After reading "Bookends", by 'selmak' (awesome pen name, for the record, if you're reading this!), for the, oh, fifteenth time or so, I decided to try my hand at an Arthur/Hermione fic. As far as plans go, this is only meant to be a two shot, this being part one, the next part being not up as of right now. We'll see if there's any interest at all before I take the time to write more. Anyway, hope you guys like the odd pairing.


Arthur Weasley gazed tenderly at his daughter-in-law as she pulled away from his embrace; a long embrace brought on by nearly two years of not seeing one another, as she and Ron had been living in Australia for a time. Now that they had returned, the red haired man felt the familiar pang of guilt bubbling in his stomach over the fondness he harbored for Hermione.

He was too fond of her. Arthur knew what was appropriate and what most certainly wasn't, and the dreams he so often had featuring the brown eyed witch in his arms fell firmly in the later category. The worst of it was that he had a hunch that she was not entirely pure in her affections for him, either. He could see it in her eyes, that she wanted him, and he also knew that she'd never be so bold as to plainly state the fact. Arthur had hoped that she and Ron's time in Australia would have lessened one or both of their feelings, but it did not seem to be the case.

"I've missed you," Hermione said to him. "So very much."

"And I have missed you," he replied softly. He knew that the truth of how much was clearly written in his eyes right now, and much to his dismay, for the first time, Hermione saw it. He couldn't panic, nor could he allow her to bring what was now officially their secret to light with so many other people around them.

"Arthur?" she whispered questioningly.

He tilted his head toward Ron, Molly, and Ginny and Harry. "Later, Hermione," he said calmly.

Arthur felt anything but calm at the moment, but years of being a father to the likes of Fred and George had taught him how to appear calm under the worst of circumstances. This one ranked pretty high on the proverbial list, but still, he stood his ground, stepped away from her with a sigh, and went to greet his youngest son.

He could feel her watching him, that incredible brain probably going over every moment they'd had together up to now, wondering how long he'd felt for her as he did. Hermione would be wondering if she'd led him on - if how he felt was because of what she felt, or if maybe it was the other way around. Arthur didn't think it was either. He believed that the feelings between them had been a natural evolution of the closeness that had begun to form all those years ago when she was the only one awake when he'd leave for the Ministry on those mornings during the summers she had been staying at the Burrow. They had always been quiet around each other, and Arthur now surmised that perhaps that was the only reason that it had taken them this long to realize the other felt the same.

It didn't surprise Arthur when the following morning, as he sat down at the kitchen table for his cup of tea, that Hermione soon joined him. "Morning," he said quietly, much as he always had greeted her.

"We should talk," she said without preamble, pouring herself a cup of tea from the kettle, still warm on the stove. He'd left it on, knowing she'd come. She always did, after all.

"What is there to say, Hermione?" he asked. "You are a married woman, and I am a married man. The fact that you married my son... well, it certainly doesn't simplify things any."

"I know all that," she whispered, lowering her eyes in shame.

Arthur didn't want that: he didn't want to see her shame for loving him. He didn't want to see her tears, especially if it was he who caused them. So, he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. Arthur stood, walked to the other end of the table, and roughly pulled her to her feet.

She gasped at the intrusion of her personal space, but didn't pull away. Rather, she leaned into his embrace as she had many times before, and his chin rested lightly on her brown curls. "Damn you," he whispered after a moment, knowing what was inevitably about to happen. Like seeing a flood coming, and knowing there was no higher ground to feel to, Arthur suddenly knew that he was about to cross a line to a place there'd be no turning back from.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes pleading, and as much as Arthur wanted to believe that she was begging him to stop with those beautiful brown eyes, he knew it was quite the opposite. "Please…" she whispered.

"Not here," he heard himself say. "They'll believe me to be at work. Leave a note to say you've gone somewhere...I don't know - shopping or something, and we'll finish this conversation somewhere more safe."


Hermione didn't care where they were, just so long as it was away from Ron, Molly, and the rest of the Weasley family. It was cliché, she knew, but no one would find them here; no one who mattered anyway. They were all far too engrossed in the wizarding world to think to look for Hermione or Arthur in a muggle hotel, especially while she was supposedly visiting a muggle friend of no particular name, and he was supposedly at work. He'd even gone the extra mile and asked his secretary to tell anyone looking for him that he was out of the office on a case, and to leave a message.

