JKR gave us a snapshot of their lives long after the Final Battle. But what was it like two years later after all of the kids have finally entered Hogwarts? All fun and happiness? Maybe... maybe no...
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognise. It’s almost all Jo’s, except for the silly little plot that wormed it’s way out of my head.
A/N: As always, much thanks to Vern (aka Herman Tumbleweed) for all his contributions to both the story and the editing of this mess. Don’t forget to read his work, too, if you haven’t already.
Hermione shuddered in annoyance at not only the increasingly grating sound of her husband’s loud voice, but at his continued use of that awful name. Taking a deep breath, she blandly responded to the annoying git’s greeting, “Hello, Ron. You’re home early.” The barrister turned back to the notes she was making for the case against the Malfoy cousin – notes that had been pleasurably interrupted by Harry’s positive reinforcement of her MILF status that afternoon.
Ron stepped around and sat on the edge of the table his wife was working at, rumpling many of the parchments in the process. “So,” he began, “what have you been doing? I haven’t seen you much lately.”
Sighing, Hermione set down her quill and regarded the bothersome red-head. “Just working, as usual. You’d see me more if you’d ever get home at a decent hour.”
“Yeah… well... George is keepin’ me busy, ya know, with the new shop and all. And Percy’s just bloody nuts about everything being just so…” he trailed off uncomfortably. “Anyway,” he gestured to the now messy pile of papers, “what’s all this?”
Trying to suppress her irritation, she answered calmly, “Remember that last case Harry was working on before he retired?”
“Yeah, that arse that thought he was You-Know-You rein… reincarbonated… no, erm, brought back from the dead or something. What about it?”
“Reincarnated. Anyway, Harry was right; it was one of Malfoy’s cousins. The Aurors caught him recently and this,” she waved her hand across the table, “is my case against him.”
“Wicked! You’re really going after Malfoy? About bloody time!” Ron’s face lit up with glee at the thought of their childhood nemesis finally getting what he deserved.
“No, not Draco; his cousin. Although Draco has been throwing plenty of galleons around the Ministry trying to get him freed.” Hermione’s face took on a look that truly terrified her husband. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Good, good. Wait, you said Harry. Does that mean you’ve seen him lately?”
The brunette caught herself before answering carefully, “Yes, of course I have. He’s the one who started the investigation. Why?”
“Well… Ginny came by the shop the other day all upset and said that he’s been… I dunno… acting weird. Like he doesn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Did he say anything to you about it?”
Turning back to her work, although her heart was racing nervously, Hermione commented nonchalantly, “No, not a thing. Anyway, Ron, I really need to get this done.”
“Okay.” Swallowing hard, Ron screwed up his courage and reached out and brushed his hand against his wife’s bushy hair. “I… I’m gonna head up to bed. Um, why… um, why don’t you put that up and j-join me?”
Hermione’s head snapped around to confront him. “What?”
“Well… you know… I just thought… maybe you’d like to… to… you know…”
Hermione hid her surprise by pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. “No, Ron. Just go to bed. I’m going to be up late working on this.”
“But, Herms… I thought… it’s been a while and you might like…”
“No, Ron. Don’t worry about me; I’ve gotten used to it,” she snapped, returning to her notes and ignoring him. “Besides,” she threw out as he trudged out of the room, “it’s not very tempting when somebody insists on calling you something they’ve been telling you for nearly thirty years that they hate.”
The puzzled shop manager wandered off to bed, wondering what the hell was happening in his happy little world.
The next day—
“He what?” Harry exclaimed. “Are you sure I can’t just demand an Honour Duel to solve this?”
Hermione chuckled at his righteous indignation. “No, Harry. There are no grounds for it. Besides, duels to the death were outlawed over a hundred years ago.”
“Damn.” The retired Auror pouted like a three-year-old.
“In any case, just remember that these,” she reached for his hands and placed them on her body where he had placed his own three weeks before, “are yours and these,” she moved her hands to the matching locations on his body, “are mine. And I don’t share.” She gave him a deep kiss which resulted in clothes flying everywhere.
“She said that she doesn’t know what’s going on with Harry. I… I even offered to… you know, with her, but she just kept on working.” Ron threw his hands up in confusion. “What the hell’s going on? They’re finally giving us what we’ve always wanted, but why now?”
