You turn my head when you turn around

You turn the whole world upside down

I'm smitten I'm bitten I'm hooked I'm cooked

I'm stuck like glue

You make me, make me, make me, make me hungry for you

"Why Can't I Be You" by The Cure

There was a woman who walked into the restaurant in a bright purple dress that hit mid-thigh and had a low-cut back. Her hair was in gorgeous ringlets down her shoulders, and her face painted in such a way that made her seem like a siren from tales of old. Every single man's head in the room turned as she crossed toward the bar with determination.

The tattoos on her skin clashed against the edge of her soft features, creating even more mystery for an onlooker. If she knew she was an attention grabber, she did not react as such as she sat down on a stool. The woman brushed some of her locks from her collarbone and glanced around curiously. It was an interesting choice, she admitted.

White and black appeared in her peripheral view across the bar counter, and the woman turned her attention to the figure. She smiled at the handsome bartender who raised his eyebrows in shock at her before returning to his professional demeanor. "Dragon Barrel Brandy, please?" she questioned with sultry tones, and he grinned.

A man from down the bar prowled toward her with a charming smile, "I vould know that voice anywhere," his voice announced, and the woman turned with a giggle.

"Viktor, it has been too long, you look well," Hermione declared with amusement as he reached over and paid for her drink.

"Too long. What brings you to Bulgaria?"

Hermione sipped her drink and glanced around, "I came to meet a man."

Krum chuckled and tilted his head, "I von't tell your husband."

"An affair in Bulgaria would not be a choice of mine," she teased, and the man's smile grew impish.

"You did not say that the last time," he reminded her, and she shook her head, stifling a laugh.

"Being sixteen and sweetly naive has that effect on a witch," she retorted, and he stepped closer.

His hand tenderly caressed her arm, "It has been too long. Vould you like to come join me to catch up as they say?" He declared, and she tilted her head at him.

"How about you sit here and tell me about how you have been?"

He snorted very unattractively and waved his hand, "I am a bore. Nothing but vork," he paused and sipped his drink. "You are getting far more beautiful with age," The former seeker did not see why the color bloomed on her cheeks as she glanced near him, so he continued, "How is Romania?"

"Very productive," she murmured, and side glanced the wizard who approached the bar next to her.

"A scotch and another of whatever the lady is having. She is coming home with me tonight," he grumbled, and the bartender gave him a roll of his eyes.

"Of course, Sir," the man mumbled as he served him the glasses.

"Charles, you are going to have to do one better if you think getting me drunk will get me in your bed," Hermione mused as she kept her gaze on Viktor, "Have you met my husband?"

His expression grew surprised as Charlie turned around, "Hello, Krum. I have heard so much about your prowess… on a broom that is," the redhead snickered, and Hermione shot him a look of feigned annoyance.

"It is vonderful to meet the man who caught this one," Viktor declared and shook Charlie's hand.

"Absolutely a pleasure, but if you will excuse us, I have a duty I have yet to fulfill," Charlie replied and set down his glass.

Hermione turned to argue about his abruptness when he took her in his arms and snogged her viciously. The witch groaned in pure pleasure as his fingers tangled in her hair as they roamed her revealed skin. He was not giving an ounce of room to argue with his attack, and she was more than willing to accept it.

When he pulled from her lips, satisfaction was read on his face, "Good evening, gorgeous bok jente. Do you know how much I missed my wife?"

She giggled and pressed her free hand to his cheek, "I am positive I can understand." They parted to see that Krum had returned to his companion at the other end of the bar, "Funny that you picked a bar with my old flame in it, Charles." Her voice had a hint of accusation which Charlie smirked at her.

"Oh, quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

The witch held out her hands, "What do you think of my latest garb of refinement?" The Dracologist chuckled and waggled a finger.

"Give me a little spin, and I will tell you," he responded with a wink.

She turned slowly and caught that most of the men in the room were watching them in curiosity, "I suppose if you don't like it, you are blind. It seems the entirety of the bar does."

Charlie sipped his glass, arching an eyebrow, "But you don't wear their pretty little ring or etchings of love splayed across your skin. I have to say, that Yggdrasil looks bright against your skin tonight…" his fingers swirled against the flesh on her back as she closed their distance.

Hermione smiled at him and admired his features, "Charlie, I missed you, my Drakon," she said with affection.

His smile grew sincere, and his fingers traced her jawline, "I appreciate you taking time for me, Hermione."

She pressed her fingers against his and closed her eyes, "I needed to know you were still here. I needed a dose of my Charlie."

"Come, let me show you something before we have dinner with the Scamanders," He murmured and finished his drink.

