Lakeside confessions
George
George cradled his injured hand to his chest as they walked from the Hospital wing to the lake, hoping Hermione was still waiting and hadn’t given up on them. He’d spent the day looking forward to their sunset picnic, noting with a sinking feeling the sun was already disappearing behind the trees. If not for the damn charm exploding. He thought bitterly. His ears were still ringing from the scolding Madam Pomfry had given him as she healed the worst of the burn and applied a healing salve for the rest, wrapping it tightly. She was too used to healing the two of them from self-inflicted charm (caused by experimental magics) to have any sympathy for his distress.
“At least she didn’t demand to know what it was this time.” Fred bumped his shoulder to George’s and tried to coax him to smile. George scowled at his twin, determined to hang on to his foul mood. He was angry with himself for being so careless, and his hand was still throbbing, although dully now (and if he was honest, lessening as they walked)
“Oy!” Fred whispered urgently, hitting George lightly in the chest. “Check out Flint.” He nodded, and George followed his brother’s gaze to Marcus Flint ducking inside the castle. He cast a furtive gaze around and ducked behind a tapestry. George noted he was leaving a trail of muddy water and slime in his wake. Flint was looking decidedly worse for wear. He was hastily casting a drying spell on his sodden robes, which were smeared with mud and something slimy and green. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was dripping and plastered to his head.
“Suspicious.” George mumbled.
They silently agreed to figure out that mystery later (and use it to rub Flint’s face in whatever humiliation he had endured the first possible chance) and hurried on to the lake.
George spotted her, sitting cross-legged on a rock overlooking the lake. The brilliant blues, purples and Oranges of the sunset reflecting off the lake and her raven hair. The light behind her made her look ethereal, even for a world of magic she looked unreal in her beauty. She turned her head, her grey eyes flickering over them before she scowled, her perfect eyebrows drawing together as she frowned.
“What happened?” She demanded, jumping off the rock and crossing the distance between them. George opened his mouth to apologize but she snatched his wounded hand, examining the bandages.
“Are you alright?” She asked before he could open his mouth. George was stunned for a moment. Her eyes were large with concern, and she was stroking the back of his hand softly. He realized she wasn’t mad they were late-she was worried about him.
“I love you.” He blurted out, gripping the back of her neck in his uninjured hand and pulling her closer as he dove in to claim her lips. She startled at the sudden shift but melted in his arms, matching the intensity of the sudden kiss. She dropped his hand and snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Hermione was the first to pull back, keeping their bodies connected as she raised her face to look him in the eye.
“I love you too, George.” She said softy. Then she turned her face and looked at Fred, standing slightly to the side, his hands in his pockets. Fred was doing his best to look unconcerned, but George felt the tightness in his chest, the tense thrumming of his heart. George
up no resistance as she slid away from him, facing his twin.
“Hey Fred.” She said softly. Fred smiled at her.
“It wasn’t the plan, telling you this way.” He said softly, curling his lip halfheartedly at his brother. “We had it all worked out, with fireworks and exploding flowers and…”
Hermione stopped his speech by planting her arms on his shoulders and jumping, catching him off guard as he stumbled back and yanked his hands out of his pockets to catch her, connected with a loud dual slap on her bum. She yelped in surprise, then laughed loudly, throwing her head back.
“I’m sorry I-” Fred stammered out.
“Don’t be, I actually quite liked it.” She said softy, her eyes going soft as her laughter evaporated.
“Did you now?” George said slowly, stepping closer.
“Oy! We’re having a moment.” Fred stated petulantly, swinging around with Hermione still firmly in his arms, presenting his back to George. Hermione laughed again.
“I love you, Fred. I prefer a random lake confession to some grand show with everyone around.” She said through giggles.
“Thank Merlin because I’ve been dying to say it for ages.” He groaned dramatically, “I love you.” He finished in a softer voice, kissing her. It wasn't just a kiss; what started as a gentle press of his lips exploded into deepening into something passionate and utterly consuming. They tumbled onto the grass, the world fading away as their hands explored each other, a mixture of shy wonder and unrestrained desire. George sat down in the grass beside them, casting a notice-me-not over the pair. Hermione was draped over Fred, their mouths fused together as they strained against each other.
George ran a light hand down her spine, enjoying the way she shivered at his touch.
“We should probably go somewhere more private.” He murmured. Hermione eased back from Fred, sitting up. She grabbed George by the necktie and pulled him in, biting his lower lip playfully before capturing his lips.
“Excellent idea. Someplace very private.” She murmured against his lips.
