Hermione entered the homey space with a deep sigh of relief. Arthur and Molly were at St. Mungo's, all their children had moved out by now. Ron and Ginny lived at Grimmauld Place, though Ron was technically a temporary guest because he just had a breakup.
It sometimes amazed her how those unrequited, frustrated feelings she had for Ron faded so completely after the war was over.
Given her dating record in the past four years, sometimes she uneasily thought perhaps it was she that was fickle and the emotional range of a teaspoon.
Add that in with recent urges…
Hermione groaned as she leaned her head against the counter, having gravitated to the most comforting area of the house - the kitchen.
Honestly, she was simply trying to build a career. Perhaps not the career she thought she would have, but she was a damn good Auror and helped a lot of people.
The door banged open.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and what a relief that would be, and whirled around with wand pointed at the twins.
Fred was the first to lift his hands, dressed in bits and pieces of his old Hogwarts Quidditch uniform. "I'm unarmed," he grinned at her.
The mixture of adrenaline and pleasant throbbing made her hesitate to lower the wand...but she did indeed. "What are you doing here?" she tried her best to keep her tone curious and not accusatory.
"George and I were out flying and trying to knock each other off our brooms'." He set aside his broom, which she recognized as the latest model, the Erinyes something or the other.
"That's safe." She stashed her wand back in her sleeve, looking away from their identical grinning faces. They'd have thought it was lark to get jinxed by her, the mad loons.
"We're working on new product...hoping to sell it to all the Quidditch teams. Except Chudley Cannons, just to twit Ron." George started pulling off the shoulderpads and gear, his shirt riding up his flat stomach.
Hermione hated herself for watching, nearly stuffing her fist in her mouth to stop from making an obvious sound.
Though the crawling voice in her head had disdained Ron as a 'shopkeeper', she had no such qualms about the twins apparently.
She remembered all too clear the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, where George saw the limp body of Fred. He was so badly injured that it took days before the Healers would even acknowledge that he might live.
Hermione had spent just as much time as any Weasley sitting by his bedside, with the exception of Molly and George. And they continued the cycle after he woken up and started to heal. She only stopped taking shifts after that night...
"Where mum?" George asked casually, running his fingers through his hair after pulling his undershirt off and Accio'ing a fresh one.
"Harry is in the hospital." she muttered, pretending not to watch them. Why must they be so bloody casual about their bodies?
Both twins stopped in their shucking of gear, two sets of blue eyes flying her way. "Is he alright?"
A part of her wanted to say no, he's not alright, rush out and see him. But the part of her that didn't like lying - or simply enjoyed the view - made her shake her head. "He's already been taken care of."
Both men relaxed, resuming pulling on bright blue shirts and frankly hideous trousers with 'WWW' printed all over them in orange. Yet it was familiar and not at all deterring her greedy gaze.
"You alright there?" Fred asked finally, looking her over. The horrible part was that after that night, her first night, the night she didn't visit him again, he never brought it up again. He never even teased her about it.
Perhaps he had been ashamed or embarrassed. It wasn't like Fred Weasley to avoid a topic that could be made funny.
"Too soon to visit St. Mungo's again, really." She assumed everyone knew she had been there with the way news spread in this family.
George nodded, leaning around her to pick up a slice of freshly baked bread. "We came to visit while you were there."
"You did?" That was strangely touching.
"You were sleeping. I convinced Fred to not place a Daydreaming Charm on your face."
She shot the other twin a dour look. "Thanks George. I'll know to tell you two apart by who's not an utter prat."
"There are other ways to tell us apart." Fred winked at her, running a hand down his clothed chest.
Hermione rolled her eyes, even though the horrifying image of his freshly destroyed chest came up. The damage had been mostly healed, but he'd have some of the scars forever. Much like everyone from the war, really.
"Right." She took a piece of bread and nibbled on it. She was trying so hard to pretend that her very fingertips weren't practically tingling with their proximity.
Fred had come up behind George, peering at her face. "You're looking.." he trailed a finger across her cheek.
Her sharp intake of breath changed the very air around them.
"...fetching." George murmured, before looking away.
She could feel it, feel the intrigued twitch from him, and the keen awareness of the other. It crawled underneath her skin in marvelously tempting ways.
Fred finally let his hand fall, glancing at it with almost detached curiosity. He felt the heat of her skin, she had felt it a tendril transmit to him. Whatever had poured into her skin from Harry greedily had slipped past his skin, and she knew it did.
Which meant she was solely responsible for anything that happened, because she shouldn't have came here. It had seemed like such a safe assumption, nobody even bloody lived here anymore!
"Hermione is always fetching." Fred almost reached out again, but fingers poised mid-air just above her skin.
Even so, it pushed against the sensation trembling around her.
She couldn't be sure if she shifted toward him, or he swayed toward her. But there she was, shivering as her chest brushed his, their eyes locked on each other.
Fred ghosted a hand along her arm, blue eyes flickering to her mouth. He still looked good to her, the light spray of freckles running along his nose to cheeks to the line down his neck. She wanted to trace it with her teeth.
The tip of her tongue wet her lips slowly, nerves and an invitation all at once. She ran her fingers along his forearm, skimming the fine hairs and noting the dusting of freckles that she had stared at many times.
And when their lips mets a jolt ran from his skin to hers, moving between them.
