A note on the story so far: As I'm editing and re-writing the final draft of this in sort-of real time (my stupidest idea ever), a few typos and errors may well sneak in. They will, however, all be corrected tomorrow when I've had some sleep and rested my poor eyes. Hope you are enjoying the story and if you are able to take the time to leave reviews along the way, it will be greatly appreciated. Cheers!
Pb x
Chapter Three: Tottenham Court Road
7.03 pm
"I can't believe I've been wearing this t-shirt for three hours and no women have tried to kiss me yet," complained Seamus loudly. He turned to Ron. "Do you think it's the hats?"
"The hats?"
"Yeah. Do you think they're putting the girls off?"
"Nah. Couldn't be that. What girl wouldn't be turned on by the sight of a really, really drunk bloke wearing a twelve inch high furry hat in the shape of a giant pint of Guinness?"
"That girl in the last pub wanted to stroke it!"
Ron spat out his mouthful of beer, and wiped himself down while Seamus fell about laughing.
"Did you let her?"
"Of course I did. It's not every day a woman wants to stroke your hat."
"Did you ask her if she wanted to stroke anything else?"
"Yeah," said Seamus, looking despondent. "But she thought I was joking."
Ron choked on his beer again. "You're a hazard, Seamus. I've spat out more of this than I've drunk."
"Do you think we should lose the hats?"
"No," said Ron, fiercely, "Absolutely not."
"You think they're working, then?"
"No. I don't think they're working at all. But as long as I'm wearing this, I'm only hitting my hat every time I go through low doors, not my head like I usually do when I've had a few drinks. Actually, I'm thinking about wearing it permanently. Even in bed."
It was Seamus's turn to choke on his beer. "Ah ha ha ha! I can just imagine Hermione's face if you turned up tonight wearing that!"
"What?" deadpanned Ron, "I'm absolutely wearing this home. I paid good money for this."
They were both laughing so much now they could barely breathe.
"Hey, I've just had an idea!"
"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose..."
"Har har. No, listen, why don't you come and stay sometime? We've got the room. I could take you out on the town, we could hit a few bars… what are you doing next weekend?"
Ron shook his head. "I can't next weekend. We're going to the theatre."
"The theatre?" repeated Seamus, incredulously.
"Yeah, with Hermione's parents."
Seamus shot him a look of barely concealed contempt. "Sorry, maybe I didn't hear right. You're going to the theatre? With Hermione's parents?"
"Yeah, it's for her dad's birthday."
Seamus shook his head in disgust. "The theatre!"
Ron laughed. "You make it sound like we're going to tea with the Queen or something. It's only the theatre. I'm quite looking forward to it, actually. I've never been to the theatre before."
"What are you going to see? Please tell me it's not a musical!"
"Dunno," shrugged Ron. "Hermione's mum booked the tickets."
Seamus shook his head again. "Of course she did. You're gonna be married with ten kids before you know it, mate."
"Yeah yeah," said Ron, waving a dismissive hand. "At least I don't still live with my mum."
"Hah, listen to you, four months since you swapped one nagging woman for another and you think you've got it made! Listen, I don't pay rent, I get my clothes washed for me, I get brought breakfast in bed -"
"I get brought breakfast in bed! And not by my mum, either! By my girlfriend, who then gets into the bed with me! I think that's gotta be worth having to wash my own socks now and then!"
"What, you mean Hermione doesn't wash them for you?" teased Seamus, feigning horror. "What's the point of living with a woman if she doesn't at least do your washing for you?"
"Mate, if you have to ask, then there's no hope for you."
"At least I can bring girls back to the house when I want to."
"Yeah, to your mum's house! That must really bring the ladies flocking! 'Hello, darlin', do you want to come back to my place for a shag, only better keep the noise down in case you wake me mum'?"
"Yeah, that's exactly how I put it," said Seamus, dryly. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with still living at home at twenty, you know. It's perfectly normal. It's not like I'm still gonna be living at home when I'm thirty..."
"Says you."
"Feck off. I won't. I'll have my own shag pad, where I can bring girls back whenever I like. 'Course, by then you'll probably have about five kids and won't be getting any at all."
"Where do you reckon the kids come from, Seamus? I bet I'll be getting more than you. Hang on... please tell me your mum doesn't bring you breakfast in bed when you've got girls there?"
"Of course she doesn't!" protested Seamus. He started laughing. "She knocks first."
