Title: Portrait Adventure
Author: alisanne
Characters: Molly Weasley/The Fat Lady
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Semi-public sex (sort of).
Themes/kinks chosen: Chaperoning, and the alternate pairing.
Word Count: 2930
Summary: Molly just wants what's best for her children.
Author's notes: Thanks to emynn for the idea and to emynn and sevfan for beta reading. And I hope this makes sense.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


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Portrait Adventure

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“But who is she?” Molly asks. “I mean, first he was all about that French girl, who’s been getting rather familiar with our Bill, truth be told, and then he was mooning over Hermione, and now it’s...what’s her name?”

“Lavender,” says Arthur. “In his letter he says her name’s Lavender.” He sighs. “But you cannot meddle, Mollywobbles. Our Ron’s a big boy now. He can have a girlfriend at school if he likes.”

“Well of course he can.” Molly clears her throat. “I just want to be sure he’s happy, that she’s not...taking advantage.”

Shaking his head, Arthur stands up. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Leaning over, he kisses her hair. “Now promise me you won’t do anything...foolish.”

“Like what?”

“Like try to spy on him or interfere somehow.”

“And just how could I do that?” Molly asks, sputtering. “Albus Dumbledore has that school locked down tight. He’d never allow that. Not that I’d want to anyway.”

“Hm.” Arthur smiles. “All right. Well I’m off to work. I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, dear.” Molly watches him go, then gets up to clean away the breakfast things. It’s lonely in the house without the children, but she resists the urge to pull out the old family photos and instead goes in to Diagon Alley to shop.

After stopping by to visit the twins - they aren’t familiar with this Lavender person either - she returns home to her empty house. It’s only after she’s put away her purchases that an idea occurs to her and, running to the attic, she pulls out her old school things.

Her Hogwarts trunk she gave to Ginny, but she has all her things stored in boxes and it takes some rummaging to find the one she wants.

Settling on a box, Molly looks through her old school photos. She smiles, recalling her days at Hogwarts, running her fingers over the moving pictures while the people in them wave back at her.

She comes across one of her and her school friends posing in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. The Fat Lady loved having her picture taken and had always been trying to find ways into them.

And she’s still there, thinks Molly. Chaperoning my babies.

Not that she could do anything, stop anything. Molly sighs. “If only there was a way I could be a portrait for a day. Then I could check up on everyone, make sure this Lavender isn’t some sort of...bad influence.”

As she speaks aloud, the Fat Lady’s picture smiles at her and winks.

Molly blinks. She’d looked at that picture many times before and it had never done that. “Can you...can you hear me?” she asks.

The Fat Lady nods.

“But...you’re in a photograph. And you’re a portrait. That’s--” Shaking her head, Molly stands, and taking the photo with her, hurries downstairs. Percy left several books behind; perhaps there’s something in his room about the properties of portraits. It’s something she can see him being interested in. Picking out two books, Molly sits on his bed and thumbs through them. As she reads, she glances at the photo, which looks the same as it always has except the Fat Lady is no longer winking.

Some portraits are able to imbue their essence into any likeness made of them, she reads. This does allow some limited communication with them under special circumstances.

Lips pursed, Molly hums. “Well, well,” she murmurs, once again eyeing the photo. “Perhaps there is a way to do this after all.”

It takes a few days of research to discover the best way to not only communicate with a portrait in a wizarding photo, but also to perhaps spend time inside the photo. Fortunately, Molly has the time, and Arthur just seems relieved that she’s not still talking about Ron’s love life.

That weekend Arthur has to go on a business trip for the Ministry, one of several he has coming up, and it’s the perfect opportunity. After waving him off, Molly goes to their room and pulls out the photo. Enlarging it, she sets it on the bed, propping it up against the headboard. The Fat Lady simply watches.

“I just need to borrow your portrait,” says Molly, once she has everything set up. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

The Fat Lady inclines her head and gestures as if to say, ‘come in’.

Molly smiles in satisfaction. “And that’s the last thing I need,” she says. “Permission.” Placing her hand on the photo portrait, she says, Subvectum!”

There’s a moment of disorientation when Molly can’t see or hear anything, and then she’s looking up at-- “Fat Lady?”

The Fat Lady pouts. “I like to think of myself as Rubenesque.”

Molly scrambles to her feet, looking around. “I actually did it! I’m in a portrait that’s in a photograph!”

“Why yes.” The Fat Lady smiles and points. “You see? That’s where you came from.”

Molly looks, blinking when she sees her bedroom, only now it appears to be a picture on a wall, with a frame around it and everything. “Merlin,” she breathes.

The Fat Lady inclines her head. “You went to a lot of trouble to get here, dear. Why?”

“It’s my Ronnie.” Molly sighs. “I’m worried about him. I’ve heard about a girl--”

The Fat Lady nods. “Brown. She’s a forward one, she is. I’d be worried, too.”

Molly steps closer. “You know her? You’ve seen them?”

The Fat Lady huffs. “Of course. I see everything my charges do.”

“Everything?”

