Archive of Our Own

This is nothing but an excuse to write some smut honestly, so if that isn't for you then don't read, babe. We're going for a twin kink today, I guess? No twincest.

Have I ever written a threesome? No. We're relying on a lot of my romance books here.

Am I always nervous when I post smut? Yes.

But, you know, it's Christmas, and I've got to get back into the creative flow so here we are. Outside our comfort zone just a touch. If it's bad, just don't mention it.

I got this idea from a fic I read on here recently (I'm pretty sure because I can't find it now and I'm convinced I imagine it, so if you know of something similar, please comment so people can read that story too! It was soooo good!) and just couldn't let it go.

Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing about HP or its characters. Those rights are for JKR only, but maybe ten years from now I'll be a rich author too.

Rumor Has It

She hadn't meant to hear it. Really, she hadn't.

And, honestly, it wasn't even her fault that she had overheard because anyone would have with that amount of loud giggling echoing around the Leaky Cauldron. So, it was really their fault that she had. They ought to have spoken quieter or perhaps in private, given the sort of lurid things they were speaking about at the table behind her.

Hermione hadn't even noticed it at first, the giggling and not-so-secret whispering at the table behind her. She'd had her nose buried in a book, something she'd found at Flourish and Blotts the other day about magical legislative precedents. She'd been deep in the thick tome — nibbling absent-mindedly on a chip while she immersed herself in a copy of a trial proceeding during the Goblin Rebellions — when the giggling took on a higher pitch.

She'd rolled her eyes, leaning forward over her book some more and tried to tune them out entirely. She only had an hour to break for lunch and she didn't want to waste it listening to the mindless gossip of strangers.

She wasn't really the gossiping sort. She found it overall quite meaningless to the human experience and she detested it on principle — it was empty, unsatisfying, and (if caught too deeply into it) usually sticky.

She'd been the source of gossip herself a time or two — it wasn't something one escaped when they were the best friend of Harry Potter, and it had gotten worse since the war had ended and she, Ron, and Harry had been aptly dubbed as the "Golden Trio" by the press.

Gossip surrounded every one of her movements and words and facial expressions, what she wore, who she was seen with, her relationship status (or lack thereof) — it was infuriating. She had no idea how Harry had coped with it all his life because it had been five years since the war had ended, and she already wanted to hex everyone who pointed at her excitedly and whispered behind their hands.

As it was, she had no desire to listen to gossip. In her experience, it wasn't often true to begin with, and there was no intellectual reward for participating in it. It was terribly inconvenient that the witches behind her had chosen to use voices that carried over all of the noise and clatter of the lunch rush at the Leaky Cauldron.

" — both of them at once, everyone knows it."

Hermione sighed in annoyance, doing her best to ignore the words as though they were nothing more than the buzzing of an irritating fly around her head. Her eyes narrowed on her book as she attempted to read it as though it were its fault that she couldn't escape the vapid women behind her.

"At once?" One of them squealed, half-shocked, half-delighted. "Surely not!"

"My friend Mary heard it from Irene," one of the other girls whispered excitedly. "She swears up and down it was both of them. Perfectly coordinated, too. They've got that twin thing going — one knows exactly what the other's about to do. Imagine that in bed."

Hermione's entire body went rigid against her control, her ears — the traitorous things — seemed to sharpen at the word twin.

It was wildly inappropriate. Incredibly so. But there was only one pair of twins that she was familiar with, and she knew they weren't the only twins alive on the planet, but her heart thumped in her chest anyway as she listened in to what was being said behind her.

It was deplorable, really, but she couldn't help herself.

"Merlin's beard, that sounds indecent!"

But it was clear the woman clearly didn't believe that to be true because she sounded half-delighted.

"Sounds like heaven," the first woman scoffed. "Twice the mouths, four hands — imagine what they could do with them."

The table tittered, and a third witch chimed in.

"It's not really surprising though, is it? I mean, they spend all their time together in that shop…they live together…they're both single still. Everyone knows that you don't get Fred without George. Or George without Fred. Package deal. Why wouldn't that be the same with their women?"

Hermione's heart skipped at their names being used so deliberately, her body tensing in surprised confusion.

