Fictionallizzy
A/N:
I'm supposed to be working on the last two chapters of my George x Hermione fic...and yet...
I'm blaming a very persistent plot bunny for this one shot.
Not sure how it will be received - but note that the tags are there for any readers with triggers, even if this story is intended to be lighthearted.
Blood, violence, Murder, references to rape and torture, Explicit language and smut, Marital disputes, Marital Bliss, HEA
Summary:
What would you do if you found out your wife was an assassin?
Fred considers himself a very happily married man. His life with Hermione is so much more than he ever envisioned for himself.
Of course, there are little things Hermione does that irritate him-he's sure the same is true for her. None of those things are dealbreakers.
But when he finds out his wife isn't the person he thought she was, he's forced to make a tough decision: Forgive and accept, or divorce and move on.
TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT MY WIFE
Fred first realised something was wrong when Hermione shuddered and the hairs on her arms rose ominously.
"Take the kids into the kitchen," Hermione whispered to Ginny and pressed her finger to her lips.
Ginny nodded, rounded up her children and hurried quietly out of the living room.
Hermione's gaze flickered to him, and she opened her mouth to say something, just as the front door burst open.
Fred could hear one of the picture frames in the hallway shatter and the console table smash and splinter as if it had been blown to pieces.
"What the fuck is going on?" he asked Hermione in an urgent whisper, watching with panic as she drew her wand from the back pocket of her jeans and pressed her back against the wall.
With a jerk of the head, she looked around the corner as if waiting for the intruders. As if she was expecting them. "Tell Ginny to get out of here immediately. Go with her, out the back door. Right now!" she ordered firmly, eyes focused and deadly.
For a moment, he almost didn't recognise his wife. She looked like an entirely different person.
"Are you mental? You expect me to leave you here to deal with—"
"There isn't time to debate this, Freddie," she hissed, pressing a swift kiss to his lips. "Just do what I'm telling you. And be safe. Please..."
Fred raced toward the kitchen as another crash and an explosion came from the front of the house, closer to the living room now. If he hurried, he could be back in time to help Hermione.
He didn't understand why she couldn't be the one to get Ginny and the kids out safely, while he took care of the intruders. But something in her tone implored him to listen to her.
Loud voices.
Two, maybe three men.
Her voice.
Another crash, louder.
And his wife was all alone in there.
He needed to get back to her as soon as possible.
He didn't know if it was a good or bad sign that he hadn't heard her scream yet. She was quite capable in a duel after fighting in a war, sure, but he didn't know exactly how many people just entered their house. What their intentions were.
Ginny and the kids were cowering in the corner, huddled together. She had Lily cradled in her arms, while Albus and James clung to her, cheeks streaked with tears.
"Go out the back door," he told his sister. "Apparate to the ministry and notify Harry that there's big trouble. Get him to send as many Aurors as he can."
Ginny nodded, got up from the floor and ducked toward the back door while shepherding her children in front of her.
A sudden boom made her jump, and the kids shrieked.
Fred yanked the door open, practically pushed them out and in parting, said, "Be safe. And hurry. Please."
She nodded. "Thank you. You too. And take care of Hermione."
When George quietly sneaked into the living room, he was shocked to find Hermione tied to a wooden chair, her bottom lip bleeding and her hair wild. A bruise was already forming on her cheekbone.
Her gaze flicked to him as she caught his movement in her periphery, and her eyes widened in alarm. She shook her head subtly as if to indicate he shouldn't approach and returned her attention to the man before her.
The burly wizard growled menacingly, "Where the fuck is he? What did you do to Lucius Malfoy?"
Hermione, his sweet, beautiful wife who'd never hurt a fly, smiled maniacally, teeth stained red while blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the rug they'd bought on their honeymoon in Morocco and said, "He's dead. I killed him two days ago." With a deranged chuckle, she taunted, "Took you long enough to notice."
The wizard backhanded her so hard that the chair toppled over.
Hermione winced as her shoulder connected hard with the floor but continued to grin. "I took my time with him. Dragged out his death for two hours before I finally got what I needed from him and slit his throat. It's pathetic how attached men are to certain body parts. How they beg and cry and scream when you threaten to cut it off. Quite fascinating how quickly they cave once you make good on your threats."
Fred blanched.
What the fuck was she talking about? What was wrong with her?
"He snitched like a fucking sissy. And at this very moment, the DMLE are raiding both of your safe houses. Rounding up all your sick little minions."
"Bullshit!" The wizard yelled as he crouched over Hermione's body, spit spraying over her face. He shook his head, unwilling to accept the truth, and yanked the chair upright, jostling her in the process. "They'd need to get to the secret keeper to get inside."
She widened her eyes mockingly and tutted. "Oh, you mean Dolohov?" She snorted. "Lucius gave him up in a heartbeat. And once I had Dolohov on his knees and nearly pissing himself, he caved like a house of cards. Not very loyal followers you have, Nott. But I suppose that's what you get for running around London with a bunch of cowardly Slytherins. They lack the necessary backbone for all the plans you cooked up in that sick head of yours."
What the fuck. Theodore Nott? Nott senior? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?
Nott roared with outrage and kicked Hermione in the gut.
She gasped from the impact, but a gurgling laugh escaped, nonetheless.
Fred snapped into action, ignoring Hermione's request to keep out of sight.
This was enough. He wouldn't stand by while they hurt his wife. No matter what was going on. They'd sort out this mess once he took care of the intruders; he was sure this was all a misunderstanding somehow.
Fred pointed his wand at Nott, but when Hermione looked up at him, Nott and his three cronies followed her gaze just in time to duck his silent Confringo.
They retaliated rapidly.
Fred ducked behind the partitioning just in time, a red flash zooming right past his cheek. If his reflexes had been a millisecond slower, it would have caught him right in the face.
"Get him!" He heard Nott shout.
Fred ran as fast as his legs would carry him, even when he knew there was nowhere to go but out the back door, and he was not leaving his wife.
Hopefully, the chase meant Nott was distracted enough that it bought Hermione some time to figure out a plan of escape.
The three Death Eaters cornered and immobilised him in the kitchen and dragged him into the living room by his feet, knocking his head into bits of furniture on the way.
"Ahh," Nott chuckled. "This your husband, then? Does he know who you really are?"
Fred's head lolled to the side; eyes fixed on Hermione while he lay prone on the carpet beside Hermione's chair.
"Fuck you!" She spat venomously.
"Perhaps I should do to him what you did to Macnair, hmm?" Nott winked. "I bet you'd like to watch me flay him open inch by inch. Do you think he'll be quiet, or will he scream and cry and beg for mercy?"
Hermione fought rabidly against her restraints, teeth gritted and eyes murderous, but didn't say a word.
"Oh, how sweet. Let me guess, you've fallen for him, haven't you?" Nott taunted with a mirthless smile. His sycophants guffawed like idiots. "What a foolish thing to do."
He swivelled to Fred, cocking his head as if assessing his prey. With an ugly grin, Nott lifted his wand to point it right at Fred's head and closed the distance between them.
His expression was half delighted, half psychotic and one hundred percent determined.
Nott opened his mouth to speak the curse, revealing crooked yellow teeth. And it was rather comical what his brain chose to focus on while staring death in the face. The inane thoughts flashing through his brain. Like why a man as rich as Nott couldn't have had his teeth fixed.
Fred swallowed defeatedly and closed his eyes, preparing for death and simultaneously praying Hermione got to walk away from this relatively unscathed. The last thing he thought was how he hadn't gotten around to asking Hermione if she'd changed her mind about having a baby. The conversation hadn't gone well when he'd brought it up last year, but he'd recently started wondering if it was time to revisit the topic.
Just as Nott's lips formed the words for the killing curse, Hermione whispered something inaudible.
Nott turned his head over his shoulder to glare at her. "What's that?"
She whispered again; words still unclear.
"What are you saying? Speak louder!" Nott commanded, then turned his eyes to his fellow Death Eaters. "What did the bitch say?"
One of them shook his head. The others just stared as Hermione whispered something again.
