Knickers by lilymione1203

Rating: PG
Genres: Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/10/2009
Last Updated: 21/10/2009
Status: Completed

ONE-SHOT. Ignores HBP but takes place sixth year. Any summary I give would COMPLETELY give away
the plot- you'll just have to read and find out! Mostly a humor piece, hope you enjoy!




1. ONE-SHOT
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**A/N: I’ve had this story frothing in my brain for a while- it’s the least romantic piece I’ve
ever written, but I like it nonetheless. It’s different from my other works, you’ll just have to
read and see, and I’d love to hear what you think about it!!**

KNICKERS

A stony wall of marble loomed in the distance, glinting a sinister gleam of polished onyx. The
sea of solemn figures, faceless warriors with a purpose to destroy, awaited their command with
weapons raised- as if to strike. An eerie silence settled across the scene, a lone knight gliding
towards them, an enemy soon to be devoured.

The tension was palpable. An overpowering sense of domination united the stretch of heartless
soldiers, urging them to obliterate any who crossed their path. But patience was the key. Animosity
raged within their veins as bottled fury longed to be released, the front lines shaking with
unrequited vehemence.

The code was given and out rang their battle cry- reaching the ends of the earth they now
possessed. Fear rained from the heavens, soaking into the hearts of their rivals and defeating
their efforts with every drop. Hungry with desire, the victors captured their prize and fled the
scene, retreating to the lavish feast that surely awaited them.

“Checkmate.”

“Damn it, Ron,” Harry scowled as he flicked a pawn off the table, mashing his cheek in his
hand.

“Sixth time in a row, mate- today’s not your day,” he said with a grin, stretching back in his
armchair and lacing his fingers behind his head.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, practically empty for the Easter
holidays. Harry and Ron should have been studying for potions, astronomy, transfiguration, and
charms finals, but opted for six rounds of chess, instead.

“You don’t reckon ‘mione’s mad that we didn’t go to her *spew* meeting, do you, Harry?” Ron
inquired with a cock of his brow, settling his gaze on the crackling fire.

“I told her I had Quidditch, I dunno what *your* excuse is,” he countered, fighting the
smirk that pulled at his lips.

“I’ll just tell her she forgot to tell me. I’m always forgettin’ stuff,” Ron decided, rubbing
his nose as he stood up to yawn.

“Wouldn’t you mean *you* forgot that she told you?”

“Whatever. I’m not one to rehearse things- I’ll tell her whatever comes to mind,” he drawled,
hastily scratching the back pocket of his trousers.

“Yeah, tell me how that works out,” Harry intoned, rolling his eyes as he stood up to
stretch.

“Let’s see what Neville’s up to- I think he went up to the dorm.”

The boys climbed the spiraling stairs at a slothful rate, dragging their feet along the
ascending granite. They reached the dormitory eventually, only to find it empty, and pondered what
to do next- furrowing their brows in unintended unison.

“Hey! Clean laundry, brilliant!” Ron cried, hugging his pile of lemon-scented robes, “Sometimes
I could kiss those house elves.”

“Yet, you won’t go to a meeting about revolutionizing their freedom?”

“Well, no. Then who’d wash my knickers?” he taunted, shooting a pair of silken boxer shorts
across the room- landing squarely on Harry’s face.

“Thanks,” came a muffled voice dripping with sarcasm, underneath a crumpled wad of flaming
orange, “You still wear Cannons underwear? What are you, five?”

“Oh, sod off,” Ron spat, snatching the ginger drawers in a huff. His cheeks flushed a deep
crimson, Harry grinning like mad all the while with his glasses skewed atop his nose.

Hearing Ron grumble absent-mindedly about privacy issues, Harry sported a lurid grin as he put
away his things, suppressing the sniggers escaping his mouth. He bent over his four-poster to grab
another pair of laundered robes, but spotted something frilly out of the corner of his eye.

Whipping his head behind him to see if Ron was paying attention, he quickly snapped back to the
curiosity lingering in his midst. He slowly pushed aside his own pair of knickers- clad in
fluttering snitches, but don’t tell Ron- and gently picked up the mysterious object, dangling it
inches away from his nose between a trembling thumb and forefinger.

A tiny strip of lace mesmerized his bright green eyes, setting him in to a mystified trance as
it swayed across his vision- swinging back and forth like a tree in the breeze, wind among the
willows. The core was a silky satin and black as bootstrap leather. Amazed at its subtle
simplicity, Harry watched it dance sensually before him, letting it fall to the bedsheets with
elegance and grace.

He quickly seized the illustrious treasure and pressed it gently to his cheek, feeling the
forbidden softness caress his face. Harry took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, soaking in the
scent of lilacs and daffodils- sending waves of florid pleasure throughout his brain.

“What the *hell* are you doing?”

Harry dropped his source of euphoria, his eyes wide as saucers, and turned to face Ron with an
open mouth, orbs of forest green flitting about the room in a panic.