The Fat Lady’s smile is sly. “Why yes, Molly Prewett. I see everything, and I always have. I remember what you and Sally Parkinson used to get up to at night when you thought no one was watching.”

Molly blushes. “That was during my...experimental phase. It was a long time ago.”

“Ah, but what is time to a portrait?” the Fat Lady asks. “And experimentation seems to be a trait he’s inherited from you.”

Molly hesitates. “Is my Ronnie...experimenting, too?”

“Would you like to see?” The Fat Lady licks her lips. “I can show you.”

“How?”

“I have my ways.” The Fat Lady moves closer, rests her hand on Molly’s arm. “But first, we should discuss payment.”

“Payment?” Molly frowns. “Why would a portrait need money?”

“Money?” The Fat Lady laughs. “Oh no. You’re quite correct, I hardly require money.” She slides her hand up Molly’s arm to squeeze her shoulder. “Oh, no, what I have in mind is of a much more...personal nature.”

Molly swallows hard. Surely she’s mistaking the gleam in the Fat Lady’s eye. “Like what, exactly?”

“Just some pleasant companionship.” The Fat Lady sighs dramatically. “Stuck in here with only other portraits for company, it can get lonely.” Her smile is sly. “Which is why we watch, always watch. You want to see what your boy is doing right now, don’t you? It’s Friday night, the children are always busy on Fridays.”

Molly bites her lip and nods slowly. “Yes, I do want to see.”

“Well then.” The Fat Lady leans close. “There’s just one more thing we need to do. Seal our arrangement.” And, without preamble, she presses her mouth against Molly’s.

Molly gasps, and that is enough to allow the Fat Lady to slip her tongue into Molly’s mouth and deepen the kiss.

Although she hasn’t kissed anyone but Arthur in decades, Molly adjusts quickly, leaning into the Fat Lady’s curves, moulding herself closer as her arms snake around her neck. Truth be told, she quite likes kissing woman, and although Arthur would probably be willing to try some Polyjuice, she’s never asked him. Perhaps I will now, she thinks hazily as the Fat Lady thoroughly explores her mouth.

When they separate, both women are panting. “Well, I think that’s enough for now.” Clasping Molly’s hand, she pulls her along. “Don’t let go. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know where you’re going.”

Molly clings tightly as she’s pulled along. She gets the impression of darkness, where there’s no up or down before she’s dragged into what looks like a room with bookcases and comfortable chairs. “Where are we?” she asks.

“Shh!” The Fat Lady places a finger over her lips. “We’re in the Gryffindor dorm now, in one of the paintings across from the fireplace.” She hums. “This is a good one because we can see things reflected in the marble of the fireplace. It gives you a view of the whole common room.”

Molly smiles. “Perfect,” she breathes.

“We do have to be careful though,” the Fat Lady continues. “While the children rarely notice anything new in the portraits, some can be...perceptive.”

Molly nods. She’s not sure her Ron would notice if the entire place collapsed, but she knows Hermione would spot a hair out of place.

“We can get an especially good view from over here.” The Fat Lady tugs Molly forward until they are leaning around the edge of the painting’s frame. She places an arm over Molly’s waist to brace her and she points. “There, look, you see? You may need to get up on your tiptoes.”

Molly squints, craning her neck and it still takes some effort to see where the Fat Lady is pointing. Finally, she does. “Oh! Yes, I do.” It’s Ron, and he’s sitting facing the picture, and while she can’t see exactly what the girl with him is doing, she can see that she’s facing him, straddling him, her skirt hiked up, her arms around his neck. They’re kissing, although every few moments the girl draws back and giggles. “They’re snogging!”

As soon as Molly says that, the girl - she presumes it’s Lavender - leans forward, pressing her tits into Ron’s face. Ron’s expression indicates he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Rather more than snogging, I think. Although they do seem to do a lot of that as well,” confides the Fat Lady. “And you see how no one’s even paying any attention?”

Molly does. There are students everywhere, most are studying, a couple are chatting, but no one’s watching Ron. Well, almost no one; she sees Harry and Hermione in another corner, their heads bent together. But far from looking like they’re canoodling, it’s clear they are anything but romantically engaged; Harry intently reading a potions book and Hermione-- Well, she’s staring at Ron, the hurt and unhappiness in her face palpable. “Oh, that poor dear,” says Molly. “Ron is an idiot. I wish I could--”

“What?” whispered the Fat Lady.

“Well, if only I could I’d give them a shock, separate them.” Molly shakes her head.

“Try it,” says the Fat Lady.

Molly purses her lips. She did bring her wand... Pulling it from her pocket, she casts a repelling charm. Lavender winces, pushing away from Ron. Molly smiles, but then sighs as Lavender presses close once more. “Persistent thing, isn’t she?”

“Isn’t that always the way, though?” the Fat Lady purrs in Molly’s ear. Her hand has shifted lower so that she’s now got it resting on the swell of Molly’s arse. “Although there is something to be said for persistence and bravery.”

As she speaks, the Fat Lady’s hand is lifting up her dress, slipping up under the hem, skating along her inner thigh. Because of the way she’s positioned, Molly’s legs are open to allow her to see around the frame, and before she can even move, the Fat Lady’s fingers are moving between her legs, under her knickers. “Oh!”