"Imagine trying to keep up with both," one of them gasped delightedly, as Hermione's entire face felt warm at the mere prospect of what was being suggested behind her.

Her book was rising steadily higher as she attempted to hide her face and the blush that was moving from her cheeks down her neck. She wasn't even focusing on the passage about goblin treaties anymore, her entire being tuned into the women behind her and what other tidbits that they might offer her, even as the topic of conversation had devolved into something far raunchier as they spoke.

" — one at your throat while the other's between your —"

Hermione coughed, standing so hastily from the table that she knocked her knee painfully against the underside of it and sent her remaining tea splattering onto the ground.

Their giggling stopped immediately and they looked up at her in surprise at the sudden movement, but Hermione didn't bother even uttering an apology as she attempted to exit the establishment as quickly as possible before she could be subject to any more overheard lewd fantasies.

She stalked down the street, the cool air doing little to cool the heat rising in her cheeks or dissipate the words echoing around in her head.

Both of them…at the same time…perfectly in sync…

"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself, letting the cool autumn breeze try and stifle her overheated skin. "Absolutely vulgar. Nothing but gossip."

She absolutely did not care. It was nothing more than petty, unsubstantiated gossip among women, and Hermione had far better things to be doing than thinking about the sexual escapades of Fred and George Weasley.

She'd known them half their lives at this point, and she'd never had any indication that what those women had said was true. Fred had dated Angelina Johnson at Hogwarts for nearly a year, and George hadn't…

Had he?

She huffed at herself in irritation, annoyed with her own frivolity, and opened the door to WWW before she could lapse into pointless thinking about the two men she worked for.

The shop floor was empty given that they were closed for lunch, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw Fred and George sitting behind the counter. Fred was tossing an apple into the air casually, his legs kicked up on the counter, while George, ever the more responsible twin (by the most minuscule amount), was peeling an orange as he looked over the morning's sales report and reciting it off to Fred so they could get an idea of what they'd need to restock over the weekend.

Both of them looked up upon her entrance, looking annoyed at the disruption to their lunch hour before they realized it was her. Twin grins spread across their faces immediately, their eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

"Back so soon, Granger?" Fred grinned, continuing whatever game he was playing with the apple. "Couldn't stay away from us, could you?"

Hermione flushed again as she looked at them, the words from the women at the pub still echoing numbly through her head.

It was not appropriate. Not at all. And she certainly didn't want to know how it worked or if it worked or even why they would have come to the conclusion of sharing women in bed.

There was no possible way that it was true, what those women had said, and even if it were, it was certainly none of her business —

"Hermione?"

Hermione jumped at the reminder that she was having this sort of spiral in front of the very men that she was thinking about, and she flushed under the weight of their gaze.

"What?" she squeaked, her cheeks flushing bright red as she met George's eye and then hastily looked away.

Anywhere that wasn't at either of them would do, really, even if it meant she was staring at a shelf of Flatulent Fudge as though it held the answers to life as she knew it.

"Are you alright, love?"

Hermione laughed awkwardly, her cheeks flushing a deeper red at the nickname that George so often used, although normally when he was teasing her relentlessly and not with that note of concern running underneath.

"Yes, fine, I — I just, er, needed to — forgot to grab something from the back — my book."

Fred raised a dubious eyebrow, and looked pointedly at the book she held in her hands. She held it to her chest as if it might shield her from the two of them.

"You mean the one you're holding?" he said in amusement.

Hermione giggled — nevermind the fact that she hadn't done that a day in her life before — and the twins shared a look that she couldn't quite read, but was sure was conveying questions about her sanity.

"No, it — this? No it's a different book that I — this one is too light for a day like this, you know —"

George smirked at her, reading the binding of it with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, a book about magical legislature is much better suited to a cozy Sunday in front of the fire," he said sarcastically. "Nothing dense and boring about that at all."

Normally, Hermione might have quipped back. Might have told him that she did actually find this particular book to be quite relaxing as it was a wonderful insight into the minds of wizards when it came to creature rights.

But she was just desperately trying to get away from the both of them so she could finish her work day in peace and perhaps by the time the day was over, she wouldn't be imagining how he and Fred looked while they were —

She coughed in alarm at the direction of her thoughts and hastily moved to exit the shop floor toward the hallway behind them that led the workshop where she spent the majority of her time.

