Chapter 17

The wards recognised her instantly, letting her pass through the fireplace with a slight pulling sensation. The apartment above the shop was dark and quiet, she hadn't thought it was that late when she'd seen Ginny off, but apparently they had lost track of time.

Slipping her shoes off by the hearthrug, she padded silently toward George's room, relieved to find him asleep and not out as she'd first feared. Without a second thought, she let her robes drop from her shoulders, her summer dress falling to her feet next, her underwear following until she slipped into bed beside him naked.

He naturally turned toward her as she lay against his side, stroking the hair from his face as she watched him slowly throw off sleep.

"'Mione?" he whispered.

"It's me," she whispered back, leaning in to kiss his chapped lips softly. He groaned with pleasure, rolling his body further into hers, as naked as she was.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, comprehension slowly coming back to him.

"I missed you," she replied, kissing him again, a little harder this time.

He didn't reply immediately, returning her kiss as he rolled her under him, their bodies rubbing deliciously together. She shivered against him, the feeling of his body against hers so familiar now that she responded immediately, heat pooling between her thighs as he kissed her breathless.

"I missed you too," he panted against her lips when he managed to pull back, his forehead against hers, her hands running up and down his sides, her fingertips memorising every inch of muscles.

The eye contact between them was almost unbearable when her fingers travelled down his hips, her fingertips feather soft as she traced the muscles down to where he strained between them.

"I missed this," he told her, dipping his head once more to capture her lips with his, capturing whatever answer she had been about to give.

She cried out when his hand reached between them, his fingers seeking her core to bring them both pleasure. Her body throbbed, the weeks apart making her desperate for the connection.

"Oh god, please," she sobbed against his lips, her hands leaving his pulsing cock to tug at his hips, urging him to bridge the gap between them.

He resisted briefly, "Your hip?" he asked, the strain evident in his voice.

"It's okay," she told him with a grin, "Just no acrobatics."

"You're the boss," he told her, moments before he slid the tip of his throbbing member between them, spreading her slick heat wide before slamming home.

Her whole body seemed to shudder against his; the pleasure coursing through her was almost unbearable as every nerve came back to life under his touch. He began to move against her, slowly rocking back and forth and she couldn't stop her eyes from rolling back in her head.

His rhythm picked up, his hips slamming into hers as they both fought to keep the sensations going, neither wanting to end things before they were ready. She scraped her nails down his flesh, tossed her head from side to side and cried out his name as the bubbling tension between them grew to almost breaking point.

George pushed through her cries, his head bowed as they both sought the bliss they'd been weeks without.

She'd missed this more than anything, the intimacy she'd always found in Fred and George's arms; the intimacy that had always been missing from her relationship with Ron. They always seemed so in tune with her body, so eager to please her first. They threw every part of themselves into the act and the results were mind blowing.

As if conjuring him with her thoughts, she felt the bed dip beside them before a gentle hand pushed her hair from her sweat drenched face.

"You came back," Fred whispered in her ear, his breath cool against her temple as her body continued to be rocked against the bed.

"How could I stay away?" she moaned, her neck bowing as the small bubble of tension settled between her legs and seems to expand. She exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, feeling George's body tense above hers as he lost control.

Their cries filled the small apartment; hers were eventually captured by Fred's mouth, his tongue eagerly exploring its depths as she came down from her high. She whimpered as George withdrew from her body and she was shifted on top of his brother, her hip only mildly protesting as she slid down to fit over him.

He wasted very little time thrusting up into her, gripping her thighs as her scalding heat washed over him. She cried out as the pulsing grip of her muscles welcomed a second intrusion.

A second orgasm washed over her within minutes, her body quickening and reacting to the stimulation she'd denied it for weeks. Fred, much the same as George had, found his own release within seconds of hers – as if that was all he had been waiting for.

Slowly, he released his grip on her and she slid off him to rest between the two men, breathless and sated.

"I needed that," she said, puffing her hair from her face as she tried to regain her breath, her muscles like jelly.

Neither man replied to her, the silence heavy in the dark.

"What?" she asked. Her heart rate, which had been slowing down, suddenly picked up by several beats.

"You're not staying, are you?" Fred asked.

"No," she replied, the guilt ripping through her at how forlorn he sounded.

"Stay," George said, turning his body into hers, trapping her thigh beneath, his fingers lacing with hers as if that would stop her from leaving the bed.

"I can't. Not yet. Not until I've sorted things out with Ron," she said through the lump in her throat, "I shouldn't have come here tonight… I just had to see you both."

There was another long silence, "We'll tell him then," Fred declared, turning to face her on her other side, gripping her hand with his, trapping her between the two.

"You don't have to be the one to take all the blame, we were involved too, remember," George told her.

Hermione's hair practically crackled as when she shook her head against the mattress, "No, it has to be me."

"Then why are you putting it off?" George asked.

