All the Kings… Siblings
(All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.)
Prologue (September, 2002)
Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all watched with rapt attention as Ron expertly deflected yet another Quaffle from flying through the hoops he was defending. The crowd's chant, 'Weasley is our King!' 'Weasley is our King!' echoed around them, and they joyfully joined in.
It had been two years since Hermione had gotten to one of his matches, and almost as long for Ginny. Harry, however, made sure to attend two or three games every season. Today's match was a lovely surprise for Hermione's husband, who often lamented his family's absence at his games. It was also so they could invite him to a belated birthday dinner for her twenty-third birthday that had been the day before.
After the war, Harry and Ron had both embarked on careers as Aurors, but it didn't take Ron long to realise he didn't like the paperwork and even the constant chase after the criminal element of the magical world he fast became disenchanted with.
However, thanks to the fame the Golden Trio gained from their efforts during the war, his favourite Quidditch team approached him and offered him the position of Keeper. Everybody in the family was ecstatic for him, and to say he leaped at the opportunity was an understatement. He seized the opportunity with such enthusiasm that he soon became a key player in turning the team's fortunes around.
Ginny, too, shone as a Quidditch star, playing chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, the only all-female Quidditch team. Harry's reputation as an Auror rose steadily, based on merit rather than his pre-existing fame due to his talent in the area of Defence Against the Dark Arts, attention to detail, and his unwavering commitment to justice and the protection of the magical community.
Hermione found her niche within the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and while not everyone recognised her talents, the Unspeakables did. They invited her to consult with them on some research projects, and she was sure it was a testament to her dedication to her work.
She couldn't have been happier with how her life was unfolding. That was until the day somebody attempted to take it away from her in the form of a curse. She was still awaiting the results of what the mysterious hex had done to her, and until then she was on compulsory leave from the Ministry. Despite this, she refused to let her would-be assailant steal her joy.
Married to her dearest friend, and with her two other best friends blissfully united too, her life was perfect. All the Weasleys were alive and well, despite having narrowly escaped tragedy when Fred was caught in an explosion and almost crushed by a collapsing wall. Thank goodness Hermione and Ron had arrived at the right time, and Hermione was quick to pull him out of the way with the 'Accio' spell.
She supposed there were many close calls for the Weasley family the day of the final battle, but everybody else had had someone there to back them up. It was simple dumb luck that saved Fred's life. Fred's gratitude towards Hermione was evident, and his playful suggestion that she should leave Ron for him became a running joke.
It was all teasing, of course. The Weasley twins didn't do serious relationships. They found it hard to do anything in life seriously, and so that was what made their joke shop so perfect while also being surprising in its success and longevity. Despite their light-hearted approach to life, their joke shop not only thrived but also quickly became a staple in the wizarding world. Their ability to infuse humour and joy into their products resonated with their customers, proving that seriousness isn't always a prerequisite for success.
A few exciting hours later, the game came to an end with a deafening roar as the Chudley Cannons claimed another rare victory over their opponents' thanks in no small part to their talented Keepers efforts.
The three exchanged proud smiles over Ron's triumph, but they lingered in the stands, allowing the crowd to disperse. They all understood that Ron would need a bit of time in the club rooms with his team and to clean up after the game.
Soon after, they made their way downstairs and into the V.I.P. area, unsurprised by all the people still heading out. The aftermath of the match would typically involve a flurry of interviews and heartfelt conversations with the coaches. Amidst the buzz, a mix of wives, girlfriends, children, and an array of friends and family members eagerly anticipated the chance to embrace their victorious stars. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were immersed in this familiar post-game ritual, their hearts swelling with pride and anticipation to congratulate their own champion.
Spotting a mutual acquaintance, Hermione and Ginny paused for a very brief hello, while Harry proceeded undeterred towards the changing room's entrance. At that moment, another Quidditch player emerged and spotted Harry with a hearty grin.
"Might want to give your mate a few minutes. He's celebrating," the wizard said with a hearty laugh and a suggestive wink before walking away, chuckling to himself. Harry met the eyes of his wife and best friend as they approached, knowing they had caught the insinuation as well.
"Let me go in first," Harry said with worry.
"Not on your life, Harry Potter," Hermione Granger-Weasley said at once and pushed the door open. She braced, expecting the worst, yet the room was empty, devoid of anything or anyone. The other two came in behind her, and they all shared a puzzled look until they heard a moan coming from the showers.
"Mi, don't," Harry said, going to take her arm, but his wife stopped him with a shake of her head. Hermione swallowed thickly even as she marched with determination towards the running shower she could hear. The orange-tiled room was echoing with the sounds of water, slapping bodies and moans of pleasure.
She turned a corner and there he was with his back to her as he slammed his hips toward the female body that was wrapped around him. She felt fury as well as heartbreak at the scene.