Fred
Fred carried Hermione on his back as they walked quickly to Workroom 3, having decided jointly that they were the least likely to be interrupted or discovered there. He felt exceptionally light on his feet as they walked, even with the (barley noticeable) extra weight of her on his back. She loved him. Them. They loved each other, and now he could say it every day. Tell everyone. Hermione Black loved him. And she thinks she got off on the fireworks declaration...maybe I'll save it for Valentine's day? He thought smugly. It would defiantly be a surprise now. On the way, they told her about George’s accident, and their trip to the hospital wing. She was incredibly concerned, and immediately started lecturing them on keeping proper healing potions stocked, as well as bandages and bezors. Fred smirked as George quietly accepted his scolding, not even arguing with their fierce witch.
“So, what happened in the daydream? What was wrong with it?” She asked innocently. Fred and George paused and shared a glace, a move their girlfriend never missed.
“It was, er... just not the intended…” George stammered, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing fiercely.
Fred could feel her gaze through the back of his head. He couldn’t blame her sudden suspicion, that was probably the worst lie he’d heard his twin tell since they were five.
“It was about you.” Fred blurted out. His twin snapped his neck around and glared at him.
“OY! What happened to secrecy?” George snapped, blushing. Fred could feel his embarrassment like a physical thing, and pressed on.
Fred shrugged, bouncing Hermione with the motion.
“Circle of trust. Besides, you want her thinking the worst?” Fred knew her too well at this point; she didn’t feel secure enough to assume her status in their hearts.
“No, I just don’t want to discuss it in the courtyard!” George hissed.
“What about me? Did I murder someone?” She asked hesitantly, as Fred feared, already going to worst case scenario.
“NO!” They nearly shouted together.
“No,” Fred cleared his throat. “We’ll tell you in the workroom.” Hermione hummed in agreement and relaxed on his back as they continued.
“You’ll never believe what happened right before you came.” She said suddenly.
George snorted. “I hope it was you pushing Flint into the Black Lake.” He smirked.
“How did you know?” Hermione shrieked. The twins laughed and Fred jostled her playfully. He’d had a feeling his witch had been behind Flint’s mud-caked form. They had been planning to prank Flint anyway (although, in this context “prank” felt like a very innocent term) but as he shared a glace with his twin, he knew the plan was being executed, tonight.
“You mean he’s right? Brilliant!”
“We saw him sopping and sneaking into the castle.” George explained.
“We need the story.” Fred declared.
“Immediately.” They said in tandem.
Hermione
Fred transfigured the couch again, lengthening and widening it so they could all lounge together. Hermione lay with her head on George’s chest and her legs thrown over Fred, as he gently stroked her calves. They traded stories of the day, Hermione sharing how Flint had made a pass at her (including, though she hated to tell them, all the insults he had lobbed at the boys). She felt extremely content in the moment, letting all the stress and worry of the day fade away in her boy’s arms. She updated them on her revenge list, having locked Pansy Parkinson in a broom closet near the second floor girl’s room that morning. Hermione had knocked into her from behind, silencing and sealing the door. She was fairly confident not only was Pansy still missing, the girl had no idea who her attacker was.
“What about those journals? Any word on the locket?” George asked suddenly. He played with her curls as they spoke, rolling her ringlets between his fingers. Hermione frowned as she thought of the locket again. It currently resided in the wood box George had crafted for it, deep at the bottom of her trunk. The mystery nagged at her at odd times, sending her into small bursts of activity to read the journals, or rush to the library to research cursed jewelry before she forgot about it again. It was so unlike her for a problem to simply…slip her mind, even knowing that must be part of it’s curse didn’t relieve the unease she felt because of it.
“I only brought a few with me; they are pretty detailed accounts, but so far it’s mostly just his life. Fights with his parents, with Sirius, school problems. I’ve been skimming them when I have time but no luck so far.”
Fred hummed thoughtfully, rubbing her leg.
“Maybe over Christmas hols we can look together.” He said.
“What we need to focus on; is getting the bug back.” George said seriously.
“But if the retrieval charm isn’t working, how could we?” Hermione said thoughtfully. She worried the bug had been discovered and destroyed; but if Dumbledore had found it, wouldn’t he have confronted them?
“We think maybe it’s stuck, or the proximity is too far.” George said.
“Gotta get into Dumbledore’s office and try.” Fred added.
“But how,”
“When it’s locked up tight and warded to boot.”
“We’ve been round and round about this.”- George
“We can get in, no problem.”
“But those portraits are snitches.”
“What we need,”
“We need a reason to be there.”
