Note: Since the kids get wasted on the weekends, have sex in broom closets, and chain smoke outside of Hogs Head, I'd say this story is probably AU.
Rated M for sexual content, language, violence and...excessive drinking?
THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele
Booze Run
"Go, Harry, go, go."
"Shh, Ron!"
Footsteps. "Shit, Hermione get down!"
Hermione ducks behind a crate the size of a hippogriff and Ron turns to dive beside Harry. There's a moment of silence.
"False alarm," Harry says cheerily. Ron groans. "Fuck, I skinned my knee."
Harry grins and points up. "Let's go."
Hermione dusts off her skirt and sticks her head out from behind the crate. "We can't all go," she hisses. "The less people the smaller the chance of getting caught. And it really doesn't take all three of us to nab a bag of candy."
"Who said we're only getting one bag?" Ron huffs.
"First," Harry says sternly, "it's not nabbing if we're paying for it. Second, if you can slip our money into the cash while me and Ron grab the sweets we can save time and get out of here faster."
Hermione bites her lip nervously as she thinks it over. "Fine," she says eventually. "Pass me your wallet, Ron. Okay. I only want the truffles. Get me three of the caramel roses, five hazelnut coca bombs, and one of the round dark chocolate kind with the giant almond in the middle...and two orange creams."
Harry raises an eyebrow. Ron's jaw drops.
"What?" Hermione shuffles her feet, "I'm craving chocolate."
Ron shakes his head and says nothing. He leads the way up the stairs.
Honeydukes is dark. The shop has closed up for the day. With autumn coming to an end and winter just around the corner the inky night seems to swallow up the afternoons faster and faster each day. It's only seven, but it looks like it's already midnight outside.
Hermione tiptoes to the money drawer behind the counter and counts out the sickles and knuts. They've done this so many times that she's memorized the prices for every sweet in the shop by now. Just as she slides the drawer close she hears the floorboards creak behind her. She jumps.
It's only Ron.
Hermione glares at him. "Don't sneak up on me like that." Ron grins lopsidedly at her, holding up a lumpy paper bag. Hermione makes a grab for it. Ron lifts it out of her reach. She swats at him, standing on her toes. His grin widens and he lifts his arm higher. Hermione looses her balance and falls against him. Ron wraps his arm around her.
"Shh!" Harry appears, loaded down with lumpy bags of his own.
"Ron, give me my truffles!"
Ron snorts as Hermione tries to climb on top of the counter. "Nice underwear," he says. Hermione makes a small embarrassed sound and tugs down her skirt.
"Just give her the truffles, Ron," Harry says as Ron reaches over to flick Hermione on the leg. "Y'know what," Ron says to Harry, "the post office is still open. We can sneak into their Floo hall and go to Diagon Alley."
"For what?" Hermione asks absent-mindedly as Ron shoves her playfully, trying to make her fall off the counter.
"We can get booze for the party this weekend. If we go on Friday there'd be too many people."
"Okay."
Harry leaves his bags of sweets on the counter and goes around the shelves to look for something to prop the door open with so they can get back into Honeydukes later.
Ron succeeds and Hermione tumbles off the counter with a squeal, crashing right into him. Ron falls backwards, smothering back a laugh. Hermione ends up straddling Ron's leg, giggling into his neck as he hugs her around the waist. "Ow," Hermione whispers, "Your zipper is digging into my leg."
Ron sniggers. "That's not my zipper."
Hermione tries to scowl at him but it comes out as a grin. It's true. There's something hard pressing against her thigh that's definitely not a zipper, but that's not what she's talking about. "I'm serious," she says, pushing Ron away. Ron's fingers slide up her skirt. "Oh, crap," he looks down. "Your stocking is caught on my zipper."
Hermione punches him on the arm. "See, I told you."
"Here, I'll do it." Ron reaches down and tugs at the edge of her stockings, his thumb jerking upwards, brushing the bare skin of her inner thigh in a way that's all too intentional. Hermione widens her eyes at him. "Ron!"
He grins back at her cheekily. Hermione hears Harry coming nearer and pushes herself off Ron, blushing pink. Since Ron's mumbled confession at the end of summer they've been stealing kisses and touches here and there. They've never gotten any further than quick fumbling, his eager hands on her bra and her awkward writhing at the feeling of the hard edges of his belt buckle tearing a hole into the lacy hems of her panties. With Ginny nosing around, Harry always up to something and dragging them somewhere, and Fred and George being, well, Fred and George, Ron and Hermione have never really found a chance to be alone together. But Hermione doesn't mind.
