Part Four
In which Charlie Weasley gets what was coming to him.
Warnings: Rated R for language and sexual situations, but don't get excited:p
Charlie pressed the 'End Call' button on his mobile and stepped out into the crisp night air, marvelling at how even in summer, England got cold at night. Pathetic, he thought. zipping his jacket and stuffing his hands in his pockets, watching his breath turn to smoke in the fluorescent light of the parking lot. Years ago, when he was little, he and Bill had pretended they were smoking on the walk to school, waving imaginary fags in the air, thinking they were the coolest kids around. This was before Bill had taken up smoking for real in his ‘I actually am the coolest kid around’ stage of course, but he had been fifteen then and a bit of an idiot. Now, though, it was different and sometimes, on nights like this, Charlie was able to admit to himself that he might have missed Bill a little bit. He didn’t see much of him now that Bill was married.
He kicked his way through a thin scattering of leaves as he made his way to the beat-up red Ford in the parking lot. Adrian called it a shit box, but Charlie knew better. Daisy had character, something that only he and Bill could understand. Bill might have been a bank manager with a Lexus but he was also the one who had handed Daisy down to Charlie with the solemn air of one attending a funeral. He had uttered three words and three words only.
“Use it well.”
Charlie had.
Taking his keys out of his pocket, Charlie was about to unlock the driver’s side when a voice from behind startled him.
“Hello Weasley.”
Charlie jumped as he felt his arms pinned to his side suddenly. He felt a momentary stab of panic until he smelt something familiar and he chuckled softly, trying to act as though he hadn’t been about to crap his pants.
“Well well well, if it isn’t little Miss Parkinson. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
“You wish,” but Parkinson’s voice was a breathy whisper and her hands were sort of, well, roaming over Charlie’s chest and Charlie couldn’t remember for the life of him why they said they would stop this thing they had going on between them. Charlie spun around suddenly, pinning Parkinson up against Daisy and Parkinson made this noise like she had wanted this all day, fuck, like she had wanted this all her life even; her wet hot mouth on his and skin, there wasn’t enough skin, and Charlie thanked God, the angels and all the saints for the fact that she had stumbled into one of his tutorials at the beginning of semester and had been too stubborn to leave when she found out she was in the wrong place.
She had glared at him that day, probably because he had stared at her when she first walked in, because the bird was sort of nastily hot in the way girls you don’t bring home to your mothers always are. She had thrown her bag down haughtily and collapsed huffily into a seat next to his, then pulled out a pink phone and started texting. The messaging was probably why she missed the tutor's introduction to Biological Sciences 583, so when she started pulling out a pink folder labelled ‘BioSci 384’, Charlie couldn’t help but snigger quietly to himself.
He might have been leering a little bit as he leaned forward to tell her of the mistake she had made, but that was no excuse for the disgusted look she gave him, sweeping her eyes down over his favourite t-shirt, lingering over the hole in the cuff and raising a dainty eyebrow. She might as well have said, ‘you can’t be serious’ and she turned back to the front of the room. He was dismissed.
Well fuck that, Charlie thought angrily and folded his arms. He watched her throughout the rest of the tut, enjoying the growing awareness on her features as it dawned on her that the diagrams in front of her related to the small bowel structure of the bos primigenius taurus.
Take that, bitch, Charlie thought uncharitably as he watched her flick anxiously through her diary, looking up at the board then back down at the page in front of her, cheeks growing redder and perfect white teeth worrying her bottom lip as she realised she was sitting in on a Vet subject. She caught his gaze on her suddenly and snarled out an angry what, dark eyes flashing, and Charlie made sure he leaned close enough for his breath to stir the straight black fringe across her forehead as he whispered,
“Think you’re in the wrong place, sweetheart.” He leaned back against his chair and smirked at her, raising his eyebrows slightly. He was being a cocky bastard but he had a feeling she could take it. He was right.
“Well I must be in the wrong place if I’m sitting here with someone like you. I suppose you’re only doing Vet because you couldn’t get into Med?” Her cool voice sliced through him and it completely wasn’t fair for her to be so - so - “Shame,” she continued sarcastically. “You look like you could really use the money.”
Charlie had bitten back an angry retort about how she was only doing med to meet a rich husband so she could bludge off him for the rest of her life while she had affairs and got plastic surgery and drove through London in a four-wheel drive. The girl hadn’t missed a beat though, saying she would be sure to run over as many fluffy bunnies and kittens as possible in order to drum up more business for him, and Charlie hadn’t wanted to smile but he couldn’t help the slight twitch his mouth gave and she had seen it, triumph gleaming in her eyes until they slipped back down to stare unwillingly at his mouth. Charlie noticed how close they were sitting and the room had grown hot and Parkinson had licked her lips and that had been that really.
Two months on they were practically shagging up against his car in the centre of his work parking lot and Charlie didn’t even care that his boss might walk out at any second because nothing else mattered right then but the feel of her skin under his lips, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the shape of her arse cupped in his hands as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Then her head tilted back and she whispered - “Your place or mine?” - and everything that wasn't her was forgotten.
When he finally made his way home that night, he realised with a start that he still didn’t know her first name. Then he realised that he was willing to do whatever it took to find out.
It was at that moment precisely that Charlie Weasley realised a third, vital point. He was in big, big trouble.
Go to Part Five