"Right, well — don't mind me, I'm just going to go and…read my book. The other one. Not this one."

She made a hasty attempt to move around them, but Fred lowered his chair to all four legs in order to let her pass and the movement startled her for some reason, sending her nearly careening into the wall in order to keep as much distance between her and the two of them as possible.

George's hand snapped out to steady her before she could end up slamming her shoulder into the doorframe.

"Merlin's beard, Granger," he said in startled exasperation. "Careful! What is up with you?"

Fred narrowed his eyes on her suspiciously.

"Are you feeling ill or something? Do you need to go home? You look a bit hot around the collar."

Hermione could have expired right there.

"No, no — not ill — I just —"

"Had a few drinks at lunch then, did you?" he smirked at her, biting into the apple with a snap.

Hermione made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff, and stumbled away from George, trying not to think at all about his hands or where those women had said they'd been or anything else inappropriate about him.

"Of course not, I — I'll be in the back — you know, if you need me," she stuttered stupidly, backing hastily away from George, who was looking at her as though she'd gone and lost it.

Hermione made a beeline for the back room before either of them could ask her any more awkward questions or before she could embarrass herself further. She could only imagine the bewildered expressions they wore, but she didn't look back at all, closing the door behind her with a snap as she entered the work area.

Once safely inside the room, she pressed her back to the door behind her and released a long, shaky breath in an attempt to regain her footing.

To think that ten minutes of listening to women gossip at the Leaky had unsettled her so completely…

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

She spent the rest of her lunch hour trying — and failing — to continue her reading on the goblin rebellions within her text, but she couldn't focus on any of the words. She could hear Fred and George up front in the silence of the closed shop, their deep voices reverberating despite the distance she'd put between them.

It was ridiculous, honestly it was.

She shouldn't have even let the words of those three women into her head at all. She ought to have just focused on her book and tuned it out because now she'd spend the rest of her day imagining what those women were saying and wondering if it was true.

And of course it couldn't be, and she shouldn't even let herself entertain the notion of it. It made her stupid heart go thumping around in her chest, made her pulse race in excitement.

She'd always had a crush on Fred and George. Since she'd been fifteen, at least, and at first it had been just the sort of school-girl crush that ran rampant among most of the girls in the castle when it came to those two.

The two of them caught the eye of nearly all of them, and it wasn't particularly a surprise. They had that roguish, rebellious quality about them — all mischievous grins and boyish twinkles — and they'd always been shameless flirts. They had the sort of confidence and charisma that pulled even the most proper and studious of them into their web, enticing them with just enough rebellion to peak their excitement, but without any real risk.

Hermione had prided herself on her own propriety and disapproval where they were concerned, but even so, her stomach had fluttered any time that they'd turned their attentions on her, and she'd been scrupulous about hiding it from them and anyone else who might tease her relentlessly for the infatuation.

She'd grown out of it, of course. The two of them had left school, and it had faded when she hadn't had to look at them every day anymore.

She'd set her sights elsewhere instead — on their younger brother — because, at the time, she'd thought the two of them made more sense. The twins were probably more intelligent, more driven under the right circumstances, more confident and laidback, but she and Ron had been best friends for years and he was often misunderstood and underestimated. They'd spent all of their time together, and it felt like almost everyone expected that the two of them would get together eventually.

She'd let herself be convinced that the two of them would make the most sense together, despite all of their more problematic tendencies, and she'd tried to make that work instead, to fit into that mold of expectation…except it just hadn't worked.

Not for long anyway.

When the war had ended and they'd all been forced to come to terms with what they'd faced, Hermione had had a difficult time finding her place within the world. She'd spent so much of her time trying to plan for how to best protect Harry from Voldemort — learning curses and counter-curses, planning protections and escape routes, lecturing and coddling him and Ron to keep them outside of unnecessary trouble.

It had become her new normal, worrying about the two of them, and when she no longer had to do that she'd not known what exactly to do with herself.

