. "I'd say that's closer to the truth. I mean, not that I was really looking or anything, but—well, you know what I mean. Now, no more talk about this." James pressed her back flat on the table and cut her off with a kiss, sliding his hand up her thigh. "I want you." His hands slid farther up her body, cupping her breasts, fingertips flicking back and forth in teasing fashion over the sensitive tips.

"So I guess this ends the topic of the size of Sirius Black's bits then?" Lily teased. "Shall we move on to comparing Remus's goods or Peter's—urgh—now there's an unpleasant thought? Of course, not that you would have noticed or anything." She snorted.

"You dare to mock me, woman?"

Lily grinned up at him, a twinkle in her eye. "What are you going to do about it?"

James sighed and put his hand on his chin as though in deep thought. "Honestly, you leave me no choice but to kiss you until I'm the only thing filling that pretty little head of yours." And with that, he pounced, holding her flat against the table. His mouth covered hers, leaving her no time to respond with words. His tongue teased its way past her lips taking liberties to explore her, doing battle with her own tongue for dominance, and feeling her submission in the way she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, grasped hands full of his hair and bucked against his hips.

James pulled away from her and drew his wand. "You are wearing far too many clothes."

"Don't you dare vanish them away, James Potter. Last time you did that, you couldn't figure out how to bring them back. That skirt happened to be a favourite and--"

James ignored her and flicked his wand, leaving before him a very naked Lily. "What was that you said?"

"You arse."

He put a hand to his ear, feigning deafness. "Smack your arse, you said? Kinky. I like it." He raised his hand to deliver a playful slap, but not able to reach her bottom, he settled on her thigh.

Lily raised herself up on her elbows, licking her lips slowly, tantalising in invitation, and James knew the time for teasing had passed. He cupped her face with his hands. "Fuck me," she whispered, moving to sit on the edge of the table and splaying her thighs in invitation.

Gods! Nothing turned him on like that. When she was bossy and demanding, he wanted her with a need so great that it was primal in its desperation. He stepped between her knees and ravaged her neck, teeth and tongue nipping their way down the white milky column, licking at the base of her throat, egged on by her moans of pleasure.

Lily wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against his erection. He felt the silky softness slide against his shaft, her dampness a testament to how ready she was to have him. Her hand curled around his base as he kissed her and she pressed the head of his cock to her entrance adjusting her hips with a wiggle that parted her and gained him slight entry.

"Oh, Lily!" James gasped, thrusting forward and sheathing himself in her heat. He took her hand, sliding it between them and pushing it down. "Let me watch you."

She worked her hand downward, and her knuckles brushed him with every thrust, as she worked her clit to a frenzied state. She clasped his shoulder with the other hand for balance, and her nails bit into the skin, tossing her head back, auburn hair bright as flame falling around her. "I'm close, James," she moaned. "Are you—"

"Just waiting for you," he whispered, pulling back, teasing against her entrance, then thrusting back to join them once more. He brushed away her hand, no longer content to watch her, pressing his thumb into her, and with a twist and a flick of his finger she spasmed around him, muscles clenching, bringing him to the precipice and over with her.

When the shaking of their bodies subsided, Lily found his wand and Apparated them up to their room with a pop.

~0-0~

They lay in their bed, sweaty but sated, and it pained James to remember that this would be the last night they would spend in this house. From the Gryffindor-red walls (which he had worked hard to convince Lily were just the right colour) of the nursery to the fluffy mattress of their bed, they had made this place their home, and it would be missed.

There was a stirring from the other room, and James said a silent prayer that Harry would remain sleeping. He tried to block out the thought that it could have come from outside. He knew they were safe, at least for the night, as his friends were patrolling with wands at the ready for any sign of trouble. Only Sirius knew the true reason. He knew tomorrow would bring their departure, and like James, he wanted Lily to have this one night. After all, he had said, "A boy only gets one first birthday… as does his mother."

When it came to friends, James had to admit he'd gotten more than he deserved. He trusted them, quite literally with the lives of both he and his family. They wouldn't let him down.

Lily noticed his change in attention. "What is it?" She may not have known that the danger had increased for them by tenfold, but she was a bright witch, and this war and all its terrors had left its mark on her.

He masked his fear. He was becoming good at that. "Nothing, love. I just thought I heard our little demon child awakening from his sugar-induced coma."

"He really did fancy that frosting… almost as much as he liked his new broom."

James chuckled. "I wouldn't say that. He didn't insist on sleeping with the frosting. I had to pry the broom from his hand after he'd drifted off."

"I'm a very lucky lady," Lily said, curling into his arms and pressing her lips against his neck. "Handsome husband, beautiful child. What more could a girl ask for?"

James responded with a kiss, keeping his thoughts to himself. Safety. And if it kills me, I'll keep you both safe.

~0-0~

But on Harry's second birthday, there was no cake with strawberries and frosting, no streamers, no balloons, no new broom from his proud godfather, and no parents who loved him.

There was only a bite mark on his leg from his cousin.

Fic: Going Home Again (Percy/Millie, NC-17)

2009-06-02T02:54:38Z

Title: Going Home Again
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2873
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Millicent Bulstrode
Summary: In the aftermath of Fred's death, Percy is needed at home. He really should have informed Millicent before cutting out.
Warning: Tittyfuck, violence (sort of) and smexiness
A/N: Thank you redheadsarehot for the super speedy beta job!

Originally written for gelsey's request at the 2009 percy_ficathon

AND 14. Breast on smut_69

Sometimes it was about waiting for the smoke to clear… about swallowing your pride, admitting your faults and conceding to go home again. After all the dead were buried, if not figuratively, at least literally, and as wounds began to heal, that was where Percy Weasley was needed… home.

~*~

Percy gave his flat an appraising look and wondered where to start. The basics, he decided internally and pulled out an old trunk from his closet. It was battered with age, the wood no longer smooth, now marred by scratches and dents from its many treks to and from King's Cross and Hogsmeade Stations. He remembered watching Bill and Charlie, each in turn, packing it up before it had been handed down to him. When the twins had gone away they'd needed two trunks, so Percy had held on to this one. He wondered, for perhaps the first time, if this particular trunk ever had been smooth. It had seen a fair amount of Weasleys off to their first day at Hogwarts, and always brought them home again. It knew its place, its duty, Percy thought, as ironically it was to bring him home once more.

A knock sounded at the door and he wondered who it could be. He hadn't told anyone of his imminent departure. Who was there to tell, after all? He'd lost his job; he had no friends to speak of, and the people who might actually care were all at their respective homes or the Burrow wallowing in their own grief for the brother they'd just buried. They didn't have time to worry themselves over what he was doing.

"Who's there?" Percy asked with no small bit of trepidation. No answer. He opened the door a crack, wand raised in defensive measure, to find her standing on the other side. And from the looks of it, hands on hips, mouth turned down, a bit red in the face, it was one very pissed off her.

Millicent Bulstrode in all her angry glory.

Most people—most particularly his brothers, wouldn't understand the attraction to a girl like Millie. There was, after all, a bit of a size disparity… in that she could snap his spine like a twig. And there was that personality conflict… in that she would not hesitate, not even for a second, to do so.

"Millie," he said, and put away his wand.

"Well, it's nice to see that at least you haven't forgotten my name."

"Of course, I have not—"

"Shut your trap, I'm not finished talking, Weasley." She pushed past him, nearly knocking the doorknob through the wall in her hasty ingress.

Eloquence was not one of Millicent's strengths. The talents her mouth possessed were not motivated by speech. Percy felt himself blush at the direction his thoughts were taking. Millie on her knees before him. Millie pulling down his zip. Millie taking his cock in her hand, licking her lips, leaning forward and—

Thwap! Her hand connected soundly with his back of his head.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Percy stammered… once he had recovered enough to form words. There were times Millicent's penchant for violence unnerved him. Of course, during times of rough sex, it rather turned him on.

"That was because I'm clearly good enough to shag, but not important enough to inform when you plan to move out."

Yes, he had suspected that might be what it was for, but found no reason to give her the upper hand so early on in the conflict. "I was going to tell you."

"When?" she shouted. "After you shoved your cock in me one final time on your way out the door?"

"Millicent!" he gasped in his dear-Godric-I-sound-just-like-my-mother voice. This was crude even by what Percy internally thought of as Millicent standards…and those weren't high. Not high at all.

"Oh, don't you Millicent me, Percy Weasley! You show up in my flat when your cock's so stiff it's about to split the seam of your prissy, tailored trousers, and that's the only time I ever see you."

He was actually rather impressed by her aptitude. Honestly, he'd never really pondered whether she'd noticed the pattern. He'd just always assumed she hadn't. It wasn't that he didn't think she was capable of having deep thoughts—well, maybe it was. Millicent wasn't the brainy sort. She had definitely scored high in the brawn department though. Percy took a precautionary step back.