Ron shook his head in disbelief. "See, this is why I moved out in the first place. I just couldn't do it knowing my mum was in the house. There's nothing more guaranteed to ruin the mood than the thought of your mum barging in halfway through with a cup of tea. Mine wouldn't bother to knock, either."
Seamus chuckled. "Yeah, I can just picture that as well. Girl on top, hair flying about, tits bouncing, lots o' screaming and grunting, then yer mam walks in and hands you a cuppa." He affected a high-pitched West Country accent: 'Careful, dear, it's hot!'
Ron snorted Guinness up his nose, and Seamus laughed at him laughing. "Am I close? Is that what it was like? Please tell me that didn't actually happen!"
Ron was laughing so much now he was quite red in the face, and utterly helpless, rolling about on the banquette. "Actually…" he managed to get out, "Not with my mum…"
Seamus gaped at him. "Not with her mam? Oh Jesus, that's like all my best dreams rolled into one!"
Ron shoved him. "You've never even met Hermione's mum!"
"No, I know. It doesn't have to be her mam. Any mother and daughter would do. Or sisters. Twins. Siamese twins. Two mouths, imagine the possibilities!"
They were both laughing so much now they were almost weeping.
"You're sick, Seamus."
"I do my best. So come on, tell me about the time her mam walked in on you. I want all the gory details. Was Hermione on top?"
"Shay -" warned Ron.
"Alright, alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "... but you do want to, don't you?"
Ron laughed. "Alright. Well, it was two weeks after we'd moved in together. Saturday afternoon. We hadn't left the house yet. Or got dressed. Or got out of bed. Well... we'd got out of bed, we'd just gone back to it again. Anyway, her Mum was in London for some sort of dentists' conference and decided to pop round with a moving-in present for us."
"What was it?"
"I'm getting to that. Anyway, obviously since this is our own place we haven't bothered to shut the bedroom door."
"Never mind the bedroom door, how did she get in through the front door?"
"Hermione gave her a key."
"Your mother-in-law has a key to your flat?"
"Yeah. And she lives sixty miles away and doesn't know how to Apparate. Usually we get a bit more notice."
"Except this time when she decided to pay you a flying visit."
"Exactly. She wanted to surprise us."
"I bet she did that, alright."
"Yes, she did. Anyway, so she arrives on a Saturday afternoon, with her present, and she knocks a few times, but we don't hear her because, well, we're busy. So she assumes we're out and comes into the flat, only we don't know about this 'til a couple of hours later when Hermione goes into the front room and I hear this big scream. I rush out to see what's up and find Hermione staring in horror at a giant rug that was most definitely not there two hours beforehand."
"So did you accidentally flash your mother-in-law?" asked Seamus eagerly. "Or was Hermione on top?"
"You're worryingly obsessed with whether Hermione was on top or not."
"Well, was she?"
Ron flushed crimson. "I've no idea," he admitted."We were at it for a couple of hours. She could have come in at any point."
"So when you say the bedroom door was open... are we talking just slightly ajar, or wide open so she had a glorious full-frontal view of you shagging her darling daughter?"
"Wide open," mumbled Ron, now so red he looked as though he might burst into flames at any moment.
"Brilliant!" chuckled Seamus. "You must have been mortified!"
"That's not even the worst of it. We were supposed to go round to her parents for Sunday lunch the next day. Three hours I had to sit there opposite her Mum and Dad with all of us pretending nothing had happened. 'Pass the gravy.' 'I'd love some more potatoes" "Yes, we loved the rug you bought us. It was such a wonderful... surprise...'"
Seamus was clutching his sides in pain, he was laughing so much. "Ahahaha! Stop, it hurts too much!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Ron suddenly, "The lady in the van!"
Seamus blinked. "What lady?"
"No, that's the title of the play we're going to see. The Lady In The Van."
"Sound a-may-zing," said Seamus, sarcastically. "What's it about?"
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"So come on," said Seamus, when he had recovered, lowering his voice confidentially and putting an arm around Ron's shoulder, "You can tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"The deal!"
"What deal?"
"The deal! You and Granger!"
"Shay..."
"No, no, I just mean... well, you know... what is it that you can see that nobody else can? 'Cos I can't see it, man, I really can't. Is she a fantastic lay?"
Ron shrugged Seamus's arm off his shoulder. "Why do you always have to push it?"
"Push what? I don't know what you –"
"Yeah, you do. You always have to push it just that one step too far. Why can't you just leave it alone?"
A shrug and a grin. "Because it's fun?"