Nott straightened up and stalked over to Hermione. "Spit it out!" He grabbed her by the throat, and she grinned.
When he leaned closer to hear her better, Hermione jerked her head back to smack her forehead into his nose hard enough that blood sprayed across her face like little red freckles.
Nott howled with pain and dropped to his knees, one hand cupping his nose to stem the flow of blood, while the other hung limply by his side, wand clasped loosely between his fingers.
Faster than Fred's brain could comprehend, Hermione kicked the wand out of Nott's hand, sending it flying in an arc toward her. She threw herself backwards, the force strong enough to break the chair into hundreds of pieces.
Hands now free, she crawled on her belly toward the wand, rolling swiftly to the left to dodge a curse, and then to the right, narrowly avoiding another as it sizzled past her and burned a hole in the carpet.
Her movements were lithe and visceral as if she'd anticipated their retaliation even before they'd consciously decided to strike.
Who the fuck was this woman?
Moves like hers warranted training. Years of it. These weren't the type of moves one picked up on the battlefield during school.
Hermione moved just like the trained assassins he'd seen on the telly when they watched action flicks together.
Jesus...
Was that it?
Had he been living with an assassin for three whole years without knowing it? Had he slept next to a killer, made love to a murderer?
The thought seemed preposterous, and yet...
How often had he pulled her in for a hug while she'd wielded a knife, cutting up vegetables for dinner?
Had he ever been in danger around her? Had she ever felt the urge to stab him?
This woman, his wife, was lethal. He realised this with a start as he watched her slice the three remaining wizards' throats with a simple jerk of the wand in her hand. She didn't even flinch when their blood spurted violently onto the carpet at her feet while she watched the life drain from their eyes.
As an afterthought, she flicked her wand in Nott's direction, tying his hands and feet together. She turned away with a shake of her head and focused her attention on Fred instead.
Was this callous creature before him the same woman as the one he'd wanted to be the mother of his children? When he didn't have a clue who she really was or what she was capable of.
"Is Ginny safe? Did she get the kids out all right?" Hermione asked as she cast the counter jinx to allow him movement and helped him to his feet.
Fred gaped at her, then nodded.
She sighed in relief, closing her eyes for a second.
A groan behind them drew her attention, and she swivelled on the spot to tower over Nott. "Stupefy," she hissed, pointing her wand carelessly at the man to render him unconscious.
"What are you going to do with him?" Fred choked.
Frankly, he worried she was going to kill another person right in front of him. He didn't have the strongest stomach. Despite all the blood in his living room, he'd already witnessed his wife callously kill three men twice her size. He wasn't sure he could stomach another murder right now.
"The Aurors and the Dark Ops team will take care of him. We won't kill him until we've extracted all the information we need."
"What do you—" he started to ask, but a series of loud pops interrupted him, and a slew of Aurors and wizards clad from head to toe in black appeared in their living room.
"Hermione," Harry sighed with relief. "I'm really fucking sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to send word to Whittemore and assemble a team of Aurors. Whittemore asked me to tell you he wants you there when they interrogate Nott. We'll bring him in while you clean up, yeah?"
"Interrogate?" Fred asked, scrambling to his feet. He frowned at Hermione. "Dark Ops? You, and the DMLE...and...who the fuck is Whittemore?" He looked to Harry, mouth hanging open. "You knew about this? About her?" He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione.
Harry offered Fred a tight-lipped smile, almost as if in pity, and turned to Hermione. "Maybe you should talk to him?" He nodded his chin in Fred's direction. "Clue him in as much as you can. I can keep Nott detained at the Ministry while you finish up here. Make up some excuse to stall Whittemore for the time being."
Hermione grimaced at Fred and then turned back to Harry, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. Thanks. I won't be long."
This made Fred bristle. They were talking about him as if he were simply a bystander, nobody of importance. And how could this looming conversation not take long when he had so many questions?
"The fuck is going on?" he growled at them. "My living room is sprayed with blood, there are three bodies on the floor, and it looks like a fucking hurricane has been through here. I deserve answers!"
"Darling," Hermione began and sat Fred down in one of their sofas. The ones they picked out together at Luxus, an expensive wizarding furniture store in Wales. "Let me get you a drink. What I'm about to tell you might be tough to hear."
Fred scoffed as his wife turned to the sideboard to pour him a healthy measure of firewhisky. "I think I have an inkling." He gestured towards the Aurors who were levitating the bodies into body bags right there in front of him.
The situation was so surreal.
"There's a lot more that you don't know..."
xxx
"An assassin for the DMLE?" Ginny asked mildly.
He'd arrived at Harry's and his sister's house about fifteen minutes ago.
Ginny had already put the kids down for the night and had taken out a bottle of firewhisky while Fred clued her in on what had happened.
She wasn't nearly as angry with Harry and Hermione as he was.
"Actually," he said, "For the Dark Ops team."
"Who're they?"
"As I understand it, they're a subdivision of the DMLE. They handle covert missions, assassinations, and torture. Darker stuff than the Aurors are exposed to. Hence the name."
Ginny barked a laugh and rolled her eyes. "Hermione? A trained assassin who tortures people for information? Yeah, right."
Fred scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. He couldn't believe it either.
"Wait?" Ginny gaped and leaned forward in her chair. "You—you're actually serious?"
Fred downed his drink and poured himself another glass of firewhisky. He swallowed a mouthful, gasped as the alcohol burned its way down to his stomach and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yep."
"The woman who needs you to open jam jars for her because her hands are too 'weak' to do it and stubbornly refuses to use magic for such menial tasks?"
Fred nodded.
"The woman who started S.P.E.W? And raised money for werewolf rights? Who held a bake sale to sponsor a Christmas Party with presents for the Janus Thickey ward last December?"
"The very same woman," Fred muttered morosely into his tumbler and downed the rest of his drink.
"You know..." Ginny said, brows knitting together. "Now that I think about it...didn't you find it weird that you two could afford a really expensive house in an upper-class wizarding neighbourhood? Buy posh furniture? Go on overseas trips on your combined salaries? Your shop does well, but it's not like you're loaded. And Hermione's a journalist for the Daily Prophet."
"I asked her about it once, and she claimed the asking price for the house was ridiculously low. She bought the furniture with the money she got for selling her parents' house and from the order of Merlin she'd received after the war. But apparently, killing people for a living pays really well."
"How are you doing with all these revelations? She really never mentioned anything to you?"
"Not a word," Fred admitted. "And I'm not sure what to think. I mean...It turns out I know nothing about my wife. We've been living a lie."
Ginny blinked. "What are you going to do now that you know?"
"I don't know, Gin. I don't know what was real and what was a sham. She's been working on this case for four years. Claims she set up our 'meet cute' outside the coffee shop—it wasn't the coincidence I thought it was. She married me while she was an undercover assassin for Dark Ops, all while retaining her identity in public. Maybe I was just the most gullible wizard she could find. Thought I was stupid enough not to suspect anything."
"She loves you, Freddie. That much I can promise you. I've seen the way she looks at you. How she lights up when you walk into a room."
"What if it was all an act? I mean, people like her are trained to lie. To pay attention to detail. Trick people."
"Maybe that was true in the beginning."
"No wonder she wanted to wait to have kids. I was planning on bringing up the topic again soon. But now it all makes sense. If your marriage is a sham, and you're planning on getting out of it at some point, you wouldn't want to complicate it by having kids with a man you're not in love with."
"No, Freddie. You can't think like that. She could just as easily have turned you down when you proposed or asked you to wait. But she didn't."
The floo suddenly roared to life, and with a whoosh, Harry stepped out, followed closely by Hermione.
He winced when he saw her face. Her left eye was bruised and swollen, her lip, while no longer bleeding, sported a cut, her shoulder was in a sling, and she had a slight limp.
No matter who or what she was, it still made his stomach churn seeing her like this. Knowing he couldn't protect her.
Harry greeted Ginny with a kiss and then turned to Fred. With a slap on his shoulder, he asked, "You okay? Quite a day you've had."
