tetsubinatu (tetsubinatu) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-07-06 00:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: tetsubinatu, kink: object insertion, remus/neville |
Survivor's Guilt Part 10
Title: Survivor's Guilt Part 10
Rating: R
Wordcount: 892
Pairing:Hermione/George/Harry, Remus/Neville
Kink(s): this part is all talk and no action, unfortunately
Originally started as part of LMoM 2008
Notes: post-DH (sans epilogue) Remus provides auditory stimulation
Ron and George were coming up the stairs from the ground floor as Hermione came down from the top floor. They all met on the landing outside Harry’s and Neville’s rooms.
“Was that Harry or Neville?” Ron gasped. His dressing gown gaped to reveal that he wasn’t wearing a pajama top, and the knowledge that Susan had been over for supper enabled Hermione to guess that he probably wasn’t wearing the bottoms either.
“Harry. Neville’s upstairs,” Hermione retorted shortly. The marble dildo which had been uncomfortable in her arse ten minutes ago was now making things distinctly interesting, especially after hurrying down a couple of flights of stairs. “He’s not in any danger - just pissed off about something.”
Ron nodded, exasperation replacing concern on his face. “You’d think he’d be easier to live with these days, wouldn’t you? Bloody wanker. Do you need any help with him?”
“No. Go back to Susan.” She raised her voice. “I’m sure Harry didn’t MEAN to interrupt your evening!”
The door suddenly opened and Harry leaned out in a cloud of firewhisky fumes and ire. “Piss off you lot. I just tripped over something.”
He started to close the door, but George was too fast, conjuring a rubber wedge as a doorstopper.
“Now, now Harrikins. I think you owe us an apology and a firewhisky, don’t you?” he leered.
Harry just scowled and leaned down to remove the doorstopper but as he did so George pulled the door fully open and stepped through with a polite flourish in Hermione’s direction. Hermione grinned and followed.
They both turned to look at Ron, but he was already half-way down the stairs. His voice drifted back to them “For Circe’s sake just keep the noise down, will you, guys!”
Harry looked after him with an expression of betrayal that Hermione found simultaneously irritating and touching. He closed the door and gazed folornly at the two intruders, one of whom was already pouring firewhisky into three glasses.
“Bottoms up, Harry!” said George.
“I think he’s had quite enough,” Hermione said primly, but there was less venom in her voice than there might have been a few minutes before.
Harry took the proferred glass and shot it down his throat. “Fill ‘er up,” he said, seemingly resigned to his uninvited guests. “Get a drink in you and then just go away, will you.” He sat down abruptly on the edge of his bed, leaving his guests to arrange their own seating.
Above them, there was a thump and a slow knocking rhythm began. Hermione grimaced and gulped at her firewhisky. “There goes my evening,” she muttered to herself.
George raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Neville and Remus are upstairs, you said?”
“Yup.”
“You do realise that you might be having a more interesting evening yourself if you weren’t wearing a pink dressing gown with a bunny pocket? Have you been raiding Mum’s wardrobe?”
Hermione grimaced. “Well I was having a lovely threesome with Remus and Neville until My Hero started creating a ruckus.”
“Oi!” protested Harry. “I never asked you to come down here! In fact I seem to remember that I told you to piss off.”
George merely looked disbelieving. “Our Hermione in a threesome with Neville and Remus? Not that it isn’t a lovely thought, but pull the other one, love - it’s got bells on.”
Harry watched Hermione’s face change and edged a little further back on his bed. “Er, George...”
“Well, Little Miss Perfect is not exactly adventurous, is she?”
Harry winced, and reached to save his firewhisky.
“Did you ever think, George Weasley, that maybe you were the unadventurous one in our relationship? ‘Wham, bam, thankyou Hermione’ was not exactly my idea of a good time, you know! And with bloody Harry he’s living in his own world half the time, never mind whether I’m wearing a sexy nightie or a gas mask and waders. I’d wonder if someone hadn’t dropped him on his head if I didn’t already know that Sirius did!”
Harry flinched and even George shifted his chair back a few inches as Hermione stood up.
“For your bloody information, gentlemen, under this dressing gown, which - yes - is patterned after your mother’s, George, because Harry seems to think I exist to trail around after him and pick up his messes - I am wearing nothing but a Griffindor tie and a buttplug. Unfortunately it seems that there’s never a man in the house when you need one.”
Overhead, the slow, steady rocking was beginning to speed up. Hermione took one last enraged gulp of her firewhisky and stalked towards the door. As her hand grasped the door handle, George threw himself on the floor between her and the door. He kissed her feet extravagantly, making her swear and try to pull them away.
“Bellissima! Carissima! Hermione!”
“Hell’s bells! Get.. off me... George!”
“Let me make it up to you! Let Harry make it up to you! Let us both make it up to you! Harry, back me up here, mate!”
“George!”
Harry made a sort of choking noise and both the figures at the door stared at him. Carefully, he put the firewhisky on a sidetable and dropped to the floor, crawling determinedly to Hermione’s feet. “Hermione. Please let George and me make it up to you?”
What was a girl to do?