"Well," Arthur said nervously.

Hermione looked at him affectionately. His careful nature was what drew her to him so readily. Arthur took the utmost care in everything he did. Even though many of his co-workers made fun of him, saying the Department for the Misuse of Magical Artifacts was a waste of Ministry resources, he treated the job like it was the most important job in the wizarding world.

"We don't have to do this," she said, giving him one more chance to walk away. She knew that he loved Molly, and Molly was a good woman who Hermione loathed the idea of hurting. That said…

"I want to," he replied.

… Hermione could never deny Arthur what he wanted. Merlin knew she wanted him just as much. It would just be this once - an itch they needed to scratch before it drove them mad. It was something that, when it was over, they'd never speak of it, though she imagined that sometimes there would be shared glances that spoke of remembrance.

With a deep breath, Hermione lifted her cotton shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, leaving her standing there with low-rise jeans which she went ahead and unbuttoned, and a simple, powder blue lace bra.

"You are so beautiful," Arthur whispered, daring to take a step forward, reach out, and touch her skin.

She shivered at the contact. His fingers brushed her side with care, and her hands rose and rested around his neck. "Kiss me," Hermione uttered, looking him in the eye.

His lips descended on hers roughly, and instinct caused her to return the kiss with equal vigour. Before long, the furry escalated to the ripping of clothes - Hermione could fix that later - and with a push and a shove here, and a grope and tug there, before she quite knew how they had gotten from point A to point B, Hermione felt Arthur's cock sliding inside her, filling her up perfectly.

"Oh, gods," she moaned, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.

The look on Arthur's face was almost feral as he began to move inside her. experience was decidedly on his side, as unlike her husband, Arthur made her cum over and over and over again in the hours that followed.

Actually, the fact that the whole event lasted hours was proof enough that Arthur knew more about pleasing a woman than his son did. Hermione could only pray that Ron got this good, given time.

She was exhausted by the time they finished, as so was he. He'd come at least four times, and she...well, Hermione had stopped counting after her twenty-fifth orgasm. Bloody hell…

"You know we can't do this again," Arthur whispered after a while of just laying there together, wrapped in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"I know," she replied, not even feeling sad about the fact. Hermione was not foolish enough to think she could have a long term affair with her father-in-law and not get caught. One time together had been reckless enough. The funny part of it all was that she was less concerned about how much it would hurt Ron to know, though she was plenty worried about that, and more so about how it would affect Molly. Arthur and Molly had been together since their Hogwarts days, and their love had lasted the test of time, financial difficulty, wartime dangers, and even the death of a son. Hermione didn't think there was anything that could break the two of them up, though she wasn't prepared to test fate.


Arthur dropped his fork when his son Ron announced that he and Hermione were expecting a baby. "Whut?" he asked stupidly, at once wondering how far along Hermione was and - oh Merlin, no - was Ron really the father?

He forced himself not to look at Hermione, though he could sense her looking at him. Fuck, he thought.

"Arthur, dear?" Molly's voice said at his left. "Aren't you going to congratulate Ron and Hermione?"

"Oh, of course," he muttered. "That's wonderful, you two."

Arthur carefully avoided a single moment alone with Hermione the rest of the evening, and eventually, they left. He wanted to retreat to his shed, but Molly was determined to celebrate the evening's announcement with some wine, and if he was very lucky, a shag for old time's sake. He and Molly rarely had sex anymore. In fact, he'd not had sex with her since before he and Hermione…

Oh, Merlin, please let that child be Ron's…

As Molly reached toward the shelf with the alcohol on it, he called out to her. "I'm feeling more like Firewhisky than wine, dear," he said. "If you'd grab that, I'll get you a wine glass and myself a tumbler."

"Of course," she replied sweetly, oblivious to the panic in her husband's eyes.

By the third glass of firewhisky, Arthur had decided on the don't ask, don't tell method regarding the paternity of Hermione's child. If she didn't tell him outright, he wasn't going to ask. He just prayed that she was just as keen on him not knowing, unless, of course, the baby was Ron, and in that case, the sooner she told him, the bloody better.