Fred nodded stiffly, eyes flicking to Hermione who was standing in front of the fireplace, wringing her hands. She looked worried, tired, guilty.
"You ready to go home, love?" She asked quietly. With a brittle smile, she added, "Don't know about you, but I could really use a warm bath right now."
Suddenly, his fragile, meek little wife was back and gone was the tough-as-nails killer he'd seen back at their house. It was like a flip of a switch, and the way she turned it on and off screamed 'sociopath.'
"I already talked to Ginny about staying here for the night. Until I can clear out the apartment above the joke shop tomorrow."
Hermione recoiled. "What do you mean, clear out the apartment?" She walked over to him, eyes wide with fear. "Baby, no. Your place is with me. In our home. You don't have to move out."
It was almost comical to see her so scared of him moving out when a few hours ago, she'd laughed at Nott Sr who'd beaten her black and blue. How she'd easily taken out men who should have been able to squash her with their boots.
"Look, Fred," she lounged on the armrest beside him and took his hand. "I know this is a lot to process, and I know I lied to you, but—"
"You're a killer, Hermione. A trained assassin. You casually talked about torturing Lucius Malfoy in the worst possible way without batting an eye. You pretended to be this innocent little witch, while you're actually really fucked up. And I don't know which person is real. That scares the shit out of me. Not to mention," he scowled. "That you put the lives of my sister, niece and nephews in danger today. You should never have gotten them involved when you knew there were people out for your blood."
"That was never my intention, love. And I'm truly so fucking sorry about that. But no one knew where I lived. Nobody knew my identity as an assassin. Or at least, they weren't supposed to."
"Your 'job', your actions, put my family in danger. And I will never forgive you for that. Never mind the fact that our marriage was a sham."
"I told you it wasn't a sham," she insisted vehemently. "Did I start dating you because I wanted to create a life that seemed normal and safe? A life that made me look like a run-of-the-mill witch and could never be traced to who I was while I worked this case. Sure! Did I think you'd be an easy target?" She grimaced. "Yes, I did. But I never thought things would get as serious as it had. Never expected to fall in love with you and marry you. That wasn't part of the plan. But I couldn't walk away once I realised I loved you. I was too selfish to give you up. And I thought I could get away with having it all...my job, you, our perfect life together."
"But not kids, right? Because you knew there was a chance that things could go wrong."
"No. That's not why. I was planning to walk away from my job after this mission. Retire from Dark Ops. Start a family with you. I could never become pregnant while on this mission. You saw what Nott did to me today. What do you think would have happened if I had been beaten and kicked while pregnant? We're not even thirty yet. There was no rush to have kids when I knew the mission would end soon enough."
"I..."
"Fred, please. This doesn't have to change what we feel for each other. The life we've built. I know it will take time to trust me again, but I promise I'll never make you doubt my intentions and my love for you again."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he shook his head and sighed. It felt like his entire world was imploding. He felt hollow and sick to his stomach. His heart ached for what he was about to say, but he couldn't stay married to a murderer. Let her raise his children. "I think I want a divorce."
Ten things I hate about my wife:
1. The way she squeezes the toothpaste tube from the top, instead of the bottom.
2. The way she never rinses out her coffee cup or reuses it. She always takes a new one. And as tiny as she is, she can drink a gallon of coffee a day. Subsists on caffeine and not much else. Probably needs the energy to stay sharp while killing and torturing on a daily basis.
3. The fact that she keeps buying books, even when there is no space on any of our bookshelves for more. I've recently started thinking about adding an extra room to our house just for her books. What we really need is a fucking library.
4. How she likes to press her freezing hands and feet against my skin in the winter, even though I've repeatedly asked her not to.
5. Our sex life is incredible—I'm a lucky bastard to have a wife who enjoys rough, kinky sex and sucks my cock like a goddess. What I hate about our sex life is that I never questioned how she differs so much in bed versus outside the bedroom. The sex is probably the closest she's come to revealing who she truly is.
6. How she dresses in the most mundane suits for work every morning and pretends to go to the Daily Prophet headquarters. How she comes home at five o'clock sharp every day as if she hasn't been out for hours killing people for money.
7. Her hair always clogs the drains, and I have to clean it because she insists, "It grosses me out, Freddie."
8. She's a liar. Has been for four fucking years.
9. She's a killer who doesn't even bat an eye when she slices open someone's throat, but nearly faints at the sight of blood when she nicks her own finger with a knife.
10. How she broke my heart into thousands of pieces because she betrayed my trust. Turned out to be someone I didn't know at all.
xxx
It's been three months since he's had any sort of contact with Hermione.
He's deferred all her owls. Refused to see her.
Up until this evening, he'd threatened Ginny and Harry bodily harm if they told his mum and dad about Hermione. He wanted to be the one to sit them down and tell them everything.
They were going to be crushed by the news; they loved Hermione very much.
The first time he'd brought her home to introduce her as his girlfriend, his parents had been over the moon.
While Hermione had been very much part of the Weasley family during her school years, she'd practically disappeared once the war was over. Never came to visit. Never appeared in the papers, except when Rita Skeeter casually wondered what the Golden Girl was up to when she wrote an article on Ron or Harry.
And when they'd 'run into each other' after six years, she'd acted so surprised and delighted to see him that he'd never suspected she'd been watching him for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to make her move.
He had to give it to Hermione—she was a hell of an actress.
x
FLASHBACK:
Fred wasn't paying attention to his surroundings as he rushed out the door of the coffee shop in Diagon Alley, already late for work.
George was going to pitch a fit.
This has been the second time he's overslept this week, but for some reason, he couldn't summon the will to get out of bed when it rained. It was as if he slept more soundly with the howling wind and rain splattering against his bedroom windows.
George insisted Fred was an idiot for making the trip from their apartment above the shop to the coffee shop next to Florean Fortescue's and back to the joke shop when he could brew perfectly acceptable coffee in their little kitchen in half the time it took him to wait in line at Deja Brew. But Fred didn't want 'perfectly acceptable coffee' when he could have fantastic coffee instead. The back-and-forth trip was worth it a hundred times over.
He collided solidly with a small body and the lid on his coffee cup popped off, spilling almost all of his coffee onto the person in front of him.
"Merlin's nuts!" A familiar voice gasped, fingers tugging at her blouse to hold it away from her skin. "Ow!"
"Shit! Sorry," he apologised, pulling his wand from his pocket to clean her blouse.
A head of curly hair tipped back to present her face to him, brows furrowed. "You should watch where—Fred!" she exclaimed, irritation instantly evaporating. "Oh, my gods! What a coincidence. I was just thinking about you and George when I saw that obnoxiously orange storefront on my way to get coffee."
"Hermione?" He was caught completely off guard seeing her here in Diagon Alley. Last he'd heard she was still living in France. "You are the last person I expected to see today."
She grinned and ironed out her blouse with her palms. "I figured I'd run into you and George at some point. Now that I'm back for good."
"Did you get tired of France, then? The croissants not all they're cracked up to be?" He joked lamely.
Why was he so fucking nervous all of a sudden?
To be fair, the last time he'd seen her, she'd still been very much a girl.
But this witch in front of him was a hundred percent woman. Full, luscious breasts pressed against her white blouse, nipples visible even through her bra. He'd caught a glimpse when he'd cleaned her blouse for her. And her hair was tamer now, more wavy than curly. Her lips were fuller and her face a little thinner but more defined. Her tiny waist sloped temptingly down to trim hips, emphasising an arse that was tight, toned and would fit perfectly in his palms.
She was fucking sexy.
She laughed at his joke even though it hadn't been nearly as funny as he'd intended, but he relaxed, nonetheless. "Something like that, yeah." She squeezed his arm and bit her bottom lip coyly. "Any chance you'd like to continue this conversation later? Over dinner, perhaps? I'm late for a meeting and I'll die without my morning coffee."
He was surprised by her invitation, but delighted, nonetheless. "I'd like that. Did you have a specific place in mind?"
"The Leaky's fine if that works for you?"
