Fic Post! TRIO!fic post!
Teehee! Considering the audience these days, this feels kinda funny to post unlocked, but here it is anyway. fair warning: non-fandom people, just avert your eyes! :D
Title: Watching
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1175
Summary: An unexpected birthday surprise (H/R/Hr); And THAT's about the extent of the plot.
Challenge: Triofic- long past Hogwarts
Author Notes:Written for antosha_c as a birthday present... like a month later... *smiles winningly* *points accusingly at the bunny* But it's still for you! :D And thank you for making me write triofic again!
There had been an excellent dream that had to do with books and chocolate and four strong hands and then there was suddenly a sound that Hermione couldn't place. A thumping, a low grumbling... maybe a buzzing? Enough to wake her, eyes only opening far enough to accomodate a narrow-eyed scowl, ready to eviscerate whatever had dared disturb her Saturday morning.
Reality began to filter in reminding her that impromptu evisceration was a skill she no longer needed, and hadn't in... well... too many years to count comfortably. She'd only actually needed it once even then, and it was accidental at that.
Sides cold, limbs entirely unentangled, she smiled widely, letting her eyes slide shut again. It was too early in the morning to dredge up those old memories, but after all of these years, she was still grateful that their absence didn't mean that she should tear through the house to make sure that they were alive. Curiosity did, however, impel her to wonder what might have dragged them from a warm bed at this hour of the morning.
Slipping onto her feet, Hermione pulled her dressing gown around her, no longer bothering to frown and poke at her soft and still faintly-scarred middle, or pulling her fingers through her wild hair looking for newly-gray strands to charm away.
She padded silently on quick, sure feet down the stairs past a wild menage of muggle and wizarding photographs hanging on the wall; every cousin, friend, adopted niece or nephew or godchild or group of friends; every Weasley grandchild and now great-grandchild. The photographs had overflowed the upper hallway and staircase walls and were now flowing into the dining room, where she finally passed the recent photo of her teary-eyed self pinning a Head Girl badge onto the Hogwarts robes of their youngest child--the only Ravenclaw of the three.
Slowing as she approached the kicthen, she stopped just short of entering in order to try and make out what it was they were discussing rather forecfully. Peering in through the slight crack in the door she could see Ron and Harry standing at the far counter, apparently attempting to stare each other down in the early morning sunlight.
"Ron, for the last time after all of these years, it will not kill you. IT IS A MERE KITCHEN APPLIANCE, and YOU ARE THE MIGHTY RONALD WEASLEY, war hero, father and champion of alternative lifestyles everywhere. Turn. The. Bloody. Thing. ON."
"No way, Harry. It moves too bloody fast for anything non-magical and you can bloody well blenderate it yourself. I'd much prefer the traditional cooking-on-a-red-hot-stove part of this exercise. Or maybe just the pouring champagne part."
Hermione stifled a snort of laughter, again grateful that this was still amusing after some thirty-odd years.
Obviously exasperated, Harry shook his head and shoved Ron aside, grumbling and jabbing the blender controls impatiently, fingers gripping the clear glass jar now clearly devoid of all circulation. Ron smirked at Harry's back and ran a hand through his thinning hair, still red enough to identify him as a Weasley. Hermione could have walked in and diffused the situation with her mere presence, but she knew that look too well. Holding fast to the doorframe with a wry grin, she nudged the door a bit further and watched.
Ron moved to stand behind Harry, hands sliding around his waist in order to more conveniently rain kisses onto the back and side of his neck. A small, familiar groan told Hermione that Harry was more than enjoying it. She could hear Ron murmuring in his ear, but couldn't make out the words; could see his hands moving, as Harry's merely tightened their grip on whatever they were already clutching; could tell exactly what Ron was about to do, and felt a hot flush run from the pit of her stomach to her hairline in record time.
Hermione bit her lip as the freckled hand that had been circling the soft skin around Harry's navel slipped past the waistband of his pajama pants. She could recognize immediately Ron slipping into a familiar rhythm, his kisses becoming soft nipping bites on Harry's neck, as Harry began mumbling Ron's name.
The blender jar shattered into large chunks of thick glass under Harry's clenched fingers, and Harry fell further against the counter, rocking his hips back against Ron. Wide-eyed, Hermione watched Ron use his free hand to bring Harry's to his mouth, licking whatever had been in the blender mingled with droplets of blood off of Harry's hand.