She'd floundered a bit, looking for something that had fit, returning to Hogwarts only because it was expected that she would, getting her N.E.W.T.s even though they didn't seem even remotely as important as they had before, getting a boring job at the Ministry that made her feel ineffectual despite her new status in the Wizarding World. Nothing had worked for her at all as she attempted to find her footing, and things with her and Ron had simply…fizzled out in the meantime.

He'd been jealous and mercurial, and she had been distant and cold, not in the right headspace to give him the attention that he'd craved. It had made more sense for them to just call it quits and move on not long after she'd come back from Hogwarts. Now he was dating Luna Lovegood, who had always had far more patience for his constant social fumbling than Hermione had, and Hermione…

Well, Hermione wasn't seeing anyone…and hadn't been in quite some time, actually.

Now, five years after the war, she felt much more like herself again, and she hadn't been involved with anyone seriously since Ron. She'd been on dates since, of course, but it never really led to anything worth mentioning.

Perhaps that was the reason her stupid crush on the twins had resurfaced.

Perhaps she was so starved for the male touch that her stupid brain had thought it appropriate to fantasize about the Weasley twins instead.

And not just one of them either.

Both of them.

Both of them.

It was wildly inappropriate, and she wished her propriety would kick back in and beat her around the head with a trick wand if only to knock some sense back into her.

In school it had been different. It was the idea of them, more than the men themselves. They had represented the sort of rebellion that her straight-laced, rule-abiding self had been enticed by. A secret, rebellious kink at most.

But now? Now she was a grown woman, perfectly capable of making smarter decisions, and what had she gone and done?

Developed a crush on the both of them.

More the fool her because they were her bosses, although they'd always told her not to call them something so ridiculous. As far as they were concerned, she was their business partner, and they treated her as such, looping her in on their plans and business decisions as though she were one of them, but even still, it was inappropriate.

It was indecent and scandalous and perfectly beyond the pale, but even so, her stupid brain didn't appear to care. She'd been working with them in the shop for two years now, helping them to restock in the back and leading the WonderWitch line because it had needed a more "feminine" touch, so the twins said.

She hadn't intended for it to be a long term gig, but she'd found it surprisingly engaging. She liked using her magic and spell casting skills every day, and the twins often roped her into discussions on product testing and magical theory that allowed her the sort of intellectual stimulation she needed to maintain focus. It had been far more rewarding than working at the Ministry, wading through politics and red tape in order to get anything done, and so she'd stayed, and neither Fred or George had minded at all.

But the longer she'd spent working for the twins, the worse her interest in them had become. She spent an ungodly amount of time studying the two of them until she could tell them apart, without having to rely on George's missing ear to clue her in.

It hadn't been an easy feat, and she was sure that it was her stupid infatuation that had lent her a hand in this achievement.

When they were together, they were like mirror images of the other, often speaking and moving in sync, throwing people off and causing an unprecedented amount of chaos, but she could still spot the differences.

They were identical in terms of looks — warm brown eyes, ginger hair that they cut short, but left long enough to run their hands through, and lean with muscle that was just short of being bulky — but there were subtle differences if one knew where to look.

Fred had a freckle just under his left eye that George didn't have and his shoulders were just a touch broader. He tended to be the wilder twin, often more excitable and prone to speaking with his hands once he got going. He was quicker to grin, and equally as quick to anger, a touch more reckless with a sharper tongue than his twin. George was slightly leaner than Fred, his smile warmer, his quips and wit requiring more consideration but still no less amusing or mischievous than his twin. He was steadier, calmer than Fred, often letting Fred take the lead in many social situations, though he had a confidence that was all his own.

They were identical in a lot of ways, and yet unique, and because she knew that — because she could differentiate between them — she should have been able to decide which one she preferred more. Her stupid brain should have come to terms with whether or not she liked the calmer, steadier version of George or the wild, untamed nature of Fred.

But no, of course not, it had to want them both, so scandalous a thought that it made her blush to the roots of her hair to even consider.

But that's all it had been. A wild consideration, an inappropriate fantasy. She could never have them both, not like that, and she'd really come to terms with that. She'd been comfortable in that knowledge because she just simply couldn't choose between them, no matter how inappropriate it might have been to admit, and there was no way that they'd not find the suggestion of such a thing to be a huge overreach or at least wildly offensive.