He still remembered the day she'd moved into the flat below him. She'd dropped out of school, refusing to go back for her seventh year, and taken a job at the Ministry. The hiring standards there during the war had been fairly low… if you had been a Slytherin during your days at Hogwarts then you were accepted. Millicent's father wasn't a Death Eater, per se, but he was certainly in tight with the group, which had certainly upped her employability.

The Minister of Magic had given Millicent the job of Percy's secretary/assistant/keep-a-close-eye on-that-Weasley-boy-person, and secured the flat so she could continue "watching him" after office hours. He wouldn't say it was her eyes she'd kept on him the most, but she did have a way with her mouth. Full, pink, pouty lips sliding up and down the long shaft of his---

He was startled back into the present by Millicent reaching forward and removing his glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on top of the clothes in the trunk that still lay open on his bed.

"Whatever did you do that for?" Percy asked. The act was maternal, out of character.

"It would be a shame to break your glasses when I clock you upside your thick head… again," Millie said, popping her knuckles for emphasis.

His cock stiffened shamefully at the thought of them rolling about the floor, wrestling for dominance—a fight he'd undoubtedly lose, but unlike his brothers, Percy recognised that there was a time losing really meant winning. He'd give in when she straddled his waist, her curves enticing him as she pinned his arms above his head, leaning over him so that the fullness of her tits jiggled just beyond his nose. If he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, he could dampen the white shirt she wore, bringing her nipple to a hard, dark point beneath the fabric. She'd gasp when he…

Splat! Millicent's fist slammed soundly into his left eye. He staggered backwards in pain, his eye immediately swelling up.

"That's what you get for packing up to leave and not telling me. Who do you think you are anyway? Don't you know the rules?"

Percy's ears perked up at this. "There are rules?" He rubbed his wounded eye as he asked.

"Of course there are. I'd think a prude such as yourself, Mr. Former-Head-Boy who deducted more than his share of house points from me, would know that there are rules for everything."

He had to give her credit for this insight. He hadn't thought she had this in her. Millie was more a rule breaker than a rule maker—or even a rule acknowledger when you got right down to it. Rules and Millie were like Professor Snape and a good cream rinse, not simpatico.

"Well, you ignorant—"

"I'll beg your pardon, madam! I may be a lot of things, but I am not, under any circumstances, ignorant." Percy puffed out his chest in proud peacock fashion.

Millie sat down on the corner of his bed. Her voice was nonchalant as she responded. "Oh, you certainly are ignorant. A right moron if the truth be told."

"How dare you!?"

"I dare."

Percy pointed his finger in her face and then toward the door. "Get out!" He no longer cared to listen to her theory on rules, and it was a shame, as he'd actually been interested in hearing her ideas. But no one, not even Millicent Bulstrode would get by with calling him—Percy Weasley, former Gryffindor Prefect and Hogwarts Head Boy, as well as Junior Under Secretary to the Minister of Magic himself—not that he really earned that title—but he was getting off track. That was not the point. The point was that Percy Weasley was no moron, and no one had better ever think otherwise… or they would no longer be welcome in his flat…the flat he was about to no longer occupy, but…erm… really, there were times he needed better consequences for those who defied him.

Millicent yawned in her lack of concern. "Calm down, prissy-pants. You know you want to hear what I have to say about your precious rules."

"I'll have you know, I do not." He did, but that was no business of hers. He crossed his arms and looked pointedly anywhere but at her.

"Hmph. Well, I'm telling you anyway. The only people who get to just exit a girl's life after he's been sharing her bed for the past several months are people who are far cooler than you. Your brothers, for example."

He uncrossed his arms and glared at her from his one good eye. "Bill and Charlie, Bill and Charlie. That's all I ever hear. Well, I'll have you know that I'm tired of being compared to my older brothers." Percy took a seat in a chair across from her.

"Oh," she said, casually rifling through his suitcase. "Well, that's good because I was referring to your younger brothers. The twins."

"The twins? Those buffoons? What do they have that I don't—" And for a moment, he'd forgotten. Millie's presence had made him forget the reason he'd been going home and what had been eating him up inside since the Battle of Hogwarts. He cleared his throat and turned his head. "Yes, I suppose they are—were far cooler than I."

"So that's why you're going home? I suspected as much."

"My mother's beside herself with grief. My father's dealing with it in his own way, I guess, and Charlie has to return to Romania soon. That's where I'm needed. At home."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a mummy's boy?"

"I grew up with five brothers," he replied, his voice dull.

"Yeah, good point. I suspect that bit of name calling might have come up over the years." She paused for a moment, then continued. "I'm sorry. That was meant to lighten the mood, and it fell rather flat, didn't it?"

Percy couldn't stop himself from smiling. For all her brashness, Millicent meant well. "It's not your fault. It's mine. All mine." His voice trailed off, and he dropped his head into his hands.

She must have crawled toward him because she touched his hand and when he looked up, she was on her knees before him, her hands on both of his thighs. "If you had only told me," she said, "perhaps I could have offered you some small bit of comfort." She stroked his face with the back of her hand.

He pointed at his injured eye. "When I think of you, and perhaps I'm judging too harshly, but I don't think so, comfort isn't exactly what comes to mind."

She dropped her head in shame. "I can't help but lose my temper sometimes. I try not to, but really, I mean, it's all your fault."

"It's my fault you punched me in the eye?" Percy exclaimed. "Do go on. I can't wait to hear your rationale behind this bit of logic."

"You just make me so furious that sometimes I can't help myself."

"And you wonder why I don't think of you when I need comforting?" Percy would have gone on, but Millie raised herself up on her knees and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. "I may not do this in any way that is conventional, but never doubt that I can make you forget all of your problems, Weasley… even if, but for a little while."

"As long as your means don't involve knocking me unconscious or sending me to St. Mungo's on a stretcher, I might be interested in a demonstration." Percy watched as her eyes darkened with passion.

"I can't make you any promises, Percy. Do yourself a favour and take a chance." Her voice lowered to a sultry whisper, and she took his face between her palms. Her hands were soft, as were her lips when she kissed him, pulling his lower lip between her teeth. "Are you game, lover?"

Percy might have answered, had her hand not reached forward to cup his balls, cutting off any train of thought he might have once had. He leaned back, his head pressing against the wall as Millicent lowered the zip of his trousers. He raised his hips to accommodate her as she wiggled both trousers and pants down past his hips.

She took him in her mouth, pretty pink lips working their way up and down his shaft in a steady rhythm. And as much as he wanted this, Percy decided that he wanted more. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off him.

"You know I hate it when you do that!" Millicent shouted.

Her aversion to having her hair pulled was no secret. Percy simply grinned at her, pointed at his eye and said calmly, "Perhaps I'd like a matching set."

"That's a bloody good way to get one!" Millie replied.

Percy grabbed the lapels of her blouse and ripped, sending buttons scattering across the room with resounding tings as they bounced across the hard wood of the floor.

"Do you have a death wish, Weasley?" She stopped short and the look on her face said it all. She'd hit the nail on the head and she knew it. "I'm sorry, Percy. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean—"

Percy pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. "It's okay. Maybe I do. At least if I were dead, it wouldn't hurt so much… and I'm not talking about my eye," he said with a slight grin. He moved away from her and she grabbed for his arm.

"Percy, please."

He shoved the trunk from the bed and sat down upon it then crooked a finger at her beckoning her forward. "Tell me you want me," he whispered across the distance that she was slowly closing between them.

"I do," Millie replied, her voice no louder than his. "I want you, Percy. Tell me how to make it better. Tell me what you need from me."

She came to stand between his knees and Percy used his wand to vanish away their clothes. He spent a bit of time just looking at her. He loved the fullness of her body, the sway of her curves and heavy feel of her breasts as he palmed them. He slid his tongue over the nipples, bringing them to hard points in an instant. "I want these. I want to slide my—" Oh, who was he kidding. He wasn't good at this. Dirty talk or smooth bedroom personas were more Charlie's forte. He cleared his throat and felt the blush creep up his cheeks.

But Millie knew. She lay back on his bed, and pressed her full tits together, then tilted her chin at him in a welcoming manner. Percy straddled her chest and used his wand to cast a lubricating charm, then slid his cock between her beautiful breasts.

She squeezed her breasts together, brushing her fingers back and forth over the nipples as Percy thrust his cock into the valley between them, over and over again, saying her name as he spilled over her chest and chin.

He fell down beside her on the bed exhausted and used his wand to clean them up, then gathered her to him as the sun began to set outside the window.

After a few moments, as their breathing slowed, Millicent spoke. "I'm going to miss you. I'll even miss your prissy whistling as you leave for work in the mornings."

"I'm not sure it's possible to whistle in a prissy fashion."

