HP_dungeons
Jan. 15th, 2004 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyCharlie/Oliver backstory, in case anyone at the Watch is interested. =)
He half-suspected Oliver of charming the collar, somehow.
It was impossible, of course, because Oliver hadn’t known about it until it’d been dangled in front of him; until he’d watched, mouth slightly open, as Charlie had buckled the thin strip of leather around his own throat and then buttoned his shirt to cover it, flushing slightly.
It felt strange, alien against his skin- straddling the line between rough and smooth, with blunt edges that caused the slightest friction every time he moved his head. A constant quiet reminder of its presence that he didn’t really need when he caught Oliver’s eyes on him… The pure heat in the gaze directed at the place where the collar couldn’t quite be seen, hidden beneath his shirt, made him look away and will himself not to blush. He kept losing the thread of conversations, stammering, trying not to catch Oliver’s eye.
It was as though it heightened everything. Like each of his senses had somehow become more aware, and everything was louder, harsher, brighter. Noises were more intrusive as he tried to listen to Oliver’s soft brogue, talking quietly to Ron about Quidditch. The other man’s occasional glances were like a touch, and his touch… just brushing past him in a doorway made him halt, wide-eyed, staring at the other man. Everything else faded entirely and his breathing quickened slightly as Oliver gazed at his mouth, as the other man’s tongue darted out to moisten dry lips…
He almost leant forward, gave in to temptation, but his mother’s voice brought him back to Earth with a jolt, calling Oliver dear over to talk to Ginny again. They both took a quick step backward as though caught, and he let out a disappointed breath. Oliver, his back to the rest of the room, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly then looked upward and grinned, mouthing ‘later,’ before turning to go. Charlie tilted his head back, then grinned slightly as he saw the mistletoe above his head.
Ron was sitting on the sofa with Harry, looking like it was an effort to keep the grin on his face and holding onto Harry’s hand as if it was a lifeline. Harry’s thumb stroked gently across the back of Ron’s knuckles, comforting and reassuring, and Charlie’s stomach twisted slightly as he heard his mother practically forcing Ginny down Oliver’s throat. Harry had no right to look at him so sympathetically- the two of them were in a worse situation than he was. He was fine.
At least they’re together.
He headed over to the table and poured himself another drink.
* * *
He drank more than he should have. By the time the meal started he was well on his way to being drunk, alternately grinning and effusive and trying not to look at Oliver, and staring morosely as he and Ginny were persuaded into another conversation by his mother. The fact that the two of them were seated together, directly opposite him was no help- every time one of them smiled and laughed, looked like they were having a good time, he found distraction in his glass.
Harry and Ron were sat on each side of him, carefully placed so they couldn’t talk to each other or catch the other’s eye. Ron was discussing with Bill about their respective jobs, using strangely abstract Quidditch analogies, and Charlie was ignoring Harry’s occasional conversational gambits, forcing the younger man to turn and talk to Charlie’s dad. He felt Harry’s eyes on him occasionally throughout the meal, however, and as he reached for the bottle yet again he felt Harry’s hand on his arm.
“Charlie, you’re being a wanker.” Harry’s voice was soft, for his ears only- Arthur was talking loudly to Molly about the Ministry.
Charlie tugged his arm away and flushed slightly, frowning and grabbing his knife again. “Am not,” he answered childishly.
“You’re drinking too much, and you’re completely ignoring Oliver… it’s not fair to him. I mean, he knows me and Ron alright, but it’s you he’s here for and you’ve barely said two words to him all day.”
“Yeah, well he looks alright from where I’m sitting,” he hissed, knowing he was being unreasonable but unwilling to admit to the jealousy that was gnawing at him.
“He’s being polite. What do you expect him to do? Stare at you all the time and ignore his host? Act like a lovesick teenager? He’s doing what you asked him too, Charlie. You’re the one that didn’t want your mum to know, and he’s being careful not to give it away and now you’re blaming him for it? Grow up.” Harry turned away and appeared to listen to Arthur and Molly’s conversation again, and Charlie stared down at his plate, ears burning. A foot nudged his leg gently, and he looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. The other man sent him a quick grin and he returned it, returning to his turkey with a half-smile still on his face.
