Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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30th November 2007 00:33 - Fic: Charlie Weasley: International Man of Mystery (Charlie/Everybody, R/NC-17)
Title: Charlie Weasley: International Man of Mystery
Author: [info]misfit_ragdoll
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Fleur Delacour, Charlie/Most of the Wizarding World
Rating: Hard R bordering on NC-17
Warnings: Ummmm…nearly everything. Including necrophilia and character death (check out those tags -- I hope I didn't miss anything important)
Themes/kinks chosen: Faux Spoilers: Charlie Weasley recruits a lot of foreign wizards to help fight in the final battle by whatever means necessary. Fleur is a Death Eater and in league with Voldemort.
Word Count: 2500 words
Summary: At Dumbledore's behest, Charlie Weasley recruits a lot of foreign wizards to help fight in the final battle by whatever means necessary.
Author's notes: Due to holiday exchange commitments, I hadn't expected to do be able to pull this one off. Somehow, they drove me right round the Maypole and thus this story saw the light of day. Much thanks to [info]twilightsorcery (who gave me the inspiration for La Chatte Chauve), [info]kabal42 (who gave me the idea of an arch-nemesis) and [info]eeyore9990,[info]r_grayjoy and [info]katesque for beta-ing, cheerleading and generally being fantabulous. And as karma would have it Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me just started on TV the moment I finished this. Yeah, baby! Yeah!



Had Charlie Weasley known what he was in for when Albus Dumbledore had first contacted him for a private discussion, he might have declined. Unfortunately, Charlie was headstrong, overconfident and young, so what his former Headmaster proposed had seemed simple at the time. If only it had been.

The old man had explained to him that the Order was in desperate need of allies, particularly foreign wizards to help the fight should the War with Voldemort get any farther than Britain. He'd insisted that Charlie was just the man for the job – assuming he was up for it. Charlie had always been an adventurous type, a true Gryffindor who wasn't afraid of anything, or so he claimed. He'd performed all sorts of reckless stunts in his flying days, he'd faced dragons, would not back down from a fair fight or a dare; how difficult could it be to convince a few measly wizards to join their cause? Besides, Charlie had relished the idea of playing spy and recruiter for the Order, although he did wonder just what Dumbledore had meant when he'd made Charlie vow to persuade his list of contacts by 'any means necessary'.

In retrospect, Charlie wished he'd asked Dumbledore for more details or that the former Headmaster had been more forthcoming. Some warning about just what the job would entail would have been nice. Of course, Charlie had rightly assumed he'd need use his natural charm, charisma and gift of gab, perhaps even a show of physical prowess. That hadn't seemed a problem – he knew had all of those in spades. Dumbledore had even provided Charlie with a secret bank account to cover his expenses and hinted that some of the funds could be used for bribes if needed. However, there had been no warning about the commodity the Wizarding community at large seemed to want more than anything else…sex.

To his surprise, Charlie discovered that most wizards were horny. Desperately, unbelievably horny. Especially when presented with fit, attractive, twenty-three year old arse. Not only that, but most of them were fairly deviant in their tastes. No bog-standard shagging for that lot.

He had certainly not been prepared for it in the beginning. His first meeting had been in Amsterdam with a Dutch contact of Dumbledore's, a venerable old wizard well known for his genius. Of course, Charlie had expected him to want something in return, but what the old gentleman proposed had made Charlie blush to the roots of his ginger hair.

At first he'd been terrified – his own sexual experiences had been limited to adolescent wank sessions with his friends and pretty young birds who were eager to please the dazzling star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team or a brave, handsome young Dragon Keeper. He had no idea what to do with a bloke, but unwilling to let the Order down, he'd gone valiantly into the other wizard's bedroom just the same. After all, he'd faced down Hungarian Horntails and Chinese Fireballs and come out unscathed, hadn't he?

In some ways, Charlie wished he'd gone into a dragon's den naked rather than face the horny Dutchman without any preparation. The old wizard had been hung like a Centaur and had a voracious sexual appetite to match. By the time Charlie had left – twenty four hours later – he was sore from head to toe, bruised, bitten, scratched and covered in more effluvia than he could catalogue. He wasn't even certain he'd want to.

That was only the beginning. Before he knew what was happening, Charlie had found himself buggered in Bruges, fucked in Frankfort, rimmed in Rome and gang-banged in Grenada. He'd been fucked, sucked, wanked and spanked from one end of the Continent to the other and back again. He became adept at stamina spells and endurance charms, learning how to keep himself going round the clock if necessary. And often it was.