Shuddering, Harry pulled Ron's mouth to his, growling into the kiss as he came apart before exhaling hard and swearing at the pain in his sliced-open hand.
"Mmmm. Happy birthday to me!" purred Hermione, now standing fully in the doorway, thoroughly enjoying Harry's goofy and slightly embarassed grin and rumpled clothes, Ron's flush of self-satisfaction mingled with need and want as they became aware of her presence.
Eyelids heavy, Ron pulled Harry tight against him as he turned to face her with yet another predatory grin. "Hi. Happy Birthday. Enjoy your first present, miss?"
Harry sagged against Ron, laughing into his shirt for a moment at the comment before adding, "Good Morning and Happy Birthday, love. Breakfast should be ready in about ten days, or so, give or t..."
The thought died mid-sentence as Hermione began advancing slowly, undoing her dressing gown and allowing it to fall open in a seemingly endless descent to the ground. Ever the overachiever, she'd managed to lose her knickers and nightgown somewhere outside the kitchen.
"I should turn fifty everyday, if this is the standard method of celebration." Reaching out, she took Harry's hand and kissed near the raw flesh as she murmured a spell to seal it over. "Honestly. Whatever would you boys do without me?"
Hermione slipped her arms around their necks, and sighed blissfully as she stared vacantly over their shoulders at the burgeoning fall weather. With a giddy laugh as their hands began to slide over her skin, she kissed them in turn before resting her head on Harry's shoulder.
"Boys, do you suppose it's Mrs. Manwarren's birthday as well?"
Ron and Harry exchanged what they thought was a secretly amused glance over her head. Pushing her hair back from her face, Ron cracked the lop-sided grin that never failed to make him look fifteen again and said, "Love, why the devil do you ask about that old bat just now?"
"No reason, I suppose. But either way, we've given her a brilliant gift as well." Dissolving into a fit of giggles, Hermione waved cheerily as Ron and Harry whirled in time to see the neighbor's blinds slam shut.
Hermione voiced their shared thought with a smirk. "Ah well. Life is never boring with you two around."
Turning her attention fully back to Ron and Harry, still speechless with what she knew to be a mix of horror and amusement, she gave them a slight shake as she spoke again.
"Go on then--what's this old bat's next present?"
Title: Watching
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1175
Summary: An unexpected birthday surprise (H/R/Hr); And THAT's about the extent of the plot.
Challenge: Triofic- long past Hogwarts
Author Notes:Written for antosha_c as a birthday present... like a month later... *smiles winningly* *points accusingly at the bunny* But it's still for you! :D And thank you for making me write triofic again!
There had been an excellent dream that had to do with books and chocolate and four strong hands and then there was suddenly a sound that Hermione couldn't place. A thumping, a low grumbling... maybe a buzzing? Enough to wake her, eyes only opening far enough to accomodate a narrow-eyed scowl, ready to eviscerate whatever had dared disturb her Saturday morning.
Reality began to filter in reminding her that impromptu evisceration was a skill she no longer needed, and hadn't in... well... too many years to count comfortably. She'd only actually needed it once even then, and it was accidental at that.
Sides cold, limbs entirely unentangled, she smiled widely, letting her eyes slide shut again. It was too early in the morning to dredge up those old memories, but after all of these years, she was still grateful that their absence didn't mean that she should tear through the house to make sure that they were alive. Curiosity did, however, impel her to wonder what might have dragged them from a warm bed at this hour of the morning.
Slipping onto her feet, Hermione pulled her dressing gown around her, no longer bothering to frown and poke at her soft and still faintly-scarred middle, or pulling her fingers through her wild hair looking for newly-gray strands to charm away.
She padded silently on quick, sure feet down the stairs past a wild menage of muggle and wizarding photographs hanging on the wall; every cousin, friend, adopted niece or nephew or godchild or group of friends; every Weasley grandchild and now great-grandchild. The photographs had overflowed the upper hallway and staircase walls and were now flowing into the dining room, where she finally passed the recent photo of her teary-eyed self pinning a Head Girl badge onto the Hogwarts robes of their youngest child--the only Ravenclaw of the three.
Slowing as she approached the kicthen, she stopped just short of entering in order to try and make out what it was they were discussing rather forecfully. Peering in through the slight crack in the door she could see Ron and Harry standing at the far counter, apparently attempting to stare each other down in the early morning sunlight.