* * *
“Oliver? You out here?”
Charlie blew into his cupped hands and rubbed them together, wrapping his arms around himself and wishing he’d thought to put something more substantial on than the thin shirt he was wearing. Frost on the bushes reflected the lights that decorated the outside of the house, adding to the faint illumination that wasn’t quite bright enough to penetrate the shadows.
A patch of darkness moved a little, stepping closer and resolving itself into Oliver’s silhouette.
“I swear to God, Weasley, you’re gonna kill me with that fuckin’ collar.” There was a smile in Oliver’s voice, though his face was still in shadow.
Charlie grinned a little. “Happy Christmas.”
“No’ yet. But it will be, I promise you that.” A slight tremor that was nothing to do with the cold raced through him at the heat in Oliver’s voice. The other man tilted his head slightly to one side. “You like it?”
Charlie flushed a little, though he knew he couldn’t be seen, and nodded his head. Oliver huffed out a breath, then an icy finger stroked gently along the side of Charlie’s neck, tracing the top edge of his collar, simultaneously burning and freezing. He couldn’t quite hold in a groan, and the hand stilled, then moved to cup his cheek for a second.
“We should be getting back to the party and your parents and your lovely sister, aye?” His tone was faintly teasing, and Charlie grabbed one freezing hand as Oliver turned to go in.
“I’m sorry. I was jealous.”
“You can make it up to me later. But…you’ve no cause to be, Charlie. Know that.” He leaned closer, and his breath warmed Charlie’s ear. “I came here for you. And I willnae be swayed by a pretty face and a little conversation. Trust me a little, aye?” He pressed a brief, cold kiss against Charlie’s jaw, and disappeared back into the house.
* * *
The time until everyone else went to bed was measured in glances, and smiles, and the slightest touches; it was both forever and gone far too fast.
Eventually, it was only Harry, Ron and Arthur still in the room with them- Arthur in the corner snoring, the bonnet from his cracker still perched rakishly on his head. Harry caught Charlie’s eye and grinned, then nudged Ron.
“We should get your dad upstairs.”
Ron stretched a little, then groaned pathetically.
“He’ll be alright here, won’t he?” Harry cleared his throat meaningfully, and Ron looked at Charlie and laughed. “Right, right. Dad upstairs.” He bent down and stuck a hand under his dad’s arm, yanking him to his feet and propping him up against Harry. “Night, all.” The three of them staggered out of the room.
And it was just them. It seemed so sudden, like this wasn’t what had been building all night, like they hadn’t been aiming for this moment, this silence, this shared glance. Charlie shifted nervously as Oliver got to his feet. He reached up and ran a finger absentmindedly under the buckle of his collar where it rubbed and the skin was tender.
“Christ, Weasley…” it was almost a moan, and Oliver took two quick steps toward him, grabbing his arm as he almost took a step backward. “I promised, remember?” The other man nodded up at the mistletoe that hung over their heads, and as Charlie tilted his head back to look at it he bent swiftly and ran his tongue along the top of the collar. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day. God you’re a fuckin’ tease, Charlie.”
Charlie’s only response was to pull him up and crush their mouths together, holding onto Oliver’s shoulders as if they were an anchor, only keeping him barely attached to reality as he slid his tongue into Oliver’s mouth. The other man’s hands seemed indecisive as they roved across his back, traced the edges of the collar, wove into his hair, pressed him closer.
He didn’t even realise they were moving until the edge of the doorframe pressed against his back, until Oliver was pressed full length against him, solid and hot and God, he was pushing against him, pressing in a rhythm that made Charlie gasp and push back, capturing Oliver’s mouth in another kiss as their hips moved, straining towards each other, towards something…
“CHARLES WEASLEY!”
His mother stood in the doorway.
He half-suspected Oliver of charming the collar, somehow.
It was impossible, of course, because Oliver hadn’t known about it until it’d been dangled in front of him; until he’d watched, mouth slightly open, as Charlie had buckled the thin strip of leather around his own throat and then buttoned his shirt to cover it, flushing slightly.