He loved that she suggested something casual. It said a lot about her that she didn't suggest some posh place that cost an arm and a leg just for a salad and a glass of wine.
Truthfully, he'd have gladly treated her to a five-star meal just to spend some time with her.
"Leaky it is. Seven?"
"Great," she grinned, a blush staining her cheekbones. "See you later, Fred Weasley." With a wink, she headed past him into the coffee shop.
He no longer needed coffee. Just the prospect of going out to dinner with Hermione Granger of all people tonight would be enough to fuel him during his workday.
Man, he couldn't believe how six years had turned her into a complete fox.
He'd never particularly been interested in her back in school, but now he worried she was completely out of his league.
xxx
"That goofy grin you're wearing wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you just spent your entire lunch hour up in your apartment with your girlfriend, would it?" George asked with a suggestive waggle of his brows as Fred settled in behind the till, ready to take over while his brother went to lunch.
"Possibly," he said, clamping his lips together to suppress a very smug smirk.
Hermione had just rocked his world with the best blowjob he's ever received. His knees still felt like jelly.
"I'm glad things are going well between you and Hermione. I was worried your break-up with Alicia scared you off dating for good."
"Alicia who?" He winked.
But George wasn't far off. After dating Alicia Spinnet for over a year, he'd found out she'd secretly been sleeping with another bloke on the side.
He'd been wary of relationships after that. But Hermione had swooped in with her sweet smiles, innocent looks and thoughtful gestures, giving him hope that not all witches were like Alicia.
George huffed a laugh, "Atta boy. Good for you."
"Thanks. I really like her."
"Have you introduced her to Mum and Dad as your girlfriend yet?"
"No. But I will. Soon. I just don't want her to feel like I'm rushing things."
"Oh, please. It's so obvious that Hermione's crazy about you. I see how she looks at you - practically has hearts in her eyes."
He and Hermione have been officially dating for the last month, and aside from the fantastic blowjob earlier, they haven't had sex yet.
It wasn't that they didn't want to, but they were taking things slow. Forming a connection without sex to cloud their judgement.
But after today, he thought they were due for a proper 'sleepover.'
xxx
"You're early," Hermione greeted him with a megawatt smile when she opened the door of her apartment.
She was out of breath, a light sheen of sweat pasting her hair to her temples. And she had a nasty cut on her cheek that seemed very fresh.
Fred frowned and reached out to cup her jaw. "You're hurt. What happened?"
Hermione touched her cheek and winced. "Oh, right," she chuckled, casually waving away his concern. "I was trying to bathe Crookshanks just before you arrived. Didn't go so well."
Fred furrowed his brows as he inspected the cut. It looked a little deep for Kneasle's claws.
When he opened his mouth to tell her this, she interrupted him by rising on the tips of her toes, snaking a hand into his hair and pulling him closer for a scorching kiss.
"Hi," she whispered against his lips when they broke the kiss, both breathing heavily.
He grinned, thoroughly bewitched by her and the attraction he felt toward her. "Hi yourself."
She stepped aside to let him inside and closed the door behind them. "I was thinking we could order in tonight. Have a relaxed dinner, drink some wine if that's all right?"
"Sounds good," he acquiesced as Hermione walked over to the kitchen to gather the take-out menus.
Crookshanks strutted into the living room, tail swishing lazily and looking no worse for wear despite having wrestled with Hermione just minutes ago. In fact, there wasn't even a drop of water on his fur, Fred noticed, as Crookshanks weaved tenderly between his legs.
Strange.
He looked over at her where she was wrestling with a bottle of wine and the opener, not having much success, and assessed the cut on her cheek with a frown.
She looked up with a sheepish smile, catching his eye, and said, "I'm not good with bottle openers. Think you could give me a hand?"
He chuckled, forgetting all about the cut on her cheek as he stepped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her and helped her uncork the bottle with a pop.
Hermione turned around in his arms and grinned, "My hero."
She was so fucking pretty like this, face washed clean from make-up, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She didn't need make-up. She was beautiful without it...too damn beautiful. And with that thought, he leaned in to kiss her.
It started as a gentle, probing kiss. Slow, sensual, sexy. And before he knew it, he'd slipped off her panties, she'd unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers.
He lifted her easily onto the counter, rucked up her dress and nudged her thighs wide.
With his cock throbbing in his fist, he stared, enthralled at her glistening pussy, before stepping between her thighs.
"Need me to cast a contraceptive charm?" he asked, pressing just the tip of his cock inside her.
Hermione gasped and tipped her head back, eyes squeezing shut. "I'm on the potion."
Fred pushed a little deeper into her, jaw tightening as he rocked his hips slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.
She was really tight, and he worried he might hurt her if he wasn't careful.
"I won't break, Fred," she moaned as if reading his mind, and hooked her legs around his hips. With her heels digging into his arse, she pulled him closer, deeper, and they groaned in tandem when he bottomed out inside her warm, wet cunt.
Her walls squeezed and released almost convulsively as she adjusted around him, and he wondered how long it's been since she'd had sex.
He hadn't been with anyone since Alicia, and right now, he wasn't sure he'd last a minute inside Hermione unless he took it really fucking slow.
Unfortunately, when she bucked her hips to spur him into action, to set an eager pace, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop himself from coming, and instead, went all in.
Might as well enjoy the minute inside her instead of torturing them both.
She was a greedy little thing and he loved it.
He pressed a thumb to her clit and started rubbing her vigorously, hoping, praying it would be enough to get her over the edge with him.
Fred almost shouted his relief when Hermione's walls fluttered and then tightened suddenly around his cock just as he jerked violently inside her and the first spurt of cum nearly brought him to his knees.
It didn't matter that the sex had barely lasted a minute. They were both coming and besides that, he would make up for it as many times as she allowed him tonight. Apologise with orgasms for his lack of stamina for their first time.
A couple of hours later, they were lying spread out on her bed, sweaty and gasping for breath after a very enthusiastic round of sex.
He swore it kept getting better every time they fucked.
She wasn't nearly as tame as he'd expected.
She liked it hard, rough and dirty. And he'd kept up with her, thrust for thrust even when his thighs burned, and his arms trembled.
Sex like this was something you only saw in Muggle pornos. It did not happen to someone like him, and yet, it just did.
He grinned like an idiot and rolled his head to the side to stare at Hermione.
"That was..." she panted, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed and hair wild, "The best sex of my life." She smiled lazily and patted his chest. "I feel like I should get you a medal or a trophy or something."
He chuckled, abs hurting from exertion. "A trophy would look great on my coffee table, where everyone can see what a beast I am in bed."
"What should we have inscribed on the plaque?" she asked indulgently, scooting closer to him to rest her head on his chest.
Fred wrapped an arm tightly around her and kissed her on the head. "I think we should keep it simple. Something like 'Best lay in the world' should do it."
She stroked her hand lazily over his chest and snuggled deeper into him, humming sleepily. "Good idea. I'll get on that first thing tomorrow."
Having her in his arms like this, playful, warm, and lazy made his heart feel like it wanted to burst with happiness, and the words "I love you" lingered on his tongue, begging to be spoken out loud. But she was half asleep, and he didn't want to say it like this. He wanted her fully conscious.
It was a big step. And there was no need to rush.
The last thing he wanted was to scare her off before he could take her home to his parents.
xxx
Hermione's side of the bed was empty the next morning, but the sheets were still warm. And when he remembered last night, he grinned stupidly. It was amazing.
The mouthwatering aroma of bacon hung in the air, but with it, the unmistakable scent of something burning.
He slipped out of bed, hurriedly pulled on his trousers sans briefs, and rushed into the kitchen to do damage control.
She was dressed in his button-down, her gorgeous legs on full display as she frantically carried the pan over to the sink to pour water into it.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he asked.
The pan clattered to the sink, and she jumped, turning around to face him. "Holy shit!" She clutched her chest. "You gave me a fright."
"And you gave me a fright. I thought you were burning down your apartment."
"I wanted to cook you breakfast. Thought you might be hungry after last night..." she said innocently, eyes wide. "We never got around to ordering food."
