Let me check ... NOPE still don't own Harry Potter. :(
So, I couldn't wait to post the smut, guys. I was too excited. I think it's pretty hot. Let me know what you think, is it too disjointed? I told you, I need a beta...
Ginny decided Hermione needed a day away from the shop. They found themselves in Muggle London to hunt for some maternity clothes for Hermione, of which Diagon Alley was severely lacking.
Ginny, who was a master shopaholic, already had three tops, two pairs of slacks, a pair of jeans and three dresses adorning her tiny ginger frame. "Now you keep these clothes in tip top shape, because they're mine when you've popped!"
Hermione gawked at her friend. "Is that your way of telling me you're..." "No, No, but Harry and I have agreed to start trying." Ginny grinned, handing over her stash to the shop girl.
"That's wonderful, Gin! I always imagined we'd be pregnant together." Hermione's eyes began to well. She also imagined that she would be Ginny's sister-in-law, but plans changed. "Oh, now. Don't you go feeling down, we're supposed to be having fun!"
Hermione took a deep breath, trying desperately to swallow her sadness. "I'm just so lonely. This isn't how any of this was supposed to go. Ron was supposed to propose to me, and he was supposed to be the one to help me with my morning sickness and leg cramps, and odd dreams. Now Georgie is saddled with the responsibility, and it's not even his child, we don't even share a bed."
Ginny gave Hermione an odd look. "Well... it doesn't seem like he's minding much, does it?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not so much, I think he's kind of enjoying it actually. He's been very sweet. He makes sure I always have ginger beer and water crackers, and will make me tea if he hears me up at night. It's been quite nice."
"... yes, that does seem nice. Have you seen Angelina lately?"
"Oh, Merlin! You don't think she thinks anything is ... going on, do you? I mean, if it were the other way around..."
"Hermione, Is there anything going on?"
"Heavens, no. That is to say, all of your brothers are quite easy on the eyes, and I would say George especially, but no. He's like a brother, isn't he?"
"No, Hermione, not to you he's not, he's a grown man, taking great care of you when you need him."
"It's not like that!" Hermione said insistently, and a bit loudly, too, because the shop girl turned to look.
"Alright, alright. I'm just saying. Thinking about it, you would make a mighty fine couple. You get on well."
"It takes more than 'Getting on well' to make a good relationship."
Hermione grunted disapprovingly, punctuating her point, and slipped into the fitting room, making her way through the outfits Ginny chose for her (whoever invented Maternity stretch definitely deserved a Nobel prize).
The topic of George was dropped for the rest of the day as Hermione and Ginny walked merrily through Muggle London, chattering about baby names, Hogwarts, and Ginny's latest Quiddich match.
The women had met George and Harry back at George and Hermione's apartment and George had made dinner, Pasta Carbonara. The friends had settled into the couch watching a scary movie.
George had fallen asleep, and Harry was using the loo, and Ginny pulled Hermione into her bedroom. "I nicked something from the shop for you. I think it might help with the loneliness." Ginny winked at her, handing her a small gift just as Harry popped his head in to say good night. The two Apparated home, and George stirred on the couch.
She should probably wake him up, but he looked so peaceful.
She studied the man's face. He was quite easy on the eyes. His face was relaxed, but it was still very well defined. Strong jawline, masculine nose. His dark eyebrows knit slightly from a dream. His lips puffed open with a breath, and Hermione wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss him.
"Like what you see Granger?" He mumbled sleepily, stretching and sitting up. Hermione laughed it off, giving him her hand to help him off the couch.
Stubbornly, she banished all thoughts of kissing George Weasley from her head.
Hermione and George worked harmoniously at the shop since she had agreed to help with Ron when she got out of school. While Ron had assisted in the daily running of the shop, sales and front end stuff, Hermione helped in the back. George would fire ideas off her, and she would help him figure out how to execute the ideas. She also helped with billing and finances, as she had excelled in maths in Muggle School.
She enjoyed the work quite a bit, and was eager to go back and help when her morning sickness wore off. They sat side-by-side in the two cushy chairs in their office, her balancing the books and he doodling in a notebook. He was trying to make alternative puking pastilles, which would alter the taste of the puke, but not the scent.
"How about mixing the pastille potion with the everlasting peppermint potion?" "Couldn't hurt," George replied. He crossed the room for a cauldron and loaded it with ingredients. Hermione loved watching George brew. Out of the Weasley twins, George was the one to have taken a liking to potions. Snape had even been impressed by his ability and seriousness for the subject, if reluctantly so.
She watched, fascinated, as he put his cauldron on low heat and added his ingredients. Dried lacewing flies, peppermint, rose hips … she watched his long fingers clutch the glass stirrer delicately and admired the look of determination on his face.
George felt her eyes on him, and spared her a glance every so often. He found Hermione studying him unabashedly, and the scrutiny made him blush. Since when did her watching me brew make him blush? He tried to will his blush away, but he could feel the heat inch up from his chest and into his cheeks.
She was quite pretty, his roommate. Her hair was no longer frizzy, but still a wild bunch of curls. She held it back with a ribbon when she worked, but as soon as she got home, she let it free. She had dark brown doe eyes that always made her look so innocent, even when she was cursing him like a sailor for leaving the loo seat up.
He realized that he had added all his ingredients, and dutifully stirred, and Hermione turned back to working on the shop's books. He tried concentrating, but a perfect corkscrew curl had fallen out of her bun. He found himself wondering what it would be like to loop it around his finger.
He willed himself to stop, that was the mother of his niece he was fantasizing about, not just some random broad. And he had Angelina to think about. They weren't serious, not really. She knew it and he knew it. It had started as a matter of consolation. They both loved Fred. It then developed into habit. They would meet every Friday night, have a round of drinks and then go back to her place. His reminded her too much of her ex boyfriend, and the two times that she had gone back with him, she had cried inconsolably for hours.