Hermione Weasley smiled down at her daughter - Rose Brianna - wondering if there ever before had been such a beautiful little girl. Red hair befitting of a Weasley decorated her little head, though it was quite curly, reminding her of her own baby pictures. Arthur had been by, with Molly, of course, this morning, and Hermione had avoided eye contact with him, much as she had for the last six months since announcing her pregnancy. After their night together, that had become much the norm; she and Arthur saw each other quite regularly, and the tenderness between them still remained, though there was a distance between them which had grown in magnitude with each passing month of her pregnancy.

She wondered if he knew. She wondered if Arthur had guessed that Rose was his little girl, rather than Ron's. Ron, of course, had no reason to suspect that the squalling red-head was not his own, but Arthur had to at least suspect otherwise. When Hermione had discovered she was pregnant, the first thing she'd done was book an appointment with a healer, and gotten confirmation of exactly when Rose had been conceived.

Healer Lavender Brown entered the room with a soft smile. Lavender had been a dorm mate of Hermione's back at Hogwarts, and while they'd never really gotten along while at school, the final year of the war had done a number on Lavender's maturity. She was the only one besides Hermione herself who knew the truth of Rose's birth.

"How is the newest Weasley?" Lavender asked quietly, warding the room for privacy. She made a habit of doing this when speaking with Hermione, knowing that if the topic of just who the father of this baby was came up, it needed to be conversed about it complete secrecy. While she may have been a gossip queen at Hogwarts, she had since learned the value of relationships borne from trust. "Had Arthur been by yet?"

"He and Molly came by about an hour ago," Hermione replied. "He held her...and for a moment…"

"He had to at least suspect," Lavender said with a sigh.

"Of course. But until he has the nerve to ask a very simple question, I'm not going to tell him."

"Would it change anything if he knew?"

"Not likely," Hermione shrugged. "We agreed that what happened between us was a one-off. It won't happen again -"

Lavender huffed at that.

"I'm serious, Lavender!" Hermione protested.

"I'm sure you think you are," the other former Gryffindor smiled. "However, you now have a child together, and at some point, probably not too far in the future, you will discuss the fact, and with emotions high, I won't be at all surprised if you sleep with him at least one more time."

"Don't you think I've learned by bloody lesson after the first time?" Hermione argued. "I should have known - I mean Arthur is the great inseminator!"

Laughter filled the room, first Lavender's, who was remember Ron giving her a speech about how they shouldn't have sex because he was too worried with his father being the great inseminator, that he'd get her pregnant. In retrospect, she was grateful he'd been mature enough to think like that, even if she'd been annoyed back then. Hermione quickly joined in the laugher, it suddenly hitting her how utterly ridiculous this situation was. She had just given birth to her bloody father-in-law's child and was debating what to do about the inevitable facing of the facts.

"Seriously, Hermione," Lavender said with mirth in her eyes. "If he is as good in bed as you said, I'd want to bugger him again, and you know how picky I've become!"

Hermione blushed furiously, holding her infant daughter close to her body.


Arthur looked toward the kitchen when he heard the Floo come alive. Molly was supposed to be watching Rose today, but she'd had to rush off when Ginny called about wanting to kill Harry. He was certain all would be well in the end between his daughter and son-in-law, but Molly was determined to help defuse the situation. That said, here he was, about to face a situation he'd carefully avoided for just over a year now. He was about to be in a room...in a house...alone… with his daughter-in-law, Hermione.

The daughter-in-law he'd had sex with.

Rose was down for a nap, which didn't help this situation at all. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist asking the question that had plagued his mind for exactly three-hundred and seventy-one days, nights, and hours in between. When he looked at Rose, he felt an affection he'd only ever felt for Hermione. The question was if that affection was brought on by the fact that she was her daughter, or because Rose was their daughter.

"Arthur," Hermione said, surprised to see him, alone. He was usually still at work at this hour.

"Rose is napping," he said without preamble. "Molly had to rush off to solve Ginny and Harry's problems."

Hermione laughed at that. "How long has Rose been sleeping?"

"About forty-five minutes," Arthur replied, beckoning Hermione to take a seat. "Before we wake her, I thought perhaps we could talk for a bit."

The young woman paled slightly at his suggestion, which caused his gut to twist uncomfortably. "Go on, ask," she whispered, sitting on the sofa beside him.

"Is Rose...my daughter?" he asked, not daring to look at Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione replied quietly. "She is."

Arthur took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. "Oh Merlin," he muttered.

"I've not kept it from you," Hermione said. "I just needed you to ask. I didn't want to blindside you with a truth you were not ready or willing to face."

