All the Kings… Siblings
(All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.)
Part 3. Hermione Granger-Weasley (October, 2004)
Life was certainly more challenging with two babies, and while the Weasleys were truly a blessing, there were moments when I wished for a bit of solitude. If Molly wasn't present at the cottage, busying herself with cooking and cleaning, then one of her children was invariably there. Ginny had become a frequent visitor, especially now that she had baby James and had stepped away from her career with the Holyhead Harpies. Even Arthur came over on the weekends, often assisting Ron with various tasks around the yard.
Rose may have been just over a year old, but she already adored her baby sister. She loved taking her afternoon naps cuddled up against Persis. At night, they slept in their separate cots, but I often found Rose holding Persis' tiny hand through the bars. It was the sweetest sight.
Ron had moved their cots to the centre of the room so they could be pushed together when it became clear that Rose didn't like her little sister being out of her sight. It was incredibly beautiful to see their bond growing so strong.
Still, I often felt exhausted and guilty for not always wanting to be around them. Ron failed to comprehend the depth of my emotional turmoil in the life that had been forced on me and would look at me accusingly, as if I were the most dreadful mother imaginable. His lack of understanding, whether intentional or not, sparked a bitter resentment within me.
He had the freedom to go out into the world every day, interacting with people who weren't family members. He had the liberty to saunter off to the pub for his lunch each day, a luxury I didn't have. Furthermore, he met up with Harry and a handful of their mates once every month for various leisurely pursuits.
I couldn't even risk going shopping on my own with the babies. If I were suddenly struck with the 'needing,' it would put them at risk. Outings were few and far between. My only alone time in this relentless cycle was the fortnightly visits to the Ministry. These trips, though primarily for delivering my research findings and exchanging necessary books, provided a much-needed breather from my maternal duties.
I cherished the lunches I shared with Percy and occasionally Harry too, but sometimes I wondered if they met with me only because they knew I couldn't be left alone. Yet Percy had become one of my favourite people over the years, and we had so much in common. We understood each other's humour and could talk freely about the academic aspects of our work and interests without causing the other to sigh in annoyance or appear disinterested. It was a connection that I'd come to value deeply.
I constantly felt guilty because I already resented being a mother, and I knew I had at least nine more years of this curse to endure. The prospect of having more children, though inevitable, filled me with dread. Once, when no one was around, I let out a scream in the witch's lavatory in the Ministry's atrium. It was a scream born out of despair, a cry for everything I felt had been stolen from me. And then, hidden in a stall, I wept silently, guilt washing over me for not appreciating the beautiful gift that was my daughter's.
The Healers employed in the Department of Mysteries couldn't even guarantee that it would end within the time frame they suggested; it was simply their best guess based on the facts available to them. In a very real way, I found myself transformed into a subject of their study. I was no longer just Hermione Granger-Weasley, but rather 'Exhibit A' in a living case study, a victim of a previously unknown curse.
Even the Healers I saw during my pregnancies were part of their team. I often wondered if they would have conducted all my prenatal checks and even the births within the Department of Mysteries if they had the proper facilities. As it was, they took blood and other samples from me once a month when I wasn't pregnant.
Although I continued to experience the symptoms during pregnancy, they were somewhat milder. When I wasn't pregnant, it felt as if a knife was attempting to carve its way out of my stomach, through my belly button, and even lower. During pregnancy, the severe nausea was so prominent that I could almost mistake it for a symptom of the pregnancy itself. The cold chills, however, were more difficult to rationalise, as was the embarrassing tendency to be so wet that I had to change my underwear multiple times a day, and if I got really excited, my thighs became drenched as well.
Today, I was sitting in the office of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, going over formula calculations for the twins' latest idea—a product they called 'Encouragement Parchment.' It looked like normal parchment for school use and only activated after your work was graded. They told me they were inspired by their days of receiving dreadful grades from Professor Snape and even worse feedback. This parchment would add encouraging notes beneath whatever the teacher wrote, and their hope was that there would be no way for the teacher or anyone else to remove them. It was one of their subtler products, but I found the idea amusing and was sure it would become a hit.
"Hey there, how's it going?" George asked me as he strolled into the office, a broad smile on his face. I had heard him and Fred laughing about something just a moment ago. He looked quite sharp in the matching bright magenta suits he and Fred always wore while working. Their employees wore a variation of the outfit to distinguish between staff and management. I knew Ron despised his uniform, but since he hadn't mentioned it to the twins, I saw no reason to bring it up either.