He chuckled indulgently, finding her adorable. "Do you cook often?" he asked dubiously, eyeing the charred bacon in the pan.
"I...no. Not really. Never took the time to learn properly. But I thought I could manage bacon and eggs. Apparently not." She blushed. "Sorry."
He sauntered over to her and pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Lucky for you, I know my way around the kitchen rather well."
"I have extra bacon in the—" she started to say, but he silenced her with a kiss.
"As good as breakfast sounds, I'd much rather eat you right now," he murmured against her lips and lifted her into his arms. "We'll grab breakfast in Diagon Alley once I've had my fill of you."
Without further debate on the matter, Fred carried her to bed, divested her of his shirt, and crouched between her thighs to feast on her perfect pussy.
xxx
"What's this?" Hermione asked while they were having dinner at a Muggle restaurant in London.
She stroked her finger over the little red bow on top of a black jewellery box.
It was large enough that she wouldn't panic and think he was proposing. Merlin, they've only been dating for three months now.
But tonight still counted as a big step in their relationship. The gift was part of it.
"Open it and find out," he encouraged.
Hermione's eyes glittered with excitement as she lifted the lid on the box, gasping with delight when she saw the contents.
With two fingers, she lifted a delicate necklace from the silk bed of the box, staring at it in awe. "Love," she widened her eyes at him. "You didn't have to get me anything. But thank you. It's gorgeous."
"What do you think about the charm?" he asked, hoping the little golden key would make his intentions clear.
"A key," she grinned. "To your heart?"
His smile faltered and he furrowed his brows, surprised that a witch as brilliant as her couldn't read between the lines. "Uhm, no...to my apartment."
She looked up from the necklace, staring at him with wide eyes and a hesitant smile. "You...want me to move in with you?"
"Yes," he nodded, nervous as all hell for her reaction. "I want you in my house. My bed. I want all your books to clutter my apartment. I want you burning our meals at my place, not yours."
Her smile widened. "Are you sure? I mean, giving a witch permission to burn down your apartment is a very big step, Freddie."
"Nah," he playfully waved away her comment. "I don't mind it all that much. As long as I have you by my side to help put out the fire."
She laughed, bright, happy and infectious. "Then yes. I will absolutely move in with you," she agreed, unclasping the necklace. "Help me put it on?"
And that was the night he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was going to marry Hermione Granger.
He was so far gone for her that he could no longer imagine his life without her in it.
xxx
"I can't believe we bought a house," Fred panted, stroking a hand lazily up and down Hermione's back.
They'd just christened the front door, then the area in front of the fireplace, and he was still trying to catch his breath.
"I think we'll need to buy a hearth rug first thing tomorrow morning," Hermione puffed a laugh and shifted in his arms. "And not the one we bought in Morocco. I want that one to go there," she pointed to the middle of the living room. "Sex on hardwood floors is really uncomfortable, and I plan on having a lot more of it right here with you while a fire is crackling in the grate. Especially during the winter months."
"Didn't seem to bother you all that much when you had your legs wrapped around my hips," he pointed out with an impertinent grin, pushing up to rest on his elbow while he cradled her naked body against his side. "You came like you were being fucked on the most luxurious mattress money can buy."
"That's because my husband really knows how to please me," she explained with a devilish smirk.
"Husband..." he murmured contentedly. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around that term."
He'd proposed to Hermione just shy of their one-year anniversary, and the wedding had been a spur-of-the-moment trip to Zambia with their closest friends and family, where they said their vows on the pale sands while the clear waters sloshed gently against the shore.
They were husband and wife now.
And now they've bought their forever home. Not just a starter home, like most couples do at the beginning of their marriage.
"Don't you find it strange that we got this amazing house for such a steal?" he asked, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.
She sat up, fluttering her eyes at him. "Maybe," she shrugged. "But what does it matter? We got lucky. Almost as if the universe was giving us its blessing."
"Yeah," he chuckled, finding her so fucking adorable. "You're right. We deserve this, don't we?"
"I love you so much, Fred Weasley," she said, arching her neck to kiss him. She pulled away and with a devious twinkle in her eyes, asked, "How do you feel about christening the bannister next?"
"Hmm..." he pretended to consider the suggestion. "Think we can do it without breaking the bannister before we've officially moved in? I'd like for my parents to see the place in one piece before we start breaking things."
She laughed. "We can try. Maybe make it slow and gentle?"
"Slow? Gentle?" He cocked his head and blinked. "You?"
She slapped his chest playfully. "I'm not averse to slow sex. I just like it when you fuck me like you want to break me."
END OF FLASHBACK
x
"Where's Hermione, darling?" His mother asked when he walked through the front door of the Burrow.
He'd been gathering the courage to tell his parents about everything. Hadn't come around to visit for a few months now.
Despite the fact that he was so fucking angry with Hermione, he didn't want his parents to hate her. That would be the final nail in the coffin. It would mean he'd actually have to go through with the divorce.
Why he'd been stalling on this particular matter was a mystery. She'd done enough to warrant a divorce. Had betrayed him worse than Alicia had, but he still loved her more than he's ever loved another person.
"That's what I came here to talk to you and Dad about," he explained, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
"Have you two had a row?" His father asked innocently.
If only it had been just a stupid row.
"It's worse than that," Fred sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. His shoulders sagged with defeat. "I found out a few months ago that she's an assassin for a division of the DMLE called Dark Ops. Has been for the last four years. She did her training in Paris and Japan, worked there for a while, and accepted a job at the Ministry about four years ago. Right around the time we started dating."
His mother huffed a laugh. "Oh, Freddie. You're such a jokester. No, really. What's going on?"
He looked from his mother to his father, serious. "I wish I were joking," he croaked and stuffed his fingers into his hair. "Godric, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it and believe me, I've had a while to think about things."
"But she can't be..." Dad frowned. "She's a reporter for the Daily Prophet. She...came over every week for almost two months so your mum could show her how to knit properly. And she bakes cupcakes to raise money for good causes. She's a philanthropist, not an assassin."
"Honey, are you sure you've got your facts straight? Hermione is way too sweet and soft to be a...a killer," his mum added dubiously.
"I saw it with my very own eyes. There was a bunch of Death Eaters that attacked us in our home. And she took down all four of them. Killed three with a single spell. Right in front of me. Just..." he sliced his hand sharply through the air. "Slit their throats without batting an eye. Talked about how she tortured Lucius Malfoy for information. And Dolohov. And...and Nott Senior talked about doing to me what Hermione had done to Macnair." He didn't think he needed to go into detail about how she'd tortured Lucius Malfoy.
"So...she's employed by the Ministry. She's a professional killer?" Dad questioned hesitantly as if the truth was only now beginning to sink in.
Fred nodded grimly.
"And where is she now?" his mum asked.
"At our—her house," he amended. "I've moved back into my old apartment."
"Oh my," his dad sighed. "That must be very hard for both of you."
"I can't imagine how Hermione feels right now," Mum added. "Alone, scared about what this means for you two. She probably feels really guilty."
"She knows exactly what's coming," Fred explained. "I told her I want a divorce. And she's fine on her own, Mum. She's so much stronger than you give her credit for. All those fake requests for me to help her..." He fluttered his lashes and mimicked his wife's voice, "Sweetheart, would you mind carrying these heavy books for me? Darling, could you open this jar?" He shook his head, disgusted with himself for being so blinded by his love for her. "It was all just an act. She's bloody stronger than I am."
His parents looked at him with pity, and he hated it. Why weren't they more upset about Hermione's lies and deception?
"Do you know that Ginny and the kids were at our house when those bastards blasted our front door off its hinges? That I had to get her and the kids out while my wife was being tied up in our living room? What if they hurt the kids like they did Hermione? What if they killed Lily, James or Albus? She put everyone's lives at risk because she's a rotten fucking liar. A murderer. A sadistic, heartless—"
"Oh, my poor boy..." his mum said gently and rounded the table. She wiped his cheeks with her sleeves and pulled him in for a tight hug.
When did he start crying?