"Trust me, it is. And you do."

She rarely showed vulnerability and Percy found it unnerving. What he found even more unnerving than her tone was the realisation that he shared her feelings. "Millicent," he said, raising himself up on an elbow, "would you—well, would you like to come with me? I mean, not to live or anything—not yet—I mean, not that I don't want—It's just---wow, I'm royally fucking this all up."

"Are you asking me to come meet your family?"

Percy breathed out a sigh of relief that she understood. "Yes."

"I somehow doubt your mother would find me a suitable girl for her beloved boy."

"Please," Percy said with a chuckle. "My mother will be so relieved I'm not gay and there might be grandchildren in her future, that she'll be elated to meet you."

Millicent balled her fists. "So the only reason I'm acceptable is because I'm female and not a bloke? Is the word flattery even in your vocabulary, you moron?"

"You're going to black my other eye now, aren't you?" Percy asked, cringing away.

"I'm considering it."

Fin

Fic: Ogling Man Flesh (Scorpius/Rose, PG-13)

2009-06-01T19:18:07Z

Title: Ogling Man Flesh
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Prompt: Books
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 249
Warnings: The ogling of man flesh
Summary: Rose Weasley isn't what most people picture when they think of Hermione Granger's daughter.
A/N: Originally written for the Round 1, Week 6 at next_gen_ldws where our character was Rose Weasley

AND 26. Sport on lions_serpents

"Honestly Malfoy, how many of these books are you going to make me look through before we can just complete the damn essay?" Rose whinged.

"As many as it takes until we get what we need," Scorpius retorted, his patience stretched.

"Fine. You know that you're absolutely no fun at all, right?"

"So you tell me every chance you get." Scorpius flipped another page, and Rose headed back towards the library shelves to retrieve yet another book. About the time she stood, Allie Longbottom approached.

"Have you heard, Rosie?"

"Heard what?"

"That they're having Quidditch try-outs this afternoon. Like NOW."

Rose gathered up her cloak and commenced giggling. Scorpius' already tested patience snapped. "Are you really Hermione Granger's daughter? According to my father, your mother was quite studious. And you—well, you're just not."

Rose leaned down and put her face near his. "And I've been told your father was an egotistical, moronic arse hat. Are you?"

Scorpius glared. She had a point, and oh, how he hated it when she bested him.

"I guess we aren't all like our parents, are we now, Malfoy? Or perhaps some of us are."

Scorpius added snarling to his glare.

"Godric, the rippling muscles, the sweaty hair, the—"

"Calm down before you need a moment with yourself," Allie said, and Scorpius turned red in the face.

Rose grinned at her friend, then turned to Scorpius. "Now, you finish our project, while I go off to ogle some firm, muscular man flesh."

Fin

Fic: Making Passes at Boys in Glasses (Al/Neville, NC-17)

2009-05-27T14:11:51Z

Title: Making Passes at Boys in Glasses
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Albus Severus Potter/Neville Longbottom
Prompt: A pair of glasses
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 248
Warnings: Teacher/student; Dub!Con
Summary: What happens in the darkened halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are kept quiet.
A/N: Originally written for the Round 1, Week 5 at next_gen_ldws where our character was Albus Severus Potter and our prompt was a pair of spectacles

AND 8. Silence on 15pairings

I can't help it that blokes find me irresistible. It's the glasses. I wonder if whoever said boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses knew about this double standard. 'Cause I can tell you from experience they certainly make passes at other blokes who wear them.

And this leads me to my current predicament…

I was walking down the corridor late at night on Prefect Patrol when I was suddenly yanked into a dark classroom by strange hands that simply seemed to appear out of nowhere and pressed me hard against the wall, lips nipping their way down the column of my neck as firm hands pushed me down to knees.

I heard the sound of a zip being lowered reverberate loudly off the walls of the otherwise silent classroom. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this. Oh, I did. I'd been wondering what this felt like. Maybe it would be easier if I didn't have to look the person in the eye as the dark hid the blush of my inexperience.

I felt the tip of a cock press against my mouth and I sucked, more reflex than knowledge. Come shot out and covered my face, coating one side of my glasses, and I would have been grateful not to be able to see at all as the moonlight shifted and I could just make out the form of Professor Longbottom.

I think I'll get an "O" in Herbology this term.

Fin

Her Day (Lily Luna Potter, Gen Fic)

2009-05-24T16:39:54Z

Title Her Day
Author luvscharlie
Fandom Harry Potter
Rating G
Prompt A Water-lily Tiara
Word Count 250
Pairings Lily Luna Potter Gen
Warnings Language
Author's Notes Originally written for Round 1, Challenge 4 of the next_gen_ldws where our prompt was a water lily tiara.

I watch them often, my cousins. They're obsessed with the male gender, always talking about boyfriends and marriage and babies, in no particular order. I wish I could have stayed away today, but Mum threatened certain death if I didn't show up and behave myself. She meant it too. Mum's not one to make idle threats.

"Lily Luna Potter," she said—that was my first clue that arguing was pointless. All three names come out, it's time to just hold up the white flag of surrender and count your losses. So, I did.

I put on my best dress, and pasted on a fake smile that spread from cheek to cheek. I even pretended to enjoy all the girly banter that was going on in Uncle Ron's old bedroom where Victoire was getting ready for her big, faerie-tale princess day.

"So Cousin," I asked. "What does it feel like to be getting married today? You know, losing your freedom, chaining yourself to someone so he can force you to become a baby-making machine."

"Well, aren't you a fucking ray of sunshine?" asked Charlie from the doorway. He was holding THE box.

"Is that what I think it is?" Victoire asked

"Of course it is," Charlie replied.

We'd all admired the Weasley tiara since we were small children; each of us imagining the day in which we'd have our chance to wear it. Even I had to confess some small amount of envy watching Uncle Charlie place it atop Victoire's head.

Fin

Fic: Boys Will Be Boys (James II/Teddy, R)

2009-05-13T04:51:20Z

Title: Boys Will Be Boys
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: James Potter, II/Teddy Lupin
Prompt: A law enforcement badge
Rating: R
Word Count: 250
Warnings: Boy sex
Summary: When you don't have your own flat, you have sex where you can.
A/N: Originally written for the Round 1, Week 3 at next_gen_ldws where our character was James Sirius Potter

AND 3. Only playing/pretending on 15pairings

"Fuck, Jamie. That was—" Teddy sighed.

"I think the word you're looking for is fabulous." James collapsed in a sated heap upon the bed and sighed. He couldn't have moved if his very life depended on it… or so he thought.

A door slammed down the hall and the sing-song voice of Andromeda Tonks sang out. "Teddy, darling, are you home?"

Teddy leaped from the bed, grabbed James by the arm and pulled.

"What the--?"

Teddy's hand covered his mouth and he whispered, "If she finds you here, we're dead. Out the window."

"What? We're three floors up!" James braced his hands against the window frame and refused to budge.

"Do you really want my Nana to find you here? She'll Floo your parents and—"

"Okay, okay. I'm going," James grumbled, grabbing his clothes in a wad and inching out the window.

~*~

The next day, Teddy sought James out. "Look, Jamie, I feel terrible about yesterday. Nana's enough to drive me spare, but she'd be so upset if I left. I mean, I'm all she has and—"

"Shut it," James said, pinning a Muggle law enforcement badge onto his robe.

Teddy quirked an eyebrow. "What are you—"

James held up his hand. "I said shut it. The parents are away, in case you hadn't noticed, so tonight we're playing kinky cops and robbers." James tapped the badge for emphasis.

"You're going to make me be the robber, eh?"

"If it helps, there are handcuffs involved."

Fin

Fic: Interrogation Techniques (Kingsley/Tonks, NC-17)

2009-05-08T14:20:50Z

Title: Interrogation Techniques
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Kingsley Shacklebolt/Nymphadora Tonks
Prompt: Fingering, hand jobs
Word Count: 1,585
Summary: After a night out with Charlie Weasley, Tonks is paying the price at the hands of her supervisor.
Notes: Originally written for the May 2009 daily_deviant's prompt of hand jobs/fingering.

AND 01. Spanking on 10_themes; 09. Without a Name on 10_whores

Also for megans_writing who requested (long, long ago) Kingsley/Tonks, with a prompt of "pink ink"

The lilac coloured paper airplane seemed to have been waiting for her when Tonks stepped off the lift and started to make her way toward the Auror Department. She brushed it off, already in quite a dither about the night before.

Really, you'd think a girl would learn. Nothing ever went well for her when Charlie Weasley came to town. She'd say last night was no exception, but the fact was that she couldn't actually remember last night. Or, to be more precise, she couldn't remember much of the previous evening. There were bits and pieces that remained with her. For those, she prayed for a strong Obliviate.