"This is fascinating," I told him, tapping my quill on the formula written in front of me. "The number of Arithmancy equations that go into something so seemingly simple is astounding. I found a few places where you could use a Rune to combine the sequences, making for a seamless result." George grinned at me.
"I told you she was a brilliant asset, Fred," Fred said, striding into the office with a confident grin and a playful wink in my direction.
"To right, George. Let's have a look then," George said with a grin as they both approached the desk.
"Yes, show us this Rune we missed, little bookworm," Fred said playfully, perching on the corner of the desk and leaning toward my notes.
"You do realise I can distinguish between the two of you," I told them with a roll of my eyes at their antics.
"You wound us. Would we ever lie to you?" They said in unison, their faces a picture of mock hurt.
"Yes." I deadpanned, causing the pair of mischief-makers to burst into laughter. Suddenly, a sharp pain spiked in my stomach, and I winced. Although they both watched me with sympathetic eyes, neither commented on it. It was a common occurrence that everyone close to me had grown accustomed to. My pain built from just a few hours after the last time I had sex and increased until the moment I had it again.
We spent some time discussing my proposed solutions then, but I could tell when they could no longer follow along. They may have been geniuses, but they were geniuses who hadn't bothered to finish their schooling. I knew they would thoroughly research everything I had said, as they took their work seriously, but it also made me appreciate that they really did have use for me. Even when they finally grasped what I had explained, it didn't necessarily mean they would find it interesting enough to retain. They had often said that if something wasn't fun, it wasn't worth their time to worry about it.
As we had been working, the chills had firmly taken hold. Then I got another sharp pain starting in my stomach, one that made me sit up straighter as it arrowed out of a place no woman wants to experience pain.
"Where's Ron?" I asked anxiously, shivering as the feeling of the 'needing' began to set in intensely. I knew he was working here today, but since he usually stayed out front in the shop, it was rare for him to come into the office. Uncharacteristically, Ron and I hadn't been intimate for three days, and I was unsure as to the reason behind it. He had been in a mood lately, and it seemed that everything I did or said only served to put him more on edge.
"He popped out for lunch a bit ago. Want one of us to fetch him for you?" Fred asked, with genuine concern in his usually playful brown eyes.
"Yes, please," I said, feeling ashamed as I watched Fred dash out of the room.
"Come on. I'll take you upstairs," George told me. They both knew I couldn't risk going to the Leaky Cauldron in my current state. And I had no doubt that's exactly where my husband would be found.
"I'm sorry," I told George as he led me up to their flat, shivering all the way. It was embarrassing that they had to allow their sister-in-law and brother to have sex at random moments during a workday in their home. Thank goodness it was a rare occurrence.
"Think nothing of it, Hermione. If these walls could talk… well, they'd probably singe your ears right off with the juicy bits they'd spill," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and a grin that was nothing short of roguish. I started to laugh but then cried out in pain, collapsing to my knees on the landing. "Shit!" he exclaimed, quickly picking me up and carrying me into the flat's main room before striding over to the small room that had once stored extra product but was now set up as a spare bedroom.
"I had no idea it got this bad," George murmured as he gently laid me down. I didn't comment.
I groaned in pain again and curled into a ball as the worst pain I had ever experienced filled me, and that was saying something. I had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange once, and at this moment, I would rather undergo that again. Tears leaked from my eyes as my stomach started to ripple in a painful parody of an orgasm, and I cried out when George touched my arm. For a moment, I lost all sense of who I was and reached out to grab him. But the fear on his face brought me back to reality, reminding me of where I was and who I was with.
"Talk to me, Hermione. What's going on? Why is it this bad?" He implored, instinctively moving a step back toward the doorway.
"I'm not certain," I lied, my teeth chattering uncontrollably as I felt perspiration starting to form on my skin. I then curled up into a ball and wept through my agony. I was so engrossed in my pain that I didn't even notice when George left the room.
Part 3. Fred/George Weasley
We always had a soft spot for Hermione, even back at Hogwarts. Sure, she could be a bit uptight, but she was solid where it mattered. Plus, she actually got our little brother to use his brain once in a while.
As time went on, we found ourselves admiring her more and more. She was brave as a lion and fiercely loyal to those she cared about. And let's be honest, she was turning into quite the stunner. It was no wonder our little brother looked at her with those lovesick mooncalf eyes, even if he was too thick to realise it himself.