She gives Ron a warning glare as he moves towards her. Ron raises his hands, innocent. Hermione peeks over the counter. "Harry! There should be a wooden block of some kind near the lollipop shelf," she whispers, "I've seen them use it to jam the door open in the summer– Ron!"
He flicked her skirt up with deft fingers. Hermione slaps him lightly, feigning indignant, as he pulls down her stocking and strokes her bare thigh. "Don't," Hermione says, as Ron leans in to kiss her.
"Harry is–"
"He's on the other side of the store," Ron says impatiently. He presses his lips to hers and his fingers find the swell of her buttocks.
Hermione breaks the kiss and slaps Ron again, harder this time. "I said no, Ron. Honestly, sometimes you're so damn–"
"Found it!" Harry hisses triumphantly in the dark.
Hermione stands up.
"Let's go, come on!" Harry urges from where he's crouching by the door. Ron grumbles something under his breath and hauls himself to his feet, reaching at Hermione for balance. She brushes him off. "Don't touch me," she snaps. Ron snorts. "Here we go again," he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.
Hermione ignores him, wrapping her arms around her body as she braces herself for the cold. None of them have brought a jacket. The wind stings a little. Hermione hopes that it won't rain. She pulls up her stocking. They make a run for the post office.
Harry takes his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and throws it over himself before opening the post office door a sliver, enough for him to slip inside but not enough for the porter to look up in suspicion. Ron and Hermione go around to the side, standing silently under a small dark window.
Minutes pass.
Ron shrugs off his sweater and holds it towards Hermione. She looks up at him. "I'm sorry," Ron says. He looks so uncomfortable that Hermione has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from grinning. "It's alright," she says, sounding gentler than she intended, and drapes the sweater around her shoulders.
Ron's sweaters are either hand-me-downs or knitted by Mrs. Weasley. In either case they tend to be too big on him since his brothers are all bigger and bulkier and Mrs. Weasley likes to leave him of space to grow into things. On Hermione, the sweater hangs down to her knees.
Ron gives her his lopsided grin. Hermione smiles back before she can catch herself. Then the window above them swings open. Harry's disembodied head peers out. "Hurry!" he urges, "We only got two hours. One and a half, actually, before the post office closes." He disappears back into the window. Ron gives Hermione a leg up to the window. He couldn't resist patting her smartly on the butt as she slips through. Hermione rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything. Ron hauls himself up after her.
Harry is standing in front of one of the many fireplaces, his invisibility cloak still wrapped around his shoulders. "Harry," Ron says, "take the cloak off or put it on properly. It creeps me out when you're nothing but a floating head."
Harry grins at Ron. "Sorry, mate."
Hermione has already got her Floo power and is stepping into the fireplace. "Go to Wizwreck," Ron tells her, "the sales witches there are usually too baked to notice a couple of kids popping out of their fireplace."
Harry laughs. It's the last thing Hermione hears before she's engulfed by the green flames.
She staggers out of the Wizwreck fireplace seconds before Ron appears. They don't wait long for Harry, who tumbles out a minute later.
Wizwreck is a new store in Diagon Alley. It's part of a chain of fashionable boutiques that first became popular in France. Infamous for its wide range of studded black leather items, whale-bone corsets, spiked jewellery, and macabre decor, the store quickly became that place where black clad youth chain smoked by the door and parents dragged their protesting children past, gritting their teeth and glaring daggers at the heavily pierced sales witches through the graffitied window.
Needless to say, Hermione has never set foot into the store before today. She weaves through the racks of clothes, ogling at the jeans barely held together by safety pins, assortments of enormous Egyptian-themed rings, and a curious set of necklaces, from each of which dangles a dozen or so shrunken heads. Behind her Ron and Harry are debating whether they should go to the brightly lit Pans Wines & Spirits up the street or the dingy Jinx Drinks at the mouth of Knockturn Alley.
As Hermione examines a collection of scaly-looking belts she hears a high-pitched titter that reminds her very strongly of Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil bent over the day's horoscopes. Hermione steps out from behind the high black racks and into the aisle.
Right into Draco Malfoy's chest.
"Sor- oh, Granger."
Hermione rolls her eyes at the sneer in his voice. Fucking Malfoy.
He's looking down at her with one eyebrow raised and his nose all wrinkled up like he just stepped in dwarf shit. His ugly hair is slicked back as usual and he's thrown his cloak over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up, showing off that stupid basilisk tattoo of his. It's stupid because Harry says basilisks don't have feathers...or wear crowns.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione matches his sneer with one of her own. He's probably buying another one of those tiresome Union Jack shirts to add to his endless stash, or maybe one of those tight leather bondage pants that don't flatter anyone. It really isn't surprising that he's the type to sneak off school property after curfew for a shopping spree.
