by Sing To Angels

"But Mum you had no right! Those were our--"

Mrs Weasley cut Fred off. "As long as you live with us, there will be no dangerous plants or animals of any kind in this house! Mr Lupin was kind enough to let you stay here, so you both ought to show more respect." She pursed her lips. "I'm only glad that Hermione told me or I may have woken up one morning to find the both of you strangled by that Devil's Snare!" Mrs Weasley tutted and shook her head. "Honestly, you boys should have learnt after that Ashwinder egg incident. Your flat was utterly destroyed and you could have died!"

"We know that, Mum," George said soothingly. "But we thought that one of those Muggle freeze things would work all right." He scratched the back of his neck. "Didn't know you have to have eclecaticky to use them."

"Well, no more!" she stated firmly, steel in her eyes. "No more funny plants or creatures in this house. From now on, you'll have to keep those horrible things somewhere else. Like your shop."

"There's not enough room in our shop!" Fred protested.

"That's just too bad!" Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips. "Perhaps Hermione will help you find a safer way to blow things up. She's a sensible girl and the two of you could learn from her example. Your brothers were never this much trouble and Hermione's had a wonderful influence on Ron. If she hadn't told me about that plant . . . well, it's dreadful to think of your mangled bodies; and ours, too!"

Fred seethed inwardly and glanced at his twin. He could see the same burning anger reflected in his eyes. All those months of research lost forever because a certain busybody prefect couldn't keep her mouth shut. Oh how Hermione was going to pay! George confirmed this silently by nodding his head. She had ruined their testing and research back in school and almost made it to where they had to put their business on hold. They weren't going to let her mess up any more plans.

George pretended to look horrified for their mother's sake. "We're sorry, Mum, honest we are. We didn't think of that, did we, Fred?"

Fred nodded and glanced at the floor, fighting a smirk. "It's an awfully good thing that Hermione was smart enough to tell you." He couldn't lay on too thick; it had to be just right if she was going to believe them. "We're stubborn blokes, you know."

"Fred's right: we're stubborn. But we didn't mean any harm, Mum. We won't bring anything like that into the house again," George said, using his best tone of contrition.

He quirked an eyebrow at his brother's statement, but didn't look up. George had said it perfectly. Taken literally, he'd just told their mum that they wouldn't bring anymore Devil's Snare into the house. But the courtyard garden was still available and quite dark during the day . . . perfect.

When Fred finally lifted his head, Mrs Weasley was pursing her lips as if trying to figure out whether she'd just been hoodwinked or not. But after a moment she relaxed and went back to stirring a cauldron of stew over the fire.

George nudged his brother and they walked toward the stairs to their room. A room that would be notably free of Venomous Tenacula, Devil's Snare, baby Bowtruckles, and Doxy eggs amongst other materials needed for their experiments.

"So any ideas for revenge, brother mine?" George asked quietly.

They passed by the curtained portrait of Mrs Black and Fred poked it with his wand. She immediately started screaming swear words at them and George chuckled before they ran up the stairs two at a time and away from the scene of the crime. It was better not to Apparate since their mum had forbidden that in the house as well; at least for them. It was terribly unfair.

"I'll think of something, Forge," Fred whispered. Mrs Weasley had come to pull the curtains shut again downstairs and was struggling against the portrait. Shouts of 'Mudblood' could be heard clearly amongst other words and Fred grinned.

"May want to think a bit faster, Gred." George poked him in the side. "Granger's just there."

Fred glanced up at Hermione, barely visible in the dark hallway. He could see her proper white blouse and how it clung to her developing breasts. She was rather attractive for a snitch. The corners of Fred's mouth curled into two dagger-like points and he touched George's arm. "Follow my lead."

Hermione seemed blissfully ignorant of their presence behind her as they swaggered down the corridor, coming closer and closer. That is, until she swung around to face them. She sighed in relief.

"I've been looking for you two everywhere." Hermione contemplated her shoes and bit her lip. "I know that you're both cross with me for going to your mum, but I--"

Fred cut her off with a wide grin, echoed by George. "We're not cross, Hermione. We know that you only had the best of intentions."