"I was under the impression you didn't like shower sex," she said in a voice that even surprised her in its calmness. She felt Ginny's comforting hand settle on her shoulder, while Harry's found a reassuring place on her lower back as they reached her side, even as Ron spun around to face them. The witch with him gave a startled cry at his sudden action.
"You're a piece of shit, Ronald Weasley!" Ginny told her brother, who was frantically trying to pull a towel around himself.
"It's not what it looks like," Ron exclaimed, his face flushing a bright red and looking every bit the guilty party he was.
"Really? Because it looks as though you were shagging a slut against the wall!" Ginny seethed at him sarcastically. I seemed to have lost the ability to speak and just stood there staring at my husband and best friend, wondering just who he was.
"I am not a slut!" A high-pitched feminine voice said from behind him, and a cry of pain tore from my throat. I felt sick, and my knees went weak. Thank goodness for Harry catching me, or I would have fallen.
"Mi…" Ron said with pain etched on his face, but all three of us took a step back from him at the same time.
"No, Ron. No! You just stay the fuck away from her for now," Harry said with anger in his voice. He then scooped me up into his arms as though I were a child, and together with Ginny, whisked me away from there.
"I love you, Mi," I heard Ron call behind us. It was then that the floodgates of my tears broke open, and I was unable to stem the flow for what felt like an eternity.
Part 1. Ginny Potter
Exchanging a glance with my husband, I knew my eyes blazed with scorn and hatred for my brother. Hermione was cradled in his arms, crying her eyes out over that git who was never worthy of her. Three years they had been married! Hermione's poured her heart and soul into making him happy, and this—this is how he treats her! Cheap sex with a whore!
I was seething, absolutely livid, and I was determined to ensure every single Weasley knew just what a piece of shit Ronald Bilius Weasley was. Hermione is adored by all of us—there's no way we'd let her suffer such indignity without consequence.
As soon as we cleared the stadium's threshold, I latched onto Harry's arm, and with a swift twist of magic, he whisked us all back to the warmth and comfort of our home. 12 Grimmauld Place had transformed from the dank and dim place it had once been into a home as warm and welcoming as the Burrow itself.
"Just hold off on any rash moves until I return," Harry implored, his tone earnest and tinged with worry. He kissed my forehead and then ran up the stairs with Hermione still in his arms. Usually, I would have admired his backside as he did something like that, but I was just too incensed to appreciate it.
I conjured my Patronus, a gleaming horse, and directed it to deliver a message to all my brothers and mum and dad too. I relished the thought of mum giving Ron an earful over this.
"You did something rash, didn't you?" Harry remarked as he reappeared at the top of the stairs. There was no surprise in his tone, just a resigned acceptance, proving he knew me all too well.
"I don't think so," I said as I watched him descend. "I would have told everyone regardless of your words. He may be your best friend, but Ron's my brother, and I am sick to death of his shit. Hermione didn't deserve this!" I exclaimed, my voice quivering with the onset of tears, now that we were safe at home and my anger had nowhere else to channel.
"I know, Spark," he said, drawing me into a warm, secure hug. "I just figured… maybe Hermione needed a moment to herself, you know?"
"Oh," I murmured, and felt a bit ashamed of not having thought of that. Harry's lips brushed the crown of my head in a comforting kiss before he guided me deeper into the house. "If Ron needed more, he ought to have just talked to her," I sighed, the sadness in my voice a heavy cloak as we settled into the parlour, nestling together on one of the sofa's.
The parlour of Grimmauld Place, where dark drapes once hung, was now adorned with curtains in the vibrant hues of a patchwork quilt. The walls, previously lined with grim portraits, were now showcasing bright paintings and the occasional moving photograph, featuring smiling faces and laughter. A cosy fire crackled in the hearth, the mantle above it was decorated with knick-knacks and trinkets. The plush armchairs and sofas had been reupholstered with a refreshing aqua fabric.
"I know, Spark," Harry agreed, his voice mirroring the sorrow in mine.
"I really believed they were happy, you know?" I told him.
"Me too," Harry murmured, his fingers raking through that untamed jet-black hair of his. "But not everyone is as open to chatting the way we are." Rising to my knees, I turned to him and cradled his face in my hands, gazing into those emerald eyes that I still found mesmerising.
"We've got our understanding, but promise me, if you ever start feeling different, if I'm ever asking too much... you'll tell me, right?" I pressed, needing that reassurance. The last thing I wanted was to find myself in a situation like Hermione's, blindsided and hurt.
"You have given me everything I have ever wanted and more. I love giving you what you want. I must admit, the first time and maybe even the second were a bit rough, but now we know our limits. Our expectations," he shared with me, a chuckle escaping him that somehow remained self-deprecating. I loved that nothing could rob this wizard of his humbleness.