~*~

From the bits and pieces she could remember…

Tonks had met Charlie at the Hog's Head. Her seat had been sticky. Honestly, she thought, Aberforth could at least make an attempt to keep the pub tidy. Charlie had been as handsome and charming as ever. She was always amazed that one dimple and flash of straight, white, perfect teeth could turn her legs to jelly so quickly. And the freckles… well, don't even get her started thinking of those. She rather liked freckles… and muscles… and tattoos… and was it really any wonder that every class they'd had together at Hogwarts, in which they had a female professor, Charlie had aced? There wasn't a woman alive that was immune to his charms.

Weasley men. Pfft! Charlie and Bill, and those smiles, and the way they laughed, and the size of their… okay, her mind was wandering, but hangovers did that to a girl.

Back to the previous evening…

There had been Firewhisky, and lots of it. She'd matched Charlie drink for drink through the first bottle. A word to the wise, never try to drink a Weasley man under the table. It simply was not possible. She remembered them getting to about the halfway point of the second bottle.

"You okay there, Tonks?" Charlie had asked.

The night became a bit blurry after that.

~*~

The interoffice memo swirled above her head and dived down to poke her in the ear.

"All right! All right!" she shouted at the purple airplane, a decision she regretted immediately as her voiced reverberated off her skull. She entered Kingsley's office, ignored the man behind the desk and flopped down onto a chair, prying the airplane open to read the memo inside.

Meeting at 9:00 a.m. All members of the Auror Department are required to attend.
DO NOT BE LATE!

Kingsley Shacklebolt
Department Head
Auror Department
Ministry of Magic

Well, fuck, she thought, looking at her watch. 11:30 a.m. She peered anxiously over the top of the memo at her boss behind his desk. Kingsley cocked and inquisitive eyebrow in her direction.

"Um, it appears I missed our meeting."

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Kingsley asked.

He was clearly annoyed. Dear Merlin, that man was sexy when he was angry. Having a crush on one's boss wasn't all that odd, she didn't think, and Kingsley Shacklebolt certainly played a large role in many of her late night fantasies.

There was the fantasy of being trapped in the lift with him, when all of the sudden he would push her against the wall, slide his hand into her knickers and…

"Tonks! I asked you a question."

Tonks jumped at the sound of his voice and could feel her cheeks heat as she blushed. She attempted to shake off her reverie.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Kingsley repeated.

"No, sir."

"You wouldn't care to explain yourself? Do you really believe that to be the wisest of answers? You missed a mandatory meeting. You were supposed to be in the office hours ago. And now you can't be arsed to explain why?"

Tonks cast her eyes downward, then looked at the wall, making an effort to focus her attention anywhere but on Kingsley—angry Kingsley, sexy Kingsley, Merlin, fuck-me-over-your-desk-right-now Kingsley.

"Tonks, I'm losing my patience. You'll either explain yourself or I'll be forced to—"

"Sir," Tonks interrupted, rising to her feet, yanking up her skirt and tugging down her knickers just past her bum to reveal a tattoo upon her right cheek. "I'm not sure how to explain this."

Kingsley came around his desk, scratching his chin in concentration. "That's nice. Is there a reason you're showing it to me?"

"I don't remember how I got it. I woke up this morning and there it was."

"I see." She thought she noted a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"What is it exactly?" Tonks asked.

"A tattoo."

"I know that. I mean what does it look like? It's not exactly in the easiest place for my own viewing, you know," she said grumpily.

"It's a dragon."

Of course it was. Damn that Charlie!

"A large, pink dragon," Kingsley said, pressing against her back, his lips inches from her ear. She shuddered at his closeness. Her knickers were around her thighs, and Kingsley slid his fingers over her bum, caressing the sore spot that contained her new body art.

"Tell me it doesn't have anyone's name on it," she said hopefully. She would not put it past Charlie for a second to get her drunk, and take her to a tattoo parlor so that she would be forced to wear his name across her bum for life. Charlie would have found that a perfectly acceptable (and hilarious) prank. Ours is a warped relationship.

"Should I expect to see the name of someone I know?" Kingsley asked, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath tickled her neck, her ear, her—yeah, there too, if not by direct contact, the electricity shooting through her body was certainly making it's presence known between her legs.

She pressed her hands against the wall to steady herself as Kingsley's strong hand pressed hard between her thighs, and his fingers slid between her legs to barely part her folds in a caress. She couldn't think. Her head was spinning as he brought a hand down on her sore bum with a sharp slap. "I asked you a question."

For the life of her, she couldn't remember what he'd asked. All she could think of was the fingers poised just outside her entrance, just shy of where she wanted them. She ground her hips down, but he was unrelenting in his pursuit of an answer. "I asked you if it was someone I knew. Who were you with last night?"

Her response was a whimper. Nothing more.

"Perhaps we should work on my interrogation techniques, Miss Tonks. Or… your ability to withstand them. After all, it is my duty to make sure you're well trained."

Oh yes, she liked where this was going. She liked it even better when he nipped her neck with his teeth and tugged her toward his desk, pushing her over it and using his wand to tie her hands behind her back. He leaned over her, and she could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into her thigh through his trousers. "Now, I believe I asked you for a name."

Tonks remained silent, the anticipation almost more than she could bear. Kingsley's hand came down hard upon her bum, and she wriggled as his fingers parted her, slipping over her many folds, teasing their way in and out.

"I expect you to answer when I'm speaking to you, bitch."

Bitch? Okay, now he was going too far. She turned to offer protest, but his thumb pressed against her clit, and she no longer cared what he called her, so long as he didn't stop touching her. "Kingsley," she said with a sigh, grinding her hips down against his hand.

"No, I wasn't the one with you last night. That's not the name I'm waiting for." He pulled away his thumb and she whimpered at the lack of contact. "Tell me who you were with, and I'll give you what you want."

She was so close. His fingers teased across her folds, never quite reaching the destination she most wanted them. "Please," she gasped.

"You need only tell me the name," he said, his finger resting against her clit, but not pressing down.

"Charlie!" she answered, and he pressed down just a bit.

"You're so close. I can tell." He wiggled his finger for emphasis. "Tell me the rest. Charlie who?"

Her heart was racing and she felt that she may well implode at any moment, such was the intensity of her need. "Charlie Weasley," she near shouted.

His fingers moved over her, pressing against her clit at a frenzied pace. She came almost immediately in an explosion of colours that combined with the fact that her head already ached made the room spin as she struggled for equilibrium once more.

She lay across his desk, spent, as he released her from her bonds. "Your ability to withstand an interrogation could use a bit more practice, I think." Kingsley's voice was calm, his tone even, though she wasn't sure how he managed it.

"Perhaps I need more practice, boss."

"Maybe." His hand playfully smacked her already sore arse. "Oh, and Tonks," Kingsley said.

"Yes?" she answered.

"I don't know what your relationship with Charlie Weasley is exactly, but if it's not romantic in nature, you're going to have one hell of a time explaining to whomever you date, why his name is tattooed next to that dragon on your bum in blinking pink letters."

"DAMN HIM!"

Kingsley simply chuckled.

Fin.

Fic: September First (Teddy/Victoire, PG)

2009-05-04T15:52:02Z

Title: September First
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Prompt: A silver wolf charm
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Warnings: Smooches
Summary: Victoire is about to start her last year of school.
A/N: Originally written for the Round 1, Week 2 at next_gen_ldws where our character was Victoire Weasley

September first came too soon, Victoire thought, as she stepped through the barrier to King's Cross Station. Teddy wasn't hard to spot; his turquoise hair and tall, lanky frame made him standout in any crowd.

It was her last year of school and she wasn't sure how she was going to get by without him. Being alone was a prospect she found daunting. She wasn't particularly proud of her needy, clingy ways, but with a mother like hers, she'd certainly come by those traits honestly.

At least Teddy didn't seem to mind how clingy she was. She grinned when he caught her eye and made his way over to her. He didn't waste time with pleasantries, grabbing her hand and pulling her into an alcove.

He pressed her against the wall and kissed her. "God, I'm going to miss you, Victoire."

"I'll miss you too," she gasped.

"I promise I'll be there for every Hogsmeade weekend."

"Which will make me the envy of the school."

Teddy chuckled. "I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver wolf attached to a dainty charm bracelet.

"Oh, it's lovely," she said as he attached it to her wrist.

"It's a Portkey. Say my name three times as you rub it, and it will bring you to me—you know, for a night when you need me more than you can stand."

Jamie stepped out from behind a pillar making gagging noises. "You two are just gross."

Fin.

Fic: One Night in Australia (Draco/Hermione, NC-17)

2009-05-04T13:27:38Z

Title: One Night in Australia
Author: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1705
Warnings: Sex, Booze and general angst
Summary: Six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione goes back to Australia to reclaim her parents and gets more than she bargained for.
A/N: Originally written for ellie_kat89's request at the 2009 hp_rarities fest.