"Is it, though?"
Seamus's smile wavered slightly. "Yeah!" He punched Ron rather too hard in the shoulder. "And also because you're just so easy to wind up..."
Ron couldn't help laughing. "That is true," he admitted. "Malfoy was always very good at that. Knowing which buttons to press. Hermione used to tell me to ignore him, but it was easy for her to say. You're much easier to ignore."
Seamus affected outrage. "Thanks!"
"Well, I know you don't really mean it. Malfoy wanted me to punch him so he could get me in trouble. I'm not sure why you do it."
"I told you," said Seamus, "Because it's fun."
Ron gave him a glare worthy of Hermione herself. "Arsehole."
"Cockmonkey."
"Muffmuppet."
"Twatweasel."
Ron choked on his drink. "Twatweasel?"
They laughed out loud, then Seamus shot his friend a sly look.
"Is she a magnificent lay, though?"
Ron didn't answer for a moment, contemplating his pint, then a huge smile spread across his face. "Yes," he said simply.
"Ah, well," nodded Seamus, "That I can understand!"
They both laughed.
"Alright," said Seamus, shaking his head in mock-despair, "Do you have to be quite so smug about it?"
"Yes!" laughed Ron, "After all the shit we went through to be together, I reckon I've earned the right to be a little bit smug, don't you? Living with Hermione... it's just fantastic. Honestly, it is. I can't recommend it highly enough. Get yourself a girlfriend, Seamus. It's the best thing ever."
Seamus pulled a face. "Listen, just because you're mired in domestic bliss, doesn't mean you have to drag the rest of us down with you."
Ron just laughed. "Yeah, 'cos who wants bliss, right?"
"Exactly", grinned Seamus. "Happiness is overrated, I reckon."
"Absolutely. Who wants sex on tap, anyway?"
"Oh, shut up!" Seamus laughed. "Anyone would think you're the only two people in the world doing it, the way you carry on."
He shot Ron a sly sideways glance. "What's a muffmuppet?"
Ron laughed out loud. "I've no idea; it was just the first thing that came into my head!"
Seamus started laughing too. "Well, I assume it's when you can get your whole hand up her -"
"Excuse me."
They looked up. A young woman was standing there, looking as though she might burst from the effort of not giggling.
"I like your hat," she said to Seamus, shyly. "Can I try it on?"
"You can try it on any time, darlin'."
Much to Ron's disgust, the girl giggled. Seamus removed his hat and, with an exaggerated bow, handed it across the table to the girl, who pulled it eagerly onto her head.
"I'm Claire."
"Hello, Claire. I'm Seamus. This is Ron. He isn't Irish, but don't hold that against him."
"Er…" piped up Ron in a panicky voice, "I've actually got a girlfriend, so..."
Seamus shot him a look of the utmost contempt. "You are the worst wingman in the world, Weasley."
Ron blinked. "What's a wingman?"
Seamus turned his attention back to the girl. "I'm so sorry, I don't know who this bloke is. He just came and sat down next to me. I've never seen him before in me life."
The girl looked slightly confused, as though she couldn't quite work out if he was joking or not.
"How do I look?" she asked, coyly, with a little twirl to show off the hat.
"Tall," Seamus told her, and she giggled again.
"You might want to keep that on, actually," he went on. "It'll be safer."
"Safer?"
"Yeah. So you don't break your skull on my headboard later."
Ron spat a mouthful of Guinness clear across the table and the girl tore off Seamus's hat and hurled it furiously back at him, before storming off.
"Wanker!" she shouted over her shoulder.
Seamus turned to Ron, who was doubled up in laughter, and gave him a 'what can you do?' shrug.
"Honestly, Shay, how you ever manage to get laid with chat-up lines like that is beyond me."
"Oh, they love it," said Seamus, airily. "She's just playing hard to get."
"So hard to get she's left the pub?"
Seamus laughed. "Alright, not every woman appreciates my cheeky charm, I grant you. But a lot of them do. Women love a bad boy, everyone knows that. Plus, you know, it makes them picture me on top of them, banging them into the headboard, and if they're imagining it, I'm already halfway there. They're already associating me with sex."
"Or really bad jokes..." said Ron, dryly.
"You should know."
"Har har."
"Anyway, what's the other thing women love apart from a bad boy?"
"Chocolate?"
"No, I meant, what's the other quality in a bloke that women go mad for?"
"A massive cock?"
"No. Well... yeah, but obviously I don't have anything to worry about in that department. No, I meant, a sense of humour."