"I was scared stiff to tell you for the longest time, but the twins, they told me I'd never find real happiness if I wasn't being true to myself," I confessed to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He let out a chuckle against me, then pulled me in closer and gave me a proper, thorough kiss.
Releasing me, he admitted with a playful glint in his eye, "It was a bit of a jolt, finding out my girlfriend had a thing for witches too, but I've got to admit, it is bloody hot to experience." I grinned at him in happiness.
"No regrets?" I queried.
"None," he replied.
That evening, the whole Weasley clan, minus Ron, descended on Grimmauld Place, their outrage matching my own. Part of me regretted telling Mum; she wept nonstop, trying over and over to argue that we'd simply misunderstood what we'd seen. She didn't want to believe that her little Ronnie could possibly have hurt Hermione, who was like another daughter to her. It pained me to cause her such distress, but we all could see she knew the truth.
Hermione was mortified by the fuss and excused herself, slipping away to the room she and Ron had always shared here. But she accepted a plate of food from Mum when she took it up to her.
Fred and George were itching to track down the git and unleash their entire arsenal of nastiest pranks on him. But deep down, we all understood that wasn't what Hermione would have wanted. She'd never stand for such antics, not even against Ron, even when it's deserved.
Percy remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the stairs, as if he longed to offer Hermione some words of comfort. But we all knew that comforting others was never his strong suit, even on the best of days.
Bill and Fleur were nestled together, his arm draped around her shoulders, while eleven-month-old Victoire sat on her mother's lap. Bill's eyes were clouded with a discomfort that went deeper than the surface, a reflection of the sorrow that hung over our family. Fleur, though, she might as well have been alone for all she cared about the tense air around them. It made my skin crawl, how she could just sit there, all aloof. I couldn't help it; I still couldn't stand her. Every time I looked at them together, a part of me wished Bill had found someone else, someone who deserved the title of my brother's wife.
Charlie was practically carving a path in the old floorboards, his fists balled up as if he was ready to take a swing at Ron. I'd have stood right there, cheering him on.
Dad cradled Mum in his arms, both of them sinking into the cushions of another sofa. His gaze was fixed on the floor, and even from across the room, I could see the weight of deep disappointment and sadness in his eyes. Nothing much was accomplished by the sombre gathering, but it was evident that Hermione was loved deeply by every single person here, and we were all going to do our part and take care of her.
For a fortnight, Hermione barely left her room, her cries occasionally breaking the quiet. Harry turned Ron away from our door time and again, and not only because I couldn't face him without attacking him. The 'Bat Bogie Hex' was still one of my go-to spells.
"I reckon we ought to cheer Hermione up," I suggested to Harry, nestled in his arms in our bed, the one we shared with no one.
"I was under the impression that we were," Harry murmured, his hand tracing the length of my naked back in gentle patterns.
"Yeah, but maybe she needs a bit of revenge to put it behind her," I remarked, feeling his hand pause.
"If you're hinting at what I believe you are, I'm not sure Hermione would be on board with that," he told me carefully.
"Would it bother you if I asked her?" I inquired. He fell silent for a short spell as he thought.
"I don't want to lose her, Spark. She's been my best friend for far too long. Go ahead and ask her, but let's not press the matter. Not everyone can be like us," he said, planting a kiss atop my head.
"I won't," I agreed happily, holding tighter to him. I didn't reckon Hermione would go for it, but the thought of getting one over on my brother was tempting.
Three days on, Hermione gawked at me with a look that was pure, speculative horror, while Harry squirmed next to me, clearly ill at ease.
"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Mione," Harry said, his tone tinged with a sort of guilt, as if he was doing something wrong, and I couldn't stop myself from frowning at him. He glanced at me with a guilty expression before his gaze fell to the ground. We'd discussed this, so I knew he wasn't opposed to the idea, but he was truly anxious about how Hermione would take it.
"You two…" Hermione paused, her tongue darting out nervously, wetting her lips. "You both engage in… that?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes," I affirmed with a nod. "I've always been aware of my attraction to both witches and wizards."
"Yes, but… But you and Harry love each other, don't you?" She asked, her brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and earnest worry.
Harry's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fierce certainty, declaring, "Of course we do, Mi. I love her more than anyone in the world!"
"Then why?" She asked, truly bewildered.
"I want Ginny to be happy, and I've discovered that a little variety doesn't bother me in the slightest," he said with a casual shrug, yet he still blushed a little. It was so cute that I couldn't help but lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. When he turned to me, I flashed him a cheeky grin. He chuckled—a warm, genuine sound—and lifted my hand to his lips for a tender kiss.