"I still love her so fucking much and it's killing me. What does it say about me that I can't even summon up the courage to walk into the Ministry and file for divorce?"
"Of course you love her," Mum cooed softly. "And it should be hard to file for divorce, otherwise it means you never really cared about Hermione. But do you really want to do that? End your marriage."
Fred pulled away, confused. "What do you mean? It's not like I have a choice. I can't stay married to a woman who lied to me. Deceived me. Killed people. Our entire marriage was a sham because she only needed me to make her look like a normal, unassuming witch leading a very ordinary life."
"When you promised to love her for better or worse on your wedding day, did you mean it, or was it just something you said because that's what was expected of you?" His father asked, leaning forward to rest his clasped hands on the table. He eyed Fred speculatively.
"Of course I meant it," Fred bristled.
"Then why are you giving up? Did you honestly expect marriage to be a cakewalk? That there wouldn't come a time when you had to love her even when she made a mistake?"
"A mistake?" Fred scoffed. "Dad, it's not like she forgot to turn the oven off. Or forgot to hand in a library book on time. She kills people for a living! Tortures them. She lied to me in a big way."
"They were really bad people. She was doing it for the greater good. To protect the wizarding world from true murderers. From evil men and women who couldn't care less about the lives they destroy. It's not like she ran around London offing anyone who crossed her path."
Fred gaped at his father. Why was he defending Hermione so passionately?
"She's a good person. A good wife. And she loves you very much," Mum interjected. "Has she ever given you a reason to believe otherwise, until now?"
"No, but—"
"No," Mum cut him off. "She's only ever been good to you. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter-in-law. And you'd better pack your bags and go home, Fred Weasley. Tell your wife that you forgive her and love her unconditionally."
"You two will get through this, son," His father assured him confidently. "It might take time to trust her again. To accept that what she does for a living helps more than it hurts. But hold onto the love you two share to carry you through the hard times."
x
FLASHBACK:
He and Hermione never argued. Never shouted. They merely had disagreements, where they sat down like civilized people to talk it out and come to a compromise.
Tonight, though, they'd needed to take a time out from their disagreement before things turned heated.
It started during sex when he'd stupidly blurted, "Want to make a baby tonight?"
Realistically, he knew it wasn't as easy as that. She was still on the potion, and it would take at least a month to wear off. But it was the idea behind his statement that mattered: He was ready to have kids.
Hermione, however, clearly wasn't.
"What?" she'd said, shocked, and lifted her hips so his cock slipped out of her. She climbed off him and settled against the headboard beside him, staring at him in confusion. "Why would you say something like that?"
"I thought you wanted to have kids. That's what you said when we started dating."
"Well, yeah. But not right now," she frowned. "I thought we were on the same page about this."
"We've been married for two years already. It seemed like the perfect time to start a family."
"You thought wrong," she snapped. "And bringing it up during sex is a terrible idea."
"Is it?" he bristled. "Last time I checked, sex is how babies are made, Hermione."
"Don't patronise me," she growled. "I know that's how babies are made. But a good time to bring it up would be..." she shrugged, "I don't know...at dinner or something. Not right as I was about to come. Merlin..."
Fred got up, fished his briefs out from under their bed and pulled them on.
"Where are you going?" she asked, looking panicked.
He almost softened at the look. Almost. "I need a moment. Before I say something I don't mean. Something hurtful." And without another word, he scooped up the rest of his clothes from the foot of the bed and walked out of the bedroom.
Did she even want kids? Or was it something she thought she might want in the future, but wasn't entirely convinced of anymore?
"I'm sorry, baby," she apologised fifteen minutes later as she walked into the den.
She switched on the light, finding him lounging in his favourite armchair next to the bookshelf in the corner, a tumbler of firewhisky clutched between his thumb and middle finger.
He took a large mouthful and looked up to meet her eyes.
Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes red. She's been crying.
"Oh, my love..." he sighed miserably and placed his glass on the little side table beside the chair. He patted his thigh, inviting her to sit in his lap.
She looked so small and fragile like this. She was such a delicate little thing, and sometimes he forgot that.
"I don't like it when you walk away during a disagreement," she explained. "It scares me."
He stroked her cheek when she settled into his lap, resting her head against his chest. "I hate that I made you cry. I'm sorry if I scared you, but I was afraid of saying something in the heat of the moment that I couldn't take back once I cooled off."
She shook her head. "No. I'm the one who should apologise. I was unnecessarily hostile over the matter. I do want to have babies with you, I swear. Just not right now. Our life is perfect the way it is at the moment," she explained. "We get to have sex whenever we want, wherever we want. I don't have to share you with anyone if I don't want to. We get to go out for dinner, even if it's late. We can get tipsy without any repercussions. And we can sleep in on weekends. Hell, we can stay in bed the whole day if we want to. When we do decide to start a family, I want to be able to say that I've had time to be selfish with you. Irresponsible. Care-free. So that when we have to get up at five in the morning on a Saturday because the kids won't let us have any more sleep or keep quiet instead of having obnoxiously loud sex in case we wake up the kids, I'll know we've had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. I want to go shopping with you, or dancing, or pop over to visit your parents at the drop of a hat, so that the day we have to pack bottles and diapers and plan every outing meticulously, we won't mind, because we've had enough time to selfishly indulge our needs and desires."
"I guess that makes sense. I rather enjoy having...how did you put it...'obnoxiously loud sex' with you whenever I want. In bed, on the kitchen table, in the shower or on the banister."
"Do you know," she said and leaned in to press a kiss to his stubbled jaw, "That Harry and Ginny haven't had sex in two months?"
"Please," Fred rolled his eyes. "There's no way a husband and wife as young as they, who share a bed every night, doesn't have sex for two months. That's insane. Ginny's probably exaggerating."
"What makes you think they share a bed every night?"
Fred's brows shot up in surprise.
"They started their family very early into their marriage. As a result, the whole 'honeymoon period' waned long before it was supposed to, because they had babies to take care of. They're constantly exhausted. Have to juggle three kids, their jobs and their marital responsibilities. And something always gives. When you add a teething baby to the mix, it makes for a very shitty sex life. When Lily is fussy, or one of the boys is sick, Harry and Ginny take turns to sleep with the kids so at least one of them gets a full night's rest."
"That...sucks..." Fred sighed. "I had no idea they were having problems."
"They're not," Hermione told him with a pitying smile. "They are very happy together. But that's just what life is like with a bunch of kids. And that is why I think we should give it another couple of years."
He pulled her lips to his to kiss her gently, lazily. "I think you're right, love. We have all the time in the world."
END OF FLASHBACK
x
Fred couldn't sleep.
He tossed and turned in his bed until two in the morning when he decided to give it up as a bad job and get dressed.
He stuffed his wand into his pocket and headed for the fireplace, tossing a handful of floo powder into the grate. He called out the address to their house in London and ducked inside.
Within moments, he stepped out of the much larger fireplace of their home and called out to Hermione to let her know he'd come over.
The last thing he wanted was to scare her after what happened to them a few months ago. Or have her slice open his throat by accident.
But the house was silent and dark, and when he switched on the lights, he noticed that their living room had been restored to its former glory.
Not a speck of blood remained on the carpets. The broken furniture had been meticulously repaired. Even the scorch mark on the Moroccan rug was gone.
It was as if that horrifying day had never happened.
He headed upstairs to their bedroom but found the bed empty.
All her knick-knacks on her bedside table were gone, and when he opened her side of the closet, he found that she'd cleared out all her stuff.
All that remained was his things.
That applied to every room in their house, and he was suddenly terrified that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life when he'd told her he wanted a divorce. Turns out she'd believed him.
He found a letter addressed to him on the kitchen table, stuffed carefully under an empty vase, and hesitantly opened it. He pulled out a chair at the table, sat down and steeled himself for what her letter might say.
Fred
How can I ever apologise for deceiving you? For hurting you and making you doubt my love for you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't regret pursuing you under false pretenses, selfish as that may sound.
I never planned on letting things between us go as far as they did, but when the time came to walk away from you, I married you instead.
