Fic: Never One to Back Down
Title: Never One to Back Down
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Things never go quite the way you expect them to, do they? Things get interesting at a party.
Warnings: The good guys won. Yeah, I know.
A/N: For spike22fowl and tartaruga139, who both requested Charlie/Hermione. Spike prompt: It wasn't supposed to be like this. Didn't use Tar's prompt, as I don't know what o.o? Arrr Pirate Pary!!! means. Un'beta'd.
Things never go quite the way you expect them to, do they?
You're quite used to it by now. School is supposed to be for learning- and you do get quite a bit of that- but you have to cram it in between all the dodging curses and getting injured and nearly killed.
Not exactly how you planned on spending most of your teenage years.
But you're nothing if not flexible (even if dear Ron doesn't see it that way), so you went with the flow as much as you can, trying to save the world, get top marks, counsel love-lorn girls, keep both boys in hand and somewhere along the line, make plans for the future.
Which did not include engaging in a long-distance staring contest with your best friend's brother. No, that bit had never quite occurred to you, now did it?
Not that you're complaining. You could be stuck staring at, say, Snape. That would not be pleasant, and not just because you're irrationally convinced that Snape has developed the ability to cast the Killing Curse through eye contact and sheer will.
Well, who wouldn't think that?
The war is over, and there's much joy to be had. And before you caught the eye of one Charlie Weasley, you were amoung the few who were bone-tired. You had been contemplating simply passing out on the floor, and propriety be damned- who cares about things like manners? Helping construct and pull off the biggest battle in recent Wizarding history should be a get-out-of-trouble pass for free. Someone would put you to bed. At least you're sure they'd try, but most are too drunk to properly carry you.
Still, the carpet did look welcoming. But you're not the type to back down from such an obvious challenge. You've saved the world, damn it- what do they expect from you?
So you casually make eye contact, and hold it. Steadily. Barely blinking, never moving from his sight as you work the room as best you can, while staring over people's shoulders.
You're not the best for nothing. You work it well, and he knows. He's smirking.
So are you.
You slowly make your way towards him, nodding politely, and he stands, elbow on the mantlepiece, grinning insufferably.
You shoot a smile right back.
At the end of the day, you're not the kind of girl who backs down from a challenge like this. So he thinks he can make you look away? Maybe it's the tiredness talking, but suddenly, you need to get closer to him so you can prove him wrong!
Somewhere in the recesses of your brain, the more rational part is telling you you're being an ass, and you need sleep, not a challenge.
However, you ignore it, as you do on occasion.
You get closer. Closer. Even closer. Then you're there. And you've managed to retain eye contact.
He's still smirking.
So are you.
'So, what are the odds?' he asks, looking down.
'If I win,' you say, 'you degnome the garden tomorrow, instead of Harry and Ron. And you do the dishes.'
His smile is positively infuriating.
'And if I win?' he asks.
'Whatever you want,' you say, arching an eyebrow. You know he won't go overboard. Mostly because he's a good guy- he really is- but also because if he suggests anything awkward, all you'll have to do is inform Ron, and then the Weasley's will have to visit Charlie in traction.
There are definitely benefits to having overprotective ex-boyfriends as best friends.
This happens to be one of them. You laugh a little.
He leans closer, and closer to your face, but you stand, resolutely. There is positively no way that some stupid man- even if he is a bit cute- is going to thrash you at a stupid-
'ERRRR-MYYY-OOOOO-OOF!'
You turn around instinctively and catch Ron as he trips over the carpet, drunk out of his mind. You hear a triumphant whoop of laughter, and curse yourself.
You've looked away.
Damn it.
'Winner takes all,' you hear him say, and you groan. It's probably going to be something horrid, like... like... degnoming the garden, or-
'You gotta come with me to the Minister's Dinner.'
You blink. That was certainly unexpected.
'I was already going.' He should know that. You're at the top of the stupid list for that stupid dinner, and you're only going so poor Harry won't suffer alone.
'Yeah,' he says nonchalantly, 'I know. But I don't want to tell mum I'm going alone, else she'll try to fix me up with some woman with more eyeshadow than common sense. I love mum, but she's a bit mad about matchmaking these days. Believes it's up to us to re-populate the entire community, and figures us Weasley's should start the trend.'
You can't help youself.
You laugh.
He cocks his head to the side and smiles at you, not mockingly, but as if he's trying to see more into you. He leans down again, much closer this time, and whispers, 'So you accept?'
You shrug and say, 'I lost the bet.'
He grins widely, showing all his teeth, and murmurs, 'Then I guess it's on,' daring you to lose your nerve, like he knows you weren't expecting him to ask you out. His lips come thisclose to brushing your cheek, and it takes all you have not to blush like an idiot.
You narrow your eyes.
'Then I suppose it is,' you say, smiling.
Because you, Hermione Granger, aren't the kind of girl to back down from a challenge.