AND 55. Solitary for 100quills

It hadn't taken long to find them. Her parents, even with altered memories, were still as predictable as the day was long. Perhaps that was where she got it; her need for order in an otherwise chaotic world had come from them. Perfectly predictable Hermione. She had been in Australia less than forty-eight hours before she had located her parents and put them on the next plane to England, where Minister Shacklebolt had arranged for a group of witches and wizards to meet them and try to reverse the Obliviation Spell.

Hermione had decided to stay in Australia to clean up the loose ends of her parents' quick departure. At least, she used that as her excuse to stay behind. The fact was she needed a break. The last year and a half had taken its toll on her. It had been six months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she felt as though she had aged many years in that short span of time. Perhaps she had; perhaps they all had. If years were measured by growth, she felt certain of it.

Tonight, she simply needed to escape. She made her way down the high street and turned left onto a street that wasn't well lit. Someone opened a door and came staggering out. The noise from inside drew her attention and she stepped into the tucked away little pub. She found a booth in a dimly lit corner, far away from the crowd. The waitress brought a pitcher of ale moments later.

"There must be some mistake," Hermione said. "I didn't order that."

The waitress popped her chewing gum and looked annoyed. "Well, someone ordered it. And the ticket says to bring it to this table, so here it is. The waitress's tone brooked no argument as she sat down the pitcher so hard that ale sloshed over the top. Two glasses followed the pitcher to rest upon the table.

The waitress left the table and Hermione poured herself a glass. Waste not, want not, her mother would say—though perhaps that didn't apply to ale. Her mother probably wouldn't use that particular saying in reference to imbibing, but Hermoine was wont to bend the rules these days. War changed people, she guessed.

A shadow fell over her table and a rich voice drew her attention. "Seeing as how it was bought with my Sickles, you think you might pour another glass?"

Hermione recognised the voice at once, but immediately thought she must be mistaken. After all, he was a wanted man. She looked up as Draco Malfoy took the seat across from her. "One flick of my wand, and all the Aurors will know where to find you," she said, her tone hushed.

"But you won't summon them, will you?" Draco asked, a smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't? There's probably a reward." She knew good and well that the Ministry wasn't offering a reward for a Death Eater who had been underage at the time he had accepted the Dark Mark. All they were really interested in from him was discovering the whereabouts of his father who had beaten a hasty escape after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco chuckled. "Probably is. Wonder what the cash out is on a former Death Eater anyway. Of course, if you call them, then you're going to have to go back with me to give testimony and all that. Funny enough, you don't look like you're much in the mood for company, Granger."

"And yet, you come and join me." Hermione blew out a slow breath. He was reading her well, and she found it somewhat annoying. She put aside her first instinct to summon the Aurors and nodded toward the pitcher between them. She needed this time alone, and turning him in wasn't worth abandoning this chance for solitude. "Help yourself."

Draco took the pitcher in hand and poured his glass to the brim. Hermione drained her own glass and set it back down on the table. He filled hers as well and pushed it back at her.

"So Malfoy, what are you doing in Australia?"

"I thought we had established that I was hiding," Draco said, taking a swallow.

"You might want to work on your skills at covertness. You see, hiding works better if you don't seek out the one person in the pub who knows who you are and sit down to have drinks with her."

He chuckled in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Perhaps it was the ale that was lowering her inhibitions, even making him look a bit handsome. Yes, it must be the ale. This was Malfoy after all, she told herself. Malfoy, whom she hated. Malfoy, who annoyed her to no end. Malfoy, whose eyes were that perfect shade of grey—strike that—obnoxious shade of grey—yes, that's what they were. Obnoxious… well, until he tilted his head in just that way as he took a drink and…

"Do I have something on my face?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. "Wh—what?" She cleared her throat and tried again. "What did you say?"

Draco leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I asked you if I had something on my face?"

"No," she stammered. "No, of course not. Why would you ask that?"

Draco took a moment to flag down the waitress and order another pitcher, since the one they were drinking from had gone dry. "From the way you're staring at me, it seemed the most logical possibility. Otherwise, I might be forced to believe those looks you're giving me are ones of admiration."

"That's ridiculous, Dra—Malfoy. I don't like you, remember?"

"I do remember. The question is, do you?"

That sexy smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth—strike that too, she thought, trying to gather her wits about her. Clearly this ale was wreaking havoc on her senses. There was nothing about Draco Malfoy that was sexy—well, almost nothing. Honestly, she was no longer sure what she thought. Rather than answering him (as she no longer remember the question), she chose to remain silent.

"So, where are your usual leech-like attachments?" he asked.

"I assume you're referring to Ron and Harry. You must know they're not here or else you would never have approached me."

Draco gave a chuckle. "Well, you're still able to process logical thought, so you're not that pissed yet. Shall I order another pitcher?"

"Oh no, really, I shouldn't," she protested.

"Miss Responsibility, aren't you? Do you ever do anything naughty?"

She could tell he was goading her, but Hermione felt herself bristle at his comment, nevertheless, and she glared pointedly at him. "Order another pitcher."

"Well, well, well. Aren't you just full of surprises, Granger?"

As they drank and talked, idle conversation of inconsequential things, she began to notice that her words were slurring, and that her companion was growing more and more attractive by the pub's dim light. Surely, it must be the lighting.

The waitress came round again to ask if they wanted another pitcher of ale, but Draco shook his head to indicate that they did not. "Perhaps I should walk you back to your hotel. I doubt you're very steady on your feet."

"I'm fine," she slurred, attempting to stand as the room whirled around her.

Draco caught her just in time, his hand curling around her waist in a familiar way that seemed all too natural. He smelled wonderful… of ale and the smoke-filled pub and something undeniably male. Despite her better judgment, she felt herself relaxing into him.

One minute they were walking out of the pub, and the next (Merlin only knew what had come over her), she was tugging him by the hand into an alley beside the pub and kissing him deeply…

And it was wonderful.

For the first time in far too long, she felt free. She knew what she was doing was wrong, and that she would undoubtedly regret it later, but right then, in that moment, it was exactly what she needed. The rough bricks of the building scratched her back where her shirt had ridden up. His tongue teased apart her lips as his hand slid up and under her shirt.

Hermione was rather impressed with the deftness of his fingers as he pushed her bra up, freeing her breasts to his touch. His fingers played her like a finely tuned instrument, tweaking her nipples. She arched her back into his touch, whispering the word "more" into his ear as her fingers dug into his shoulders with an urgent need.

"The pub will be closing soon. Someone might see us here," Draco gasped against her skin.

She threw caution to the wind, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I don't care," she responded, her lips against the shell of his ear.

She heard him gasp, drawing in a shaky breath of her own, as he pushed aside her knickers and slid his finger inside her. "Fuck," he whispered, removing his hand and fumbling with his belt.

"Hurry."

"I'm trying. Bloody fucking belt," he replied, pulling at it viciously until it gave and came free. He was inside her a moment later, pushing into her at a frenzied pace, as the bricks scraped against her back with each forceful thrust.

She slid her hand into her knickers as he set their rhythm, finding her clit and rubbing it fast and furious. Her heart seemed to beat in time with the movements of their bodies. Her moans grew louder with her impending orgasm, and Draco's mouth swallowed down her cries—both their cries—as he came hard inside her. She tumbled over the edge of ecstasy behind him, lips and bodies still joined as one.

~*~

She would regret it in the morning; she knew she would. But for the moment, this—he—was exactly what she needed, and she didn't think twice about agreeing when he asked if he could stay with her that night.

Irresponsible as it was, and completely opposite her normal behaviour, she thought she and Mr. Malfoy might have another go… perhaps, more than one.

Fin

Fic: Good Morning, Harry (Harry/Surprise Male, PG-13)

2009-04-29T20:31:37Z

Title: Good Morning, Harry
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Surprise Male Character
Warnings: Drunken Regrets… Maybe
Word Count: 764
Summary: If you run around with the likes of Charlie Weasley, there are always consequences.
Notes: Written for the birthday of one of my dearest, dearest friends: softly_sweetly. You are beautiful and wonderful and all sorts of fabulous, baby. Have a fabulous day!

Harry rolled over in the bed, and grasped his head. The bloody thing may well come off at any minute, and from the way it was hurting, it just might well be a blessing. His only sense of relief was that when he cracked open an eye, he was staring at his own hideous wallpaper. At least he hadn't woken up in someone else's bed. That was always a concern when one went out carousing with Charlie Weasley. You never knew where you'd wake up the next morning… or with whom.

Harry spent a good deal of time with Charlie these days, despite the disapproving tongue clicking noises Hermione made every time she heard him mention that he was heading out to a pub to meet up with Charlie for drinks and… erm, whatever. Hermione's blatant disapproval was perhaps what made Ron go the extra mile to be all the more accepting.

