Author's Notes:
Content Warning:
Suggestive themes (minimal)
Trigger Warning:
None
Outcome Spoilers:
Do NOT read unless you need to know the story's outcome in advance!
̷H̷a̷p̷p̷y̷ ̷f̷a̷m̷i̷l̷y̷/̷F̷l̷u̷f̷f̷/̷G̷o̷o̷d̷ ̷e̷n̷d̷i̷n̷g̷
Secrets
ღ꧁ღ╭⊱ꕥ ꕥ⊱╮ღ꧂ღ
The sound of clattering metal woke Ron Weasley out of a dead sleep. He sat bolt upright in bed, alarmed but dazed. His hair laid plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he pushed it out of his face with a freckled hand. Voices echoed from downstairs, muffled by the floorboards.
His blue eyes snapped to the enormous grandfather clock in the corner, scanning the names scrawled across its hands. Last night only two names pointed at 'Home', but now there were five. Hermione, Ronald, Rose, Hugo, and…
He turned his head to the bed beside him, eyes wide and worried. "Harry!" he whispered, horrified.
He could barely see the man in bed next to him. Harry had the comforter pulled over his head, showing off a pile of messy black hair and nothing else. It stuck out in all directions, far worse than while awake. Ron, half-tempted to reach over and smooth the mass down, instead clapped his hand to where he guessed Harry's shoulder was and gave it a shake.
"Wazzat?!" Harry groaned.
Ron heard Hermione telling the children to stay downstairs until their father had woken up. He was sure she promptly put the kettle on after stepping out of the fireplace, but once she set the leaves to steep? Well, she'd be clambering up the stairs to check on him. All he needed was for her to find Harry here.
"We overslept," he hissed at him. "Hermione's home!"
Harry's emerald eyes cracked open, squinting at him in confusion. The way he pulled his mouth down into a frown made Ron want to kiss him. Merlin, why did he have to be so beautiful in the mornings?
"Harmony?" he asked. Apparently, his brain wasn't registering the real world yet. "Hoozzat?"
"Hurr-my-oh-nee!" Ron repeated, annunciating every syllable. He could feel his face tighten in anxiety, trying to get the Gryffindor in his bed to understand.
"Oh," Harry said with a sleepy smile. He leaned over, eyes still half closed, and pressed his lips to Ron's mouth.
Heat rushed up Ron's neck, into his ears, and over his entire face. Kissing Harry was an extraordinary experience that swept him off the earth and into the clouds. Who needed a broom when you had Harry Potter to fly around with? Who needed air?
Tiny sparks of an electrical current across Ron's lips sent gooseflesh rippling down his back. The sensation caused other parts of his body to react, alerting him to the fact that both men were incredibly naked. Not just naked, naked in bed. Not just naked in bed, but naked in bed with Hermione at home.
Whistling forced him to pull back—the kettle!
Harry's eyes remained closed, his expression dreamy and smiling. "There," he murmured, "all better." With that, the 'Chosen One' rolled over and sighed.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Ron demanded.
Without turning around, Harry responded. "You've hurt your knee. I've made it better, and now I'm going back to bed."
Ron tried to stop the stupid grin that split his face, but found it impossible. Sometimes he marveled at his luck. The Wizarding World's most attractive, compassionate, and eligible bachelor was in his bed. At the moment, though, he was the stupidest one, too.
"Harry James Potter," Ron spoke in a low, authoritative voice. The voice of his mother…
That caught his attention. Harry rolled over to face Ron with a panicked, wild look. "What did I do?"
"Hermione," he whispered harshly; the bridge of his nose wrinkled in frustration. "Is home."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh." Ron agreed. "Kettle's just gone off, so you might have enough time to grab your clothes and head out the floo. She's bound to be here any-"
The door to the bedroom opened, and a young woman with bushy brown hair strode through the door. She wore a pencil skirt, sensible heels, and a blue blazer over a white blouse. A wide, silver clip was in her hair, pinning it back but straining in its job. She carried a tray with two cups of tea on it, both steaming and filling the room with floral scents.
"Sorry, Ron," she said. Her back was turned toward the bed as she pushed the door shut with the toe of her shoe. "I can only stop in for a bit. I have several important meetings today, and…"
Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on the scene in front of her. She stood rooted to the spot, her dark eyes passing from Ron's face to Harry's and back again. Both men were sitting up, both looked shocked, and Ron noticed Harry possessed a few notable hickeys down his chest and stomach.
The tea tray tumbled out of her hands, hurtled to the floor, and shattered the porcelain cups. Scalding liquid ran across the hardwood, staining it deeply. The woman's mouth fell open.
"Ron, how could you?" she said. Her tone was incredulous. "How long?"
Harry spoke first. "I told him not to tell you, 'Mione." He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous hand and offered a sheepish smile. "It was supposed to be a birthday surprise."
Ron Weasley buried his face in his hands. He seemed mortified by the entire thing. "I can't believe all that planning has gone down the drain. He's a nightmare to wake up, Hermione!"
Hermione's eyes crinkled at the edges, and she squealed in delight, dashing forward and lunging at the two. She landed firmly across the bed in both their laps. "I can't believe you're back, Harry!" she said. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and Ron thought he might turn blue after a minute.
"Hermione," he said, cautiously. "I think you're strangling him."
Ron and Harry's best friend immediately pulled away. She swiped furiously under her eyes and sniffled, but her face held a bright smile. "You don't know how much I've missed you. Tell me everything! How was it in the United States? Did you take pictures of all the big places? Was it crowded?"
She paused in her interrogations, glancing at a watch on her wrist. "I'm going to call the Ministry and tell them to cancel my appointments. I'll run home and grab a change of clothes, and then you'll answer all of my questions. The children are going to be thrilled you're back! They've been asking me when you're coming home for a month now."
Harry laughed. "I can tell you everything, but first," his eyes met Ron, "Can we get dressed?"
"Right!" she agreed. "Yes, of course!"
She got off the bed, pulled out her wand to swiftly clean and repair the mess she made, and headed toward the door. She reached for the handle, but Harry's voice stopped her.
"Hermione?"
She turned to face him; her smile positively radiating. "Yeah?"
"Happy birthday!"
ღ꧁ღ╭⊱ꕥ ꕥ⊱╮ღ꧂ღ
Just a short bit of feel-good vibes and a small, fun twist.
I hope you enjoyed reading!
-Gordon