"Unless you've changed your mind about us?" Fred added.

Hermione nearly shot up in the bed, that's if she'd had the leverage to do so. As it was, she could only shoot frantic glances at them, "Never! I will never change my mind when it comes to you. I love you, I told you that!"

Fred was the first to speak, his tone losing its edge in the face of her declaration, "Then stay. See Ron in the morning."

"Leaving him at the altar would hurt him more," George told her; his is thumb tracing circles in her palm, as if to soften the blow.

"I wouldn't do that, he's still my friend," she said sadly.

"Then be a good friend and stop this wedding before it's too late. Procrastinating isn't achieving anything," Fred told her, kissing her forehead.

She went quiet; thinking about over how she'd wanted to know whom the other witch was before confronting Ron – of the task she'd set Ginny to find out for her. She wanted to go in with as much information as possible, to be as armed with defences as she could. Confronting him in the morning, no matter the fall-out, was just so final.

Perhaps that was why she'd so eagerly accepted Pansy's offer of refuge, the time to think she'd thought she needed was really a time to grieve for the relationship that was coming to an end. Maybe this was her mind's way of softening the blow for her so that when she finally went through with it her heart wouldn't break in two from what was lost and what could have been.

"We'll still be here for you," George murmured against her neck.

"No matter what happens," Fred confirmed, moving closer to her warmth as they settled around her.

It was long after they had gone to sleep that she whispered into the dark, "Promise?"

Hermione stayed the night. She hadn't planned on it, but the lull of their warm bodies against hers helped to achieve the best sleep she'd had in weeks. She was woken to soft kisses and gentle touches but couldn't throw herself into what they offered.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, pulling herself to the edge of the bed, staring intently at the wall to avoid becoming entranced by the alluring picture they made amongst the covers.

"We told you last night, you aren't in this alone," George said, pushing himself up to wrap himself around her from behind.

She acknowledged this with a nod and pulled herself out of his embrace, limping slightly as she went for a quick shower. A numbness seemed to overcome her as the realization of what she was about to do came crashing down on her.

By the time she was dressed the Twins were waiting for her by the fireplace.

"Cheer up, he won't be mad at you forever," Fred smiled gently, "He'll probably decide that we corrupted you and you are just an innocent party in all this."

"But, didn't you?" Hermione asked, returning his smile with a weak one of her own, "Corrupt me, that is."

"Thoroughly," George agreed, with a kiss on her cheek.

He turned to the fireplace and threw a handful of powder in, calling out the home Hermione had shared with Harry and Ron for over three years. She hesitated when she went to step in, but two sets of hands wouldn't leave her behind and she was propelled through the green flames and expelled into her living room within a single breath.

It became glaringly obvious that nobody was home; the tension that had been riding Hermione since she'd woken up seemed to drain from her body in one swoop.

"He's not here," she said, sitting heavily on the couch.

Fred and George took up the spots on either side of her. She was internally debating what to do when the pop of apparation filled the room.

"Hermione! You're home!" Ginny cried, "Merlin, when Parkinson owled me this morning I had no idea where you were. What good timing."

"Pansy sent you an owl? I didn't think she'd notice I was gone," Hermione muttered.

Ginny grinned, "Probably couldn't get a decent cup of tea for herself without you there."

"Pansy Parkinson?" Fred asked darkly, "Ginny told us you were staying with your mad old Aunt in Gloucester."

Hermione shot Ginny a look, "Thanks, Gin."

Ginny shrugged, ignoring her brothers, "I had to tell everyone something. Ron's not here, if that's who you're looking for. He and Harry will be away until the day before the Wedding."

"But… Parkinson! She's insane!" George spluttered, still focussed on Hermione's past whereabouts.

"We know," Ginny and Hermione intoned at once.

Fred and George looked like they were about to explode, and Ginny seemed to have just realized she was standing in the room with the three lovers since she's discovered their relationship. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably, hating what she was about to do next, but not wanting to complicate things more than they already were.

"Well, I'm off then," Hermione announced.

"What? You're not really going back there!" Fred exclaimed, jumping to his feet to tower over her.

Hermione shrugged, "Pansy needs me, at least until we get things sorted out. I'll be back when Ron gets back – there's no point hanging around and pretending everything is the same."

"You can't be serious," George said, remaining on the couch.

Ginny looked between the three of them, looking decidedly uncomfortable, but ploughing on anyway, "Pansy does need her. It's pathetic really, but the witch can't tie her laces without assistance," she took a deep breath and smiled at her dearest friend encouragingly, "Besides, Hermione's right, staying around will only bring on more questions. Best to speak to Ron before any more lies have to be told."

"I'll be back, I promise," Hermione said, looking first at Fred, who had yet to sit back down, and then George, who was gripping the arm of the couch tightly, "I love you," she said, before gripping her wand and apparating out.

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