"Ron, for the last time after all of these years, it will not kill you. IT IS A MERE KITCHEN APPLIANCE, and YOU ARE THE MIGHTY RONALD WEASLEY, war hero, father and champion of alternative lifestyles everywhere. Turn. The. Bloody. Thing. ON."
"No way, Harry. It moves too bloody fast for anything non-magical and you can bloody well blenderate it yourself. I'd much prefer the traditional cooking-on-a-red-hot-stove part of this exercise. Or maybe just the pouring champagne part."
Hermione stifled a snort of laughter, again grateful that this was still amusing after some thirty-odd years.
Obviously exasperated, Harry shook his head and shoved Ron aside, grumbling and jabbing the blender controls impatiently, fingers gripping the clear glass jar now clearly devoid of all circulation. Ron smirked at Harry's back and ran a hand through his thinning hair, still red enough to identify him as a Weasley. Hermione could have walked in and diffused the situation with her mere presence, but she knew that look too well. Holding fast to the doorframe with a wry grin, she nudged the door a bit further and watched.
Ron moved to stand behind Harry, hands sliding around his waist in order to more conveniently rain kisses onto the back and side of his neck. A small, familiar groan told Hermione that Harry was more than enjoying it. She could hear Ron murmuring in his ear, but couldn't make out the words; could see his hands moving, as Harry's merely tightened their grip on whatever they were already clutching; could tell exactly what Ron was about to do, and felt a hot flush run from the pit of her stomach to her hairline in record time.
Hermione bit her lip as the freckled hand that had been circling the soft skin around Harry's navel slipped past the waistband of his pajama pants. She could recognize immediately Ron slipping into a familiar rhythm, his kisses becoming soft nipping bites on Harry's neck, as Harry began mumbling Ron's name.
The blender jar shattered into large chunks of thick glass under Harry's clenched fingers, and Harry fell further against the counter, rocking his hips back against Ron. Wide-eyed, Hermione watched Ron use his free hand to bring Harry's to his mouth, licking whatever had been in the blender mingled with droplets of blood off of Harry's hand.
Shuddering, Harry pulled Ron's mouth to his, growling into the kiss as he came apart before exhaling hard and swearing at the pain in his sliced-open hand.
"Mmmm. Happy birthday to me!" purred Hermione, now standing fully in the doorway, thoroughly enjoying Harry's goofy and slightly embarassed grin and rumpled clothes, Ron's flush of self-satisfaction mingled with need and want as they became aware of her presence.
Eyelids heavy, Ron pulled Harry tight against him as he turned to face her with yet another predatory grin. "Hi. Happy Birthday. Enjoy your first present, miss?"
Harry sagged against Ron, laughing into his shirt for a moment at the comment before adding, "Good Morning and Happy Birthday, love. Breakfast should be ready in about ten days, or so, give or t..."
The thought died mid-sentence as Hermione began advancing slowly, undoing her dressing gown and allowing it to fall open in a seemingly endless descent to the ground. Ever the overachiever, she'd managed to lose her knickers and nightgown somewhere outside the kitchen.
"I should turn fifty everyday, if this is the standard method of celebration." Reaching out, she took Harry's hand and kissed near the raw flesh as she murmured a spell to seal it over. "Honestly. Whatever would you boys do without me?"
Hermione slipped her arms around their necks, and sighed blissfully as she stared vacantly over their shoulders at the burgeoning fall weather. With a giddy laugh as their hands began to slide over her skin, she kissed them in turn before resting her head on Harry's shoulder.
"Boys, do you suppose it's Mrs. Manwarren's birthday as well?"
Ron and Harry exchanged what they thought was a secretly amused glance over her head. Pushing her hair back from her face, Ron cracked the lop-sided grin that never failed to make him look fifteen again and said, "Love, why the devil do you ask about that old bat just now?"
"No reason, I suppose. But either way, we've given her a brilliant gift as well." Dissolving into a fit of giggles, Hermione waved cheerily as Ron and Harry whirled in time to see the neighbor's blinds slam shut.
Hermione voiced their shared thought with a smirk. "Ah well. Life is never boring with you two around."
Turning her attention fully back to Ron and Harry, still speechless with what she knew to be a mix of horror and amusement, she gave them a slight shake as she spoke again.
"Go on then--what's this old bat's next present?"