During the war, her bravery was off the charts, and we grew to love her just like one of our own. In our eyes, she was officially family, no matter what happened with her and our little brother. She earned her spot with us, and that was never going to change.
The day of the final battle had been truly insane. In a moment of clarity, as a wall was collapsing toward me and my legs were shattered from a blast, I saw my death coming. It was such a fleeting clarity, yet it still left an impression on my soul. In the next moment, I was yanked back by magic and saw Hermione Granger's face looking down at me, streaked with blood, soot, and tears. In that moment, I fell in love with her. I didn't even notice that my little brother was holding her free hand.
She dropped to her knees in a flash, wand still in hand, barking orders at Ron to grab things from her bag. She did everything she could to stop my pain and heal me. In that moment of sheer hopelessness, she was like an angel sent from heaven, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Not until I blacked out.
When I came to, the battle was over. Hermione was wrapped in my little brother's arms, and everyone around me looked as battle-worn as I felt. Mum was crying over me in relief, but my eyes were on Hermione. When she looked back at me, I managed a heartfelt, "Thank you."
The smile on her face was simply beautiful, even with all the muck. It didn't take long for me to realise how pointless it was to have feelings for Hermione. She was happy with my brother, and even though I often 'joked' about her leaving him, I knew she never would. They'd been through too much together.
Once she officially graduated from Hogwarts, George and I eagerly offered her a job with us. But, as usual, she didn't think we were serious. Besides, she'd been offered a job at the Ministry. We couldn't imagine anything more mind-numbingly boring, but she looked thrilled about it.
A year after that, Hermione and Ron tied the knot, and for the next three years, we all thought they were the perfect couple. They were always laughing together, and at family gatherings they stuck to each other like glue, as if they couldn't get enough of each other's warmth.
It was nice to see, even if I did feel a twinge of jealousy at their closeness. I didn't think George and I would ever find something like that. We tried dating separately, but it never lasted long. Turns out, while plenty of witches enjoyed the idea of two in the bedroom, a relationship with both of us was a whole different story.
George once reckoned it was because I expected too much from a witch. I wanted conversation and connection. George didn't mind either way; he was happy if I was happy. Sadly, there was only one witch who could keep up with our way of thinking and actually enjoy it, and she was well and truly off the market.
As I sprinted down the alley toward the Leaky Cauldron, all these thoughts swirled in my head. I still couldn't wrap my mind around how easily Ron had taken her for granted. I paused just long enough to tap the wall with my wand, then dashed into the dim pub, greeted by the sound of loud, bawdy songs echoing through the room.
It was a bit early in the day for that kind of racket, if you asked me. But then again, most kids who'd be around the pub at this hour were either in Diagon Alley with their mums, at home, or off at Hogwarts.
"Oi, what's the rush, Weasley?" I heard Tom the barkeep, call out as I dashed past.
"Looking for my brother," I hollered over the din. The older wizard pointed toward the commotion, and I felt a scowl creep across my face. Hermione was hurting, and here he was, having a grand old time. And he was supposed to be back at work soon.
"Brother!" Ron bellowed as I got close, showing once again that, unlike Hermione, he couldn't tell George and me apart. Not that I cared about that.
"What in hell is going on?" I asked, keeping my voice calm with just a hint of irritation that got swallowed up by the racket.
"My old mates wanted a drink with me," Ron slurred, pointing unsteadily at the wizards around him. "Couldn't say no, could I? It's been ages since we had a proper catch-up!" He swayed slightly, a goofy grin plastered on his face. They all cheered boisterously and took hearty swigs of their beers. Ron followed suit. It was then I noticed they were all his old Chudley teammates.
"You're supposed to be coming back to work, you great prat!" I snapped, glaring at him.
"Got that covered!" Ron bellowed louder than necessary, his words slurring together as he fumbled in his bright magenta WWW jumper pocket and pulled out what I recognised as a 'Sobering Potion.'
"Take it! Hermione needs you," I urged him, my voice a mix of urgency and concern.
His face darkened, and he shook his head. "She'll be right until we get home tonight," he grumbled.
I leant closer to him and whispered, "She's really hurting."
"Bloody hell, it's always something, isn't it?" Ron muttered, yanking the stopper out with a frustrated huff. Just then, one of his drinking buddies toppled into him, sending the potion flying out of his hand. It splashed all over another wizard and smashed on the floor.
