A/N: This is a VERY belated gift fic to the wonderful (at)kaitsue. I know she has a fanfic penname but I can't remember it at the moment.

Also - there will be updates on my works-in-progress, I promise. My work on them is currently in progress (see what I did there?) right now. :-)

THANKS TO AMY FOR LOOKING THIS OVER! You're a doll, babe. :-*

Same Time Next Year

Hermione stood beneath the steaming water, letting its cool, refreshing embrace wash away the heat of the late summer's day. She could feel each icy drop as it hit her alabaster skin, reminder her of her decadent nakedness just barely hidden from the group of family and friends who picnicked just beyond the waterfall.

She knew she probably shouldn't be bathing nude when, at any moment, she could be discovered by any number of people she would rather not have caught her in any state of indecent undress. The naughtiness of it all, however, emboldened her. She hoped that if she was discovered, that it would be by a certain gentleman who never failed to inflame her passion and could undoubtedly join her were the opportunity to present itself.

And considering how much her body ached at the thought, she hoped he would discover her soon.

The picnic that sparked the clandestine, impromptu display of impropriety had started out as a modest affair. Or rather, modest by comparison to the other suggestions thrown around regarding how to spend the auspicious September day. Hermione had always hated the fuss that usually accompanied her birthday but, like most things within the small but tightly-knit social circle she had cultivated and nurtured over the years, she found herself bowing to the pressure.

She listened patiently to the lengthy list of ridiculously uncharacteristic ideas her well meaning, if woefully misguided, friends suggested, and decided the lesser of all the evils had been the suggestion of her soon-to-be mother-in-law. So, on the unseasonably hot early-autumn day, Hermione found herself hiking the hilly green of the Scottish highlands for fun, food and family.

"Now here's a sight the guidebooks seemed to have missed when referring to the beauties of the Scottish countryside," a teasing voice rumbled from behind her, and Hermione smiled to herself as the comment was followed by the soft splash of water.

"I don't suppose I should inform the publisher of Water Plants of the Scottish Highlands that there are most fascinating aquatic discoveries to be made than gillyweed," the voice continued, approaching ever nearer and causing Hermione to shiver with a sensation that had little to do the streaming waterfall.

"I'd hardly be willing to pose for an illustration, should they decide to add my bathing habits to the book," she replied, turning to face her grinning fiancé with a smirk of her own. She bit her lower lip as her eyes raked over his equally-naked form, skin tanned and freckled from years of sun exposure and muscles taut and rippling from a life of manual labour.

Yet in spite of the god-like figure he cut against the blazing sun, it was the laughter in his twinkling blue eyes and the soft strands of shaggy red hair that fell boyishly into his handsome face that made her throb with need every time she saw him.

"Oh, I think I could probably come up with a sufficient description that would satisfy the imagination of even the most demanding reader," Charlie breathed, leaning forward through the crystalline curtain to catch her lips with his.

Hermione sighed, leaning into his body as she lost herself to her five senses. Her eyes, before closing to his tender kiss, had followed the beads of perspiration that slid down the hard planes of his body; the scent of his pure, almost primitive masculinity assaulted her and left her weak; she could hear the gentle fall of the water mixed with the blissfully far-off cries of happy laughter from the rest of their company; the taste of sweet elf-made wine danced across their tongues – the imbibing of which having undoubtedly contributed to their lack of inhibitions in the middle of nature.

And she could feel his burning desire for her pulsating against her equally-heated skin, a cry of surprise leaving her lips as he lifted her into his arms and pressed her against the cool, slick rock concealed behind the waterfall.

"Did anyone follow you?" she whispered, arms encircled around his neck as they panted against each other, the bite of rippling water doing nothing to slake their lust for the other.

"Not that I was aware of…though I admit to being fairly distracted by the idea of you here, alone, and naked," he replied, tongue and teeth pressing a fevered path up her neck to her ear. "Luckily, I paid Fred and George to keep an eye out for those who may disturb us."

