Title-S-E-X Spells Relationship
(No actual sex is in the story, though it is implied.)
Summary- Hermione pines for Ron, Ron is with Lavender and Ginny just wants to have a little fun. Features R/Hr, implied H/G and lots of drinking.
Disclaimer- Haha, its been two years since I've done one of these. Lets see, My name is Heaven, so sadly I own nothing...other than the plot and the club. I really did kill those kids, we just don't talk about it. And I hire my shovel out to anyone who wants it...
"What was his problem anyway?" muttered Hermione with a small moan. The lovely Ginny Weasley snorted from beside her. The red-haired maiden took a large swig of her fire whiskey and turned to face her long time friend.
"Let's see," Ginny put her hand up, ticking off on her fingers, "You insulted his mother, challenged his manhood, his maturity, AND you called him RON in bed. Sheesh, I wonder."
Hermione stared drolly at her friend, the small amount of alcohol in a butterbeer was starting to go to her head and she was really beginning to enjoy the almost constant buzz.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione stated rather matter of fact, "I said 'ride on'.
Although she was less sure of this fact than the fact that it was a Wednesday and she hadn't been to work in two weeks.
Ginny was currently hiding her revolted look behind a mask of fascination, "Right…." She looked as if she was ready to bolt at any minute to escape the crying fits that came with Hermione's consumption of alcohol.
Hermione drew herself up to her full five foot seven height and bellowed, "Get back here you! This is all you're fault. You're the one who set me up with him in the first place. In that horrible fashion of yours, as well."
Silently Hermione was already consenting that it was better than being tied to the roof of the Hogwarts Express for the date with Alexander Remington and so much better than being FedEx-ed to a man named Timothy Narving in Little Rock, Arkansas. Apparently Ginny had selected that man from random out of a floo network guide.
Ginny didn't even bother to try to look upset by the accusation.
"At least this one was intelligent," she said instead, while Hermione went indignant and preachy again.
"Intelligent! He could spell sex if that's what you mean!" Ginny sprayed the bitter whiskey all over Hermione's unclean sitting room floor. That too had been left waiting for two weeks.
"Argh!" Hermione moaned. There was no arguing when Ginny was being so sporting about being yelled at by her best friend.
"Well," Ginny said happily, "At least we stayed inside to drink tonight; No messy apparation for you missy."
"You are really enjoying this aren't you?" Hermione asked, one eyed squinted while she finished off the last of her twelfth butterbeer. She looked around for more and when she was disappointed by finding no others turned an accusing glare to Ginny.
"What did you do to my butterbeer? I had more, I know I did…" and the mess of brown hair began rifling through the piles of Daily Prophets she hadn't read in two weeks and the already empty bottles of the sweet beer.
"You did," Ginny replied with a wrinkle of her nose, "But you polished those off two hours ago." Hermione's answer was to claim the fire whiskey.
"Of course I'm enjoying this," Ginny said, "I have set you up three times this month. Tomorrow night we shall go out instead. And you can wash that filthy hair of yours and I'll find you a man. One that can spell contraceptive; now I know this is aiming a little high for the male gender, but I really think it's possible."
"I told you I had no interest in dating," Hermione said taking a great gulp of the drink. Stinging tears came to her eyes and she coughed while Ginny laughed and answered, "Thus the extreme measure to set you up."
"Extreme?" squeaked Hermione, "You portkeyed Dean and me to muggle America. We spent two hours in a holding cell on suspicion of being a magical terrorists. I got propositioned with a bloody broomstick!"
"You had fun didn't you?" Ginny asked needlessly, "What you need to do is get over the whole Ron and Lavender thing so you can beat the bonehead over that thick skull of his with his broomstick. Bloody quidditch players. I could always floo Blaise…"
"Out!" Hermione said, waving her hand in the general direction of the door. She didn't want to think of Ron and Lavender together and she certainly didn't want to think of herself showering because then she would begin to think of the two weeks of dirt and grime that had been gathering every where.
"Fine, I'm off then, for a fling."
"Mark my words Ginevra Weasley, one of these days you're going to wind up stuck with one of those flings."
"If that happens one can only hope it will be with a rich one then, eh?" Ginny asked with a grin. Ginny left with a wave that ended with a pop and landed directly on Ron and dear Lavi in quite an unnatural position.
"Eww, Roonil Wazlib, how dare you?" she yelled, flinging a hand to her eyes. Ron hastily made to cover himself up and managed to pull the covers around his waist before falling to the floor leaving an uncovered Lavender on the bed.