“I dunno, Ron. If they only would have waited another few months, it would have been perfect.” She thought hard for a moment before her face lit up. “Ron… I have an idea…”
Two weeks later—
Ginny turned the fire under the cauldron off and let the potion slowly cool. As much as she detested being up so early, the timing had to be just right for this potion to come out the way it should.
A gurgling sensation rose in her stomach and she immediately raced to the loo, thinking about just how much she really hated mornings.
Harry tarried over his late lunch, feeling rather despondent. Hermione had been scheduled to prosecute several cases before the Wizengamot this morning, so he wouldn’t have any time at all with her today. Fortunately, her work as a barrister for the DMLE allowed her to work from home much of the time, or as she usually did these days, from the Black Library at Number Twelve.
A pop of elven Apparition alerted him to the presence of Piddle, Winky’s youngest elfling. “Master Harry,” the newly-old-enough-to-be-working house-elf interrupted his musing. “I is being sorry to interrupt, but you was asking to be told if Mistress be doing anything unusual.”
Turning his attention to the tiny female house-elf, Harry smiled as he replied, “Yes, Piddle, I did. What’s going on?”
“Well, Master, she is being in the potion-making room a lot, lately. Also she is being very sick every morning and is always running to the loo.” Piddle hesitated and reached for her ears, as she struggled to continue with what she had to say. “I is being sorry for saying, Master, but I don’t think Mistress is being happy since Master has been staying away from her.”
Harry slid from his seat and knelt in front of the elf. “It’s okay, Piddle. Please, never feel like you have to apologise for speaking the truth, okay?” The young elf nodded excitedly, glad that her master was pleased.
“Now, how has Ginny been sick? Is that why she’s been making potions?” Something about Ginny and potions just didn’t sit right with his Auror instincts.
“Mistress throws up two, three times every morning, Master. She is keeping elves very happy with the big messes she makes as she doesn’t always get all the way to the loo in time. I don’t know what potions she makes, but she uses the big, old book that Master tells us not to touch.”
Harry’s eyes grew wide in alarm. Calming himself quickly so he didn’t frighten the happy elf, he said to her, “Thank you, Piddle. You’ve done very well, but tell no one of our talk today; especially the Mistress, okay?”
Piddle’s big eyes lit up with joy at pleasing her kind master. “Yes, Master Harry. Piddle tells nobody.”
“Thanks, Piddle. Go on back to whatever you were doing.”
The elf popped away as Harry retook his seat, deep in contemplation. Suddenly, a horrifying thought came to mind and he raced to the Potions Lab in the basement to find Moste Potente Potions on the counter, opened to the same page he’d been reading the previous summer.
Deciding carefully, he sent off a hurried messenger spell before he ran back to the Entry Hall and Apparated to Grimmauld Place.
“I need to get going, Ron,” Ginny said as she looked around for her clothing, “so I can get everything ready for tonight. We can’t wait much longer.”
“Sure you can’t wait a little longer?” her lover asked as he tweaked a small pink nipple.
Moaning in pleasure, she pulled away from him. “No, I want to get this done and over with.” Ginny reached into her bag and pulled out a crystal vial filled with a clear potion which she handed it to her brother. “Here, I made plenty. Slip this to her if you’re still randy.” She grimaced. “If I have to suffer, then it’s only fair if you share in my misery. Besides,” she added with a smug grin, “maybe you can finally put that Mudblood in her place.”
A wide grin crossed his features as he thought of what depravities he could have his wife perform.
Harry was pacing impatiently when he heard Hermione’s faint crack of arrival. Running and grabbing her in a bone-breaking embrace, he said in obvious relief, “I am so glad you got my message.”
“What was that all about, Harry? Your message arrived just as I was leaving the Wizengamot Chambers.” Her fear turned to loving annoyance as he told her briefly of his discussion with Piddle and the subsequent discovery in the Potions Lab.
“Harry, I have nothing to worry about. Ron thinks I’m too fat, remember?” The bushy-haired witch kept speaking in order to prevent his inevitable objections. “You, on the other hand, are probably going to have it slipped to you quite soon.” Her brows furrowed cutely in concern. “I just wish we knew why.”
“Well, I’ve decided that I’m just staying here. I’m not going to subject myself to her games. I’d like you to stay here, too.”
“No, Harry, we can’t do that,” Hermione sighed in resignation. “We have to keep up appearances until we can find a way out of this mess.”
“Shit. I don’t want to be with her, Hermione. I guess I could just… I dunno… do a detection charm on everything I eat.”
“No, that would be too obvious… but…” Gryffindor’s one-time resident genius trailed off as her mind considered another possibility.