“Cause a distraction,”
“And cast the return.”
“What about Harry?” Hermione asked thoughtfully.
“What about Harry?” The twin repeated in tandem.
“He’s got these meetings with Dumbledore- he’s weirdly mum about them but the next one; he could get it.” She spoke the idea hesitantly, not sold on it herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Harry, but when it came to Dumbledore…they definitely didn’t see eye to eye. Despite her promise to not keep secrets from him, she had refrained from telling him about the bug. She justified this to herself with the fact that the twins had done it, not her…but she still felt guilty. If it finds nothing, there’s nothing to tell…but if we find something out…he’ll be so mad. She fretted.
Twins exchanged a long look between them.
“We love Harry,” Fred began slowly.
“Like a brother,” George hedged.
“Exactly like,”
“But can we trust him with this?”
“Knowing we bugged Dumbledore,”
“Would he…”
“Tell him?” they questioned together.
Hermione hummed softly and went quiet, debating the pros and cons of bringing Harry in on this. It wasn’t time, she decided. Better to wait until they knew if their actions were justified. Harry was impulsive, and deeply loyal to Dumbledore, seeing him as a connection to his father and a parental figure. Someone who had shown him a few crumbs of affection when he had been starved for it his entire life, so Harry had latched on with both hands. She supposed she had done the same thing; hadn’t she let Ron walk all over her for years simply because he offered her friendship? He would dole out small bursts of kindness, gratitude or companionship and she would look over his bad behavior, make excuses for his treatment of her. Now that Dumbledore was slowly revealing his true color, Harry didn’t want to see it, to believe it to be true. It was easier for him to say “Maybe he’s just under a lot of stress, Hermione, and you did do something dangerous…” but most especially, “I dunno, Hermione.”, in such a sad voice she almost always dropped it. She felt horrible about taking away someone Harry cared for from him…for ruining the hero he was in Harry’s mind. No use worrying on it now. We don’t know how bad it is yet. Hermione told herself fiercely. She mentally shook away thoughts and worries of Harry, remembering the daydream charm they mentioned. What kind of daydream did George have about me? she wondered. He was being weird about it, refusing to tell her when normally they couldn’t wait to share all the details of their inventions. It wasn’t like George to hide things from her.
“So, tell me how the daydream charm went wrong.” She said, abruptly changing the subject. She was intensely curious as to the contents of this daydream. What could the subject be that he couldn’t talk about it and called it a failure.
The twins looked at each other again, lost for the moment in their silent communication.
“It just…wasn’t the intended vision. Plus, others could tap in on it, so the privacy feature failed.” George, evasively as his neck flushed.
Fred smirks. “Come on, Forge. Be honest.”
George blushed, “It wasn’t really that..”
“It was sexy.” Fred blurted out. George glared at him. Hermione arched a brow as she looked back and forth between them.
“Was I doing something bad? Why are you being weird about it?” She asked.
“No, nothing bad, I just…it was…” George stammered, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red as he evaded the question. He looked away, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
Fred was grinning devilishly, obviously enjoying his twin’s distress. “It was a rather…explicit daydream. Not suitable for the classroom.” He winked for emphasis.
“Oh.” Hermione said softly. An idea was forming, based on how embarrassed George was, it must have been very explicit…and quite possibly very fun.
“Don’t be mad, we stopped it and-”
“So what was I doing in the fantasy?” She asked, in the same soft voice. She was intrigued, and if she was honest, turned on by the idea. She wondered if his matched the things she had been dreaming about. Maybe we can stop just dreaming. She thought hopefully.
“Well, it starts with you on his lap in the library after hours.” Fred whispered in her ear, kissing her neck softly.
“Does it?” Hermione said lightly. She flipped herself over quickly, throwing her leg over George and dropping down lightly in his lap.
“Close enough?” She whispered in George’s ear. “I don’t fancy getting caught by Peeves or Filch.”
“Yes, but-”
“What came next?” Hermione asked, leaning down and kissing his neck.
“You kissed him, reminded him you were alone.” Fred ran his hand softly up her spine. Hermione arched her back like a cat into Fred’s touch, mewling softly. George groaned as the action drove her hips into his, and Hermione felt a warm satisfaction at the effect she was having on him.
“Hermione, you don’t have to do this.” George said huskily. “It was just a stupid daydream, I couldn’t help it-”
“But I want to. Stop telling me I don’t have to, I know that. Do you want me to?” She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, slowly guiding and deepening the kiss. She traced her hands up his stomach, his neck, cupping his face and delving her tongue into his mouth. George moaned, sliding his hands up the back of her thighs and settling on her bum, squeezing gently.