Gay pubs made Ron uncomfortable, though bless him, he had attempted to be supportive when Harry'd come out. He took his position as "best friend" seriously. He'd put on his game face and insisted (as much to himself as to those around him) that he could do this, as he'd trotted out with Harry for a night on the town. If it made Harry happy, then he was happy for Harry… until the first wizard had backed him into a corner and proceeded to kiss and grope him. There'd been no more volunteering to go "out" with Harry after that. Best friend or no; there were limitations to what Ron Weasley would do.

So, Harry had been glad to have Charlie's company. Not that Charlie and he particularly swung the same way—it was more like Charlie swung both ways, and probably other ways that Harry had no idea existed. Ignorance was, in fact, sometimes a blissful thing. If there was a line in the sand, Charlie was the first one across it, and if there was a wizard to fuck, well, Charlie was the first one to do that too.

The last time he'd gone out with Charlie had been the worst. Harry had woke up the next morning in a bed he didn't recognise and rolled over to find himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy—or perhaps skin-to-skin was more accurate, seeing as how they were both deficient in the clothing department. There had not been an Obliviate in the wizarding world strong enough to erase that memory—and trust him—he'd put up a good search for a wizard or witch who might be able to perform one. Even Hermione, who was quite an efficient obliviator, had been unable to erase that soiled spot from Harry's brain, though he doubted she'd tried very hard. Hermione may well have thought it was as much as Harry deserved for getting pissed and fucking someone, then not remembering it the next morning.

His splitting head brought him out of his reverie, and he grabbed it in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. Yes, thank Merlin for small favours. This morning he'd woken up at home—starkers, but at home.

He reached across the bed for the bedside table that always held his glasses and his hand bumped something warm and undeniably human.

Well, fuck. He'd been so relieved to wake up at home, he really hadn't pondered the possibility that he'd brought someone with him.

Now was the tricky part. Should he put on his glasses and see who was beside him or roll over and hope they'd leave before he was none the wiser as to their identity? After that whole Draco Malfoy incident, he seriously considered the latter option.

Harry raised his head tentatively, and as the moments passed he grew ever more curious as to who shared his bed. He gasped when he noted the freckled arm and the ginger hair peeking out from beneath the linens. Unfortunately, that was all he could see. He'd secretly had a crush on Charlie Weasley for as long as he could remember. Was it possible that he had shared the night with his long-time crush?

He reached for his glasses, made contact with the spectacles and put them on his face for a better look. He was quite surprised when the room remained blurry. He pulled the specs back off and cleaned them with the quilt, and put them back on his face—still blurry.

"I don't believe those belong to you, Harry," said a voice Harry recognised all too well.

Percy Weasley. The gods were not smiling upon him.

Fin.

Fic: Hot for Teacher (Teddy/Females Everywhere, PG-13)

2009-04-27T17:15:14Z

Title: Hot for Teacher
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Teddy Lupin/The Entire Female Population
Warnings: Suggestiveness
Word Count: 230
Summary: Some professors are just too hot to handle… or stay away from.
Notes: Written for Round 1, Prompt 1 of next_gen_ldws where our prompt was Teddy Lupin and Rune-carved Moonstones.

Hugo and Lily hung back in the doorway simply watching the inappropriate display before them. "It's disgusting really. I mean, ever since they went and made him Arithmancy professor, every female in this family—and Al, but he's as good as a girl—goes all swoony around him."

Lily snorted at Hugo's diatribe. "Can you blame them? Teddy—I mean, Professor Lupin is swoon-worthy."

Teddy sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow where every female Weasley (and ironically, Al) were crowded close around him, each vying for the position nearest the object of their affection.

"Tell us what the symbols on the moonstones mean, Professor," said Rose. Her voice was all dreamy and she was unable to take her eyes off Teddy.

"Oh yes, please do," said Lucy, pressing a stone into Teddy's hand and letting her fingers linger against his just a bit too long to be innocent.

Hugo jabbed Lily in the ribs. "Did you see that? It's sinful, I tell you! I mean, Teddy's like family. It's practically incest." He couldn't help notice that Lily was no longer paying any attention to what he was saying. She was wearing the same dopey look that the others in the room had adopted as she started towards them. "Lils, where are you going?"

She turned back to look at him and winked. "To commit a few sins, Cousin."

Fin

Fic: Welcome Home (Neville/Hannah, Neville/Seamus, NC-17)

2009-04-21T18:31:47Z

Title: Welcome Home
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott (sort of)
Warnings: Oral Sex, but if I say anything else, it gives too much away, so read at your own risk.
Word Count: 867
Summary: Neville arrives home and a surprise is waiting for him.
Notes: Written as a companion piece for redheadsarehot's Hump Day Smut picture entitled The Ol' Switcheroo. This was sooo much fun to write! Too much fun really.

AND 1. Musical Chairs at 15pairings

Neville was surprised when he arrived home to find all the candles extinguished and the flat immersed in darkness. It wasn't like Hannah not to leave a candle burning. The war had left its mark on all of them in different ways, but Hannah had never quite overcome the notion that she might walk into a room where a Death Eater was lurking. If a Death Eater was there, she was sure as hell not going to have the disadvantage of darkness in her own home.

He opened the door and crossed over the threshold. He was surprised when he felt the weight of the spell fall over him as ropes bound his hands behind his back, and a blindfold was placed over his eyes. There was a soft whisper, barely audible, and his clothes vanished from his body.

He was surprised to say the least. Hannah was the least adventurous person he knew. Steady as she goes, that was Hannah. Was it their anniversary? No, he didn't think so. Merlin, he hoped not. Tied, blindfolded and at her complete mercy was not the ideal way to tell one's wife they had forgotten such an important event, and frankly, he'd never fancied the notion of being an eunuch. Warm lips closed over his, and he forgot the potential dangers of being giftless on what he really didn't think was his anniversary, but he'd never been good at remembering dates.

Hands stroked down his chest, and he was surprised at the callused fingers that brushed across his nipples. Hannah must have been working in the garden today. With his eyes blindfolded, his sense of smell seemed somewhat heightened. Hannah smelled of warm earth and the outdoors, and he wasn't sure what it was—he couldn't put his finger on it—but something about it all just seemed queer.

However, he had little time to dwell on such notions. His cock was standing at attention and it bobbed and twitched as a callused finger stroked his balls ever so lightly. Hannah's newfound sense of adventure and—well, for lack of a better word, kinkiness—was terribly exciting. He felt a hand cup his balls, massaging in a way that brought him up on tiptoes, the sensations so intense that he wanted it to stop, and never stop, all at once. His mind was still reeling, when his cock was engulfed in the warm wetness of an eager mouth.

A tongue slid over the head of his cock, teasing the slit in a way that made his knees feel weak, and Neville began to doubt his ability to remain standing. He hardened his resolve, as it simply would not do to fall on top of her, and he had no desire to hurry this along. Hannah hated giving oral sex. To get a blowjob was usually something that happened rarely—God, was it his own birthday? No, this was April, and he was sure his birthday was in July. Then the lips started moving up and down his shaft with just the right amount of pressure and he was no longer certain of anything. If someone had asked his name, he would simply have replied with a blank stare of euphoria. As long as the sucking didn't stop, he'd answer to anything. Someone could have said, 'hey you, arsehole,' and he would have responded with a giddy smile of pre-orgasmic bliss.

A damp finger slid between the cheeks of his arse and Neville stiffened. Hannah had never done something like this before. He'd practically begged her in the past, but she'd staunchly refused to try new things in the bedroom. He wasn't sure what had come over her, but he hoped if it was demonic possession, that a new law was passed against exorcism. This was a demon he could live with…happily.

The finger slid into his arse at just the right angle, and before Neville could even fully process what was happening, he was coming hard. He wished the blindfold was gone. He wanted to watch his come cover her face, and he doubted he'd have the opportunity again anytime soon. He closed his eyes and focused all of his energy and the blindfold disintegrated—wandless magic had its perks. He gasped when he looked down to see the handsome come-covered face before him.

Seamus Finnigan!

Seamus grabbed Neville's face between his hands and kissed him, sliding his tongue into Neville's eager mouth. "Just say the word, mate, and there's so much more where that came from. Stay here and be bored and miserable for the rest of your life, trapped in a marriage that sucks out your spirit, or come away with me."

Neville looked over Seamus' shoulder at the unhappy woman perched on the stool in the corner. She was gagged and bound and clearly quite furious. The fact of the matter was, Seamus was right. This wasn't what he wanted out of his life—to live with boring Hannah and have boring, missionary position sex for the rest of his life. He wanted a divorce, sexual adventures and a chance at happiness—albeit of the kinky variety.