He kissed her like he meant to claim it, tilting his head and slotting their mouths just right against each other. As she makes a desperate little sound, his tongue slides into her mouth, slow and deep.
She fisted the fabric of his shirt, losing all semblance of sanity for a moment as her calf curls around his. His hands gripped her elbows, not drawing her in because she's already there, pushing hard against his body.
When they break she sucks in a shuddering breath, and his eyes are burning right into hers before their mouths meet again, hungrily.
A scraping sound to her right as George tries to move back slices through her lust-addled mind, and she shoves him closer without touching him. She didn't mean to, she didn't, but she could feel the unsteady heat from his skin.
Moving her mouth away from Fred's, she looks at George with drugged eyes and whispers, "Come here."
His chest is moving in small shallow breaths as he closes the distance between them. Their mouths meet in abandon, though she could feel a curl of uncertainty from him.
Haven't they ever shared a girl before?
The thought of the two brothers together thrills and shames her, and she wasn't really sure which emotion was stronger.
Her heat pours into his skin from her lips and tongue, and he's shivering harder than his brother. Sweet Merlin she hoped that he wasn't unwilling. Then his tongue twines around hers and he's less dominant than Fred, but the way he strokes each sensitive point leave her weak kneed.
His hands gripped her waist firmly, thumbs running lines over her ribcage, making her push against his hands needily. She could feel Fred pressing scorching kisses along her neck, and she moaned into George's mouth.
At some point she moved to kiss Fred again, wedging her back against George as he bit her neck from behind. She pressed into his chest and...other things, delighting in rubbing against both at once.
It also left her free to thrust her tongue into Fred's mouth, his shirt still clenched into her fists as she spread her knees to cup the outside of his thighs.
It was all spinning out of control too fast, but every time she tried to withdraw from the heat of one she encountered the shivering want of the other.
Trapped.
George's palms moved from her waist to lightly cup her breasts through the fabric, and she made another needy sound against Fred's mouth. This encouraged him, because of course it did, and soon she had his hot palms against her bare skin.
He plucked at and circled her nipples, drawing positively filthy sounds from her throat as she sucked on Fred's tongue and gripped the top of his trousers. Why did she have so many clothes? Why did he? It occurred to her that she could strip them all right now without a word, without even moving her hand from its position along his hipbones.
No, no.
She couldn't. Just like the wrenching urge to bite them, bite one or both, she couldn't give in. The voice nearly screamed at her to do just that, and she couldn't give in. Because she wanted to demand they turn their attentions on each other, just to see their mouth locked together and have Fred fuck his mouth the way he was hers. Deep and good and so hot. And it wouldn't be right like this.
Fred stroked her cheek with his thumb and she palm the back of his hair, pulling until he gasped. Her thigh rubbed between his, and he was so damn hard.
His hand slid up her skirt and settled on her bare thigh, and she didn't protest.
"Please...please." Her fingers curled around his wrist wanting to direct him, but he didn't need the help once the plea left her lips.
He palmed the very heat of her, fingers sliding into her slick depths. All the clever care he had showed promise for was now fully developed, and he played her until she was gasping and pleading.
"No...don't stop, ahhh…" She pressed her palm against his wrist more firmly, and as an reward, his thumb pressed against the swollen nub demanding attention. With all the attention paid to that needy button, she couldn't stop shuddering as he swiped twice, three times.
She cried out, everything building and shattering, every fiber in her blood and muscles and magic. She came while panting against his mouth. It poured from her and sucked right back in as Fred ground against her thigh, gasping as his movements broke up. She could feel the throbbing as he throbbed and spilled between them. George was pressed against her bum, sharply moving before he groaned as well against her neck, the sounds mingling perfectly with his brother's.
She couldn't remember sliding down with George, with Fred's weight on her until she opened her eyes.
Everything was bliss and satisfaction, even though her legs were somewhat awkwardly twined with another and the warm weight beneath her. It took her a moment to realize all three collapsed, her orgasm dragging all three down with her in the best ways.
Her body thrummed with satiation and energy all at once; she didn't want to move but she could move mountains. And it was that momentary place between clarity and lust that she sat up abruptly, eyes wide. What had she done?
The beast inside hummed contentedly, and she had never hated it more as she stood up on unsteady legs and hunted for the Floo powder. The flames barely turned green before she was in her own flat, the elated sensation under her skin impossible to ignore.
The part of her that cried coward! was embarrassed for her fleeing, but that coyly pleased part insisted she go back and apologize… on her back. On her knees, if she had to.
Hermione huddled on her couch and pulled her hair between her fingers to drive out the maddening dichtomy of knowing one thing and wanting another. She absolutely was going to Hogwarts, response or no.
Once she was cleaned up.
Author's Notes:
The envy of me, honestly. XD
Happy Birthday Fred and George Weasley!
I actually had planned this scene out long before today! Who can have a fun sexy romp without the twins?
Hope you enjoyed, and read and review if you'd like!
As a further side note, should you be curious about my twisty turny thoughts while plotting out a fic, there's always a 'what if' in my fanfictions. As it turns out, this 'what if' is Fred living, and as a result, Ron helps out in the shop but Harry and Hermione do not. (In my headcanon all three help George after the war.) This leads Harry to want to become an Auror earlier, and Hermione joins because she couldn't just let him do it alone.