Except, if what those women had said was true then they clearly must not have minded that much if a woman wanted them both at once. Had actually participated in such things on more than one occasion if it was so well known.

How much of it could possibly be true? The twins had never really cared much for societal expectations, she knew, but she'd never have thought that they'd…

They weren't even there to see her, but she still flushed to the roots of her hair at the thought of it.

Hermione shook her head to loosen the lewd thoughts in her head, trying to remind herself that regardless of whether or not they shared anything she was not about to consider what it would be like herself.

It would be horribly complicated if she did anything of the sort, and if those women were lying — which they likely were or at least had been exaggerating the truth — then it would be beyond mortifying to even have broached the subject.

No, no, she was perfectly satisfied just being their friend.

It was hours later before she saw either of the twins which wasn't at all surprising given that it was Saturday. They tended to be busiest on the weekends, even during the school year when Diagon Alley tended to be marginally less busy and the Hogsmeade shop tended to boom instead.

By the time that Fred came back to the work room after close Hermione had almost convinced herself that she'd forgotten what she'd overheard on her lunch.

"Not still twitchy are you, Granger?" he said as he entered, grinning widely and making a show of looking her over for suspicious behavior.

He could never let a single thing go, could he?

Hermione's face flushed at the sight of him and she jerked her head down to look at what she was doing instead, chewing on the end of her quill as she looked at the parchment in front of her.

"I wasn't twitchy," she denied immediately, crossing out one of the ingredients that she'd been using to test on the potion she was currently working on.

"You looked exactly like Teddy when the cookies went missing and we caught him with chocolate smeared across his cheeks."

Hermione scoffed, fighting the urge to smile at the reminder.

"Yeah, well, I seem to recall that you and George were partially to blame for that —"

"Nonsense," Fred said dismissively, hopping up onto the workbench that the twins used for brainstorming. The organization of the table was haphazard chaos that only the twins truly understood, and there were rudimentary sketches and ideas pinned to the wall above it. "We were just as surprised as the rest of you."

Hermione looked up at him finally with a disbelieving frown.

"The cookies were out of Teddy's reach, Fred. How do you explain how he got them?"

"Underage magic," Fred said with a shrug. "George levitated Ron up to the roof once after he'd stolen his candy —"

"That was you, actually," George said, entering the room with folders of closing paperwork. He shoved one of the folders at Fred, who scowled at him in reproach. "And don't think you can leave me out there with the paperwork while you sit in here flirting with Granger, you lazy sod."

Fred grumbled under his breath, but opened whatever paperwork he'd been given with an eye roll. Hermione flushed at the words, scribbling frantically over the parchment in front of her.

"There was no flirting," she said incredulously, refusing to look at either of them.

"Yeah, Hermione here was just trying to pin Teddy's cookie thieving on us," Fred said with a grin as he focused on whatever was in front of him.

"Well, I never," said George dramatically, doing his best to look offended despite the twitching at the corners of his mouth. "That was just a bout of unsupervised underage magic, that."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

"How do you explain the chocolate we found on both of your hands then?"

Fred and George grinned at her widely.

"Well, excuse us for trying to help him with the cleanup, Granger," George said dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to trying to work out which ingredient she should use on the potion she'd been inventing to get it to work properly so they could get it out on the shelves before Christmas.

It was supposed to be a lighthearted brew that prompted honesty in a relationship by causing the drinker to blush any time their partner asked them a question and they responded to by fibbing. Something close to Veritaserum but less harmful, and without the real prospect of blurting out secrets that a person didn't want to tell. It should have nudged at truthfulness, but not compelled anything beyond that, and yet she couldn't get it to work exactly like she wanted it to.

It should have been simple enough, but she couldn't get the potion to recognize between honesty and lie, which should have been the easiest part considering the base had been quite similar to Veritaserum.

"Something is throwing it off," she muttered to herself. "Too much whisperweed extract maybe? No, no…if I reduce that then it causes babbling. I'll have to add something to stabilize the emotional sensitivity…"

"It's so cute when she talks to herself, isn't it, Fred?"

"If you ignore how much it makes her look like a nutter, you mean?"

Hermione huffed and looked up at them in reproach.