Hermione visibly relaxed. "Really?"

"Truly," George said. He caught Fred's eye and took his place behind Hermione.

She was going to turn, but Fred caught her arm. "So why aren't you with Ron and Harry?"

"Oh." She blushed. "Harry's downstairs. He's still depressed about Sir-" Hermione stopped. "You know. And Ron's polishing his broom so he wants to be alone, too, or so he said." She put her hands on her hips. "I don't know why I can't be there. I've seen him polish that thing loads of times before and I wanted to go over the new prefect duties for next year."

George bowed over with silent laughter behind Hermione, and Fred fought hard not to laugh himself. The girl was incredibly thick for such a know-it-all.

Fred reached out to touch Hermione's cheek with his palm. Her skin was so velvety and warm, like holding a summer peach. "Such stupid mates you've got, Hermione. They ought to appreciate your company more."

Hermione blinked and stepped back, but George was directly behind her so she bumped into him. Fred could see his twinkling eyes over her head, twin drops of light in the gloom, and moved closer to her, keeping his hand on her face.

"Fred? What are you-- *dommph*!"

He bent his head down and pressed his lips firmly to hers. They were tight at first, but Fred was insistent and eventually Hermione's mouth opened to him. Her eyes closed and all the moist breath wooshed from her lungs when his tongue darted past her lips to tease the ridged roof of her mouth.

George slipped one arm around her waist and she jumped. Fred let his free hand wander down to cup her bottom as George nibbled on her neck. Hermione groaned into Fred's mouth and timidly reached up to drape her arms over his shoulders.

Fred kept one eye open for communication with George. He glanced down briefly and his twin nodded. George roved his hands up Hermione's stomach to squeeze her small breasts, his knuckles grating against Fred's chest.

Hermione jerked and tried to push them away, but Fred dug his fingers into the supple flesh of her bottom and she squeaked. He released Hermione's mouth and moved down to bite and lick the strong, pale line of her neck whilst George worked the other side. Her skin was some silken and indescribably salty thing, but it tasted good so Fred was happy enough to swirl his tongue in patterns over her pulse.

Fred manoeuvred his hand between he and Hermione's bodies, running his palm over her thigh and dragging her skirt up. She shivered and moaned, tightening her grip on his shoulder. George winked over her head and Fred grinned against Hermione's neck. He touched her knickers feather-light at first, but then pressed his fingers harder against the damp, over-heated nexus of her thighs, rubbing in relentless circles.

"No," she whimpered. "Not there. Don't."

George nodded and Fred hooked his thumb around the edge of her knickers and pulled them aside so he could touch her skin. Hermione's legs clamped down around his hand, but he still was able to wiggle one calloused finger into her.

"Oh," she breathed. The cords of her thighs dug into his wrists and her hips arched upward.

George tweaked her hard nipples through her blouse and Fred slid his finger up to her clitoris then back inside, her summer cordial clinging to his skin. If Hermione's face was like a peach, the skin here was like biting into it and letting the juice run over your hand.

His fingers spinning like dancers in a ballroom, they twirled and plunged over and over, going a little faster as he felt her heart race against his chest. He could taste the sweat beading on her skin. George turned her head to kiss her on the mouth and draw in all of her gasps and cries. Hermione fluttered on Fred's finger and he knew she was about to come.

She was so close.

Fred pulled his hand away and stepped back. From behind her, George released her mouth and did the same. He aimed his wand at her back and whispered: "Progressi Haltu!"

Without them to support her, Hermione swayed. She shook her head and fell back against the wall, breathing hard and peering at them from confused, lust-glazed eyes.

"Wha-- why did you stop?" she gasped out.

George managed to resist the urge to grin and pinched her cheek lightly. "We just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you, Hermione."

"Yeah," Fred added. "We wouldn't want you to think that we're ungrateful or anything."


"See you later, Hermione," they said together, turning away from her and walking up to the next landing where their room was.

Fred attempted to ignore the tenting of his trousers. He would have liked to pound her into the wall, but unfortunately, that hadn't been part of the plan. Blasted conscience.

"Brilliant modification, George. A better use for that spell than when you made Montague run in place for two hours." Fred commended.

