Hermione shook her head as she sat at the kitchen table, unable to suppress her grin as she listened to Ginny snark playfully about Luna's overly bright dressing robe.
"Seriously Lune," Ginny continued her tirade as she levitated the largest pile of French Toast known the Wizard-kind to the table. Not missing a beat she piled her plate high. "It's like the entire world's population of Birds of Paradise got together and superglued their molted feathers to a bolt of fabric in a personal attack on fashion." She plopped into her chair and stuffed half a French Toast in her mouth with surprising grace.
Hermione chuckled softly and piled a second plate not quite as high with the still steaming food. She passed it over to Luna's place setting, grinning again at the subtle smirk on Luna's face. It was tradition for Luna to dress ridiculously bright and colorful, even more so than usual, at their secret breakfasts to rile up the youngest Weasely. The tradition began almost as soon as Luna began to join them, and was a playful show of love between the two that never failed to amuse Hermione.
There was a moment of silence as Hermione fixed her own plate of food and Luna placed a fresh pot of tea on the table. They both quickly fixed their French Toast with butter and syrup and, much to Hermione and Ginny's disbelief, Luna added a generous helping of Vegimite to hers. Every once in a while, her school nickname Looney Luna reigned true. Finally, they began to eat in earnest, Hermione and Ginny carefully avoiding looking at Luna's plate. It wasn't long until their companionable silence was broken, and conversation quickly turned to its usual topic. Boys.
"What about you Hermione," Luna asked as Hermione pushed away her empty plate and savoured her tea. "Who was your best kiss ever?"
Fred groaned softly, rolled over, and promptly fell out of the bed he'd outgrown over a decade ago. He let out a half-chuckled moan of pain as he slowly lifted himself from the cold floor.
"Alright there Freddie," George's sleep filled voice barely broke the silence of the room.
"Yeah Georgie, go back to sleep," Fred whispered. It was doubtful George even heard him, having fallen back to sleep so quickly.
Fred stretched slowly, luxuriating in the pleasurable play of tension releasing moving down the length of his body to his toes. Dropping out of school had turned out to be the best life-choice he and George had made to-date. Not only had they opened their joke shoppe with unprecedented success, but they'd been able to afford moving into an apartment above the shoppe and live quite comfortably. Being constantly on the move for work and the simulating challenge of creating new products had done wonders for the men. They'd matured, no longer landing themselves in trouble every week. Now just over thirty, they were well-respected members of their community. There had even been a few times they overheard witches saying they hoped their own troublemaking kids turn out as well as the Weasley twins had.
The thought of their luck in life passed through his head as Fred eyed the too small bed. He wouldn't change his childhood or home for anything in the world. But despite the seemingly elastic walls of the Burrow, even he had to admit there were times that it could feel a little too packed. It was barely dawn, but he knew there was no way he'd be able to fall back asleep after that rude of an awakening. Maybe he'd take advantage of the uncommonly still house and enjoy some time to himself. Yawning a little, he grabbed a white tee-shirt and pulled it on on his way out the door. He expertly tiptoed down the stairs, retying the draw strings on his pajama pants. A spot of tea would remedy the remainder of his early morning grogginess. And maybe a leftover scone if he could scrounge one up. Hopefully Ron hadn't nicked them all already.
A yawn overtook him as he meandered down the hall. A hand slide under her shirt to scratch the far side of his toned stomach; it rumbled under his hand, producing a good-natured grin and a promise to feed it soon. Just as he was about to enter the kitchen, the sound of female voices and giggles slowed him down; ending in a dead halt as he heard Luna's question. Rather than announce his presence, he found himself silently waiting for Hermione's answer, strangely curious for it.
"Hmmm…." Hermione's pensive sip of tea became deeper as she though over the question. "I think… it depends on how you interpret a kiss's quality. I mean… how can you truly know if a kiss is actually good or not?"
Fred stared at the wall horrified as a shocked silence feel over the room. He couldn't believe no one had bothered to kiss the bookworm of a war hero senseless, the way she so obviously deserved. It made him ashamed to share the label of the male gender with these beings. No true man kissed a woman without making sure to leave her quivering and dreaming of it later that night. Thankfully, his sister's voice drew him from his quickly devolving line of thought.
"You know a kiss is good when... You hear moaning and it takes a minute to realize its coming from you," she explained as Luna nodded in agreement. In the hall Fred found himself enthusiastically nodding as well. It took him perhaps a moment too long to realize he should be pissed that his baby sister was so well versed in the art of snogging. He paused a moment at that thought and shrugged. He'd worry about Ginny later. After George woke up and they could plot together.
"Does that actually happen?" Hermione's skeptical voice drew him back into the conversation. Her obvious disbelief made him scowl, shaking his head.
"Of course! You can't very well go about planning when and how to moan," Luna finally spoke up. There was a sudden, heavy silence in the air, punctuated by the sound of Ginny's palm violently smacking her forehead, followed closely by Luna's soft voice. "Oh… Oh my…"
It took Fred's brain a moment to catch up. More a testament to his natural attention to his partner during intimacy that any masculine short-comings. When realization did finally strike, he reflexively clapped a hand over his mouth to halt the scandalized, angry shout. This wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all.
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