"Tell me you've got another one!" I demanded.
"Er, no," Ron admitted, looking a bit sheepish.
"Join us for a pint, Weasley," one of the drunk wizards slurred, slamming a glass down by my hand. The liquid splashed onto the sleeve of my suit, soaking my hand.
"Here you go, King," another wizard said, handing Ron another beer. They all burst out laughing at the nickname. I glanced at Ron and knew he'd be absolutely useless to her right now.
"Go home, Ron. Sober up. Your wife needs you," I told him firmly.
"Yeah, soon," he muttered, but then turned back to his mates and started on the beer in his hand. I headed back to the shop, hoping Ron was right and Hermione would be fine until he got home.
I was halfway back when George came running down the alley toward me.
"Ron?" he asked, looking around as if he might have missed the tall git somehow.
"Drunk and not coming," I told him.
"You're kidding, right? Hermione's in a bad way, Fred. I mean, really bad. If he doesn't get back soon, we might need to take her to St. Mungo's. That's how serious it is," he said, his words making me frown with worry.
"I don't understand," I said, even as we both started to walk hurriedly back toward the shop. "Her symptoms should only act up if they don't have sex, and Ron told us they do it every day."
"Yeah, the stupid prat. Who goes around bragging about their wife in public like that?" George muttered darkly. I could only nod in agreement. It wasn't exactly public, just us, Percy, and Ron in the office, but I knew our shop assistant had overheard him from just outside the door.
We were quiet as we walked through the shop, but once we got upstairs, I turned to George. "Ron reckons she'll be alright until she gets home. Maybe we should take her there. He did say he'd head home soon." I wasn't sure I believed him, though.
"She tried to grab me, brother. I'm telling you, this is bad," George said, frowning deeply. I glanced at him, then walked over to the door. George hadn't fully closed it, and what I saw should've excited me, but it just about broke my heart.
She was fully naked; the blanket had slipped off one side of the bed, like she'd been tossing and turning. And she was crying in pain, hunched over herself. Even then, I could see she was trying to pleasure herself to get a little relief. But I knew it was a futile effort. George and I, we'd pored over every single word of the info she'd supplied when she found out what the curse was.
I pulled the door shut again, just like it had been, and stared at George, completely at a loss. The next moment, we both jumped as we heard her scream in pain.
"She needs St. Mungo's," George whispered as I walked back over to him, where he was still standing by the table.
"And what exactly do you reckon they could do for her? You know, same as me, what she's in need of," I said, ruffling my hair in sheer frustration. We could hear her sobbing in agony, and it was tearing us apart.
"Maybe they've got the stuff," George said, clearly agitated.
"How do you reckon that'd make her feel? Having some mystery wizards cum in her, knowing full well it could get her pregnant," I said, my voice tight with frustration. He looked at me with wide eyes, knowing as well as I did that she would hate herself for it. The whole family was onto how mortified she was about this blasted curse. How it was nicking away at her self-worth. I watched as a speculative look crossed my brother's face.
"You know, we've got that emergency stash of Polyjuice," he reminded me. I'd love to say I was taken aback by his words, but truth be told, we always thought along the same lines.
"Yes, and Ron sheds everywhere. Have you seen the bathroom sink?" I agreed.
"We really ought to get our maid in more often," George quipped, attempting a joke, but Hermione's cries of pain stripped the words of any humour. "You're going to do it," George said, as if we'd already agreed it would be me. And honestly, it hadn't needed thinking about. George knew how I felt about her, and this was going to be my only shot at being with her. I wanted to feel bad for Ron, but I just couldn't muster it. He didn't deserve any consideration. Clearly, he hadn't been holding up his end of the deal of keeping Hermione healthy.
I walked into the bathroom and spotted a red hair longer than either George's or mine. Meanwhile, George dashed down to our storeroom to grab some Polyjuice. When he came back, I stripped off my clothes and gulped down the vile stuff.
"Our cocks are bigger," George commented as he gave me a once-over, taking in my taller form, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Looking down, I didn't think we were necessarily bigger, but Ron's extra height made him look more proportional. Still, it was nice to know more Weasleys were well-endowed in that department. With a nod, George headed back downstairs while I made my way into the bedroom with Hermione.