"And the two of you are proposing that I… Ah… That we engage in… that. The three of us?" she asked in a stilted fashion.
"We won't make you do anything you're not comfortable with Hermione," I said, repeating Harry's words. "But you didn't deserve what Ron did to you, and we love you. I know you don't feel the same way, and I've always been perfectly happy just being your friend and now your sister-in-law. But just because I've never said anything doesn't mean I haven't thought about it—what might it have been like to sleep with you—and I know Harry's pondered it too."
Hermione's eyes widened to the size of Galleons, looking at us both in panicked disbelief, as if she couldn't fathom what she'd just heard.
"Please don't look that way, Mi," Harry said, his voice tinged with sadness and concern. "Nothing has to change. I'm certain you understand that everyone has fantasies, and knowing you were one of ours… Please, don't let that spoil our friendship." I reached out and took Harry's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I could hear the tremor of fear in his voice, and it pained me. Doubts crept in, making me question if I was right to have brought this up at all. The last thing I wanted was to cause either of them any distress.
Hermione watched us in silence for what felt like an eternity, and her face became a theatre of emotions, each one passing over her features like shadows cast by a flickering candle.
"I will not turn my back on either of you over this. I love you both too much for that, but I don't think…" Hermione said, her voice faltering just a bit. She paused, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips in that nervous gesture once more. After a moment's reflection, marked by a frown creasing her brow, she met our eyes again. "Do you think I could have some time to think about this?"
"Take all the time you need," Harry expressed with a sigh of relief, and I nodded my agreement. Hermione observed us for a moment more, then suddenly, her laughter rang out, clear and wild. She couldn't seem to stop, and while Harry and I grinned at the scene before us, we were totally taken aback. The sound of her laughter, though, was a welcome change to the last few weeks stressors.
Seeming to regain some composure, Hermione stood up, declaring, "I'm starving! Let's order pizza." But as quickly as she'd gotten up, she was overcome with laughter again, collapsing back into her chair.
"Guess I'll order pizza," Harry remarked, his voice tinged with amused bewilderment, and that just set Hermione off again. I caught my husband's eye, and we shared a knowing smile—this was the kind of madness you could never plan for. With a shake of his head, still grinning, he slipped out to place our order.
Hermione's fleeting cheer didn't stand a chance against the relentless tide of reality. Just days later, she was hauled off to the Ministry to see some specialists, keen on running a battery of tests to unravel the mystery of the hex that had been cast on her. But true to form, they were all tight-lipped, not giving her any results.
As Hermione was making her way back into Grimmald Place, Ron sprang up from his perch beside the staircase where he had been sitting the whole bloody day. My brother had apparently taken up a new hobby as a stalker, lurking outside the townhouse for hours on end.
Hermione finally caved, letting Ron past the threshold, and the two of them vanished into the library for a 'chat'. Even from where I sat in the kitchen, it was clear as day that things were about as smooth as a Bludger's flight path.
Ron's voice was escalating, each word more desperate than the last, while Hermione's responses were becoming increasingly distressed. When I couldn't listen to it anymore, I barged into the room, and I laid down the law.
"Out, Ron!"
"Back off, Gin," Ron growled at me. "This isn't any of your business!"
"Maybe not," I said, my voice steady but laced with the steel of a Beater's bat. "But let's get one thing straight, Ron. This is my house; Hermione is my friend and my guest, and you've worn out your welcome. So, pack up your unconvincing remorse and leave her be," I told him, my calmness an effort of sheer willpower.
"Hermione, please, just come home. I reckon we can sort through this mess. It's gotten out of hand, and it doesn't need to be the big thing it has turned into," he pleaded, and Hermione and I both gaped at him in disbelief.
"Tell me something, brother of mine," I began, thick with sarcasm. "If you caught Hermione being pile-drived by some random in a shower, would that be a big deal to you?" He paled and cringed, then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left the house.
"He claimed it shouldn't matter because I have never been that interested in sex." Hermione's words tumbled out, laced with broken-hearted disbelief. I looked back at her in interest and more than a little sadness on her behalf.
"Is that true?" I inquired softly, guiding her by the hand towards the comfort of a nearby sofa.
She exhaled a tremulous sigh and responded, "Sex never struck me as particularly significant, and Ron never pushed the issue. I had always presumed I had a perfectly ordinary sex drive, and not once have I turned him down when he wanted it."
"And what about the rest?" I gently prodded, drawing her close, wrapping my arms around her in a firm embrace. She leant into me, her head finding its place against my chest as she returned the hug.
"The rest of what?" She inquired, her brow knitting into a frown as she looked up at me.
"Foreplay, for example?" I asked as I peered into her deep brown eyes.