"Oh, right. Yeah, I heard that too. I wish I'd known it when I was at school, though. I never thought it was much of an advantage. Not with Hermione, anyway."
"Well, it is. So, obviously, as I'm a bad boy with a sense of humour and a massive cock, I should be beating them off with a stick."
"You're not a bad boy, Seamus. You live with your Mum."
"Well, obviously I don't tell them that, do I? I try to get invited back to their place. Older women generally prefer that, anyway."
"Older?" repeated Ron, aghast. "How much older?"
"Late twenties, thirties," said Seamus, with a shrug and a grin. "They feel safer in their own house, rather than going back with someone who might turn out to be a rapist with a dungeon in his basement. They can kick me out afterwards if they want, too."
"Nice."
"Hey, I don't mind. I mean, I'm not there to sleep, am I? I've even been given the cab fare home a couple of times!" he added, gleefully.
Ron frowned. "But you don't need to get cabs… you can Apparate for free…"
"Exactly!" chuckled Seamus. "But I don't tell them that, do I?"
Ron gaped at him, utterly lost for words.
"The younger ones always want to come back to mine, though," went on Seamus, blithely. "Probably because they still live with their parents too. Which I'm quite glad about, 'cos it's a bit off-putting when you know their Dad's asleep in the next room."
"But not when your Mum is?"
Seamus merely shrugged. "Her room's on the floor below. She can't hear a thing."
Ron sipped his beer with a frown. "Out of interest, how many women are we talking about here?"
"Well, usually only one at the same time," grinned Seamus, "But I'm open to offers!"
"I mean, ever..."
Seamus's face cracked into a broad grin. "How many women have I had sex with, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"Are we counting blow jobs?"
Ron made a face. "Thanks for that mental image. No, we're not counting blow jobs. Although I'm starting to wish I hadn't asked..."
Seamus pretended to consider. "Hmm, let's see..."
After ten seconds of watching Seamus counting in his head with increasing disbelief, Ron shook his head.
"Are we talking double figures here?"
"Oh, yeah," said Seamus, with a distinct air of smugness, "Well into double figures."
"More than ten?"
"Yep."
"More than fifteen?"
"Yep."
"Not more than twenty?" exclaimed Ron, incredulously.
Seamus gave a nonchalant little shrug. "I don't know! Maybe. I can't be expected to remember exactly!"
"Or maybe you just can't remember because you've made it up..."
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Weasley?"
Ron gave a snort of derisive laughter. "No! No, you really don't."
Seamus raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Alright," demanded Ron, getting rather annoyed now, "When was the last time you got any?"
Seamus considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Not for a while, actually. Not for ages."
"How long is ages?"
"About a month. Valentine's Day, actually."
"That's over a month!"
"Only just!"
"Still over a month, Shay."
"Yeah, alright, what about you, then? When was the last time you... got any bedroom action?"
Ron grinned and glanced ostentatiously at his watch. "Hmm, let's see..."
Seamus's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You are joking!"
"I'm not," said Ron, smugly. "This morning, before work..."
"Oh, God!"
"Twice."
"Oh, God!"
"Yeah, that's what Hermione said too..."
"Please don't," shuddered Seamus, over Ron's laughter. "I don't want that picture in my head."
"What about you?" asked Ron. "Your hot Valentine. Can you even remember her name?"
"Course I can!" protested Seamus indignantly. "It was Jenny or Jenna or Jemma or something."
Ron shook his head, laughing. "You're terrible, Seamus."
"Well, I'm glad I can give you a vicarious thrill," said Seamus dryly. "How is married life these days? Are you wearing slippers around the house yet?"
Ron ignored him. "How come you managed to pull on Valentine's Day, anyway? Surely the only people out are already in couples."
"That's exactly it! So obviously any woman you meet who's out on the town without a bloke on Valentine's Day is absolutely guaranteed to be a) single, and b) absolutely fucking desperate not to end the evening alone."
"That's the most shameless thing I ever heard in my life."
Seamus laughed. "Who cares? It works!"
Ron shook his head in feigned disbelief.
"Well, alright, what did you do on Valentine's Day, then? The usual flowers and chocolates and all that romantic shit, I suppose?"
"Yeah, that's right. Flowers and chocolates and forty-eight solid hours of shagging. I'll take that over trying to chat up drunk women in bars any day."
"Hey, they're not all drunk, you know!"
"Just some of them?"