I knelt on the bed and said, "Hermione. I'm here now, baby. Come on. Let me take the pain away." She latched onto me so fast I barely had time to prepare for the attack.
Her skin was all damp and cold, while her eyes were glazed with pain. And like she wasn't even in control of her own actions, she ground herself against my cock in a frenzy, even as she tried to grab hold of it, desperate for some relief the rod could give her. For a moment, I was truly worried she might hurt me.
I grabbed her and pushed her back onto the pillows. She gave a loud cry of anguish, thinking I was going to deny her. But I followed her down and entered her swiftly. She was hot inside—so incredibly hot.
"I'll go fast, baby, and then it'll be your turn," I told her even as I was already pumping into her. I knew full well she needed her medicine more than an orgasm right now. And that bit of understanding was the most gut-wrenching fucking thing I'd ever come to realise in my life. I worked as fast as I could and then poured myself into her in the most unsatisfying fuck I had ever had.
"Thank you," she mumbled, sounding more relieved than I reckoned the situation called for, but I could see she was still writhing in pain. I couldn't fathom how my own brother could let her get into such a state. The fucking, twatting, wanker!
"Your turn, baby," I said gently, and my hands trailed from her tits down to her spread thighs, quaking in anticipation as I slipped two of my fingers between her folds and into her hot, tight sheath, causing her to jolt in reaction.
She responded to that beautifully, if a bit surprised. I wasn't sure what caused that small frown to crease her brow, but it vanished as soon as I touched her clit, and then she let out the sexist moan. I quickly twigged that she was partial to the slow strokes against her clit and matched the rhythm of my fingers, giving her just what she was in need of.
When I could feel she was nearing the end, I thrust a bit harder and faster, and her back arched off the bed even as she moaned loudly. When she came, she rolled her hips in time with my fingers in a wicked display of sensuality that was breathtaking, and my cock was dying to get back inside of her.
"Let me give you more," I said, easing back between her legs and rubbed my cock against her wet pussy, coating myself in the hot wetness.
"Please," she begged with a cry. I worked my way in slowly this time, enjoying the feeling of her flesh parting around my cock and gripping me tightly.
I buried my face in the crook of her neck, licking and kissing the sensitive skin there, resisting the delight of sucking or nibbling no matter how much I was itching to mark her. I also wouldn't kiss her for the very same reason. I knew full well this witch wasn't mine, no matter how I felt about her. I wasn't about to muck things up between her and Ron any more than they already were. Not when it hadn't been her choice.
I draw my hips back, giving her a measured thrust. The pleasure was so intense that my sight wavered. "Move with me, baby," I whispered in her ear, and by Merlin, did she ever. Her rolling her hips under me almost had me cumming right then and there. 'Ron is a fucking idiot!' I thought.
Another slow pull back, another plunge of my cock, remembering how she liked my fingers to move. She let out another sexy moan, and I found a rhythm, rocking between her thighs. Too soon, it became clear I couldn't last much longer, especially with her hard nipples rubbing against my chest, adding to my pleasure. I had always been a breast man, and hard nipples against my chest seemed like a proper testament to how much I was making a witch's day. When I felt my cock become even thicker, I surged into a faster pace, plunging like a piston into her tight little body until she was crying out loudly with her orgasm. With a roar of pure satisfaction, I flooded her with seed in pumping spurts.
With a final groan, I collapsed on top of her, but any chance I had to catch my breath vanished the moment she started bawling her eyes out. I pulled my cock out of her with a final shudder, and she glanced back at me in misery.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, then rolled over, and the tears came harder. It tore me up to see her like that. I got off the bed, planning to tuck her in with the blanket, but then I saw the sick on the floor. My heart ached seeing it. She'd been in so much pain that she'd thrown up on her clothes and even the bedding.
"I'll be back in a jiffy," I told her, but she didn't seem to hear me. I left the room and headed back into the bathroom to fetch my wand. Threw a towel around my waist and picked up another strand of hair that I was certain belonged to my hateful little brother. With that in hand, I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself and made my way downstairs and into the shop.
I dashed into the storeroom to grab more Polyjuice and was gobsmacked to find Ron sprawled on the floor. Not giving a flying fuck about how he ended up there right now; I just stepped over him and got what I came for. Then I went out and found George. He was chatting with a customer, but I knew he could feel my presence. He quickly excused himself and joined me in the secluded corner where I was waiting.