She glanced away, breaking our eye contact. "Oh, that," she murmured. "Well, it did pique my curiosity in the beginning, but once again, Ron didn't think it was necessary. And often, by day's end, I was so tired from work, and then having to cook, I was quite happy to go without." I felt a surge of sympathy for my sister-in-law, and, not for the first time, I labelled my brother the world's biggest prat.
"Have you ever had an orgasm?" I asked her as I gently stroked her back, I could feel the subtle shivers of sorrow that she tried so hard to conceal.
"Of course," she replied immediately, then hesitated, adding, "Well, I think so." I had to resist the urge to facepalm. If she had truly experienced an orgasm, there wouldn't be a shred of doubt in her mind.
"Do you want one?" I asked, and I felt her stiffen in my arms.
"Do you mean now?" She whispered, and a surge of excitement rippled through me, though I knew I had to temper myself.
"No. Part of the agreement between Harry and me is that we only have sex with others when the other is present. No matter what that sexual act is," I told her.
"Oh," she said, sounding small and unsure, but she relaxed against me once again, so I took that as encouragement.
"Would you be willing to share some details of what your arrangement involves?" Hermione asked, her voice steady, after a thoughtful pause.
"It's pretty straightforward, actually. We both must agree on the partner, and most anything else goes. The only condition Harry put forward—and let's be honest, it was a no-brainer for me to agree—is that he will only cum in my pussy. Our female partner can swallow him or take him in the arse to their hearts content, but his baby-making abilities—they're being kept just for me," I told her, and I didn't miss the little shiver that passed through her at the dirty words.
"That seems reasonable," she replied after a brief pause.
"We think so, and so far, we have had no complaints," I said with a cheeky grin, the corners of my mouth twitching with barely contained pride. She gave a little laugh in response to my smugness.
"You are beautiful, Ginny; I doubt anyone would complain," she remarked with amusement.
"What about Harry?" I prodded, a hint of mischief in my tone. She glanced up and rolled her eyes.
"Harry, with his reputation as the saviour of the magical world and those striking eyes of his—it's hard to envision many witches who would refuse him," Hermione said. I grinned at her.
"You are right," I replied again. She pushed herself up and off me, determined to meet my gaze squarely.
"Ginny, I'm uncertain if I would be able to… you know," she said, her hand fluttering through the air between us. I caught on to what she meant without any trouble. "I doubt I'd be very good at it. I have to tell you that I am not attracted to females in the least," she said, her face twisting in distaste. I let out a laugh, unable to contain my amusement at her expression. In response, she shot me a wry look. "I barely like touching myself," she confessed.
I kept my mouth shut, but inside, I was fuming. I couldn't help but silently lay the blame at Ron's feet. He'd managed to disappoint Hermione in ways I never imagined possible. It's like he'd set a new record for letdowns, and honestly, Hermione deserved so much better than that.
"But... if you and Harry were to... if you would be willing to… I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the sofa cushions, a sea of confusion washing over her. I gently took her hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze, coaxing her eyes back to mine.
"Hermione. Harry and I will love to do as little or as much as you would allow us to do. If all you need is to be held, to feel safe and not alone, then that's what we'll do. If you're wanting to know what an orgasm feels like, one or both of us would be more than happy to take care of that for you. But if you want to be fucked so hard that you forget for a time what my brother did to you, that would truly be our pleasure. And believe me when I say, we will not disappoint," I told her seriously, my hands having taken her face at some stage without registering the motion. She blinked at me with wide, startled eyes.
"Can we take it slow?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur. A blush crept up her neck, painting her cheeks in a rosy hue.
"Absolutely," I agreed with eager anticipation. And I was practically counting the minutes until Harry returned from work.
Part 1. Hermione Granger-Weasley
The aftermath of that night still left me embarrassed days later, yet I was resolute in not allowing it to take Harry and Ginny from me. They hadn't done anything I hadn't consented to, and while I walked away knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was not a lover of females, I was far more informed about either sex than I had been previously.
I couldn't even completely blame Ron. We had both been virgins when we began dating, and though we were indeed Gryffindors at heart, neither of us proved particularly vocal in the bedroom. I had always believed that, with an understanding of the fundamentals, everything else would fall into place naturally. I didn't anticipate the need for anything beyond that, even if I had been curious.
Initially, I was quite taken with some of the concepts I encountered in my readings; they seemed so compelling. Yet, as time passed, their practical necessity appeared minimal—at least, that was my conclusion. Now I wondered if Ron agreed with my assessment.
It wasn't as though he had ever expressed a desire to venture beyond anything but the essentials. I hadn't even gone down on him all that often, and even on those rare occasions, it was only a few swipes of my tongue before he had become inpatient to enter me. He had never offered to go down on me, and I'm not certain I would have permitted it back when we first began our relationship. It had sounded disgusting.