From there on, his reputation grew exponentially. Soon Charlie hadn’t even needed to seek out his contacts. They were contacting him in droves. At least his missions seemed successful. Each one of his associates swore their allegiance to the cause when they were done, although sometimes a second or third encounter was required in order to get them to sign on.

It wasn't just wizards, of course. There were a handful of witches on the recruitment list as well, although they were greatly outnumbered. Charlie had been sadly mistaken in his belief that they would be easier to win over. He had gone in thinking these assignations would be easy peasy, that he would be able to get away with his standard repertoire of bedroom skills -- compared to the wizards he'd been with, surely the randy old bats would just be grateful to have a virile young buck to service them. He couldn't have been more wrong.

If anything, the women proved to be more tenacious than their male counterparts. And even more insatiable. In short order, Charlie had discovered that he could not please an experienced woman merely by being there and putting in the least amount of effort possible, something he'd thought from his early sexual experiences. These older witches were demanding, more exacting, working him and working him hard. It was even more grueling than Quidditch training, although definitely more rewarding.

Of course, he learned quite a lot from the experiences. He was instructed on how be both the dominant and submissive, taught the ins and outs of bedroom role-playing, drilled in the fine arts of using lips, teeth, tongue, fingers and toys until he had mastered 1001 ways to bring a witch to orgasm without simply pounding her into a mattress, as well as every position for intercourse there was. There had been pegging in Prague, cunnilingus in Copenhagen, bondage in Bergen, threesomes in Thrace, and orgies in Odessa.

However, it wasn't all fun and games. At some point, Charlie discovered that not everyone who had sworn their allegiance to him was actually following through. In fact, there seemed to be someone undermining his progress, undoing all of his hard work. Someone on the other side. Charlie supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to find out that most of the Wizarding population was fickle or that the Death Eaters were vying for loyalty as much as the Order had. But it hacked him off no end to know that there was another wizard – or witch – who was humiliating him and turning his hard-won efforts to naught. He was determined to root out this Mata Hari of magic and put them out of business as quickly as possible.


It took time and energy to discover the identity of his adversary, but Charlie persevered. The witch in question went by the code name of " La Chatte Chauve" or "The Bald Cat". Charlie knew just enough French to suss out just what that referred to. Clearly subtlety was not this witch's strong suit. He had to hope that that was a clue to help him eliminate her before she did any more damage to the cause.

He traveled all over Europe attempting to catch up with her. It wasn't that difficult to track her movements as she left a trail of sated, exhausted wizards and witches in her wake. Unfortunately, she had sabotaged nearly everything he'd done; most of the parties in question had systematically declared neutrality in the War or changed affiliations outright due to her uncanny abilities. It only made Charlie more determined to remove her from the picture.

At last, he had a breakthrough. Through assorted contacts, he was able to pinpoint La Chatte's whereabouts. She was staying at an inn in Budapest after seducing and winning over a particularly pervy pair of Portuguese Pyromancers whom Charlie had been certain were his. He was not pleased in the least by the news; it was time to exact his revenge.

Charlie immediately Apparated to Budapest and located her accommodations. It was easy enough to get a room there. Some flirting and a quickie with the landlord got him the room number of the mystery woman, more of the same with a young chambermaid yielded him a copy of the passkey. And then it was time to face the enemy once and for all.

She sat in an arm chair as if she was waiting for him, dressed in black silk lingerie, black back-seamed stockings and shiny black stiletto heels. Her silver-white hair flowed down over her shoulders like a curtain, her cornflower blue eyes half-lidded, a smirk forming on her perfect mouth. Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, stunned by just who was facing him. It was his brother's fiancée. She was his dreaded nemesis?

Fleur chuckled, stretching out her long shapely legs, then leaned forward to give him a ideal view of her ample cleavage. "Bon soir, mon ami. It is good to see you," she said silkily. "I was hoping we would meet soon."

Charlie furrowed his brow, trying not to stare, trying to maintain his composure. "But you…you were on our side!" he finally blurted.

She laughed then shook her head in dissent. "I was never on your side, Charlie Weasley. I have been the Dark Lord's ever since I was small. He knows the value of a Veela…ma grand-mère, ma mère, ma souer and, of course moi. We are dark creatures, you know, who lure men to their deaths. Appropriate, non?"