"Get Percy. We need his help. Also, clean the bedroom and swap out the blankets. Hermione needs a shower," I said quickly, not wanting to leave Hermione in that state for long. He knew I'd explain everything later. He gave a single nod and went back to finish with the customer. I knew he'd handle everything.
I hurried back upstairs and found Hermione nearly asleep but shivering with sweat drying on her skin. I scooped her up in my arms, and she looked at me with eyes still glassy. I carried her to the bathroom, dropping my wand on the sink. I stepped into the shower with her still in my arms and waved my hand over the wall, starting the water. Perfect temperature, as always.
Hermione sputtered in surprise for a moment, then let out a hum of appreciation at the warm water. I set her on her feet and gently pushed her back against the wall, worried she might not be able to stand. With one hand holding her steady, I used the other to wash her. I then quickly cleaned myself too. Just as I was about to step out, she let out another distressed noise that sounded like pain.
"No," she whispered, panic in her pain-glazed eyes.
"It's alright, baby. I've got you," I said, pulling her into my arms. She sagged against me, and I could feel her tremors of fear. I picked her up and slid into her easily; she was already drenched and ready.
"No," she pled into my neck, another tremor shaking her. She dug her nails into my shoulders like she was trying to hold on during a wild ride on a rogue broomstick. I plunged my cock over and over, and she moaned. I tried to mimic what I'd figured out she liked, but it was harder to pull off in the shower. I worked us both to completion as slowly as I could while holding her slight weight, and too soon we were both crying out our pleasure.
I slipped my cock from her tight sheath, stepping back just enough to see her face, and what I saw shattered me. Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Is that what it felt like for you when you were unfaithful to me? Were you even thinking of me just now?" Her voice was a shattered whisper. I knew I'd fucked up, and all I could do was stare at her. Clearly, that wasn't helping, because her silent tears turned into heart-wrenching sobs. Not having a clue what else to do, I scooped her back up and used my wand to dry us off as best I could, and then carried her back to the bedroom, where George had done exactly what I'd asked.
"Get some sleep, Hermione," I told her. She turned her head into the pillow and cried. I tucked her in and left the room. I went to my bedroom, quickly changed into clean clothes that I had to enlarge, and then headed back downstairs. Percy and George were waiting for me in the office, and I didn't miss the accusing and angry look on my older brother's face, but I didn't have time for his shit right now.
"Is Ron still here?" I asked, my voice sharp.
"Still out cold in the storeroom where I left him," George informed me.
"I'll get him," I said, spinning on my heel and marching back in there, George and Percy hot on my heels. I yanked him up by the collar of his shirt and punched him square in the jaw, his head snapping to the side. I dropped him, and he groaned in pain. It wasn't enough to quench the fury burning inside me, but it had roused him. I wanted him to feel the pain, to suffer with it. I went to hit him again, but George stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.
"We need him conscious and talking," George said.
"Yes, we do," Percy said, then kicked him in the ribs, catching us off guard. George and I stared at him in disbelief as Ron cried out and curled up, trying to protect himself.
"Something on your mind, Perce?" George asked him.
"A lot!" he said, his words dripping with venom aimed at Ron. George and I exchanged another look.
Not long after, we were all back in the office. Ron, the drunken twat, was easy to fool into thinking he'd been attacked by some random bloke. He'd frantically searched his pockets for his coin purse, convinced he'd been mugged. But, of course, it was right there. And still, the numpty didn't question our story. As for Hermione, he'd completely forgotten about her and, in his drunken state, thought I'd told him to go back to work.
While George and I were busy sobering Ron up, Percy had dashed off to the cottage to grab some clean clothes for Hermione. I knew he had a spare key, which is exactly why I wanted George to get him in the first place.
The baby girls were with Mum today, so I Floo-called her while still looking like Ron and asked if she could keep them for the night. She was over the moon at the idea, only checked once if Hermione was on board. I told her Hermione was a bit under the weather, and that was all Mum needed to hear to agree.
"What the hell is going on with you?" George asked Ron, who was nursing his sore body. We claimed we were out of 'Pain-relief Potions' and there was no damned way we were going to offer to heal him.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, but his eyes darted away guiltily.
"You've clearly been neglecting Hermione, haven't you," I told him, my words barely concealing the simmering anger. Percy wasn't even bothering to hide his scowl.
"You don't know what you're on about," Ron denied hotly.