"Do the two of you ever stop talking?" she snarked impatiently, annoyed by the disruption to her thought process. George grinned at her, closing the folder he'd been working on and walking over to where she was working and stood just slightly behind her, resting a hand against the workbench to read over her shoulder. Hermione tensed at his sudden proximity and refused to look up from the parchment he was perusing. "What are you doing?"

Her voice had come out much higher-pitched than she was used to, and she nearly cringed.

Honestly, she needed to get it together. She'd been around the twins for all of her life and never been so pathetic before.

Of course, she hadn't known that they were sharing women before, which really rubbed right up against her more scandalous fantasies and —

No, absolutely not, stop right there.

"Helping," George said cheekily, scanning the trial and error notes she'd taken, carefully documenting what had worked and what hadn't. "You could use Murtlap root to help strengthen emotional sensitivity —"

"Mooncalf milk too," Fred added, not looking up from his paperwork at all, but somehow still offering suggestions to a product she hadn't perfected yet. "If you combine that with lavender essence, the blush might fade a bit more realistically."

Hermione gaped between them.

"Know-it-alls," she muttered under her breath as she moved to the shelves that held their potion ingredients.

Both of them chuckled in amusement and went back to their paperwork as she worked.

"Think you've got us confused with yourself there, love," George said casually, winking at her.

She refused to acknowledge the way her cheeks flushed in response and went back to her potion without comment. Hermione made to add the ingredients, grumbling to herself about how generally unfair it was that the two of them could be so intelligent without even trying as she waited for the ingredients to infuse the brew.

She'd been hoping to test it again before they left for the night so that she could start any last minute changes next week and get them sent out to their testers by the end of the month.

When it turned a pretty opalescent color, she turned the heat off and waved her wand to cool the mixture rapidly, finding sample cups and ladling a small portion into two of them.

"Get over here, the both of you," she said sharply, annoyed still to have missed the obvious solution to her potion problem when they'd figured it out in mere moments.

"You see how she treats us, Fred?" George said amusedly, moving toward the bench she was using without any further prompting. "And all we've done is state the obvious answer to her product development problems."

"Bossy little swot," Fred agreed, jumping down from the bench to take his place on Hermione's other side. Hermione rolled her eyes, and tried to keep her pulse from racing now that they stood on either side of her.

"Here, try this batch," she said, deliberately ignoring their banter and keeping the tone business-like before she ended up spiraling into another round of awkward stammering at being caught between them. "It should work better this time assuming that you've found the obvious answer to my product development problems."

George grinned at her, booping her once on the nose in a sign of affection for her snark, but Fred made a disapproving noise.

"Now wait just one minute here," he said cheekily. "There's only two cups."

"Good job, Fred!" Hermione said in a voice that was typically reserved for encouraging children. George burst into laughter behind her when Fred gave her an unamused look.

"I think what he means," George said through his laughter. "Is that it's only fair that you test it as well. It's your product —"

Hermione scoffed.

"It's your shop," she said and Fred tutted behind her in disapproval, summoning another sample cup and filling it as well.

"Oh, no, Granger, you aren't getting us that way," he said, holding out the cup to her expectantly. "We aren't about to reveal our deepest and darkest secrets while you sit here scribbling on a notepad —"

Hermione snorted, crossing her arms petulantly.

"It doesn't even make you reveal any secrets —"

"That you know of," George added.

" — and it's purely experimental. At least one of us should have our heads on straight. What if it causes you to start convulsing?"

"That's extremely doubtful," Fred said dryly, holding the cup out to her again. "Unless your true plan was to poison us by pretending we're testing a product —"

George made a noise as if he were thinking that option through quite carefully, despite how ridiculous it sounded.

"Could be," he agreed. "Then she could take all of the business information we've given her and take our money for herself."

"Foolproof plan, if you ask me," Fred said with a nod, grinning when Hermione stomped her foot like a child between them. "And in that case, I'm afraid that we won't be able to help you with this endeavor —"

Hermione growled under her breath, bypassing the cup he was holding out to her to snatch one of the ones still sitting on the table instead.

"If I drink this, will the both of you shut up for the rest of the day?"

Both of them beamed at her.

"Bottoms up, darling," Fred said by way of an answer before he tossed the potion back, George not far behind him.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed through, swallowing the potion that tasted just a touch like toffee. They waited several minutes, looking between each other expectantly.