“What are those- or rather, *whose?”* Ron asked in a curious tone, eyeing the wadded object
on Harry’s bed in mystified wonder, “Are…are those *panties?”*

“Well, they’re not mine,” was all Harry could think to say, mentally socking himself in the
forehead for his ridiculously arrant response.

“And you got on to me for the Cannons,” Ron snorted as he fingered the delicate lace.

“Give me that,” Harry snapped, firmly grasping his silken treasure with a pertinent glance to
his left, “They’re not *yours.”*

“Well, according to you they’re not yours either- or is there something you’re not telling
me?”

“Oh, shut up.”

The pair continued to stare at the crumpled material flowing from Harry’s palms, examining every
inch of the feminine object. Their greedy eyes seared its satin form into memory, Harry wishing he
were alone rather than with an accomplice.

“So, they’re not yours, th-OOF!” Ron began, breaking the silence as Harry whopped the side of
his head with a pillow.

“I dunno whose they are, Ron. D’you think the house elves just got confused?”

“Maybe…I remember that one with the eyepatch- Blinky? I dunno- used to steal Neville’s socks in
third year. You’d reckon they’d be scared of clothes, but most of the ones at Hogwarts have been
dismissed from families anyway. Felt sorry for Neville, though. Had to go ‘round the whole year
barefoot.”

“He had *shoes-“*

“But he didn’t wear them all the time!” Ron justified, fervently shaking his head.

“Well-“

“Hey, d’you think they’re Lavender’s?” Ron piped up with blue eyes twinkling, his face alight
with possibilities as he turned his attention back to the mystery knickers.

“But they were in *my* things-“

“Yeah, but everyone knows she’s not the brightest. She got the room right,” Ron suggested,
giving her some credit.

“How would she even get them in here? It’s not like she has some sort of bond with the house
elves…”

Realization dawned on both their faces as they turned to look at one another, eyes bulging out
of sockets and jaws thudding on the carpet. Crinkled brows of skepticism flittered across their
foreheads, both thinking surely this couldn’t be…

“*There* you are- I thought I might find you up here. Quidditch get done early, Harry?”
Hermione suddenly bustled through the door, midway through a sentence, and began shuffling a stack
of parchment on the bureau, not paying the pair behind her a bit of attention.

“Er…”

“Well, apparently it *did.* Thanks for showing up, *Ron-* I only told you about six
dozen times we were having a meeting in the kitchens. I figured you of all people would at least
come to that one. I know you won’t set foot in the library, especially after the ‘Madame Pince’
incident, but her hair will grow back eventually. I mean it wasn’t that great to begin wi-“ her
eyes fell on the gathered lace in Harry’s hands, chocolate brown orbs taken aback in surprise.

Cheeks tinged in pink, she confidently strode across the room with head held high, curls of
chestnut bouncing in her wake. She stopped abruptly, facing Harry eye to chin, and quickly exhaled-
the puff of air rippling the dainty artifact clasped in Harry’s frozen hand.

“I don’t know *what* those are doing in here,” she said stiffly, straightening her robes,
“must’ve been a mistake,” Hermione finished, finally chancing a look at the room’s other
occupants.

Ron cocked a brow and narrowed his eyes, not believing a word she said, while Harry stayed
rooted to the spot, unable to move. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, realizing she had been
caught, and locked eyes with Harry, almond emeralds still widened in shock. She pursed her lips
before continuing, taking a deep breath as brown eyes bore into green.

“I didn’t think there would be an *audience* when you found those,” she said pointedly as
her eyes flickered toward Ron, “You were *supposed* to be five hundred meters away on a
broomstick when they were delivered, not having some sort of boxers parade with the Cannons
fanatic. What, are you lot having a knickers swap? Be that as it may, I guessed correctly. Second
bed on the right, across from the tacky orange one. I have quite an extensive collection, you know.
That was just a preview. If you’re not into lace I can show you something else…” and she turned on
her heel and glided out of the dormitory, not daring to glance behind her.

Harry’s brain tried to register what had just been said, his eyes blinking uncontrollably.
Faster than lightning he shot out the door, nearly tripping over his trunk, and whipped around the
corner in a flash- tufts of jet-black barely visible as he raced down the staircase.

Ron stood flabbergasted, merely staring at the open door as his eyes roamed the spot where Harry
had previously been standing. He furrowed his brows in thought, raising his eyes to the ceiling,
then shouted,

“Well, where are *my* panties?!?”

Just then, Neville walked across the doorframe, freezing mid step as he gave Ron a look of
astonishment mixed with distaste. Eyes wide with bewilderment, Neville slowly turned around and
headed back toward the common room, bare feet pattering on the carpet.

**A/N: I know, not really a fluff piece, just humor with a *twinge* of naughtiness. I’m
currently in the middle of an L/J smut fic and I really needed a breather. You really can’t get any
farther from it than this! Lol I hope you enjoyed it, I am considering writing a more sultry
companion fic with Harry and Hermione in her dormitory (how he’s going to get in there, I’ve no
idea) with the physical contact I KNOW you are longing for. Anyway, just a funfic I’ve had floating
around- I would LOVE lots of feedback, hope you liked : - )**