"She was in pain, Ron," George pointed out, and Ron's head shot up at that. Interestingly, his eyes darted to Percy's with a frown.
"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, still eyeing Percy.
"She got sick, Ron, but she seems fine now. She's sleeping upstairs," I said, recalling his words at the pub and not wanting him to catch on to what really happened. Percy shot me another sharp, accusatory look.
"Bloody hell, she's probably up the duff again," he said with a tone of fake annoyance, but the grin on his face gave away his satisfaction.
"What the fuck are you smiling for? You know she hates that!" I demanded, my anger flaring back up.
"What? My smiling?" he tried joking. Percy took a step toward him, looking ready to explode, but George held him back.
"Trying to be funny doesn't suit you, brother," George told him. Ron shrugged. I couldn't believe how selfish the prick was.
"When she's pregnant, the symptoms are less," he said casually, like he was discussing the weather or the latest Quidditch scores.
"And if she isn't?" George asked, knowing that Percy and I were too fuming to say a word.
"Then I'll handle it my way, in my own time. She'll be fine until tonight," Ron said, echoing his earlier words. George and I exchanged another speaking glance.
"You've been in a weird mood the last few days. Care to tell us why?" George asked him. Ron eyed us all thoughtfully for a moment, then finally caved, rubbing the back of his neck as he did.
"I've been offered a spot on the Quidditch World Cup team for England, and the Chudley Cannons are throwing even more Galleons at me to come back," he told us. We all stared at him, and I knew we were all thinking the same thing.
"Impressive," I managed to say, biting back what I really wanted to comment on.
"I loved my team, and I'd love to go back, but the Quidditch World Cup is a once-in-a-lifetime chance," Ron said, his voice filled with longing. "Every team is different from the last one that tried to win." His eyes shone with the dream of what could be.
"They offer a trial period, if I'm not mistaken," Percy remarked, his voice unexpectedly calm given his recent anger.
"Yeah, practice kicks off in a few weeks. I've got five sessions to figure out if I can stick with it or not. Those teams always have alternates anyway," Ron explained, looking at each of us hopefully.
"Yes, because those games are brutal and go on forever. The alternates only come in after twenty-four hours of straight play, according to regulations," George agreed.
"I believe it would be prudent for you to accept the trial period," Percy said, surprising us all again, but I jumped right on that bandwagon.
"Absolutely. We'll cover for you in the meantime. Between the four of us, we can definitely make it work," I assured him, and Ron's hopeful look grew even brighter.
"If things work out and it doesn't mess with what Hermione needs, we'll help you convince her," George assured him. Ron looked thrilled for a moment, then his eyes shifted to Percy.
"What are you hoping to get out of this?" Ron asked him darkly.
"Nothing more than I already have," Percy replied smoothly, and George and I shared a look. We could spot a deflection a mile away, and his wording was most intriguing.
"Why would you ask that, little brother?" George asked him.
"This tosser's got a thing for Hermione," Ron grumbled, jabbing his thumb at Percy. George and I glanced at our older brother, his impassive face giving nothing away. We exchanged a look, suddenly piecing together Percy's odd behaviour today. How had we missed it? We both started wondering about little Persis's paternity. "I want you to stay away from her when I'm not around," Ron warned Percy.
"And do you intend to convey this directive to her yourself?" Percy asked, his voice steady and unwavering.
"You're a wanker, Perce," Ron spat, his eyes blazing.
"Likewise, little brother," Percy replied, his tone cool and collected. George and I exchanged a glance, our amusement clear only to each other.
"Wouldn't be a good idea, Ron. If you want something from your wife, taking something away from her won't help your cause. You know how much she enjoys his company," George said.
"I don't know how she can stand listening to the pompous and boring crap that comes out of his mouth," Ron sneered.
"She can stand it because she is exceedingly intelligent," Percy informed him, not sounding the least bit offended.
"You've always known how sharp she is, little brother. You once told me and George one of the things you loved about her was how brilliant her mind is. Now she's stuck in a life where she hardly gets to use that brain of hers. Don't make the mistake of taking away her favourite outlet," I said, knowing even George and I couldn't always keep up with Hermione's smarts.
"I reckon you've got a point," Ron agreed, then turned to Percy with a pointed look. "But just so you know, I'm on to you."
"I'm sure," Percy said condescendingly. George and I exchanged another look that spoke of our continued shock at the wizard we were seeing in place of our big brother.