George grinned and glanced at him from the corner of one eye. "Cheers. Brilliant idea, Fred. That was bloody evil of you. We ought to have been in Slytherin."

"Nah. They wouldn't have been nearly so creative. Probably just hexed her or something and not had nearly so much fun first," Fred objected.

"S'pose so. But it was evil of us."

Fred matched George's sly smirk. "Quite. And ickle Hermione won't have a clue, likely. She's going to be squirming for hours."

George tossed Fred a towel and took one for himself before they went back into the hall on their way to the baths. "Yeah. But I suppose we ought to take the spell off sometime after tea . . . or supper." He poked Fred in the arm. "I wouldn't have minded a piece, though."

"Too right. But Ronniekins the Magnificent has his eye on her."

"So?" George said. "Finders keepers, says I."

Fred shrugged. "She's one of those good girls. Not in our league, Forge. Reckon she'd bore the pants off us in two days."

"Don't be so sure, mate." George opened the door to the oversized lavatory. "That one has loads of potential. Imagine if we could get her to work for us instead of against us."

"Bloody hell, George," Fred said. Possibilities ran through his mind at lightening speed. He could see their products lining shelves across the country. Hermione inventing gags and jokes played out in his mind. Surprisingly, the image fit. Especially when he saw her wearing nothing but a work smock in their laboratory, tinkering with vials. "I think you're on to something, brother mine."

"We'll have to work on her, then," George said.

"Yeah, but business before pleasure, Forge." Fred nodded sagely as he stripped off his clothes and turned the cold water on full blast. "Business before pleasure."


Hermione tossed on her narrow mattress, and the bedclothes twisted around her legs from her struggles. She knew that it was terribly early to have turned in, but she didn't feel up to facing everyone at the table that evening for supper. Her stomach was fluttering, her heart racing, and her lower body seemed to be in a constant state of readiness. Ready for what, though, she could only speculate.

She wasn't stupid. Hermione knew that her condition must have been retribution by the twins for telling Mrs Weasley about the dangerous things in their room.

Everyone was downstairs still, and she considered trying once more to relieve the hollow ache between her thighs, but decided not to simply because nothing had worked so far. No matter what she did, the feeling just would not go away. That cold heat spread through her body, tingling her legs and stomach, but was never quenched.

It was a horrid thing to do to someone who was only trying to help.

Hermione heard thumps from above her, followed by an occasional burst of laughter, and she reckoned that the twins were done with supper and had gone back to blowing things up. She screwed her eyes shut and drummed her fingers over her belly for a moment before she worked up the courage to go and confront them. Perhaps they would undo whatever it was they did if she begged hard enough.

By this point, Hermione was willing to do anything to make this feeling go away. She threw aside her bedclothes and ran on wobbly legs up the stairs. Once in front of their room, though, she started to have second thoughts. What if they hadn't done anything to her? Hermione pursed her lips. Ha! Of course they were responsible; who else would have done this?

She rapped sharply on the door. It wasn't a moment before two identical faces confronted her, Cheshire grins from ear to ear.

"Ah, Hermione--"

"Feeling all right?" Fred finished.

"Yes, you look a bit--"

"Buggered?" Fred supplied casually.

"Quite." George nodded.

Hermione glared at them. "What, exactly, did the two of you do to me?"

"Us?" Fred gasped.

"Never!" George exclaimed, shaking his head. "Young people--"

"So suspicious."

Hermione frowned, the corners of her mouth pressed deeply into her cheeks. "What did you do?"

Fred and George grinned wider, if it were possible. "You seemed to be having so much fun, Hermione."

"Yeah, you're so uptight all the time-"

"Thought you could use it." George scratched his nose to cover a smirk, but didn't quite succeed since his eyes were crescent slits full of amusement.

"But it won't--I can't--it won't finish!" Hermione shouted.

"Ah," Fred shook his head.

"Frigid," George replied.

Hermione screamed. Her insides were itching and these two were joking around and making her even more upset and anxious. "I'm not- !"

"Shh." Fred put a finger to his lips.

"You'll scare off all the customers that way," George said quietly. He ushered her into the room and closed the door.