"You're not wearing the mark," he insisted, pointing to her flawless arm, still not unable to take in what she was saying. "You can't…"

"The Dark Lord prefers some of his possessions pristine. He knows I have the Mark upon my heart. That is all that matters," Fleur sneered. "He sent me to Hogwarts for the TriWizard Tournament, you know. To work with his Death Eaters to kill Harry—"

"But Harry helped you! He and Ron saved Gabrielle for you…" Charlie protested.

"Have you not heard the old saying 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'?" Fleur scoffed. "How better to spy on Harry Potter than to put someone right in the middle of his camp? Among the people he trusted the most? It was so easy to become part of your family, cher Charlie – your brother, for such a clever man, he always is thinking with his cigare." She made a rude gesture with her fist. "A little promise of la chatte and he tells me everything I want to know."

Charlie growled with rage, his hands balling into fists. "Doesn't look like you're paying attention to Potter now, does it?"

Fleur shrugged her narrow shoulders, her expression one of abject indifference. "He's at school being watched by others. My Master had more pressing assignments for me to do. Your brother thinks I am on the Continent looking for wedding dresses. As I said, his brains are in his couilles." She snorted derisively, her eyes roving over Charlie's compact form, and added, "As are yours, non?"

"No, I don't believe so. Even though I'd agree that most wizards do keep their brains in their pants." Charlie had to admit she was a beautiful woman and as a part-Veela, her allure was stronger than most. But he'd been with hundreds of witches and wizards and he was not going to be swayed by a pretty face… or any other part of her for that matter. He had too much fortitude, steadfastly believing in the Order and their cause.

"Ah. An admirable trait, then. You and I, we are very much alike, are we not, mon cher?" Fleur fluttered her long lashes at him, shifting slightly so he could see her black knickers more clearly. They were skimpy, barely covering the area which had clearly been the source of her code name. The crotch was visibly damp.

"Perhaps," said Charlie, fixing his eyes on the spot, "we ought to see just how much. And celebrate our differences as well?"

"I thought you would never ask." With that, she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down into a searing kiss.

Fleur was as glorious as his brother had always boasted she was. As she stripped off her clothing for him, dancing wantonly around her room, Charlie could barely contain his excitement. She was breathtaking, her naked body perfect in every way. She seemed to be just as impressed by his, taking great pains to explore every inch of his taut, well-muscled frame with every method at her disposal. It would have been unsporting for him not to do the same.

Sex with her was remarkable. They spent hours upon hours pleasuring one another, each orgasm more explosive than the next, performing every act of love in Charlie's vast catalogue…and a few new ones besides. Charlie wasn't certain how he kept himself going, only that he had to. For Dumbledore, for the Order, for Harry. And so he did.

He drove himself deep into Fleur's unbelievably, unnaturally tight cunt, her long legs wrapped around his waist as she bucked and thrashed beneath him, her nails raking his broad back.

"Oh, Charlie, oh, Charlie, oh, Charlie…" She moaned and gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes closed tightly. She clenched around him then shook as she was wracked by yet another mind-blowing climax. "Oh! Charlie!" Fleur's eyes opened with a start, her gaze meeting his directly. "You…you win."

"What?" he blurted, unsure of what she was trying to tell him. However, at that moment, she slumped back against the mattress, limp and unmoving. For a minute, he thought he had just worn her out. Then the truth of the matter hit him like a rogue Bludger…she was dead, stone, cold dead.

Charlie pulled out of her with a grunt, his cock red, raw and aching. She was right, he had won. He wrapped his fingers around his erection and, with a few short strokes, finished himself off. He came in hard, hot spurts, splattering his release all over her slack, recumbent body, a fitting reminder of his triumph.

He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Bill.

~*~


In the end, Charlie proved to be a hero. The influx of foreign wizards rushing in to fight on the Order's side had been the deciding factor of the War. Harry might have defeated Voldemort in single combat, but the Order and their allies had the arduous task of dispatching his Death Eaters and his other minions: the giants, the Inferi, the Dementors and more.

He had been given medals, a house, uncountable riches, and yet, Charlie felt unfulfilled. He wasn't one for sitting around on his arse, growing fat and lazy, or wallowing in domestic tranquility. He craved excitement, needed it and there was only one way he was going to get it. He knew that his diplomatic negotiations had saved the Wizarding world. He knew how beneficial it had been for everyone involved. Besides, one never knew when those sort of alliances would be needed again. He was most definitely going to have to seek out as many of his former contacts as soon as possible –it was unquestionably time to reestablish foreign relations.
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