Lavender flew out of the room in a huff of naked anger and Ron looked at Ginny woefully.
"Ron, you need to talk to Hermione," Ginny chided.
"That is none of your business," Ron said stiffly, eyeing his little sister apprehensively. Ginny had a way of using trickery, deceit and a very steady wand hand to get what she wanted. It was all about impulse with her and Ron was not looking forward to ending up in Greenland in his skivvies.
"It may not be my business but it's certainly your fault that she's wallowing around not showering getting squiffy off butterbeer and fire whiskey," Ginny threw her hands in the air, "Honestly! I don't know what the matter with the two of you is but everyone knows you belong together…Hell; Hermione was coming to tell you she loved you when she saw you shagging Lavender instead. Great time for a fling you arse!" Ginny was on a roll still muttering to herself when she left to find a fling of her own, leaving Ron with the parting shot, "You have until tomorrow night to fix this, or I'm sending you to Amsterdam in a snow globe."
Ron's horrified look followed her to Dragon's Scale; an upbeat dance club that was a newer addition after half of Diagon Alley was destroyed and Knockturn Alley was purged of all dark artifacts during the war. Her gaze fell on the man she was looking for and she strode through the rest like a determined arrow seizing its mark. The other women around him had busily been trying to catch his eye for some time and it was with great loathing that they looked upon the tall auburn haired girl as his gaze met hers.
"Were going to have to do something about this, you know that right?" he asked, his voice definitely deeper than the first time she had met him; small boy that he had been asking for directions from her mother.
Ginny gave him a sultry look before grinning at his reaction. "Come on Harry, dance with me," she said, tugging at his hand, leading him to the floor.
"Isn't that what we've been doing?" Harry asked distractedly. Ginny fell into the beats of the music, her body swayed, her hips trailed along the right places and she turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck as the music slowed to a seductive beat. His body followed hers, as it always had. She reached a hand up and touched the scar that marred his neck. It stretched from the bottom of his ear to the hollow of his throat and served as a reminder of what his life had once been. Fear and desperation, and death; Lucius Malfoy had tried to slit Harry's throat when he came upon him one night in Diagon Alley. Harry, bleeding severely, had been found next to the dead elder Malfoy. It was believed that the death of such a high ranking Death Eater is what caused the Dark Lord to begin his war in the open streets of wizarding London.
Ginny caressed the scar, nipped at it with her lips. "You're right, we have been dancing Harry; years and years of nonstop twirling. Does it bother you?"
Harry gave a shudder, "You know it doesn't, Ginny." He grinned suddenly; the boy from her childhood, the one she thought she had loved was looking at her in that second.
"Come on," Ginny said, tugging Harry off the dance floor and toward the door to the alley, "We've a short time to play before we move on to the serious matter at hand."
Hermione awoke with the taste of cotton in her mouth; the cotton being a rather dirty sock that had undoubtedly been unearthed from the beneath of the couch. Hermione gave a start and pulled her head back. She cracked it on the edge of the flowery blue loveseat and moaned at the pain that shot through her head. Pulling herself out from beneath the loveseat she slipped on a bottle of butterbeer and landed face first in the carpet. With a sigh she picked herself up and began cleaning.
"This, my dear Hermione," she told herself, "is rock bottom." She moved with a purpose and an armful of empty bottles toward the recycling bin. Dropping them in to the container, she stepped to the icebox and pulled a can of soda out. She pushed the door shut and caught sight of the picture she had pasted on the door. Harry, Ginny, Ron and herself stared out at her. They were all huddled together, picture Ron stroking picture Hermione's hair. She gave a small sniffle, and stumbled to the bathroom. She showered and grabbed her purse and keys before flooing to Dragon's Scale.
The club was filled with loud music and sweating bodies. Hermione made her way to the bar, grabbing a stool and putting her elbows up on the bar top. "Strong liquor," she told the bartender, she didn't really care what it was. The first shot came and she eyed it disdainfully.
She knocked the first one down before plunking a galleon down and asking, "Just give me the damn bottle." The bartender happily handed the bottle over and went about his business. A sarcastic whisper filled Hermione's head.
"Little early for heavy drinking, isn't it, Granger?" Hermione resisted the urge to beat her head upon the bar and turned in her seat to look at the pointy faced intruder.