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Things never go quite the way you expect them to, do they? Things get interesting at a party.
Warnings: The good guys won. Yeah, I know.
A/N: For spike22fowl and tartaruga139, who both requested Charlie/Hermione. Spike prompt: It wasn't supposed to be like this. Didn't use Tar's prompt, as I don't know what o.o? Arrr Pirate Pary!!! means. Un'beta'd.
Things never go quite the way you expect them to, do they?
You're quite used to it by now. School is supposed to be for learning- and you do get quite a bit of that- but you have to cram it in between all the dodging curses and getting injured and nearly killed.
Not exactly how you planned on spending most of your teenage years.
But you're nothing if not flexible (even if dear Ron doesn't see it that way), so you went with the flow as much as you can, trying to save the world, get top marks, counsel love-lorn girls, keep both boys in hand and somewhere along the line, make plans for the future.
Which did not include engaging in a long-distance staring contest with your best friend's brother. No, that bit had never quite occurred to you, now did it?
Not that you're complaining. You could be stuck staring at, say, Snape. That would not be pleasant, and not just because you're irrationally convinced that Snape has developed the ability to cast the Killing Curse through eye contact and sheer will.
Well, who wouldn't think that?
The war is over, and there's much joy to be had. And before you caught the eye of one Charlie Weasley, you were amoung the few who were bone-tired. You had been contemplating simply passing out on the floor, and propriety be damned- who cares about things like manners? Helping construct and pull off the biggest battle in recent Wizarding history should be a get-out-of-trouble pass for free. Someone would put you to bed. At least you're sure they'd try, but most are too drunk to properly carry you.
Still, the carpet did look welcoming. But you're not the type to back down from such an obvious challenge. You've saved the world, damn it- what do they expect from you?
So you casually make eye contact, and hold it. Steadily. Barely blinking, never moving from his sight as you work the room as best you can, while staring over people's shoulders.
You're not the best for nothing. You work it well, and he knows. He's smirking.
So are you.
You slowly make your way towards him, nodding politely, and he stands, elbow on the mantlepiece, grinning insufferably.
You shoot a smile right back.
At the end of the day, you're not the kind of girl who backs down from a challenge like this. So he thinks he can make you look away? Maybe it's the tiredness talking, but suddenly, you need to get closer to him so you can prove him wrong!
Somewhere in the recesses of your brain, the more rational part is telling you you're being an ass, and you need sleep, not a challenge.
However, you ignore it, as you do on occasion.
You get closer. Closer. Even closer. Then you're there. And you've managed to retain eye contact.
He's still smirking.
So are you.
'So, what are the odds?' he asks, looking down.
'If I win,' you say, 'you degnome the garden tomorrow, instead of Harry and Ron. And you do the dishes.'
His smile is positively infuriating.
'And if I win?' he asks.
'Whatever you want,' you say, arching an eyebrow. You know he won't go overboard. Mostly because he's a good guy- he really is- but also because if he suggests anything awkward, all you'll have to do is inform Ron, and then the Weasley's will have to visit Charlie in traction.
There are definitely benefits to having overprotective ex-boyfriends as best friends.
This happens to be one of them. You laugh a little.
He leans closer, and closer to your face, but you stand, resolutely. There is positively no way that some stupid man- even if he is a bit cute- is going to thrash you at a stupid-
'ERRRR-MYYY-OOOOO-OOF!'
You turn around instinctively and catch Ron as he trips over the carpet, drunk out of his mind. You hear a triumphant whoop of laughter, and curse yourself.
You've looked away.
Damn it.
'Winner takes all,' you hear him say, and you groan. It's probably going to be something horrid, like... like... degnoming the garden, or-
'You gotta come with me to the Minister's Dinner.'
You blink. That was certainly unexpected.
'I was already going.' He should know that. You're at the top of the stupid list for that stupid dinner, and you're only going so poor Harry won't suffer alone.
'Yeah,' he says nonchalantly, 'I know. But I don't want to tell mum I'm going alone, else she'll try to fix me up with some woman with more eyeshadow than common sense. I love mum, but she's a bit mad about matchmaking these days. Believes it's up to us to re-populate the entire community, and figures us Weasley's should start the trend.'
You can't help youself.
You laugh.
He cocks his head to the side and smiles at you, not mockingly, but as if he's trying to see more into you. He leans down again, much closer this time, and whispers, 'So you accept?'
You shrug and say, 'I lost the bet.'
He grins widely, showing all his teeth, and murmurs, 'Then I guess it's on,' daring you to lose your nerve, like he knows you weren't expecting him to ask you out. His lips come thisclose to brushing your cheek, and it takes all you have not to blush like an idiot.
You narrow your eyes.
'Then I suppose it is,' you say, smiling.
Because you, Hermione Granger, aren't the kind of girl to back down from a challenge.