You crawled so deeply beneath my skin that I don't think I'll ever be able to get you out.
I don't want to try, either.
I love you fiercely, recklessly, unconditionally and that's why I can't, in good conscience, sell this house. It's yours to do with as you please.
Yours, always, Hermione
xxx
Ten things I love about my wife:
1. She always asks about my day, instead of telling me about hers. Although now that I think about it, that doesn't seem so selfless anymore. She probably couldn't tell me anything before. Didn't want to.
2. She always smells so fucking good.
3. She is an amazing cuddler.
4. She is very smart.
5. She is incredibly beautiful.
6. She can't cook to save her life but always tries her best. Always wants me to relax after work while she takes care of me.
7. She never criticises me or makes me feel unworthy.
8. She refuses to fight with me; she insists we talk things through like adults instead of resorting to shouting matches.
9. She is an incredible aunt to all our nieces and nephews.
10. She is always raising money for some sort of cause because she has a big, beautiful heart.
11. She insists we take showers or baths together. Never alone.
12. She likes to sing loudly and completely out of tune while she cleans the house or does the laundry.
13. She sends little care packages with treats to the joke shop every week.
14. She doesn't complain when I want to go out with my mates for a drink after work. Not that it happens very often.
15. She is pedantic about dental health.
16. She always helps my mum in the kitchen.
17. She spoils my parents with a hotel stay for their anniversary every year.
18. She gives my dad the most interesting Muggle gadgets for Christmas every year.
19. She proudly wears the jumpers my mum knits for us.
20. She gives the best blowjobs ever! Always swallows. And I'm not sure she even possesses a gag reflex.
21. Sex with her is like nothing I've ever experienced before. Seriously. No one can compare to my wife.
22. She makes me feel as if I'm the only wizard in the world with her generous hugs, kisses and attention.
23. Her body is what wet dreams are made of. I suppose it makes more sense now that I know what she does for a living: her abs, thighs, arse. No witch looks that good without following a stringent exercise routine. Hermione only jogs for an hour in the mornings while I work out in our home gym. That does not warrant the kind of muscles she sports, so she must be training for hours at work every day.
24. She can eat a lot more than I can but cannot hold her liquor at all. Probably a result of being so fit.
25. That she got me a 'Best lay in the world' trophy after we had sex for the first time. I still keep it on our coffee table.
xxx
"I need you to find out where Hermione is," Fred said as he burst into Harry's office.
The two Aurors occupying the chairs opposite Harry at his desk, turned in their seats to scowl at him.
"Sorry," he apologised. "I didn't think you were busy."
But he remained rooted to the spot. He needed to find his wife as soon as possible, and he wouldn't leave until Harry agreed to do some snooping.
"We'll continue this discussion later," Harry told the Aurors, gesturing for them to leave.
Fred closed the door behind him as soon as he and Harry were alone and took a seat.
"She's gone. Took all her things from the house and left," he stated almost accusingly. It wasn't Harry's fault his wife felt unwelcome in her own home.
Harry frowned, scratching his jaw irritably. "I thought that's what you wanted."
He supposed he deserved some of Harry's ire. He'd been rather cold toward Hermione. "I...thought so too. Initially."
"And now?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "You know she's just waiting for the moment you send her the divorce papers, right? She's convinced you don't want anything to do with her anymore."
Fred nodded, dropping his gaze to his lap.
"I thought you loved her?"
He looked up suddenly, anger bubbling to the surface. "I do!"
"Yet, you pushed her away the one and only time she fucked up."
"Harry, mate," he scoffed. "It's a little more complicated than that."
"But also really simple. You love her. She loves you. It's not like she cheated on you. She was just...doing her job...which required her to keep certain things from you, sure. Just like I have to keep certain things from Ginny."
This was a particularly difficult pill to swallow: How Harry had known Hermione's secrets, yet never told Fred a thing. Let her deceive him. Realistically, he understood why Harry and Hermione couldn't tell him anything—their jobs prohibited them from revealing classified information to civilians. But as Fred's wife, Hermione's betrayal cut deep. And as his brother-in-law, Harry should have had Fred's back.
"But when Hermione accepted a job with the Dark Ops department here in London, the DMLE needed her close to where we suspected the Death Eater safehouse was. At first, having her move into your apartment a few months into your relationship worked out rather perfectly. Until we discovered another safe house a little further from Diagon Alley."
It suddenly clicked. "That's why we got our house so cheap, isn't it? So she could be close to both safehouses. It wasn't like we could actually afford it on our salaries."
"Well..." Harry shrugged a shoulder. "You're right about it being close to the safehouses. But Hermione paid for your house out of her own pocket. There were many other, more modest houses she could have chosen from that the DMLE would have been happy to pay for. But she wanted a house where you two could start your lives together, start a family. It's close to some really good schools. The city is a stone's throw away. It was really rather perfect for you two."
His stomach fluttered and the embers of hope in his heart flared to life when he realised not everything had been a lie. She truly wanted to build a life with him. "I need you to tell me where she is."
Harry leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he observed Fred silently for a minute. "Why should I tell you?"
Fred barked a derisive laugh, but Harry cocked a reprimanding brow.
"I just want my wife back. I want us to figure out how to move forward from here. What the next steps in her career will be. I need us to work through our problems, so I don't have to live without her."
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. "She's in France."
"She's working for the French Ministry again?" So, she's gotten her old job back. Was she continuing to...get her hands dirty?
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered as long as he got her back.
"Not exactly..." Harry said and removed his glasses, cleaning them with the hem of his robes. "She's taking some time off from...everything. Says she's figuring out her next move."
"Oh," Fred puffed out a breath of surprise. He hadn't expected that.
"But what if she decides that she wants to continue working for Dark Ops? Here, or in France," Harry asked.
"Then I'll have to accept her choice, I suppose. I'm not saying I agree with what she's done or what she chooses to do for the rest of her life, but I love her enough to let her figure that out for herself."
"You know those Death Eaters were responsible for some terrible things, right? Things you have no idea about. Things that would make what I went through with Voldemort sound like a walk in the park."
"They tortured and killed innocent people, I know," Fred admitted warily.
"Raped women and children out in the open. Disembowled them and left their entrails on the doorsteps of their homes for their families to find. Things like that."
"Did they ever...you know...do some of those things to Hermione?" Fred choked, his stomach churning violently at the thought that someone may have raped his wife. "
No!" Harry insisted. "Not her, no. Other than what happened with Bellatrix, I mean. But some of the people we know weren't so lucky. I won't mention names. Recovery for many of the survivors, mentally and physically, has been...a long and difficult journey."
All Fred could do was nod. It made him sick to his stomach to think that he may have interacted with some of these victims while having no idea what they'd been through. It was a stark reminder that kindness cost nothing because you never knew what some people were hiding behind their smiles.
"I'll do some digging and let you know where Hermione is currently staying. My guess is Paris, but now that she's not working for the French Ministry, she might have moved out to the countryside for some peace and quiet."
xxx
Harry had been right about Hermione moving to the countryside in France.
Fred found her planting flowers in her garden when he walked through the back door, and onto a small patio.
Crookshanks was happily chasing gnomes across the lawn, completely ignoring his presence.
"You left," he accused in greeting, almost no heat behind his words as he walked up to Hermione who had her back turned to him.
He'd have thought someone with her training would never let herself be caught off guard like this, but he'd noticed the way her body subtly stiffened for attack the moment he'd stepped onto her back porch.
She didn't miss a thing, although he guessed from the way she relaxed at the sound of his voice that she hadn't expected her intruder to be him.
He wondered how many little clues he'd missed over the last four years. Subtle shifts in posture or body language that would hopefully become more apparent to him now that he knew the truth about her job.
"Packed up all your stuff without telling me, and left London altogether."
"You asked for a divorce, Fred," she stated coolly, tossing the spade aside to remove her gloves. But she didn't turn to face him. "What did you expect me to do when you didn't answer any of my owls and refused to see me?"
"I didn't mean any of the things I said," he responded carefully, halting his approach.