It felt strange, alien against his skin- straddling the line between rough and smooth, with blunt edges that caused the slightest friction every time he moved his head. A constant quiet reminder of its presence that he didn’t really need when he caught Oliver’s eyes on him… The pure heat in the gaze directed at the place where the collar couldn’t quite be seen, hidden beneath his shirt, made him look away and will himself not to blush. He kept losing the thread of conversations, stammering, trying not to catch Oliver’s eye.
It was as though it heightened everything. Like each of his senses had somehow become more aware, and everything was louder, harsher, brighter. Noises were more intrusive as he tried to listen to Oliver’s soft brogue, talking quietly to Ron about Quidditch. The other man’s occasional glances were like a touch, and his touch… just brushing past him in a doorway made him halt, wide-eyed, staring at the other man. Everything else faded entirely and his breathing quickened slightly as Oliver gazed at his mouth, as the other man’s tongue darted out to moisten dry lips…
He almost leant forward, gave in to temptation, but his mother’s voice brought him back to Earth with a jolt, calling Oliver dear over to talk to Ginny again. They both took a quick step backward as though caught, and he let out a disappointed breath. Oliver, his back to the rest of the room, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly then looked upward and grinned, mouthing ‘later,’ before turning to go. Charlie tilted his head back, then grinned slightly as he saw the mistletoe above his head.
Ron was sitting on the sofa with Harry, looking like it was an effort to keep the grin on his face and holding onto Harry’s hand as if it was a lifeline. Harry’s thumb stroked gently across the back of Ron’s knuckles, comforting and reassuring, and Charlie’s stomach twisted slightly as he heard his mother practically forcing Ginny down Oliver’s throat. Harry had no right to look at him so sympathetically- the two of them were in a worse situation than he was. He was fine.
At least they’re together.
He headed over to the table and poured himself another drink.
* * *
He drank more than he should have. By the time the meal started he was well on his way to being drunk, alternately grinning and effusive and trying not to look at Oliver, and staring morosely as he and Ginny were persuaded into another conversation by his mother. The fact that the two of them were seated together, directly opposite him was no help- every time one of them smiled and laughed, looked like they were having a good time, he found distraction in his glass.
Harry and Ron were sat on each side of him, carefully placed so they couldn’t talk to each other or catch the other’s eye. Ron was discussing with Bill about their respective jobs, using strangely abstract Quidditch analogies, and Charlie was ignoring Harry’s occasional conversational gambits, forcing the younger man to turn and talk to Charlie’s dad. He felt Harry’s eyes on him occasionally throughout the meal, however, and as he reached for the bottle yet again he felt Harry’s hand on his arm.
“Charlie, you’re being a wanker.” Harry’s voice was soft, for his ears only- Arthur was talking loudly to Molly about the Ministry.
Charlie tugged his arm away and flushed slightly, frowning and grabbing his knife again. “Am not,” he answered childishly.
“You’re drinking too much, and you’re completely ignoring Oliver… it’s not fair to him. I mean, he knows me and Ron alright, but it’s you he’s here for and you’ve barely said two words to him all day.”
“Yeah, well he looks alright from where I’m sitting,” he hissed, knowing he was being unreasonable but unwilling to admit to the jealousy that was gnawing at him.
“He’s being polite. What do you expect him to do? Stare at you all the time and ignore his host? Act like a lovesick teenager? He’s doing what you asked him too, Charlie. You’re the one that didn’t want your mum to know, and he’s being careful not to give it away and now you’re blaming him for it? Grow up.” Harry turned away and appeared to listen to Arthur and Molly’s conversation again, and Charlie stared down at his plate, ears burning. A foot nudged his leg gently, and he looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. The other man sent him a quick grin and he returned it, returning to his turkey with a half-smile still on his face.
* * *
“Oliver? You out here?”
Charlie blew into his cupped hands and rubbed them together, wrapping his arms around himself and wishing he’d thought to put something more substantial on than the thin shirt he was wearing. Frost on the bushes reflected the lights that decorated the outside of the house, adding to the faint illumination that wasn’t quite bright enough to penetrate the shadows.