“But…” Harry prodded, knowing that his love’s brilliant mind was on the verge of something good.
“Do you remember that enchantment I was working on for my Charms NEWT project?”
“The one that made a potions detector? Yeah, but you said it didn’t work.”
“It worked, but it had to be renewed every twelve hours. That’s why I said it didn’t work since I wanted it to be at least a semi-permanent enchantment.” She thought some more before locking gazes with the ex-Auror in her arms. “But… that should be long enough for tonight.”
Ginny puttered around the dining room, putting the finishing touches on the intimate dinner she’d made for herself and Harry. “Merlin, I hope this works,” she thought anxiously. “I really don’t want to touch him like this, but it’s the only way…” Hearing his pop of Apparition, she hurried off to meet him before her husband could disappear upstairs as he usually did when he got back from whatever he did during the day.
That gave the scheming witch pause as she wondered just what he was getting up to. At first, she had considered the notion that he might have found another woman, but dismissed it almost immediately. It simply wasn’t in his nature to fool around with another woman like that. Besides, Harry wasn’t subtle enough to get anything past her. She remembered how badly the Sorting Hat had wanted to put her in Slytherin – and for good reason.
When Ginny finally spotted him, she straightened the casual and flattering robes she was wearing and warmly greeted her husband. “Harry, I’m so glad you’re home. I have dinner ready for you – all of your favourites.”
Sighing in resignation, Harry followed her to the dining room and saw the steak-and-kidney pie and treacle tart gracing the table. He turned to the red-head and asked, “Why, Ginny? Why are you doing this all of a sudden?”
Ginny assumed the submissive posture of a scolded young schoolgirl, with her head lowered and her hands clasped together in front of her. “Well… I guess I’ve finally realized that I haven’t been a very good wife to you all these years.” She looked up innocently. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
Harry just shook his head, thinking that it was far too little, and way too late. “Let’s just have dinner, alright?”
She nodded eagerly as he took his regular place at the head of the table and, instead of taking her regular place across from him, she sat to his right, uncomfortably close.
As he reached for his fork, Hermione’s charm on his Head of House ring caused it to vibrate, signalling the presence of a potion. Putting it back down, he made a show of looking around the table before asking, “Gin, do we have any wine left, by chance?”
A wide smile graced her face as she replied, “Of course, Harry. I’ll be right back with it.”
As soon as she left, Harry quickly performed a detection charm on the entire contents of the table. Everything at his place was liberally dosed with the same lust potion he’d planned on using the previous autumn. Thinking quickly, he completed a hurried switching charm just as Ginny returned.
“Here you go, honey,” his wife said sweetly as she placed a glass of fine, red wine in front of each of their places, being sure to brush a breast against Harry’s shoulder.
She smiled again while taking her seat, watching him carefully as he grabbed the wine and sniffed at it to check the bouquet.
Harry’s ring didn’t vibrate, so he took a sip before setting the glass back down and started to eat. Glancing at her with a slight smile, he praised her cooking, “Everything’s great, Gin.”
Satisfied, she began to eat.
Hermione threw herself on the sofa as soon as she got home, totally exhausted from her long, stressful day. A day that she wished would end in Harry’s arms. Between spending the whole day dealing with the institutionalized stupidity known as the Wizengamot and Harry’s revelations that afternoon, the brunette really wanted to sit in a hot bubble bath with a bottle of wine, some soft music and, most of all, a hard Harry. She leaned her head back and relaxed, daydreaming of what she would do to him when she saw him tomorrow.
That frustratingly grating voice interrupted her musings, “Hi, sweetie. Rough day?”
“Yeah,” she groaned, more from his invading her happy place than the day itself. “The Wizengamot’s full of idiots and inbred morons.” She opened her eyes to see a cup of tea being thrust at her. The youngest Weasley wife stared at her husband curiously.
“Thought you’d need it today. Oh, and mum sent over some left-overs, so we don’t have to cook for ourselves tonight.”
Hermione chuckled as she accepted the tea from Ron. Even after all these years, Molly still had never been able to adjust to the fact that she wasn’t cooking for an army anymore and was always sending food over. Hermione took a deep drink of the tea as Ron stepped behind her and began to massage her shoulders. Hermione relaxed into the sensations as a warmth towards her husband started to flow through her and kept growing. “I have to get Harry to do this for me tomorrow,” she thought idly.