Now, the recollection of that particular pleasure causes my cheeks to burn. I also blushed to know just how many witches Harry and Ginny had been illuminating in the bedroom. It seems they had spent time with quite a number of Ginny's Quidditch teammates, countless women they encountered during those evenings spent at pubs or nightclubs, and they'd even been with Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell.
This was perplexing to me; I had been under the impression the two witches were the closest to steady girlfriends the twins had. Harry and Ginny found the notion quite amusing. They pointed out that while both Angelina and Katie, along with their friend Alicia, did indeed spend a considerable amount of time with Fred and George, there was never an exclusive romantic arrangement with any of them. Apparently, the twins preferred to share. This was a revelation to me, and the thought of their simultaneous company brought an unbidden flush to my cheeks.
The reality is, some possibilities were simply out of reach. And as daunting as the thought may be, I've come to terms with the fact that certain outcomes were unlikely to unfold. For better or worse, I was married. Those initial weeks were a whirlwind of thoughts—divorce foremost in my mind. The very idea terrified me; I'd never truly been alone. But pride surged within me, and the very notion of sharing my life with someone disloyal was utterly inconceivable to me.
Regrettably, the stark reality of life came crashing down upon me when I was summoned back to the Healers within the Ministry. They had finally collated my results, and to say they were upsetting would be a gross understatement. My life was not going to unfold as I had once envisioned it would, and it was all due to a single disgruntled employee who couldn't bear the fact that I was already outperforming her in a job she had held for a decade.
The witch was presently confined in a Ministry holding cell, awaiting trial to ascertain her fate. Azkaban had been abandoned with incredibly strong wards set around it, ensuring that no Muggle or even a Dark Lord could approach it ever again. The new judicial system was still ironing out its flaws, but thus far, it appears to be considerably more equitable than the previous system, which meted out the same punishment to everyone, from a petty thief to a mass murderer.
As for me, I had to clear out my desk in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Someone with my particular problem didn't make for a very reliable employee. The hex cast upon me was irrevocably binding, lacking any known counter-curse, and was destined to persist for no less than a decade and despite exhaustive research, not a single remedy had been discovered to mitigate the effects.
The leader of the Unspeakables took pity on me, however, and offered me a freelance research job. It wouldn't be as in-depth or extensive as the things I had previously been working on, but I would only need to come into the department once a fortnight to update my findings. It didn't pay much, but it was better than nothing.
That evening, I requested the presence of the entire Weasley clan at Grimmauld Place, Ron included. He was standing alone by the kitchen wall, his gaze filled with a desperate hope that seemed to shatter my heart all over again. The thought of forgiving him after his betrayal was almost unbearable. But circumstances were forcing my hand, and I knew I had to be strong.
"Do you need me to whip up some dinner, dear?" Molly queried as she swept into the room and planted a motherly kiss upon my cheek. I enveloped her in a firm embrace, my eyes shut firmly, acutely aware of the many gazes upon me. Upon loosening my hold, she returned my gaze and tenderly cradled my face, imparting a comforting reminder: "No matter what's on your mind, remember, you're surrounded by family."
"Thank you," I said thickly, and couldn't help but look over at Ron again. He gave a little nod as an agreement to his mother's words, and I wanted to cry. How dare he still act like he cares about me! But I had to push that away.
"Although I would be delighted for you to prepare dinner, I really believe I should speak first," I told her loud enough to also gain everyone else's attention.
Molly's voice was soft, yet it carried the warmth it always held. "Alright, dear," she said with a reassuring nod. As she moved gracefully back to the table, her skirts rustling softly with each step, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. She took her place next to Arthur, surrounded by her children. I knew she included Harry, Fleur, and me among them.
"I've got several matters I need to discuss," I began as I looked around the room, and once again my eyes went to Ron. "As you're all aware, I was the victim of an unknown hex several weeks ago. I'm relieved to inform you that a witch has been apprehended and is currently awaiting trial," I shared with them.
"Do we know the identity?" George asked, the levity typically present in his tone now replaced by a grave curiosity.
"More importantly, do you reckon we should slip a little surprise into her cell?" Fred interjected, his tone matching his twin's. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but smile at them. They had always been very sweet and protective of me.
"Her importance is truly of no consequence, and no, I'd much rather you both steer clear of incarceration," I informed them earnestly. Their response was a pair of roguish grins, impish and all too familiar.
"Give me the nod, Honey, and she goes down," Charlie declared, punching his fist into his hand, and I laughed, sure he was just teasing me with dramatics.
"Thank you," I said with a nod of gratitude. As my eyes wandered back to Ron, I couldn't help but observe the distinct furrow of his brow directed towards his brothers.