Malfoy smirks Hermione with a mix of disgust and mirth. "I'm a prefect," he says righteously, as if it matters.
"And whose ass did you have to lick for that, I wonder." Harry's shoulder brushes against Hermione's as he steps out in front of her. Ron's hand comes to rest on her hip, protective. Hermione shakes him off.
Malfoy's sneer is replaced by the look of pure loathing he reserves only for Harry, and in the dim light of Wizwreck it looks almost mask-like. Something clatters to the ground behind Malfoy.
Hermione's glance flickers to the side. She eyes the lumbering figures of Crabbe and Goyle behind Malfoy, crossing her arms. Of course they'd be here too. Having grown out of binge-eating their frustration away the pair of gorillas learned in recent years to be bothersome and vehement in other ways. Let's just say that if they were Muggles they'd have white power slogans tattooed on their foreheads and swastikas shaved onto their hair.
Normally, Harry and Ron would be delighted to have an opportunity to antagonize Malfoy and his pet goons, just so there'd be a reason to start something, but not tonight.
"We've only got till ten," Hermione says under her breath. Harry hesitates for a minute before loosening his hold on the wand in his jean pocket. Hermione pushes past Malfoy. "Excuse us," she says stiffly, leading the way to the door. Harry and Ron follows. Goyle snarls at her as she passes. Crabbe sticks out his foot to trip her. Hermione sidesteps him. Crabbe makes a noise deep in his throat and slams his shoulder into her.
Hermione is thrown sideways. She crashes into a sales rack and a stack of snakeskin trench barely breaks her fall. She hears Ron's thunderous roar, the splintering of wood and the clip-clop of the sales witches' heels as they hurry over in panic.
"Nice underwear," Malfoy drawls. Hermione flushes red and sits up, smoothing down her skirt. Ron has his hands around Crabbe's neck and Malfoy has his wand out, the tip of which is digging into Ron's temple. Goyle is sprawled on the ground, his broken wand beside him. Harry has got the back of Malfoy's shirt bunched up in one hand, and the other is curled into a fist, poised above Malfoy's head.
"No brawling in the store," a sales witch says in a small voice. The boys let go of each other rather reluctantly. "Watch yourself," Harry growls at Malfoy, who sneers in return.
Ron reaches Hermione first. "Baby, you okay?"
Malfoy snorts derisively. Ron's head jerks in his direction. "Shut your trap, asshole, I'll fucking kill you. 'Mione, baby, here..."
Hermione ignores Ron's outstretched hand. "I'm fine," she says quickly, almost rudely, as she stands. Without a backward glance, she lets herself out the door muttering an apology when she passes the harassed-looking sales witches.
"Hermione!" Harry calls after her.
"We'll just go to Jinx Drinks," Hermione says over her shoulder. "It'll be faster there."
"I'll rip him to pieces," Ron grumbles to himself, stomping his feet loudly as he walks, "I'll kick the shit out of him–"
"Hermione–"
"I said I'm fine, Harry," Hermione speeds down the cobblestone steps leading to a dank little cellar of the liquor store. Harry gives Hermione a long searching look before he turns to knock on the door. "I'll go, I've got money. You guys stay here on lookout for anyone we might know." Then the Jinx Drink hag opens the door and Harry slips inside.
Hermione leans against the wall. Ron cups her cheek and leans in. Hermione turns away. "Stop it."
"We'll get him back," Ron says fiercely, pressing a hot lingering kiss to her neck. Hermione sighs. "You're an idiot, Ron, a complete moron."
Ron grins and catches her mouth with his. With one hand he pins her to the wall, with the other he squeezes her breast. Hermione groans in complaint, hands pushing at his chest. Ron slides one knee between hers, parting her legs. He leaves her gasping for breath, head spinning.
"Ron, no," she whispers. But Ron's already got his hands in her skirt. "Don't worry," he tells her, "no one's looking."
Hermione bites her lip as Ron's fingers press against her panties, rubbing. "Not here," she protests. Ron's warm breath sends goosebumps down her arms. His eyes turn a shade darker, feverish, as he presses his groin against her. "I want this," he says quietly.
"I know," Hermione puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close.
Ron smiles against her lips. "At the party," he says.
"Mm?"
"Let's do it at the party on Sunday," Ron says. There's a determined glint to his gaze. Hermione's heart is hammering in her chest. "At the party," she echoes.
"Yeah," Ron looks back in the direction of Wizwreck. "Right after I pummel Malfoy to the ground, let's do it."
I don't bother with British slang 'cause I don't want to sound like an idiot if I use them wrong. So please bear with me.
Also, I need a beta. Message me if interested.