"A little early for you to be out isn't it Malfoy, its not even dusk yet. I thought evil things ran from the light…and bunnies." She snatched the bottle off the bar and hobbled toward the stairs to the balcony. Malfoy didn't seem to have had enough of bothering her though. He trailed behind spitting venomous insults at her back. She was half way up the stairs, her bottle three quarters empty when she whirled on the blonde and smashed what was left of her drink over his head. Feeling slightly better she toddled up the stairs, reached the first landing and proceeded to pass out.
She awoke propped up on a foul looking green couch with an ice-bag on her head. She gave a little groan and rubbed at the achy spot. The door of the room she was in opened and in strode the pointy little git that had ruined her buzz. "You foul, loathsome, evil little…!" she screamed at him reaching for the wand that was no longer in her pocket.
"Hermione," a quiet voice from the doorway, one she hadn't heard in two weeks.
"You arrested me!"
"I didn't have a choice! You attacked someone."
"Malfoy, I attacked Malfoy! And it's not like it did any real harm."
"I'll have you know that there is blood in my hair," Malfoy protested.
"I can see how you're heart would be all a flutter because I ruined your damn hair, Malfoy, but provoking me and then having me arrested is low, even for you."
"Out Malfoy!" Ron said and Draco cast a smirk behind his back when he was leaving the room.
"I can't believe you! Breaking a bottle is hardly against the law!" Hermione yelled it at him.
"You broke it over his head."
"Because I didn't have a clear shot at his…" Disgust marred Ron's face.
"That isn't a place I want to go in any context Hermione. He's pressing charges. We'll have to detain you for the night."
Hermione got to her feet ready for a battle when Ginny strode in.
"Did you fix it?" she asked of her brother.
Ron was shaking his head, "Ginny you can't just walk in here when ever you want to."
"Ronald! I told you to fix it. I guess I'll have to do it myself then, won't I?" Ginny asked with a sigh.
It was suddenly snowing and Hermione looked around. 'Where am I?' she thought to herself. Ron was on his arse looking toward the ceiling.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked, looking up. Where the ceiling should have been was a glass dome.
"If I had to guess," Ron said, "And knowing my sister, I'd have to say that we're trapped in a snow globe somewhere in Amsterdam."
"What!" squeaked Hermione, unceremoniously sitting on the steps to the small house inside the globe, "How could you know that?"
"Because Ginny warned me," Ron said darkly. He paused before pushing forward, "And this is all your fault, Hermione."
"My fault? This is your fault you, you Scarlet MAN!"
Their first night in the globe they argued. They had figured out that the house in the snow globe was a mini house that actually worked. Hermione cooked dinner, which included broccoli, Ron's culinary adversary. So they argued over whether or not he was eating it. The argument ended when Hermione bashed him over the head with her plastic plate and force fed it to him. Ron sulked the rest of the night. Hermione questioned her love for him.
The second day they were both bored with fighting so they sat in silence. The silence ended in a flurry of clothes rivaled only by the speed that Ginny could get her latest fling to take her home. They didn't make it to the bedroom upstairs but instead fell upon each other on the landing and had wild sex in which a few new positions were tried and Ron nearly put his back out of place.
By the third day Hermione had resigned herself to being trapped in a snow globe for the rest of her life. Ron had another idea completely, though the silence had once again settled over the two friends. Ron would glance at Hermione, turn red and ramble off to 'think'. "Lavender will understand," he kept moaning to himself. Every once in awhile earthquake tremors would knock the two over and send them jostling through the globe.
By the fourth day he had made a plan for their escape. He waited until someone picked up the globe and then stripped. While Hermione secretly enjoyed the view the person holding the globe screamed and dropped it. It shattered and a naked Ron and a very amused Hermione took off running for the exit. They hadn't made up. When Ron got home that night it was quite evident that Lavender did not understand.
"Now where did I put that file on the sales of the new Firebolt?" Ginny muttered aloud. There was angry clicking and Hermione and Ron brandished their wands at her.
"Well?" she asked, "Did you fix it?" She could already tell that they hadn't. "Maybe you two should be thanking me instead of brandishing that thing at me. I did it all for my love of you two."
The two friends turned to each other to discuss a fitting punishment for the matchmaker. Ginny took the opportunity to knock the two into the closet in her office. "You aren't coming out until you fix it!" she called in a sing-song voice. She could hear Ron muttering and Hermione said, "Oh not this again." Ginny left the two and went home for the weekend.
"Hey Ron," Hermione said mischievously, "Do you remember the last time we were trapped in a closet together." Ron heaved a sigh.
"Of course I do, Hermione."
"Prove it," she said, and he did. He proved it all night long. When they were finally let out of the closet they were hungrier, smellier and happier than when they went in.