Hermione set her glass down and downed the other quickly before following her husband toward the door. She noted the glares of envy that several men were shooting him as he held her hand and escorted her from the bar. The witch could not see the smug smirk that he was wearing, but she had a clue as they exited the pub.

They walked the road for a few minutes, enjoying the comforts of being together after so long of being separate. Charlie was relieved beyond belief to have her within an arm's reach again. He led her to an alley and knocked on the wall before tapping it with his wand, "You will appreciate this," he told her as the wall started growing cracks.

After several audible clicks and rumblings, a doorknob appeared, and Charlie opened it with a swift motion before pulling her inside. The light was dim in the room, and Hermione couldn't quite see where they were. Charlie was thrumming with anticipation as he held her hand and pulled her into the room further. His wand swished in the air, and the candles in the room grew bright with flame.

Emotional tenderness soon followed her shock; he had brought her to a library. "Charlie! This is amazing," she murmured as she pulled away from him to gaze at the vast bookcases and artwork.

The wizard wasn't going to tell her that he paid the owner of said library to have it be vacant tonight. He also wasn't going to say to her that he had a gift waiting for her in one of the books. He thought hard on this idea and had to confess; Luna helped with the cheesy romantic concept. Hermione clapped her hands and started running her fingers on the bindings of books as she traveled the cases.

"They are all in Bulgarian," she pouted after examining one of the tomes.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, "I am quite positive we don't have time to read them all, love."

She batted her eyelashes at him and leaned against the table, "Charlie, did you come up with this all yourself?"

He chuckled and sighed, "I shall never tell you, bok jente."

Hermione gave him a devious smirk and took off down one of the rows, "Come find me if you can before you lose me to books entirely!" she called out and he bit down on a huge grin.

The candles had dimmed as he pursued the giggling witch in the remarkably sexy dress. He was hoping that she headed where he intuitively placed her gift. "Charles, are you even trying?" she inquired in the distance.

"I am sincerely looking for you," he answered and heard her gasp.

"Look it is your book!" she cried with excitement, and he grinned widely to himself as he slowed so she could have a moment alone.

Hermione was running her fingers sweetly over the cover and sighed, "It really is perfection," she said to herself as her hands traced the title.

'Dragons Don't Catch Colds,' Hermione insisted on something more traditional, but that was not Charlie's way. She was glad that he went with this title in the end, and that he compromised for the small addition at the bottom. 'A memoir of life among dragons, their keepers and our love for them both.' Her pride for his courage and trust was swelling over her.

His writing was witty and fresh with a form of well-dosed cynicism coated with enthrallment for his dragons. She knew he was going to produce a beautiful masterpiece by all the times he told her memories over the few appearances he made at the Burrow over the years. Hermione wasn't sure if that was what did her in for him to take her heart, but it cultivated a curiosity to be sure.

The witch opened the book and noted it hollowed out, "Who would do this," she growled and flipped it open on the table in front of her. In the hole that cut into the pages, sat a beautiful bracelet. It was platinum with small dragons flying and weaving around it. Precious gemstones were the bodies of the scaly beasts, and they moved slowly along the strand. "Charlie," she gasped and turned to see him smiling.

"Happy I-Missed-You Day, Hermione," He muttered as he closed the distance between them.

She launched herself at him, and he held her as she kissed him deeply. Her fingers nimbly ran through his long hair, and he groaned loudly into her mouth. He knew it was not part of the arrangement with the owner, but a man was after all just a man. He sat his wife on the table and dominated her lips roughly as she whimpered and yanked at his belt; apparently, she felt the same way.

Charlie slipped the belt off with a quick motion of his hand. His zipper made a loud announcement, and she growled as their kiss ended. He pushed her dress up and slid her cute black knickers aside before meeting her roughly, "Oh, Charlie!" she cried in happiness as her legs coiled around his hips.

Her back arched and he wrapped one of his arms under her, creating a tight hold. He bit at her neck, and she howled in sublime happiness as he took her forcefully. Her nails dragged against his shoulders as she mixed balancing herself with a physical reminder of how much she needed him just like this. "My bok jente," he breathed, releasing her skin from his mouth.

They exchanged very few words of endearment or lousy speech; they just needed to be. No words could explain the utter relief that swept over them as Charlie pressed against her on the table of the library. Hermione was his and no matter the time or distance. He wanted to express every second of needing her. Every day of him waking up without her. Every night of not getting to taste her skin while she screamed for him.

Their climax was loud and a song that Charlie would keep in his mind for the rest of his life, "Charles," she whispered as she was resurfacing, his face nestled in the crook of her neck as he leaned next to her on the table.

"Yes, love of my life?" he murmured, rubbing his face.