“Harry!” popped into her mind as she shot upright, sending the tea flying and catching herself as a wave of dizziness nearly caused her to fall over, followed by a rush of desire that Ron had never been able to elicit in her before. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” she focussed on him, trying to remember… “Potion… potion… lust potion… Damnit, Harry was right! The bastard potioned me!”
The enraged witch jumped to her feet and drew her wand, all the time fighting her body’s unwanted reactions to her now naked husband. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed at the top of her voice. “You motherfucking piece of inbred dog shite! How dare you slip me a potion! Castrado!”
Ron managed to evade that hex, but it was followed up with a barrage of other, more painful ones. He danced around the room as his wife sent wave after wave of angry magical energy at him, causing him to remember why it was a bad idea to upset the Smartest-Witch-of-Her-Age.
Hermione’s uncontrollable rage was the only thing offsetting the potion flowing through her system, although its effects grew stronger with each passing moment. “Just one good shot… just one… so I can get out of here… before I do something stupid…” she thought as she fired curse after curse at the red-headed swine. Finally, the powerful potion started to reassert control. “I gotta get out of here now,” Hermione realized in panic, “before I… but one more shot… just… one… more…” She sent a Bludgeoning Curse to his groin as she Apparated away.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” he screamed as the spell struck true.
For the first time in many years, Harry truly enjoyed his dinner with his wife. The food and the wine were excellent, of course, since Ginny had inherited her mum’s culinary skills, after all. But the best part was watching the flush forming across Ginny’s skin and the squirming she was doing against her chair as the powerful lust potion coursed through her small body.
He finally sat back after taking the time to truly enjoy the wonderful meal – and the equally entertaining show – and let out a soft belch. “That was a truly brilliant meal, Gin. Thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome, Harry,” she stammered out, her eyes nearly glowing with unrestrained desire.
Chuckling quietly, the amused wizard stood from his chair and stepped away from the table. “Well, I’m off to bed. Good night, Gin, and thanks again.”
“It’s about bloody time,” she muttered as she launched herself at him, scrabbling at his clothing and trying to rape his mouth.
“Stop it, Ginny!” he cried as he fought her off and hit her with a quick Incarcerous.
“Harry,” she cried, “I want you! I need you… please, Harry! I’m your wife, Harry. I-I’ll do anything, Harry, anything you want! Please! Take me, Harry!”
He brought his face close to hers, barely out of kissing range, and smiled evilly. “I know you will, Gin. Too bad it took your own potion to make you feel that way.” At her sudden look of terror, he laughed and walked away.
Harry appeared at Number Twelve to immediately be assaulted by a naked, bushy-haired animal tearing at his clothes. “Hermione, what the hell..?”
“Fuck me, Harry, fuck me hard and fuck me now!” she cried before vanishing his clothes and stroking him quickly while kissing him roughly.
“Hermione, what… mmph?”
“Ron… potion… got out… before… anything… happened… Hexed… bits… Goddamnit, Harry… fuck n-now… talk later…” she forced out between kisses, breathing heavily as she fought the potion’s nearly overwhelming influence so she could explain.
Harry instantly put it all together, but before he could go off and kill the arse, he had to take care of his best friend and love. He spun the lust-crazed witch around, bent her over a convenient sofa and, entering her roughly, began pounding away.
After all, when a beautiful, sexy woman asks you so nicely, it’s always polite to promptly comply.
Harry woke late the next day to sensations of gentle fingers caressing his chest. “G’mornin’,” he mumbled with a crooked grin on his face.
“More like good afternoon,” Hermione whispered. “Harry, I…” She stopped her ministrations and buried her face in his chest, crying softly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, stroking his love’s bushier-than-normal mane.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Harry,” she sobbed, “I should have listened to you, and…”
“Shhh, don’t worry about it, love.” He tenderly drew her nude form up his own and gave her a soft kiss. “Everything worked out okay in the end. We’re both here and safe and nothing bad happened, right?”
She gazed lovingly into his eyes. “You’re right, but…”
“But nothing. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened.”
As an unusually distressed Hermione described the previous night, Harry’s anger grew. Only her need for his comforting presence kept him from Apparating out of the house and killing his now former best mate. Hermione, recognising the signs of his rising temper, reassured him that she was unharmed and reminded him that she’d gotten her revenge in the most painful way possible.
“Speaking of pain,” she added, “how are you feeling this morning?”
“Sore. I’ll admit that it was fun,” he added with a cheeky grin, “but I’m not sure if I want to try that again. How about you?”