"Are you well?" Percy inquired with a soft concern, his glasses perched precisely on his nose, his back as rigid as a quill.
"I'm…" I didn't really know how to begin. "I've lost my job," I admitted with a heavy heart, and immediately, the room erupted into chaos, with the Weasleys and Harry voicing their concerns. It took yelling over the noise to restore a semblance of order and quieten the room enough for me to explain.
"The Unspeakables have extended an offer of employment, though it's rather limited," I shared with them.
"Come work with us, little bookworm. We could use a brain like yours, I promise," Fred told me.
"How often do we seek your scholarly input on the peculiarities of our inventions?" George inquired with a playful wink. "Consider this an official invitation to join our team of mischief-makers at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." They were sweet, but I knew they didn't really need me. Their brilliance was undeniable, albeit channelled into rather unconventional pursuits.
"If there is indeed work available, I am more than willing to accept it," I stated. "But I ask that you please hold any offers until I have shared the entirety of what I need to convey," I added, with a measured insistence on being heard in full.
"Not a chance of that happening. Reckon you've got yourself a job," Bill remarked, his laughter ringing with a mirthful twist to his lips while the twins sported victorious smirks. Fleur regarded Bill with a look of fascination as he laughed; she seemed to adore the sound. It was endearing. I was aware that their time together had become scarce since she moved back to France and his transfer there had yet to materialise.
"What else do you need to say, Mi?" Ron asked from over by the wall, and I met his eyes. I could see he was expecting me to say it was over between us, but from the sadness there, I knew he wouldn't accept it easily.
"Two more things," I told him, and then shifted my focus to everyone else. "The implications of the hex are quite significant—it means I'll be exceedingly fertile. The implications of intimacy are quite clear, and the probability of pregnancy is alarmingly high," I acknowledged with a certain trepidation. The notion of motherhood itself wasn't unappealing, but I imagined it would be far in the future, and perhaps with just one or two. Self-awareness has never been my shortfall; I recognise that my maternal instincts are not as pronounced as some. I've always known that my strengths lie elsewhere, and while I have the utmost respect for Molly Weasley's maternal prowess, I've never seen myself in that role, and the thought of a large family was quite daunting.
"Unfortunately, celibacy also isn't an option. The Department of Mysteries has provided some extensive documentation on the subject, if anyone is interested in reading it, but at the end of the day, if I go too long without…" I trailed off, gesturing vaguely with the hope that my implications were clear. Judging by their expressions, they understood. "Let's just say the consequences would be rather painful." I finished, preferring not to elaborate on just how bad the consequences could be for me.
"I should like to examine the documents," Percy offered, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility and support. I smiled at him even as I reached into the depths of my robe pocket and retrieved the information the Unspeakables, and their Healer had gathered for me. I handed the documents to him, and he immediately began to scrutinise the data they contained, his blue eyes flicking rapidly across the pages.
"Is that the lot?" Ginny inquired. I gave a negative shake of my head, even as I noticed Percy blanch, and cast me a look of both embarrassment and sympathy. He had obviously gotten to the part that essentially equated my condition to that of a succubus, needing live semen to stay healthy. I moved my eyes to Ron very deliberately now.
"I'm pregnant," I told him, and the whole room seemed to lose sound. I felt every eye upon me as though they had weight. "The night before…" I paused, the words catching in my throat. A sharp pang of memory gripped my chest, forcing me to close my eyes against the surge of pain. I opened them again to look back at my husband. "The evening prior to you being with that witch, you were with me. The curse was already in effect."
"You piece of shit!" Ginny screamed at him as she launched to her feet, and I winced.
"I think we should speak privately," I said to Ron, who had the startled look of a deer caught in headlights, but he nodded and approached me. I could see Harry and Charlie attempting to soothe Ginny's fury, but my thoughts were too consumed with my own concerns at the moment.
We moved deeper into the kitchen, and with a flick of my wand, I cast a 'Muffliato Charm'. The gentle buzz filled the area immediately around us, ensuring our conversation would remain just between us for now.
"Does this mean…" Ron began, but I swiftly raised my hand to halt him.
"Not yet," I told him seriously. He nodded and gave me his undivided attention. "There are a number of things we need to discuss before I agree to give you another chance."
"Anything," Ron declared without hesitation, his voice carrying a blend of sincerity and a palpable edge of desperation.
"Really? You'd do anything? Even when I demand that you quit your Quidditch team?" I questioned, my voice seething with scepticism. At my words, he visibly winced, his hand rising to massage the back of his neck.
"Honestly, I sort of saw it coming. Been mulling over doing it myself if it meant getting you back," he admitted to me.