Tonight was Friday, wasn't it? That was something to look forward to. He checked his potion, and it was a pleasant shade of lime green, just like the pastilles were supposed to be. He poured the concoction onto parchment and charmed it cool. Hermione watched with interest as he cut off a small portion. He smelled it. Smelled like toffee per usual.
"I wont subject you to the actual vomiting but I will need you to smell my breath."
"Oh George, you charmer." Hermione stuck her tongue at him as she headed for the loo.
Chew. Swallow. Vomit. It did taste like mint. Sniffing the vomit hesitantly, he observed. Indeed, it smelled like it should. "Alright Granger. Smell me."
Hermione stood about a foot from him, and he leaned down, breathing in her face. "... Minty! I could kiss you!" She giggled and pecked his cheek, giving him a hug.
He squeezed her tight, lifting her slightly off the ground, and holding for a second too long. She felt his hard body in contrast to her's. He observed her soft breasts and beginning of a belly against his. They both enjoyed it slightly more than they were willing to admit.
He let go, patting her shoulder. "Well. Granger. Thank you for your help. I can't wait to release it. Puking pastilles that can get you out of class and keep you fresh for a snog!"
Giggling uncomfortably, Hermione turned back to the books, trying desperately to quell her hormones.
Hermione lay in bed. It felt so large when it was empty. She felt fantastic since she had started her regimen of prenatal potions, but there was nothing she could safely take for her sleeplessness. Usually when Ron was home, she would wake him and make him ravish her to a fitful sleep, but it couldn't happen now. She sighed, still feeling restless.
She thought back to the gift that Ginny had given her from WWW's, beckoning to her from her bedside table. She sighed, muttering a lumos and reaching into her drawer. The discreet black box tied in a silver ribbon sat unopened, and just looking at it gave her pleasant butterflies in her belly.
She was home alone, what could it hurt?
She opened the box, smirking a bit at the tubular object inside. It glittered slightly. She glanced over the instructions, slipped off her sleep shorts and panties and lay down. She blushed a little and muttered "Volvebatu mollior." Vibrate, soft. The small device started at her sternum, sliding slowly down her belly, vibrating gently.
Oh, that felt nice. It caressed her legs as she squirmed, humming pleasantly and moving up to her thighs. "Ooh…" Hermione felt her body flush with heat as the device finally hit her labia. She tweaked her nipples absently, then yanked her shirt over her head. She used a little trick she had learned from experimenting in her dorm during her Hogwarts days, waving her wand over her chest and muttering "Premere" squeeze. It felt as though someone was pinching her ultra-sensitive nipples. A light layer of sweat built on her brow as she squirmed, hands grasping her bedsheets.
She felt her liquid begin to drip, and she bit her lip as she said "Intrare," enter. She was surprised by what she felt. The device slowly entered her and filled her, and it genuinely felt like a very well-endowed man. "Ahh…" she sighed, arching her body and throwing her head back.
George came home early, irritated. Angelina had a right bee in her bonnet, and he didn't know what was going on. He had told her about attending Hermione's appointment, and she had accused him of getting too close to her, whatever that meant. He tiptoed to his room quietly, careful not to wake his flat mate. He knew that she had been having trouble sleeping as of late.
He stripped off his shirt and slacks, brushed his teeth in his en suite and climbed into bed. "Mmm." He heard muffled through the door. He was concerned at first. Was his friend having a nightmare? He listened closer. "Ocius. OCIUS." … faster, faster. George felt his cock twitch slightly. It seemed to realize what was happening in the room next door before he did. George blushed slightly, feeling a bit ashamed listening in to Hermione's private moment. He rolled over and tried to block her out. "Ooooh," she moaned loudly. His cock twitched a bit more. He groaned. He had expected to be with Angelina, he reasoned with himself. It was just pent-up sexual frustration. And who would be able to resist hearing a woman moan like that. "Durio!" harder. He felt himself straining against his pants. "Durio," Hermione sobbed blissfully. Her groans filled the apartment. George couldn't help himself any longer. He reached beneath the hem of his pants.
Hermione was in complete bliss. Her muscles clenched pleasantly as small little orgasms pulsed through her body. She was still waiting on the big O, and she tried thinking of sexy things. The pornography she stumbled upon online when she went home between sixth and seventh years. Ron. No, not Ron. Suddenly she was overtaken by George. His smile, his bare chest, almost devoid of freckles, his tight bum. She blushed as she imagined her roommate was the one touching her. Entering her. Ah, there it was.
George was harder than he'd ever been. He was feeling pleasantly light headed, stroking himself to Hermione's rhythm. He bucked his hips into his clenched fist, panting. He was about to cum, and Hermione sent him over the edge. 'Oh George!' He groaned and jerked uncontrollably, spilling his seed onto his belly. Did he imagine she said his name? I must have, he thought as his lust induced delirium gave way to slumber.
Hermione lost control, bucking her hips against the resistance of her toy. She allowed herself to moan like she never had before – no one was there to hear her anyway, and she felt so incredibly naughty. At her complete climax, she was overtaken by the image of George spilling himself deep inside her. "Oh, George!" she rasped, so much that her throat was hoarse. Somewhere outside of her haze, she thought she heard a groan in reply. Wow, her imagination was vivid in pregnancy. She drifted off into the most peaceful sleep.
He had been there when she woke up for breakfast. She asked him what happened, and he had grumbled something about Angelina being crazy, a blush staining his cheeks. He hadn't been home when she had… had he? She felt the room heat up at the memory. He would definitely have taken the mickey on her if he had been home. Wouldn't he? Not if he was enjoying the show, whispered a small voice in her mind. She flushed hotter.