"What customers?" Hermione muttered tartly. The twins chose to ignore her as they sealed their room with various charms.

"Wouldn't want Mummy to come upstairs and see her precious Hermione in a compromising position." Fred stated with a swish of his wand.

"Yeah, all the screaming . . ."

"What?" Hermione shrilled. "What are you two going to do?!"

George put his hands on his hips. "Don't tell me that you're really that thick!"

"I--I just thought it was a jinx or something. That one of you could remove it with a wave of your wand." Hermione made a flicking motion with her wrist.

Fred smirked. His eyes were glinting with something that was almost menacing in the soft half-light of their bedroom. "It's something like that."

"But if you don't want us to help you . . ." George trailed off again. "You can always find another way, I suppose."

Hermione gritted her teeth and flopped back onto one of the beds. Despite appearances, she wasn't completely oblivious when it came to matters of the flesh. She knew what they wanted; however by this point, it was something that she wanted, too. Anything to make the nerves under her skin stop crawling. "Fine. Let's get this over then, shall we?"

George arched an eyebrow at her. "Doesn't seem terribly repentant, does she, Gred?"

"Certainly not sorry at all. There's usually more begging involved," Fred agreed.

"Hands and knees. Not in the proper spirit, I suppose." George shook his head mock-sadly.

"What do you want me to do?" Hermione sighed. She flung an arm over her eyes and wished that she had never told Mrs Weasley about that stupid Devil's Snare. She wished that it had strangled the pair of them in the night.

Fred pitched himself down on the other bed and crossed his arms behind his head, shifting his hips lazily. "A dance, George?"

"Mum took our Wireless, remember?"

"Oh, right. Any ideas, then?"

"Are we going slug or Snitch tonight?" George asked as he grabbed a chair from the desk and sat on it backwards.

"Slug, of course." Fred shrugged. "More fun that way."

"Oh would you two hurry up!" Hermione shouted, slapping the bed as her arm came crashing back down. "I want to go to sleep."

George grinned. "Definitely slug."

Why on earth were they talking about slugs and Snitches? Hermione sighed and squirmed. Her knickers were so sodden that they would leak through onto the bed at any moment. Why couldn't they hurry up?

"Oi, Hermione." Fred crooked a finger at her. "Come here."

She tightened her lips to hold back a sarcastic comment and slid off the mattress. Fred smiled up at her languidly. "Straddle me." He patted his lap.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But--" She had the feeling that she was going to wish someone would Obliviate her memory before the night was over.

Hermione threw a leg over his hip and climbed on the bed, straddling him. Fred leered at her and slid his hand up her thigh. Her nightdress rode higher as his fingers crept toward her knickers.

Suddenly there was another set of hands from behind her. George plucked at the strings holding her nightdress closed and slipped it down her arms. It pooled at her waist, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest unconsciously.

"No, no, no," George tutted in her ear. "None of that. Now play nice." He wormed his hands in under her arms and cupped her naked breasts with his calloused palms. Hermione moaned softly and arched back until her head was resting on his shoulder.

Fred had pushed her nightdress down a bit more and was poking her navel with his finger. "Who goes first, Hermione?"

"Wha--uh?" She gasped when George lowered his head and nibbled the shell of her ear, his breath moist and hot.

"Who goes first?" George whispered. He bit her earlobe with blunt teeth and Hermione shuddered.

"Uh . . ."

"She seems to be at a bit of a loss, George." Fred shook his head and trailed his fingers down to play with the elastic waistband of her knickers. "Usual way, then." Fred stared intently over her shoulder and said: "Three."

"Bugger!" George swore next to her ear. "You win."

"Always, brother dear." Fred winked.

"Oh God," Hermione moaned. She'd been simmering all afternoon and she would be glad to get off the fire and into bed. Her own bed. Alone. "Just do something already!"

"Hear that, George?" Fred asked laughingly. "She's already calling our name and we haven't even done anything to her yet."

George tugged her from his brother's lap and laid back so that she was now flush over him, stomach to stomach. Hermione's head spun from the sudden movement, and she was still confused when he pulled her head down to his and kissed her. George probed her mouth carefully, exploring every crevice whilst his brother rolled her nightdress and knickers down over her legs.