"I think we sullied this library," she considered, and he barked out a stream of laughter.

The Dracologist stood up and stretched before righting his jeans and nabbing his belt from the floor, "So be it. I am quite sure it was a naughty fantasy of yours with how you grabbed me."

She sat up, and her cheeks were a new shade of pink, "Quite possibly. However, Hogwarts Library would have been the stage, and at the time, someone else was the source."

"My brother would not have shagged in a library," Charlie grumbled, and Hermione cleared her throat.

"You are right," she murmured and climbed off the table.

He could see her mortification grow, "Oh, who was the mystery man of Hermione Granger's fantasies?"

Hermione waved him off as she fixed her dress correctly and swished her wand about, likely ridding the mess between her legs, "It is of little consequence now, Drakon."

Charlie squared his view on his witch who was clearly avoiding answering, "Well, if that is the case, you wouldn't mind telling me."

"What would be the purpose of telling you about a little girl's concept of what she thought was crushable at the mere age of… school age, just school age," Now she was trying to completely backpaddle from the conversation, "I do love this bracelet, Charles…"

His arms folded against his chest as she was looking down at his gift, "Hermione Jean Weasley, please for Merlin's sake tell me. It wasn't that Malfoy prat that Harry always complained about with my brother, was it?"

She glared at him and groused, "Gross, Charlie. Never, how vile and disgusting do you think I am?"

"Fred? Bill? Sirius…" It was rapid fire questioning, and Hermione waved him off. "Snape?"

She gave him a disgusted face at his last name, "None of them, I promise you, it is silly to even talk about this."

It was a strange clicking in his mind, and the culprit was sitting with her talking about books in one of his memories at the Burrow for Christmas, "Merlin's beard, it was Remus." He murmured, and Hermione's face turned magenta.

"No, it wasn't, can we stop this game now?"

He bent over and started laughing, "You had a crush on your professor. Only you would have had a crush on a professor. You would sit there and twirl your cute little hair and smile as the both of you would speak about the necessities for the written word, ancient books, and lessons on the concept of magic in the non-magical world. How did I not see this before?"

Hermione had slipped on the bracelet and was holding the book to her chest, "It isn't funny, Charlie. He was the only one who never insulted me for my intelligence while I was in school." Her eyes cast to the ground. "For the record, you were paying more attention to me than I previously knew."

"Of course I was, you were superior with your intelligence, bravery, and tolerance for my idiot brother and Harry's complications. You were kind, unusually so, to things like house elves, animals, and beasts of all kinds. To know you had a crush on Remus Lupin is inspiring to say the least. Not many would see past a werewolf's condition even at that age. I find it endearing, bok jente," he finished as he caressed her cheek.

She finally smiled at him and pursed her lips, "You are just lucky he was twenty years older than me," she teased him and walked toward the bookcases.

It was Charlie's turn to grow embarrassed, and he cleared his throat before following, "Really? That big of a crush?"

Hermione did not look back at him, but she knew he was pursuing, "The biggest! I used to wish I was old enough to seduce him at Grimmauld Place." He could hear she was mocking him, but he felt a twinge of jealousy.

"That isn't funny," he growled, and she stifled a giggle.

"It is quite funny because it is true," she sniggered, and he stomped up to her and swooped her into his arms.

"Don't you dare say that, book witch. I will have to prove it to you that we belong together, crush or not," he said with a grumbled warning in his tone.

She turned in his arms quickly and smiled at him as he walked, "You are right, Drakon. I love you so deeply it is ingrained in my being. There is nothing greater in this world to me than to love you."

"How about we have a baby?" he asked, not looking down at her.

"Well, for starters, Charles, you should probably not ask me that when you cannot even look at me when you say it."

He stopped and placed her on her feet, gazing gently at her, "Hermione, I know you want to finish your training and becoming a Dragon Keeper is by far an accomplishment worth celebrating. However, I want you to think about what you told me before we ever got together. We have the married thing down. We have the love story of a century at least, but I know you want children."

She looked away from him when she spoke, "Charlie, I don't want to anymore."

"But I do. I thought I didn't care for children, but I see you with my dragons and I know I want you to have my children." His voice was so affectionate and calm, but Hermione shook her head.

"Let's talk about this when we aren't in a time crunch, Charlie. Please?" Hermione asked and turned toward the door. "Let's not keep Newt waiting."

He didn't understand it; he wasn't sure why. Where did things stop for them that she no longer wanted children with him? Did he have the makings of a horrible father? Was it the way he was impatient or his temper flared? Charlie could not wrap his mind around why his wife no longer wanted children with him. Did she ever wish to have them with him? He pressed the questions down and boxed them away so they could enjoy their evening.