She scoffed, got to her feet and turned to face him.
"Merlin, you're beautiful," he sighed, eyes doing a circuit of the face he's become so very partial to over the last four years. He hasn't seen her for three fucking months, and it suddenly felt as if he could breathe again. "I swear I forgot just how much."
"Fred..." she chided, getting him back on track, but she blushed despite herself.
"I thought I couldn't accept the job you chose. Or how you lied to me and used me. And that's partly why I told you I wanted a divorce. I thought you didn't love me."
"I'm not that good an actress," she bit out through clenched teeth and folded her arms. "I may have kept a lot of things from you, and lied about most of it, but my feelings for you were genuine."
"Were?"
"Does it matter?" she asked, lifting her chin defiantly.
"Very much, yes," he said and took a step towards her.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I know you'd never have put me or my family in danger on purpose. I'm sorry I accused you of that. It was terrible of me."
"You were right to be angry about that. I never should have let them spend time at our house, even if I thought they were safe. I should have known there would always be a chance someone could discover who I was and come after me and the people I love."
"Is my family in any danger now that Nott's been apprehended? Are there others who might come for you? Hurt you and the people you love?"
"Everyone has been taken care of," she explained vaguely, but he could read between the lines. "There's no one left who'd come for me."
Still, he had to ask. Hear her say it. "You mean, they're all dead? You...killed them?"
"Most of them, yeah," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Not all. My team got to a few before I could. And Nott...Whittemore took a special interest in him. Finished the job himself. For personal reasons."
Fred clamped his lips and nodded. What was he supposed to say to this?
"If the roles had been reversed," Hermione continued gently, "I'm sure I would have been freaked out as well. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. But unfortunately, this is something I can't change. And you should know that even if I could change what I did, I wouldn't. A lot of people can sleep better at night knowing that all the monsters have been taken care of. Some can finally start healing and rebuild their lives."
"Harry mentioned something about that, yeah," he acknowledged.
"And knowing what I did, having seen a lot of evil things since I started working for Dark Ops, I couldn't...wouldn't bring a child into this world before knowing every threat has been eliminated."
"Can't fault you for that. But the reasons you gave before...made sense too. And I'm sorry I put so much pressure on you to start a family when you clearly weren't ready."
Her eyes softened.
"Look, I don't care if I have to wait ten years to start a family, but I need my wife. I need you to come home because that's the most important thing. We'll figure out the rest as we go along."
EPILOGUE
One year later
The road to get to where they were now had not been the easiest.
There were a lot of things he'd learned about his wife in the last year. Some things good, some bad. Others...horrifying.
She'd been open with him about everything, and he'd discovered a newfound respect for her. She was brave and strong and downright terrifying, even if he knew she'd never hurt him like that.
She still asked him to open jars for her—jam, pickle, anything she could find, really. Even wine bottles. It was their little inside joke.
After bringing her home to London, they'd moved back his things from his apartment, and they'd slowly picked up the pieces of a marriage that had not been entirely real, and yet, had been built on a foundation of true love strong enough to carry them through the difficult days.
The core traits of Hermione's personality remained the same as it had when he'd fallen for her at the very beginning. She never stopped rallying for the underdogs. Still held bake sales and fundraisers and donated to good causes. She loved him just as much as she had before the truth had come to light.
The sex was even better than before because she now asked for slow and soft every once in a while. And those times felt as if they were erasing some of the damage that had been done to their marriage.
Hermione now trained Dark Ops apprentices and consulted on the more complicated cases, but no longer participated in the more unsavoury tasks.
She seemed happy. More at peace.
He'd initially been worried that she would miss getting her hands dirty, but she'd assured him her hands were bloody enough to last her a hundred lifetimes.
And that was enough to give him peace of mind.
"Hermione?" he called as he stepped out of the fireplace and into their living room, hoping she was home already.
These days, she often got home a little later than before their very short separation. But now, she told him about her day too, instead of shifting the spotlight entirely onto him. There was nothing more to hide.
"Upstairs!" she called but didn't elaborate.
What was she up to?
In their room, he found Hermione waiting for him on the bed, wearing a very racy set of lingerie and a saucy smirk on her red-painted lips.
The room glowed golden in the candlelight as fifty or more candles guttered when he closed the bedroom door behind him and shamelessly stared at his wife.
"How was your day dear?" she asked and spread her thighs wide for him.
"Uhm..." he faltered when he noticed her knickers. Or lack thereof. "I...wow, love." He pointed between her legs like an idiot. "Your knickers seem to be missing a gusset."
He could see exactly how wet she was right now, and his cock hardened painfully in his trousers.
She slipped her fingers to her pussy, and with feigned surprise said, "Well, what do you know? There is a piece missing."
He nodded vigorously and started loosening his tie.
He swallowed with difficulty as she dipped two fingers into her core with a slow slide.
"I wanted to surprise you," she said with a long, dramatic moan as her fingers started pumping in and out of her cunt with more urgency.
"You did," he agreed, tossing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with eager fingers. "It's a really nice surprise."
"That's not the best part," she whispered, and he could hear how wet she was as she bucked against her hand to fuck herself.
"Oh yeah?" his brows furrowed. He failed to see what more there could be. This was the perfect way to be greeted after a long day.
He shucked his trousers, slipped off his briefs and stalked over to his wife so he could fuck her until she screamed the 'best part' in his ear.
"I've stopped using the potion," she explained with glittering eyes and a smug smirk.
This made him pause, eyes widening. "You have?"
This was not what he'd expected her to say. At all.
"A little over a month ago." Her thighs were starting to tremble as she continued to pump her fingers into her slippery cunt. "And I'm a day or two away from ovulation."
"Jesus..." he groaned, his cock jerking violently at the notion that she was asking him to get her pregnant. Right here. Right. Fucking. Now. "Hermione..." he murmured, sliding his hands up her thighs and digging his fingers into the meat.
He could see she was on the edge of climax, and he was not going to let her come if he wasn't inside her. Not tonight. Hell, not for the next week. Certainly not until her pussy was filled to the brim with every single drop of cum his body could produce.
He's never been as horny for his wife as he was right now.
He pulled her fingers from her cunt and slipped them into his mouth to suck off her arousal. It might have been his imagination, but he swore she tasted sweeter than usual.
And with an eager buck of his hips, he sheathed himself deep inside her scorching pussy, groaning as her walls fluttered around him.
Let the breeding games begin.
"Hope you're not tired, love," he whispered in her ear, holding completely still while she trembled beneath him, eager for him to let her come. "Because this is going to be a long night. I'm going to make sure I get you pregnant before the sun rises tomorrow morning."
With only the words from over his lips, Hermione's back arched suddenly, pelvis rocking into him as her walls clenched around his cock and she cried out his name in praise.
He fucked her through her orgasm with slow, deep strokes, and when her pussy relaxed, he picked up the pace.
His thrusts were rough, unforgiving and dirty, and yet, she eagerly bucked her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.
Before his brain could catch up with his movements, his hands fisted in the sexy little lace bodice she'd put on just for him and ripped it right down the middle so her pretty, generous tits spilt out from their confines like the most glorious gift.
His hand cupped roughly around the full flesh, thumb stroking back and forth over a taught pink nipple while his other hand curled tightly into her hip to steady her against the unforgiving jerk of his hips. "What a pretty little wife you are," he praised, drinking in the sight of her body before he dipped his head to suck greedily on her neglected nipple.
The thought of spilling his cum into her in a matter of minutes and knowing that it would be different than all the other times before had him manic, feral, electrified.
"Freddie!" she gasped and he could feel the way her walls started pulsing around his cock. "So close. But I need," her breath hitched. "You have to...if we—"
"Shhh, love," he soothed against her lips, understanding what she was trying to tell him. "I know..." he promised, and when a beautiful cry tumbled over her lips, Fred belted her leg around his hip and bent the other to press her knee to her chest, slipping even deeper inside her.
And then they crested together, perfectly in sync, while stars burst behind his lids like fireworks.
A/N:
Thanks for reading.
Curious to hear your thoughts.
x