Hermione clutched the pillow under George's head with her fingers and hesitantly started moving her tongue against his; the rough material of his shirt scraped her naked breasts and it felt oh so good.

Meanwhile, Fred had pushed her legs down so that she was straddling George and ran his hand over her backside and inner thighs. She shuddered and hunched forward so her bottom was up and closer to Fred's scratchy palm. Air was hitting the wet, sensitised skin and she gasped into George's mouth.

"If she were much wetter, we'd be swimming." Fred laughed and smacked her rump sharply.

Hermione jumped and knocked her teeth against George's. He grinned against her lips good-naturedly and tweaked a strand of her hair. Fred was running his tongue over the back of her neck and down her spine. When he reached her bottom, he nipped her cheek lightly with his teeth and lips.

She inhaled and moaned, pressing her mouth to George even harder. He was very carefully sucking the breath from her and giving it back as Fred lapped in ever decreasing circles from the bottom of her slit to the very top until he was swirling around the centre. He flicked his tongue over her clitoris a few times and did the same thing again. Hermione writhed against him and dropped her forehead to George's stubbly chin.

"Make it stop," she panted. "I can't take anymore."

Then she felt Fred's hips grinding into her, his suddenly naked arousal pressed into her thigh and one hand splayed over her belly. Hermione quivered and one of George's arms came up to pull her closer to him. He turned her head back to him with his free hand and kissed her again, his tongue tracing Hermione's lips before plunging inside.

Fred pushed her bottom up and slowly eased his cock into her, just barely wetting it before pulling back and doing it again. Hermione had instinctively tightened so much that it was difficult for him to go any further. He leant over her back and wiggled his hands between she and George's bodies to curl over her breasts. Fred pinched her nipples, hard, and Hermione released George's mouth with a startled cry. It gave Fred the right opportunity to slam into her.

Hermione drew a sharp breath and her eyes watered, but it wasn't as painful as she had imagined. The hollow, empty feeling was quite gone by this point and she was stretched and filled to the brim with him; but the tight, itchy feeling pounding in her veins was still there.

Fred held still for a moment and massaged her breasts whilst George's hands came up to grip her bottom. Then Fred started to move within her. His finger and thumb rolled her nipples every time he slowly pushed in all the way until he could move more easily.

George's deep brown eyes pierced Hermione. Her body rocked back and forth over him with Fred's movements and he kissed her throat. George sucked a patch of skin just over her carotid artery, no doubt drawing a bruise and perhaps a few drops of blood.

But then he had to release her because Fred was going faster. Hermione groaned and let her head rest on George's shoulder, her hands wrapping around his steely upper arms. Fred's sharp hipbones slammed into her bottom so hard that her teeth rattled in her head and little lights appeared when she closed her eyes. That warm, clutching sensation in her chest and belly was intensifying, but she still felt no release.

When George's hand crept up to flick at her clit, she shuddered and moaned, undulating between their bodies like a wild thing; agitating herself on the washboard of George's stomach. Hermione moved her hands up to dig her fingers deep into George's thick, wavy hair. "Oh please--please--I need to--"

She could feel Fred twitching within her and his thrusts became less controlled and more spastic. His breath was hot and harsh on her neck as he came inside of her, spurting warm fluid that trickled down her belly and thighs. Fred rested his forehead on the back of her neck for a moment and gasped against her clammy skin.

"My turn," George whispered to her. He planted a kiss on her cheek and pushed her up so that she was hovering over his lap in more of a sitting position as he pushed his trousers and underpants down.

Fred seemed to have recovered a bit by this time. He leant back to allow his brother free reign, but still stayed close enough to kiss Hermione's damp hair and neck. His nose nuzzled the delicate skin over her jugular vein a few times before he nipped and sucked it carefully. She was sure there would be two matching bruises on her neck later.

George settled her knees up close to his underarms and eased her down onto his cock. He seemed to have a wider girth than Fred, but Hermione thought it might have been the angle that made it seem so. Either way, he was stuffing her to capacity and she whimpered when he hit a pleasurable spot inside of her.