“Like my legs were stretched twelve feet apart. I’m not even sure I can get to the loo.” She returned his grin with a wanton leer. “You’re right, though; it was fun, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything for a couple of days.” She groaned as she sat up. “Ow. No, I don’t think we need to try that again anytime soon.”
Harry chuckled, “How about a hot soak?”
Remembering the daydream she’d been having before Ron potioned her, she asked in a sultry voice, “With bubbles?”
“Of course, nothing but the best.”
He grimaced as he sat up. “All things considered, I’ll do my best,” he replied wryly. “I must admit, I never thought I’d ever get friction burns down there.”
Laughing pleasantly, she held him tightly. “Yes, my love, I think a hot soak would do us both a world of good. But which one of us is going to be able to get up and draw it?”
“I’ve got that covered.” He snapped his fingers and called, “Winky.”
A soft crack sounded as the old elf appeared. “Yes, Master Harry?”
“Could you draw us a hot bath, please, Winky? With lots of bubbles, soft music and a bottle of wine?”
Winky looked at Hermione for a long moment before answering, “Yes, Master Harry. Winky already thought that you and Mistress Miney would be needing that today. It will be ready when you gets there. Or will you be needing Winky’s help?”
“Winky…” Harry started carefully, “what aren’t you telling us? Be honest.”
Winky rocked from foot to foot, tugging at her ears. “It isn’t being right for a house-elf to say.”
“Please, Winky. You’re not just an elf, you’re a member of my family, so it is right to say what’s on your mind.”
Winky took a deep breath, then said in a rush, “Winky is being happy that Master is being with Mistress Miney. Mistress Ginny isn’t good for Master like Mistress Miney is. She makes him happy, not sad like other Mistress.” She looked at Hermione and continued. “Mistress has been a good person to house-elfs since she asked about our ways.”
“Thank you for helping me to understand, Winky. I’m truly sorry for the way I treated you before.”
Winky simply shrugged. “Mistress didn’t know. Winky was being glad to help. Mistress was the only human to ever ask. Now wait while Winky draws bath, then Winky will help Master and Mistress to get there.” She popped away, only to return a minute later. “Winky will pop Master and Mistress to the tub, then will have food ready in here for after.” She took on a look that Harry had previously only seen on Madam Pomfrey’s face as she continued, “Then Master and Mistress needs to sleep. Master and Mistress spent too much time making fun-time and need more rest.” A click of elven fingers caused them to find themselves in the most magically luxurious bath water they’d ever even heard of, let alone been in.
“We need to do something special for that elf,” Hermione commented as she snuggled against her wizard.
“You’re right, love. I don’t know what she put in the water, but I feel better already.”
Running her hand down his body under the water, she replied with a smirk, “I noticed. I feel much better, too. Maybe we should test this tub out…”
Ginny woke up frustrated and painfully sore in her nether regions. She’d screamed herself hoarse for Harry until one of the house-elves finally heard her and released Harry’s Incarcerous. When none of them could tell her where her errant husband had disappeared to, she ran up to her bedroom in a vain attempt to relieve herself.
She had attempted to use her wand to satisfy herself, but it did no good. The increasingly aroused red-head then attempted to transfigure a book into one of those disgusting Muggle toys that Hermione had showed her once during an outing to Muggle London several years ago, but her potion-addled mind wouldn’t permit the concentration necessary to perform the spell correctly and she ended up with several three inch wide soggy spaghetti noodles.
Truly desperate at this point, Ginny had spied the tops of the rough-hewn oak bedposts. A cutting hex later, she was ravaging that piece of lumber as if her life depended on it. She eventually passed out exhausted and still unsatisfied hours later, bloody and raw.
Now angry – and still quite frustrated – the irate witch cast a healing charm on her mutilated bits and staggered awkwardly to the wardrobe and put on a dressing gown so she could search the house for her husband, fully intending to get extract some revenge – and satisfaction – from the sonofabitch.
A furious Ginny walked unsteadily out of the master bedroom, ignoring her pain as she looked in the other bedrooms. The damage she had caused to herself was too great for a simple charm to cure, but her anger drove her on; determined to express her… displeasure.
It was at the top of the main stairs that the diminutive witch finally succumbed to her injuries. Just as she stepped onto the top step, her legs gave out. Slowly at first, then gaining speed, Ginny tumbled down the long staircase, to finally come to rest on the floor at its base, unconscious and bleeding.