"And who's to keep an eye on them?" she joked, but she knew, despite their numerous short-comings, the twin mischief makers were smart enough to leave well enough alone in matters that involved Charlie and his beautiful bride-to-be.

They kissed again, and all fears of unwelcomed interruptions were forgotten as Charlie slid within her, causing her to moan and tilt her head back, stray droplets falling from the rocks onto her face.

He always caused that reaction within her when they made love.

He started slow and deliberate, allowing every sensation of that surreptitious rendezvous to etch itself indelibly upon her mind. Her body slid against the smooth stone at her back, her thighs locked around his hips as she felt every torturous push and pull of his cock. He filled her so completely, as though her body was simply moulded just for him. She bit her lip, head back, neck exposed to his searching lips as he started to lengthen his thrusts.

Her breath caught in her throat. This was the part she loved; the slow yet steady ascent toward the cliff of complete, uncontrollable ecstasy. Every thrust he gave sent shockwaves through her core, erupting in goosebumps on her flesh. His grip on her thighs tightened, destined to leave bruises that she knew he would later lave with tenderness when the frenzy gave way to their often quiet love. His grunts were music to her ears as her own coil – the spring of pure pleasure that pulsed in her lower abdomen – continued to tighten. A tingle over her flesh warned – heralded, really – that explosion she had coveted since the moment she had seen his bare body in front of her.

"Hermione…" he breathed, and her nails dug into his flesh as his thrust became harder, untamed and erratic. She could feel the flex of his perfectly-formed arse beneath her heels; sense the power he drew from those last few seconds of movement. She gave a wild cry, flesh singing and body shuddering as she sank her teeth into his shoulder to prevent herself from screaming the hilltops down.

He gave a shout of surprise, hand going to the rock behind them as he tried to steady himself, a final thrust driving home as he came. He groaned into her damp curls, hips jerking as he tried to balance their satiated bodies against the slippery surface, attempting to keep them upright in their mutual states of bliss.

"Happy birthday, love," he whispered as she lay her head against his shoulder.

She chuckled.

"Happy birthday indeed. How do you expect to top this next year?" she teased.

He groaned.

"Next year?"

She pulled back slightly, laughing.

"Yes. Amazing how my birthday comes around every year around the same time."

He smirked.

"How about I promise that you'll come more often than your birthday?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at the vulgarity while secretly loving the way his innuendo made her body burn for him.

He sighed, holding her tightly to him.

"Maybe next year we can try defacing the Irish countryside."

She laughed again.

"I don't suppose we could deface it on a slightly less precarious surface, hmm? We're lucky we didn't slip and drown."

He kissed her forehead.

"On a bed of four-leaf clover, then? A shamrock shag. Gives new meaning to 'getting lucky', eh?"

She shook her head once more, kissing him before carefully disentangling herself from his arms and attempting to stand on her own two legs in front of him.

"Same time, next year. Hopefully the weather will be just as accommodating."

He smiled, bringing his hand up to push away a stray curl before leaning down and brushing his lips tenderly over hers. The act solidified, for the millionth time, just how much she loved him.

"We hate to interrupt," the unmistakable voice of a Weasley twin called from shore. "But we figured we'd better give you fair warning."

"Mum's on her way," the other twin added.

"Wants to do some washing up."

"So it may be wise to…you know…"

"Exit the premises, as it were."


"And most preferably clothed."

"As gentlemen, we'll avert our eyes."

"You can pay for the therapy later."

Both blushing, Hermione looked at Charlie as they headed for the shore.

"Next year," she said, trying her best to cover herself from what she was sure were Fred and George's peeking eyes. "Let's try and make it just the two of us."

"But who'll keep watch for innocent bystanders?" he teased, gallantly striding in front of her to obscure his brothers' view.

"I think I'll take my chances," she replied, grabbing her clothes and kissing him hurriedly before disappearing into the woods to make herself presentable again.

Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it!