"Oh God," she hissed. "That's it. Just--like--that."

"I think she's enjoying herself after all, George," Fred said. He scrubbed Hermione's breasts from behind with his large, rough hands and squeezed. Her nipples were so hard that she felt certain they could cut glass.

"I told you she could be a lot of fun if we gave her a chance." George reared beneath her again. "Aren't you, Hermione?" he asked with a grunt. George spanned his equally large and rough hands around her waist and pulled her upper body closer to him.

Hermione flopped toward him like a rag doll. She was dizzy and stars winked in her outer vision, wreathing George's face in her sight. Hermione could only nod and grip Fred's hands on her breasts. She squeezed them tight when she felt George's penis slide against her clitoris from the new angle.

"Please," Hermione panted. "Let me finish. Please."

George looked past her. "Yeah, go on, Fred. She's had enough."

Fred removed his hands from her breasts and they were suddenly cold. She shivered when he returned and held her back against his chest as George continued to move beneath her. Fred turned her head and pressed his mouth to hers, marking her lips, for a moment before letting go. She could feel the sharp depression of his wand in her side.

"Progressi!" he whispered.

As soon as the word was uttered, Hermione felt the tingly heat that had lain tightly coiled in her belly all afternoon explode outward into every limb, fingertip and toe. The rush of blood from her head was enormous and she screamed, dimly registering George's hoarse shout below her. It was as if her very life was draining out in a way that was mostly pleasurable, but also painful.

Everything after that was blackness.


Fred stood next to his brother and stared down at Hermione. She was sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. Or maybe she was still in a faint.

"Reckoned we'd killed her at first," George mumbled. He was shakily buckling his trousers up.

"She'll be all right," Fred assured. "Hermione's like one of those Filibuster's: they last forever."

"S'pose so. She sure went out with a bang, too. Almost strangled my bits half to death when she came."

Fred grinned fondly. "Yeah. Who knew Hermione was so hot?"

George held up a hand. "Me. Remember?"

"Oh right. Forgot."

They found her nightclothes, which were flung across their bedroom, and started dressing her carefully. On either side of her neck a bruise contrasted with the pallid skin there, her pulse fluttering beneath. Fred contemplated them for a moment.

"Reckon we can share her?"

George quirked an eyebrow at his brother. "Thought you didn't like her."

"Things change, brother mine." Fred grinned widely. "After tonight, I admit I was wrong. She's not so bad."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that, Gred," George said sarcastically. He shrugged. "It's really up to her, I suppose. I mean, she's probably going to kill us when she wakes up."

"If she doesn't, Ronnikins will. You know he fancies her."

"We could always slip something into his pumpkin juice," George suggested.

"Or find him a new bird to dote on," Fred added with a glance down at Hermione. "Though I think this one's going to be hard to beat."

"We have those Choco-Love Bites and the Strawberry Lust Dust . . ." his twin mused. "He could be our first test subject."

"Yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, Grimmauld Place isn't exactly swarming with giggly girls. Except Ginny but that's-ew. No. She doesn't count at all."

George shuddered. "Horrifying."

He walked across the room and flung himself on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Fred did much the same thing, stretching out behind Hermione and propping his head up on his hand.

"Who says it has to be a girl?" Fred asked slyly as he slid a casual hand over Hermione's rump.

George jolted upright. "Mum would kill us!"

"Not if she didn't know."

"Who do you have in mind?" George hesitantly inquired. He settled back onto his bed and beat his pillow a few times.

Fred smirked. "No one in particular."

He pulled Hermione closer to him and flicked his wand at the gas lamps. The room went dark and Hermione nuzzled, unconsciously he was sure, into his side. She really was a comfortable little thing; all pillowy curves and smooth, creamy skin. Not to mention that Hermione's was the sweetest arse he'd ever had, even if she had needed some convincing. Fred smoothed her nightdress down over her stomach and thighs, his fingers grazing her bare leg.

He especially liked the convincing.

Ron was a stupid little bugger to not have shagged her already. Maybe if they could distract him enough . . .

"Let's just say, Forge, that if Ronnikins ever crosses us, Malfoy's going to have his hands full."


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