A patch of darkness moved a little, stepping closer and resolving itself into Oliver’s silhouette.
“I swear to God, Weasley, you’re gonna kill me with that fuckin’ collar.” There was a smile in Oliver’s voice, though his face was still in shadow.
Charlie grinned a little. “Happy Christmas.”
“No’ yet. But it will be, I promise you that.” A slight tremor that was nothing to do with the cold raced through him at the heat in Oliver’s voice. The other man tilted his head slightly to one side. “You like it?”
Charlie flushed a little, though he knew he couldn’t be seen, and nodded his head. Oliver huffed out a breath, then an icy finger stroked gently along the side of Charlie’s neck, tracing the top edge of his collar, simultaneously burning and freezing. He couldn’t quite hold in a groan, and the hand stilled, then moved to cup his cheek for a second.
“We should be getting back to the party and your parents and your lovely sister, aye?” His tone was faintly teasing, and Charlie grabbed one freezing hand as Oliver turned to go in.
“I’m sorry. I was jealous.”
“You can make it up to me later. But…you’ve no cause to be, Charlie. Know that.” He leaned closer, and his breath warmed Charlie’s ear. “I came here for you. And I willnae be swayed by a pretty face and a little conversation. Trust me a little, aye?” He pressed a brief, cold kiss against Charlie’s jaw, and disappeared back into the house.
* * *
The time until everyone else went to bed was measured in glances, and smiles, and the slightest touches; it was both forever and gone far too fast.
Eventually, it was only Harry, Ron and Arthur still in the room with them- Arthur in the corner snoring, the bonnet from his cracker still perched rakishly on his head. Harry caught Charlie’s eye and grinned, then nudged Ron.
“We should get your dad upstairs.”
Ron stretched a little, then groaned pathetically.
“He’ll be alright here, won’t he?” Harry cleared his throat meaningfully, and Ron looked at Charlie and laughed. “Right, right. Dad upstairs.” He bent down and stuck a hand under his dad’s arm, yanking him to his feet and propping him up against Harry. “Night, all.” The three of them staggered out of the room.
And it was just them. It seemed so sudden, like this wasn’t what had been building all night, like they hadn’t been aiming for this moment, this silence, this shared glance. Charlie shifted nervously as Oliver got to his feet. He reached up and ran a finger absentmindedly under the buckle of his collar where it rubbed and the skin was tender.
“Christ, Weasley…” it was almost a moan, and Oliver took two quick steps toward him, grabbing his arm as he almost took a step backward. “I promised, remember?” The other man nodded up at the mistletoe that hung over their heads, and as Charlie tilted his head back to look at it he bent swiftly and ran his tongue along the top of the collar. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day. God you’re a fuckin’ tease, Charlie.”
Charlie’s only response was to pull him up and crush their mouths together, holding onto Oliver’s shoulders as if they were an anchor, only keeping him barely attached to reality as he slid his tongue into Oliver’s mouth. The other man’s hands seemed indecisive as they roved across his back, traced the edges of the collar, wove into his hair, pressed him closer.
He didn’t even realise they were moving until the edge of the doorframe pressed against his back, until Oliver was pressed full length against him, solid and hot and God, he was pushing against him, pressing in a rhythm that made Charlie gasp and push back, capturing Oliver’s mouth in another kiss as their hips moved, straining towards each other, towards something…
“CHARLES WEASLEY!”
His mother stood in the doorway.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-01-15 11:54 pm (UTC)More, perhaps, if we ask nicely? *bats eyes*
no subject
Date: 2004-01-16 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-16 12:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-16 02:32 am (UTC)a. Teh Brogue
b. Teh Snogging
Le Sigh. Viva Le Chaliver!
*loves Nny*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-01 07:18 pm (UTC)heh. Caught in the act! ;)
this moment really grabbed me:
Eventually, it was only Harry, Ron and Arthur still in the room with them- Arthur in the corner snoring, the bonnet from his cracker still perched rakishly on his head. Harry caught Charlie’s eye and grinned, then nudged Ron.
beautiful.
~J~