He nodded, wordlessly, and Seamus Disapparated them both away.

Fin.

Fic: Tempting Tart (Albus Severus/Scorpius, PG-13)

2009-04-20T19:42:23Z

Title: Tempting Tart
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy; Potter Kids Gen!Fic
Warnings: A Fabulously Gay Al
Word Count: 995
Summary: Never allow your baby sister to help you get ready for a date.
Notes: Written for my beautiful, beautiful loony4lupin because she's had a rotten week. Love you, babe!

Lily gave her brother a once over and shook her head in disgust. "This is unacceptable, Al."

Al, himself, looked down at his white t-shirt and faded jeans, with a hole torn in the knee to lend the appearance that he was fashionably roguish and sexy. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"Gay men do not dress that way," Lily responded with a snort.

"Well, little sister, I happen to be, in fact, a gay man who is dressed this way, so I think your theory may have a few rather large flaws." Al pushed his glasses back up his nose, splayed his hands and looked across the kitchen at his mother for a bit of assistance. Ginny shrugged in response as if to say, "I only gave her birth. You're on your own here."

"Go upstairs and come back down when you're properly attired," Lily said, ignoring his statement.

"I will not. You're a bossy little—" His mother cleared her throat, and Al rethought his choice of words. "—thing."

"You'll thank me later when Scorpius Malfoy's tongue's down your throat and his co–" Another clearing of the throat, this time by Ginny and Al simultaneously. "Oh, just go change, won't you? I laid out clothes for you on your bed." Lily rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

Al muttered as he climbed back up the stairs, and he was still muttering when he returned wearing skintight, black leather trousers and a pink mesh shirt.

"Where's the nipple ring?" Lily asked.

"My nipple is not pierced," Al said.

"But I can—"

"No, you most certainly can not!" Al put a protective hand over his chest. "Do I look like an idiot?"

"Well—"

"Shut it, Lils. Dear Merlin, did you have to buy these trousers two sizes too small? I can barely move in them."

"You have a nice bum, and at least you wore the spiked collar. Collars are sexy. Scorpius thinks so too. You should show it off your attributes when you're on a date." Lily said, with a toss of her hair as she took up a brush to try and tame his wild locks. He ducked and went to look in the mirror.

"First, I don't want to know that my sister thinks collars that make me look like a man whore are sexy. It's just—well, creepy. And you know, Lils, I find it rather disturbing that you said I have a nice bum. How would you--"

"Oh, I always catch Professor Flitwick looking at it when you walk away from him down the corridors at school. And when you're playing Quidditch he puts his hand inside his robe and--"

Albus held up a hand. "We can classify that in the too much information department. I'm going to go now before I'm late… or before I learn anything else that I'd rather never know."

"No," Lily protested. "You can't go yet. I have date pointers for you. You've never been out on a date before."

"Neither have you!"

Lily rolled her eyes skyward. "Well no, but I'm a girl. I KNOW these things. They're like inbred into our gender or something. So sit down," she said, shoving down on his shoulder so that he fell into a chair.

It's only fair to warn a person, which Al would like to point out did not happen in this particular instance, that leather pants do not give easily—they only hurt. "AAARRRGHHH."

"Now that I have your attention, brother," Lily began calmly, "I should warn you that men are pigs."

Al sighed. "Lily, I am a man."

"Then you should know this to be a fact better than I."

"We are not—" Lily cocked her head at his interruption and looked at him skeptically. "Okay, yeah, I'll concede that point. We are pigs."

"And that is why I'm giving you this." She handed him a small bottle of something. The minute it touched his hand, the bottle burst open and something socked him squarely in the eye.

"Well, that is just lovely. You are a moron! You know to handle things from Uncle George's shop carefully," Lily screeched.

Al was furious. "First of all, you never said it was from Uncle George's shop. Secondly, I barely touched the thing before it attacked me."

Lily clicked her tongue in staunch disapproval. "No time for excuses. Now, you're going to need make-up to cover that shiner."

"You little bitch! You did that on purpose. You've wanted to put make-up on me since you found out about my date with Scorpius. You completely set me up!"

Lily turned to him with her most innocent smile, which fooled him not in the least. "I'm wounded by your accusations, brother dear." She was practically jumping up and down with excitement as she tugged him up the stairs.

"Lily, you come near me with glitter or lipstick, and I will beat your scrawny little arse."

She squealed with delight. "Ooh, I hadn't even thought of that. Al, you're going to be the most beautiful man alive when I'm done with you."

He tugged his hand free of her tight grasp and ran back down the stairs. "The black eye's not so bad. I'll take my chances."

He might have even gotten away, were it not for those damned tight pants. His little sister was Slytherin through and through. She had, no doubt, planned every detail, Al thought, as he left the house sparkling with glitter, coated in make-up, and with lips adorned in a colour that their mother clearly did not know Lily possessed: Tempting Tart.

He arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and every head in the room turned his way. There were times it was a bitch to be Harry Potter's son. Then he caught Scorpius' gaze, who was giving him an admiring once over, and he thought he might have to thank his sister later.

Fin.

Fic: Atop the Tower (Scorpius/Rose, PG)

2009-04-19T20:55:13Z

Title: Atop the Tower
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Prompt: Astronomy Tower
Warnings: None
Word Count: 350 Exactly
Summary: Meeting your significant other at the top of the Astronomy Tower is a rite of passage at Hogwarts.
Notes: Originally written for the sortinghatdrabs Scorpius/Rose challenge.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when you said to meet you at the top of the Astronomy Tower." Scorpius said.

Rose removed her eye from the telescope lens. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I certainly did not think we were going to work on our astronomy project." Scorpius flung his hands to the side and knocked over a telescope in his overly-dramatic gesture. "Fuck!" he exclaimed.

"We can be the first team to turn in our assignment."

Snorting, Scorpius gave her an incredulous look, tossing aside the telescope pieces he was unable to reassemble. "This is what happens when Slytherins are paired with Ravenclaw know-it-alls."

"Yes, a tragedy. Slytherins actually make decent marks. What a shame it would be to shock your parents into cardiac arrest in such a way when they receive your grades."

"Ha-ha. You're a funny one."

They worked for hours charting stars as Scorpius grew steadily more irritated. He certainly hadn't started dating (did you call it dating if you spent the majority of your time doing homework together?) Rose Weasley for her brain. Grant it, she had a big one—brain, that is—but it was nothing compared to the big pair of—

THWAP

"What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You're staring at my tits."

"Well, what do you expect? They're a nice pair."

Even in the dark, with only the moonlight to see by, he could tell she was blushing. "You think my tits are nice?"

Scorpius backed her against the castle wall. She was a good deal shorter than him, and he tilted his chin down, his lips closing over hers.

"What are you doing, Scorpius?" she asked, pulling back.

"You invited me up here, Rose. I think it's time I introduce you to a whole new kind of stars." She giggled at his admittedly awkward attempt at "a line."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Give a bloke a break, Weasley. You don't exactly make this easy."

"If it were easy, you wouldn't want it so badly," she said, pulling him forward and kissing him hard.

Fin.

Fic: Gone Too Soon (Ron/Hermione, G)

2009-04-16T17:46:16Z

Title: Gone Too Soon
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Prompt: Lonely
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 100
Summary: Children simply grow up too soon. You blink and they're not babies anymore.
Notes: Originally written for the prompt of lonely at rhr100 where the prompt was lonely

AND 42. Speed on potterprompts

You thought it would be joyous when the day finally came to take the last of your two children away to Hogwarts. There would be time for those books you hadn't read; alone time you so desperately missed.

There's no thunder of footsteps down the stairs when you clank together the silver to signal the start of breakfast. Ron is at the office; Auror work starts early.

It's not what you imagined. Oh, it's certainly quiet without them home, but the quiet brings with it a desire to turn back the hands of time, and make them babies once more.

Fin

Fic: Pink (Harry/Pansy, PG)

2009-04-14T12:46:38Z

Title: Pink
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Prompt: Pink Pillows
Warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Summary: Harry gets over his aversion to the colour pink.
Notes: Originally written for kalina_blue's request for Harry/Pansy at hp_wishes for the prompt of pink pillows.

AND 11. View on lions_serpents

Harry walked into the bedroom and drew up short. Pink? Pink everywhere. The walls had been painted pinks. There was a new pink rug on the floor. The bed was covered with a pink duvet and the fluffiest pink pillows he had ever laid eyes upon. He'd be willing to bet his shorts that the linens beneath were pink as well.

This was simply unacceptable. "Pansy!" he shouted.

"Yes, Harry."

He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it as her dressing gown pooled at her feet revealing lingerie the exact shade of the room.

"I match," she whispered.

"Indeed."

Fin.