“More than I can say.” He said gruffly. Hermione pulled back slightly, nipping his bottom lip in the way she knew made him wild.
“Tell me what to do, George.” She whispered. “I want you to tell me what to do next.” She felt the shift in him, he tensed, looked her in the eye, and smirked. She could nearly see his cocky energy returning, no longer unsure of her desire. This is what had been missing; she realized. The twins wanted no-nonsense communication about consent, and she had been holding back on asking directly; too self conscious. There was always that small voice in the back of her head, telling her she was misunderstanding them, she wasn’t good enough. Day by day she was drowning that voice out, becoming more sure that the people around her truly liked her for herself. The lakeside confession had confirmed what she already knew in her heart; they loved each other. Hearing it settled some of the nagging thoughts plaguing her, this wasn’t a passing fancy. What they had was real, and she was eager to express her love in every way with them.
“In the daydream, this is where you stripped.” He said in a low but steady voice. Hermione smirked, leaning back and pulling off her tie. He was learning too, listening when she had said to stop double-checking what she said. She began slowly unbuttoning, loving the tense look on George’s face as his eyes locked on to each button. She felt powerful, like a seductress, seeing the hungry look in his eyes.
“But George,” She said coyly, playing with the button between her breasts. “We’re in the library.” She winked, and glanced around, as though checking to make sure the coast was clear, making him chuckle. Her eyes went wide as she took in the room, no longer the cluttered workspace, but a hushed, dim corner of the library. The shelves surrounded them, towers of ancient books shielding them.
“What in the…” Hermione whispered, as she and George looked around.
“Just setting the mood. Don’t mind me, I’m not even here.” Fred’s laughing voice came from behind a shelf. Hermione locked eyes with George and he grinned.
“Clever with illusions, my brother.” George whispered, leaning forward and kissing her. “It’s after hours. No one will catch us.” He whispered. Hermione shivered, then pushed him back onto the couch. She made short work of the rest of the buttons, then playfully flung her shirt in his face. George laughed and snatched it out of the air, tossing it carelessly to the side as his eyes latched onto the descent of her bra. She paused, waiting for instruction.
“All of it.” George reached out and stroked her hair, his eyes searching her face. She knew he wanted to check in, and was holding himself back from asking her. She smiled, loosened the zipper and let her skirt drop to the floor. Soon she was bare on her knees before him, her hands resting lightly on his thighs. George was panting slightly, and Hermione felt intoxicated with the power she had over him. The game was he was in control, but she knew if she showed the slightest hesitation he would stop instantly. It thrilled her, making her desire burn hotter.
“What came next?” She asked, sliding her hands up his thighs and coming to rest on his belt. George swallowed, sucking in a tight breath.
“That- you took off my belt.” he said, slightly breathless.
Hermione grinned slyly and reached for the buckle. She opened the buckle and pulled the belt free with excruciating slowness, flicking her eyes up every so often to meet George’s. His eyes were dark and hooded, his gaze constantly locked onto her. She kept her eyes locked on his, as she opened his trousers, slipped her hand inside and squeezed him through his pants. George’s eyes fluttered closed and he dropped his head back, sending a thrill through her. She felt wild, free in a way she never had before. Expressing her love for him by worshiping his body was intoxicating. Every touch, every moan, every shudder was for her, his body reacting to her, his whispered words for her. He stroked her hair reverently, showering her with softly spoken praise. She watched him as he reached his climax, head thrown back as he shouted her name, pride and love filling her heart. Hermione grinned up at him as he caught his breath, staring down at her with something akin to wonder in his eyes. George reached down, helping her off the floor and pulling her into his lap. He tucked her head under his chin and hugged her tightly.
“You are amazing.” He whispered. Hermione giggled softly.
“Did I live up to the daydream then?”
“Silly witch. That was nothing compared to this.” George nuzzled her hair and sighed in contentment. “That was…I don’t even have words for it.” He kissed her hair, and she sighed, feeling utterly content. "I love you, Hermione. More than I can say."
"I love you George." She nuzzled her face into his neck. “This was quite fun.” She murmured, stroking the back of his neck softly. “Maybe sometime we could try it in the real library.” George stiffened slightly, and Hermione laughed.
“Public indecency is more Fred’s idea of fun than mine.” He said.
“Really?” She said curiously.
“Giving away secrets?” Fred called out, coming into view as he vanished the library illusion.
“Circle or trust, I thought.” George said innocently.
“Touché’ brother.”