“Shh!” whispers the Fat Lady, her fingers now sliding inside Molly. “We can’t bring attention to ourselves.”

Molly bites back a moan. This is more than she anticipated, but it’s rather nice, truth be told. After so many years, Arthur just tends to slide it in, not often taking the time to finger her or stroke her clit the way the Fat Lady is doing. Before she even realises it, she’s spreading her legs wider, pressing back on the Fat Lady’s lusciously fat fingers that feel so good inside her.

When the Fat Lady brings her thumb into play, circling Molly’s clit with a slow, mesmerising motion, Molly has to bite her fist to keep from groaning aloud.

“Turn around, dear,” the Fat Lady whispers in her ear. “Let me see those lovely breasts of yours.”

Ron forgotten, Molly turns, and is immediately pressed against a bookcase. The Fat Lady deftly unbuttons her dress, and as Molly’s ample breasts spill out, the Fat Lady starts mouthing her nipples through her bra.

Moaning, Molly leans back.

“Let’s move this to the floor, shall we?” murmurs the Fat Lady. “It wouldn’t do to have the children see.”

Within seconds Molly is on the floor, staring up at the top of the portrait. The Fat Lady straddles her, smiling as she undoes what’s left of Molly’s buttons to leave her only in her bra and knickers. Molly has a moment of panic when her underthings disappear - she hadn’t known the Fat Lady could perform wandless magic- but when the Fat Lady bends her head and presses her face between her legs, she forgets all about surprise. Her world narrows to the sparks of sensation fanning out from that lapping, torturous, teasing tongue and the way her drenched cunt is pulsing, aching. As the Fat Lady’s tongue delves deeper inside her, Molly clutches her hair, arches up to try to get closer to that mouth.

The Fat Lady shifts, pressing Molly’s legs obscenely wide as she slides her fingers back inside and continues eating her out.

Molly can’t breathe, she’s panting, her chest heaving as she feels her orgasm starting. With a mewl, her body starts to tremble.

The Fat Lady clearly knows she’s coming, too, her finger movements speeding up even as she gives little, rapid flicks to Molly’s clit.

Moaning, Molly finally comes, her cunt convulsing about the Fat Lady’s fingers. Just as her tremors start to subside, however, and she raises her head to look at the Fat Lady, the world tilts and crashes around her.

“The picture,” gasps the Fat Lady. “It’s falling!”

Molly slides to the other side of the picture, her arms around the Fat Lady’s waist as she moves. They hit the other edge of the painting, falling out of view.

Fortunately so, since when Molly manages to look, it’s to see the students all gathered around staring at the portrait.

“It just fell off,” says Hermione. “I saw it shaking--”

Harry, who’s standing behind her, nods. “Yeah, I saw that, too.”

“Maybe we should let Professor McGonagall know,” says another girl.

Hermione nods. “I’ll go.” She shoots a glare at Ron and Lavender, who are holding hands. “I need the air.”

“Until we know what’s going on, we should probably stay out of the common room,” adds another boy after Hermione’s gone.

“Good idea.” Harry slips his Potions book into his bag. “It’s time to go to bed anyway.”

He looks pointedly at Ron, who sighs. “Yeah, all right.”

“But Won-Won--”

Ron whispers something to Lavender and she nods, although she’s clearly unhappy. The two separate, Ron following Harry up the stairs to the boys’ rooms.

“Let’s just prop this back up until the professor can investigate.”

Molly breathes easier once the common room is empty. “That was close.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” The Fat Lady leans in, kissing her. “I’d love for you to stay, but perhaps it would be for the best if I led you back to where you came in. Before Professor McGonagall’s arrival.”

Molly nods. Then, glancing down at her naked body, she coughs. “I’ll need my clothes, though.”

The Fat Lady smirks. “I know. I was just hoping to enjoy the view a bit longer.” She cups Molly’s breast with her hand, sliding her thumb over it. “And such a beautiful view it is.”

When they get back to the photograph that’s still propped up in Molly’s bedroom, the Fat Lady kisses Molly’s hand. “I appreciated the company.”

Molly smiles. “And I appreciated your help.”

The Fat Lady hums. “I fear we accomplished very little.”

“Ah, but we did.” Molly squeezes the Fat Lady’s hand. “We acted as true chaperones today. We managed to prevent Ronnie and that hussy from going too far.” She sighs. “My only problem will be how I manage to do it again.”

Leaning close, the Fat Lady kisses her. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. After all, the last one seemed to work out rather well.”

Molly licks her lips, imagining what she’ll do to the Fat Lady the next visit. After all, Arthur does have a lot of away trips planned. “Yes, it did, didn’t it? And I’m sure we can manage some mutually beneficial plan.”

Once she’s back in her bedroom, Molly shrinks the photograph, placing it inside her bedside table. Oh yes, she thinks as she plots what to take on her next portrait adventure. The strap-on, maybe that lovely dildo that Augusta gave me. She hums. Yes, this should work out quite well. And perhaps next time I’ll check on Ginny.

~