"You had to have known I suspected, Hermione," he frowned.

"You'd have been foolish not to," she shrugged. "But still, I wasn't going to just waltz into the Burrow one day and blurt out that you'd gotten me pregnant. Besides, this is the first we've been alone...together...since that morning."

Memories of the encounter which had resulted in Rose's birth flooded both of their minds, and before either knew what was happening, their fingers were entwined, and they were leaning in for a kiss.

Just one kiss… Arthur thought as their lips met.

Just for a minute… he thought as he pulled Hermione onto his lap and the kiss escalated rapidly.

"Please," Hermione begged, rocking her hips as her lips nipped at his neck.

Years of sexual encounters in between the various nap times of seven children had allowed Arthur to fine tune the art of a quicky. He knew how to be fast, and he knew how to make it good. The fact of exactly whose clothing he'd just banished along with his own didn't even cross his mind until after he'd sunk his length into her slick, hot folds. "Gods, Hermione…" he muttered, forcing himself to not care about the potential consequences. He'd beat himself up later, presuming Molly didn't show up right about now and there was no later to be had. Those of his children with tempers did not get it from him.

Knowing she wasn't likely to get a good orgasm in this position, he lifted her up, all while staying inside of her, and pressed her back against the nearest all. The irony didn't escape him when he noticed that the portion of wall that he had her pressed against also bore a framed picture of Rose, taken only a few weeks ago.

"Almost…" she whispered as he thrust deeply into her body, pace quickening. He would normally wait a good while before letting himself come, but they hadn't the time they'd had during their last encounter. Molly could come home. One of the kids could pop by. Someone could floo-call. Rose could wake up…

"Together," he grunted, feeling her walls beginning to tighten around him.

Oh...oh…" Hermione panted.

Moments later, they orgasmed in union, and as soon as their heartbeats slowed down a little, Arthur deposited Hermione on the couch. A flick of his wand redressed them both, and to anyone that might happen to walk in, the only thing to bear evidence to what had just happened was the light flush on both of their cheeks.

"I'll go get Rose," Arthur said after a moment of just watching Hermione lay there, staring at him.

"Okay," she whispered.

By the time Arthur reached the nursery that he and Molly kept for when the grandkids visited, Bill and Charlie's old room, Rose was awake and cooing happily. "Hey little one," he said softly.

He picked her up, just holding her for a while, memorizing her features as if it was the first time he'd seen her. "You want to know a secret?" he whispered to her. "I'm your daddy."


"SON OF A BITCH!" Hermione shouted to her empty flat, having just returned from St. Mungo's and a very, very amused Healer Brown. She was pregnant. Again. With Arthur's child. Again. She was going to bloody neuter than man!

This time, she was not going to keep Arthur in the dark. He already knew Rose was his, so what did another child in the mix of the soap opera their lives had become matter?

"The Burrow!" she shouted, flinging some floo powder into the fireplace. She hadn't seen Arthur in six weeks, not since the afternoon he'd apparently gotten her pregnant...again.

"Hello?" she shouted, as soon as the connection was made.

Arthur's head came into view. "Is everything okay?" he asked, noticing her distressed face.

"I need you to step through," she said through gritted teeth.

Realization dawned on the red haired man's face. "You cannot be serious…"

"GET OVER HERE," she hissed.

A moment later, he emerged into her living room. "Hermione…"

"Do you have super-sperm or something?!" she asked.

"You're pregnant again?" he asked quietly. "It's mine?"

"Yes, and yes," she replied, voice low and dangerous.

"We've kept this a secret so far," he reasoned. "We can keep it up."

"Is that what you want, Arthur?" Hermione asked, wondering exactly what sort of relationship they had.

"Well I don't want to destroy both of our families," he snapped. "So I don't really see another option. What do you want, Hermione? Shall announce that you're pregnant, and I'm the bloody father, at dinner next week? Should Rose start calling me daddy? Should I divorce my wife and do right by my son's wife? Should you destroy your reputation by admitting to sleeping with me?"

"Fine," Hermione said, his case argued quite thoroughly. "I get it."

"This isn't about love," Arthur said quietly, pulling her into his arms. "Or a lack of it. You know how much I care for you."

"I know," she whispered. "I just wish that Rose could grow up knowing who her daddy really is. Her and her sibling-to-be."

"Me too," Arthur sighed. "But we both know it just can't be."


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