"Yeah," shrugged Seamus, with a wry grin, "Just most of 'em. You know what your problem is, don't you?"
"No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me."
"You think what all women want is flowers and romance, but they don't. Some of them - quite a lot of 'em, actually - just want a no-strings shag. Which is where I come in."
"You make it sound like you're doing them a favour!"
"Well, if you've got it..."
Ron rolled his eyes. "So did you get to take her back to your mum's house? Jenny or Jenna or Jemma or something?"
"Feck off. No, I went back to hers. We had to be quiet because her daughter was asleep in the next room. I felt like a child molester. Still -" He brightened. "I did get a really good blow job out of it, so it wasn't a completely wasted evening."
Ron burst out laughing. "See, this is why I love coming out with you, Shay. I hear all about your women, and it makes me more and more grateful that I've got Hermione and don't have to do any of this shit."
"What? Shagging a lot of women? Yeah, it's a real trial."
"Drunk, desperate, divorced women..."
Seamus gave a great dirty cackle. "Sounds like a porn film! Drunk Desperate Divorcees! Drunk Desperate Dirty Divorcees! Meet the Naughty Fortysomethings who want to tutor their son's teenage friends in the ways of lurve... heh heh heurgh!"
Ron laughed and shook his head. "Hermione's gonna throw a fit when I tell her about this."
"Don't tell her, then."
"Oh, no, I always tell her."
"Why?"
"Well… mainly because when she hears about all the shit you get up to, she's always really, really grateful she hasn't got a boyfriend who shags divorcees and gets his cock out in public."
Seamus choked on his beer. "It was once!" he protested, laughing. "Jesus, you get your cock out at one party..."
"It was a funeral!"
"It was a wake; there's a difference. Where I come from, that's a party."
Ron shook his head. "Twenty…" he repeated in disbelief. "That's impossible!"
"I can assure you it isn't."
"Well… okay, so how old were you when you first -"
"Seventeen."
Ron looked puzzled. "But you were still at school at seventeen."
"Yeah, I know. Literally."
"You had sex at Hogwarts?"
"Yep."
"Actually at Hogwarts, on the school premises?"
"Yep."
"Anyone I know?"
Seamus shook his head. "No. So what about you, then?"
"What about me?"
"How long did you two lovebirds wait before... doing the deed?"
"Too fucking long."
"Alright, now I'm curious. How long, a year?"
"Try two and a half."
"No way! You poor bastard! Wow, you must really love her if you waited that long for it."
Ron felt guilt course through him. "It wasn't just her. We agreed."
"Yeah, right!"
"It's true! I mean, obviously I wasn't happy about it, but it seemed like the best thing to do. There was a war on, in case you've forgotten. We were on the run for our lives."
"Yeah, and you were a couple of horny teenagers in a cave. Come on, no parents around, all those hormones going crazy, all that fresh air... don't tell me you didn't get up to anything?"
"What," scoffed Ron, "With Harry lying three feet away all the time?"
"He could have joined in!"
"Fuck off!"
"Oh, come on! Nothing at all?"
"We wanted to wait until the war was over," said Ron, defensively. "Obviously we didn't think it was going to last two frigging years…"
Seamus shook his head. "Well, I've got to give it to you, mate, that's a hell of a sacrifice. And certainly not one I would have made."
"Obviously," said Ron dryly. "Seriously, Seamus; twenty?"
Seamus gave a nonchalant little shrug. "About that, yeah. Of course," he added, airily, "That is over three years..."
"For the first six months of which you were at school and for the rest of the time there was a war on!"
"People don't stop having sex just because there's a war on, you know. Well, apart from you, obviously. Look, it's not my fault I get more sex than you. Try not to be bitter."
"What?" spluttered Ron in outrage. "What? No, sorry, you do not get more sex than me. No fucking way."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Seamus sarcastically, "How many women have you slept with again? One, isn't it? Basically, I get more sex than you and you can't handle it. End of story."
"I bet you... the next round that I do."
"What, you can prove it, can you?" retorted Seamus, sceptically.
"Well, look at it like this: all these women you go home with... they're all one-night stands, right?"
A shrug. "Ye-ah..."
"So that means that even if you reckon you've slept with twenty women, which I think is bollocks by the way, that's still only twenty times in total.
"So?"
"So... me and Hermione did it more than twenty times just in the first month after we moved in together! Probably even in the first week!"
Seamus gaped at him, appalled, and Ron laughed and drained the rest of his pint.
"Your round, I think?"
