Quidditch jumpers

[girlyswot]

This is for the fluff thread on the Sugar Quill.  Posted here because it's a little longer than a snippet and because *looks round furtively, beckons closer and whispers* it's Charlie/Hermione.  Sorry if that's not okay with you.

'Charlie Weasley!'  Hermione erupted into the room where Charlie was sitting, his feet up on the coffee table, the Daily Prophet crumpled on his lap and a cup of tea in his hand.  She held something out by the tips of her fingers.  'What in the name of Merlin do you call this?'

He lowered his paper and turned to face her, a muscle beginning to twitch at the corner of his mouth when he saw what she'd found.  

'What do I call it?' he mused.  'A relic?  Or a souvenir, perhaps.  Yes, I think that's it.  A souvenir.'

'It's disgusting,' she blazed.

Charlie shrugged and made as if to return to the Daily Prophet.  Hermione whipped the paper away.  

'Look,' she ordered.  'It's covered in mud and... and sweat and it smells,' she concluded, her face puckering up in disgust.

He took the offending garment out of her grasp and held it to his nose.  'So it does,' he agreed mildly.  'Very evocative.  Takes me straight back to the last time I wore it.  I caught the Snitch.  Gryffindor won the cup.  Couldn't keep the girls off me.'  

Hermione's hands went to her hips.  'Oh, really?' she enquired coldly.

He winked.  'Perhaps I should see if it still works.'  He swiftly pulled his shirt over his head and reached for the old Quidditch jumper.  

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.  'How can you bear to have that... that thing...  Ugh.'

'What do you reckon?'  He held out his arms to her and grinned.  'Still irresistible?'

Hermione whisked herself out of reach.  'Certainly not.  And I'm not coming anywhere near you until you've had a shower and burned that disgusting specimen.'

But Charlie was always too quick for her.  He caught her by the arm just as she reached the door and pulled her into a tight embrace.  One hand was firmly around her waist and the other drew her head down into his shoulder, pressing her face against the dirty jumper.  Unwillingly, she breathed in the stale salty scent and let her hands slide up the surprisingly soft fabric.

'I'm still cross,' she warned.

'Sure,' Charlie agreed whilst rubbing gentle circles on her back.

'And there's no way you're keeping that thing in our bedroom,' Hermione persevered.

'Whatever you say, sweetheart.'  He'd slipped one hand under her t-shirt now.

'It's unhygienic.'

'I know,' he murmured, manouevring her slightly away from him without loosening his grip.

'Charlie, what are you doing?' she asked nervously, noticing the gleam of concentration in his face.

Suddenly there was darkness and an overpowering stench of mould and then the familiar warmth of Charlie's hard body against her.  She looked up and saw an unmistakably smug grin plastering his face.

'That was always the best thing about Quidditch jumpers,' he explained while gently pulling her hair free.  'Big enough for two.'