"It wouldn't have," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. Anger coursed through me, a fierce desire to be anywhere but near him. Every time I looked at him, it brought back the image of him with that witch, an image that made my skin crawl. Yet, the bitter reality was that I needed him now, and that fact alone was enough to sicken me further. It seemed I had wrongly assumed that the increasing pain I felt was merely a result of my ongoing emotional distress.
"But the baby will?" He ventured, though his words fell more as a conclusion than a question.
"Yes," I agreed shortly.
"Look, Hermione," he said, his voice a mix of relief and hope. "I won't lie; I'm not exactly gutted about this. I never wanted us to split, and now… well, maybe this little miracle could mean a fresh start for us, eh?" He extended his hand towards me, aiming to touch my arm, but I stepped back, not ready for that yet. He frowned and dropped his arm by his side.
"I had sex with Ginny and Harry," I blurted, causing his eyes to nearly pop out of his head in bitter shock.
"You. Did. What?" He articulated with deliberate slowness, as though my words had somehow failed to register correctly in his mind.
"You heard me," I said, watching his face. He turned his head and glared accusingly at his sister and best friend. "Hurts, doesn't it?!" My words were supposed to sound mocking, but they just sounded pathetic. His eyes met mine once more, and he flinched.
"Yeah, it hurts," he admitted, looking at me with earnest eyes. "But I'll let bygones be bygones if you will."
"I'm not there yet, Ron. I'm really not. I know I cannot remain here at Grimmauld Place any longer. I'll need you. This baby will need you, but I will need time before I can trust you again," I told him.
"Shouldn't I be saying the same to you? You did shag my sister and our best mate," he told me with a frown.
"Yes, and it has opened my eyes to all we were lacking. I hope we can get past this and to something better. I may be incredibly hurt, but that is only because I love you so much," I confessed, and he smiled a little at that.
"Let me say this once, and I swear I won't bring it up again. Sex with that witch, it wasn't about love. It wasn't because of anything you did. It was about me feeling powerful and, I guess, a bit too full of myself. That's selfish, I know. But the truth is, I still feel like I'm just the tag along in the trio of us," he said, jabbing his thumb in Harry's direction. "Very few times in my life have I felt like I was wanted for just being Ron, and Ron alone with nothing to do with our trio."
"I always wanted you for you, you prat!" I cried and buried my face in my hands. I couldn't believe that he would have ever, after all this time, still doubted that.
"I'm really sorry, Mi. I am. It was dead selfish of me, but just for once, I wanted to see what it'd be like to be Ron Weasley, the Quidditch star, not just Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's mate, or the bloke who's always two steps behind the brightest witch of her age," he told me, and tears streamed down my face unrestrained, each word he spoke a dagger to my heart. His confession, which I knew he believed to be a significant revelation, revealed to me that he had never really believed in the love I had for him.
Suddenly, I was taken into another's embrace. "What in Merlin's name have you done to her now, Ronald?!" Percy demanded, catching me off guard. He, of all people, was the last I expected to react this way to my tears. When he'd stepped through my privacy spell, it dissipated into nothingness.
"He… Doesn't… Think… I… Loved... Him," I sobbed in a stammer against Percy's chest, each word a struggle as my emotions overwhelmed me. As the weight of my words settled, the room once again descended into an uproar.
"What? No!" Ron exclaimed, his confusion evident. I couldn't fathom how he could be bewildered by his own words, but then again, he had a habit of not thinking before he spoke. This time, however, I got the impression that he had thought about them. I withdrew from Percy's consoling hold, lifting my gaze to meet his. His face mirrored my anguish, his blue eyes searching, as if he too was grappling with the sting of Ron's carelessness and seeking the right words to soothe the pain his brother had caused.
"It doesn't matter anymore. It can't," I murmured to Percy, the tears streaming down my face unabated. I turned to the others and said, "Ron has chosen to give up Quidditch, which means he'll also be looking for a job, I suppose. If you'd all excuse me, I need some time alone to pack." Percy allowed me to flee from his embrace completely, but as I retreated from the kitchen, the echo of their voices filled the space—a chorus of concern and confusion directed at Ron—but none of it could dull the sharp ache in my heart.
Right then, I couldn't muster the energy to care how Ron might be feeling. I had a whole new life to prepare for. A life with a baby on the way, and who knew how many more with a man I no longer trusted, one who doubted my love for him. It hurt. The entirety of the situation was a wound, deep and throbbing.
Author's notes: - I have no idea how often I will update this story as my main focus is on 'Room of Forgotten Truths', but, like that, I have no intention of abandoning it no matter how long it takes.
My hope in the meantime is that everyone enjoys mine and any other fanfic's and appreciates what they truly are. No matter what your personal vision of the magical world of Harry Potter is, I believe everyone hopes by reading or writing these they will experience a little of the magic themselves. Wishing everyone a blessed day.