Fic: Beware Birds Bearing Notes of Death (Draco/Hermione, G)

2009-04-12T13:38:34Z

Title: Beware Birds Bearing Notes of Death
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Prompt: Courage
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 492
Summary: Courage comes in all forms, but it's courage, just the same.
A/N: Originally written for Round 3, Challenge 12 of dramione_ldws's The Saving Private Ryan Challenge where the fic must be set during war and the theme is courage.

AND 72. Rebellion for Draco 100.1 on 100quills

Hermione wasn't sure how the owl found her. But, as she exited the tent, it called to her from its perch on a low branch and held out its leg to her. She removed the parchment attached.

I must see you.

That was all that the note said. A small key fell from it. She yawned and bent to retrieve it. The moment her hand closed round it, she felt a familiar tug behind her navel. She landed in a tangle of arms and legs somewhere deep in a forest. She scrambled for the wand in her pocket and was relieved to find it still there.

"I actually thought it would be more difficult than this."

She recognised the voice immediately—Malfoy—and went instantly on the defensive. "I just woke up you cheeky prat. Forgive me for not being on my best game."

"Be glad it was me. If the Dark Lord had sent you that bird, you'd be dead now."

Okay, he had a point—one she hated to concede—but a point, nonetheless. "I assume you didn't bring me out here to tell me to watch out for birds bearing notes of death." She noted the somber look that crossed his face.

"No. It wasn't supposed to be this way, you know? I've heard the stories for as long as I can remember. The Dark Lord will rise again, and we'll be ready to serve him, and all our dreams for this wizarding world will be realised. Just you wait, Draco, Father would say, just you wait. There will be riches beyond your wildest expectation. Our loyalty will be honoured above all others." He snorted in contempt. "Rubbish."

"You can still join us," she whispered. "It doesn't have to—"

"You're going to lose, Hermione. His power—it's growing faster than you can imagine. I've seen things—well, I've seen things I never hope to see again. But what chance do you have against a force that strong?"

"Is that why you brought me here?"

"I wanted to tell you to run away. To go as far and as fast as you can… before it's too late."

She noted the desperation in his voice. However misguided his deeds, they were well intentioned. "You came to save me?"

"For what little good it's done. I didn't think you'd listen. Too damned stubborn for your own good, that's what you are."

"Perhaps. But I believe in what we're fighting for. Can you say the same?"

He snorted at the ground in frustration. "I believe in surviving, Hermione. The Portkey will take you back."

She realised then, what he had risked by warning her. If his actions were discovered, he would be branded traitor and the punishment would most certainly be death. "Thank you," she whispered as he walked away.

He looked back over his shoulder. "Granger, one final piece of advice."

"Yes?"

"Beware of birds bearing notes of death."

Cheeky prat.

Fic: Ministry Function (Charlie/Lavender, PG-13)

2009-04-08T20:01:21Z

Title: Ministry Function
Author: luvscharlie
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Lavender Brown
Prompt: "He that is not jealous is not in love"-- St. Augustine
Warnings: Sexual suggestion
Word Count: 1,246
Summary: Sometimes change is necessary and those things we once loved become secondary to those new things that capture our hearts.
Notes: Originally written for prompt #92 at flames_n_tats' National Charlie Month Fest. where the prompt was a "He that is not jealous is not in love." --St. Augustine

AND 21. Confidence on lover100

The key turned in the door and Lavender struggled to get through the wards that she had set on their flat before leaving. She was dressed in evening attire as she entered, face red and furious. Charlie attempted to follow her through the door, but she raised her wand and promptly slammed it in his face.

"You know," he shouted from just outside the door, "I'm going to need my nose in the future."

That was it! She pulled the door back, flinging it open with such force that it bounced off the wall and Charlie took a step back. "And what will you need it for? To go sniffing after every slag at the next Ministry function we attend together?"

The corner of his mouth turned up, and she only just resisted taking her handbag and walloping him up side his pretty little head. Smug bastard.

"Don't you think you might be overreacting just a bit?" He took a step across the threshold and she dug her spike heel into the top of his foot. He howled as he hopped around. "A LOT! You are overreacting a lot. Fuck."

Lavender attempted to slam the door, but Charlie pushed forward with his shoulder preventing her from shutting him out.

"Fine. Have it your way," she said. "I'm going for a bath and then to bed."

"I could join—"

Lavender's glare silenced him.

"Nevermind. Bad idea, I see."

She hated Ministry functions. They were always terrible ordeals, but tonight had been especially difficult. She felt overly large and clumsy with the protrusion of her pregnant belly leading her way into any room. Still, this function was a fund raiser for the Romanian Dragon Reserve and it meant a lot to Charlie that they attend. So, she'd braved the dress and the spiky heels, doing what she could to look her best, for all the good it had done.

Lavender made her way up the stairs to the loo, her nerves stretched thin after an evening with catty women fawning over her husband. Why did he have to be so bloody charming? That Spinnet bitch was practically sitting in his lap as she listened to him spin a yarn about his glory days in Romania. And though Charlie had denied it, she felt certain that Penelope Clearwater had grabbed his thigh beneath the table. At that point, she had demanded to be taken home.

She wanted nothing more now than to take a warm bath and climb beneath the clean linens on her bed. She realised too late that it would have been helpful to have Charlie unzip the back of her dress, but she wasn't about to ask him for assistance now. She used her wand and simply vanished the dress away, hoping to never see the thing again. Then, she turned the taps and sprinkled a liberal amount of her favorite smelling bubble bath into the tub. The fragrant bubbles foamed up as she slid beneath the water and into what must surely be something akin to Heaven on earth.

It was funny how something as simple as warm water and sweet smelling bubbles could change a person's outlook so drastically. It seemed to quite literally wash away her troubles and a peaceful calm settled over her to replace the ugly, green-eyed monster that had ridden upon her back for most of the evening. Hormones, they truly were a bitch.

Lavender leaned back, her neck braced against the edge of the tub, her chin just bobbing above the surface of the warm water. She closed her eyes and heard the click of the door latch that signaled Charlie's entry. She remained as she was, rather than acknowledging his presence, heard his footsteps approach, then he stopped and retreated once more as though he'd changed his mind. When she cracked open and eye, she found herself alone once more.

The water grew chilled far too quickly for her liking, and her pregnancy made it difficult to warm the water safely whilst she was immersed in it. Unfortunately, it was far more trouble than it was worth to get out (a task in and of itself), re-warm the water, and crawl back into the tub, only to repeat the process fifteen minutes later when it had once more gone cold.

She chose instead to towel off, wrap herself in her dressing gown and climb onto her large, comfortable bed. She retrieved her trashy romance novel from the bedside table and was just losing herself to the deep blue sea, ships and rogue pirates when Charlie entered with a cup of tea. "Peace offering?" He gave her a smile filled with contrition, though she doubted that it was genuine. Charlie could charm the feathers off a Hippogriff and he knew it. That smile had served him well throughout the years.

Not tonight! "Hmph."

"Not going to make this easy, are you?" When she failed to answer, he continued on. "You're a right stubborn bird, you know that?"

"Hmph," she said, and turned another page.

Charlie made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat and began to shed his clothes, then climbed onto the bed beside her, leaning in over her shoulder to peer at the pages of her book. "And what is Captain Nefarious up to tonight?" he asked, indicating her book as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Annoying his wife."

"I see." She heard him click his tongue in irritation. "It would appear that Captain Nefarious and I have something in common this evening."

"I'm glad to know you're not so thick that you missed the implication. I'd started to think that subtleties were lost on you after this evening and the scores of birds throwing themselves at you, while you sat there happily lapping up the attention like a starving kitten."

"A kitten? A kitten? Couldn't you at least compare me to a tiger or a--?"

"No." She turned another page without looking up, though she really couldn't say she was absorbing the words on the page either. It was simply easier to ignore him if she pretended to be interested in something else. Charlie Weasley was a difficult man to ignore.

"Come on, Lavender. You can't be mad at me forever."

"Oh, can't I? Do you remember the last time we went to a Ministry function?"

"I remember rearranging the face of that bloke who wouldn't keep his hands off you and—oh! Erm, I guess, I see where you're going with that analogy."

Lavender didn't respond. She put her book aside, fluffed her pillow and settled in for the night. Charlie put out the candles and turned to her with a question. "Will it help at all if I apologise?"

"It certainly will not hurt."

Charlie brought his hand to rest on the protrusion of her stomach, and she felt their child shift and wiggle beneath the weight of his touch. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His fingers climbed over the swell of her belly, working their way up. His hand reached around to cup her breast and his lips connected with hers.

She pushed him gently away. "It doesn't help quite that much," she said, removing his hand from her breast. "Nice try though. Good night, Charlie."

He chuckled good naturedly into the dark of their room. "You can't blame a bloke for trying. Good night, Lavender." He spooned against her and they settled in for the night.

Fin.