"Do you feel any different?" Hermione asked them.

George frowned, rubbing at his good ear.

"Bit of tingling in my ear, but not much else," he said, and Hermione scribbled it down frantically. Fred looked at the two of them carefully.

"Well, you got the blushing under control at least," he said. "Last time George's face was so red he looked like Ron when Luna told everyone over family dinner how they'd shagged in Dad's tool shed."

George shuddered at the reminder.

"Thank you for bringing that back up, Fred," Hermione gagged. "I'd almost blacked it out."

She was pleased, however, that they hadn't immediately started blushing bright red because that had been the problem with the third batch they'd tested.

"Prude," Fred cheeked back, winking at her when she glared at him in annoyance. "So, who's first then?"

"I'll go," George said, smirking at his brother wickedly. Fred turned to face him as though he was preparing to go to battle and Hermione looked up to the ceiling. This happened every single time they tested the stupid potion. "Did you ever admit to me — while drunk — that you'd fancied McGonagall?"

"No." Fred said immediately. His cheeks turned faintly pink, making the lie overtly obvious. Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, unsure if it was because of the admission or if it was because of the absurdity of seeing the twins blush when she'd never seen them anything other than confident and relaxed. George winked at her when she looked at him in horror as if he might tell her his twin was only joking, but Fred was not one to be outdone. "Did you used to wet the bed because you were scared of the ghoul in the attic?"

"No."

Immediately, George's cheeks tinted pink. Hermione covered her mouth to hide her grin, but it was almost as if the two men had forgotten she was there entirely. Standing on either side of her, they narrowed their eyes at each other as if bringing up embarrassing secrets had become some sort of competition that they refused to lose.

"Have you ever sneezed into a girl's mouth?"

"Have you ever called a girl by the wrong name in bed?"

"Did you use my toothbrush to clean your broomstick?"

"Only because you cleaned the toilet with mine!" Fred said hotly. Hermione's head snapped between the two of them at each rapid fire question and she stumbled when they each took a step toward each other even though she was still stuck between them. They weren't even answering each other so she couldn't get an idea of whether the potion was working correctly or not, but it was clear what the answers would be even if they had. "Did you hex yourself bald in second year and pretend it was a fashion choice?"

"Weren't you the one who tried to practice kissing on your hand and got caught by Ron?"

"Oh, you're one to talk! You practiced on the mirror —!"

"Stop, stop, stop!" Hermione gasped through her laughter, holding out both hands to stop them from crushing her between them. "I'm going to wet myself!" The twins glared at each other for a moment longer before they each stepped back, giving Hermione more space to breathe. "Enlightening as that was," she said when she managed to get herself back under control. "How am I supposed to test the effects of the potion with you hurtling questions at each other without actually answering? Let's try something else — Fred, tell us an obvious lie about you."

Fred gave George a withering glance before he said, "I think Percy's the most fun Weasley."

Fred's face turned tomato red.

"Okay, George?"

George rolled his eyes at Fred, but said, "I wish I'd been a prefect."

Again, tomato red to match his twin. Hermione beamed, scribbling on the page as Fred continued the charade in a monotone voice as if he couldn't believe he were being subjected to such stupidity.

"I wish I worked at the Ministry."

"I never got detention."

"I never cheated on an exam."

"Snape was my favorite professor."

Each time, their cheeks turned a pretty pale pink. Hermione was quite pleased with the color this time around, and wondered if maybe she would be able to get the potion to darken depending on the severity of the lie, but decided to table that for another time as the twins continued their charade for her sake.

"I never blamed George for something I did," Fred said, sounding bored. George opened his mouth to say something himself, but Fred blurted, seemingly out of the blue, "I told Mum that the magazines she found under the floorboards were George's even though they were mine."

There was a short pause. Fred looked mildly bewildered by this admission and Hermione gaped at him before George reached over and punched Fred in the shoulder.

"I knew that was you, you prat!" He said, annoyed. "She sat me down and made Dad give me the talk while she scowled behind him the entire time!"

"Er, Fred?" Hermione interrupted awkwardly. "What was that?"

Fred shook his head.

"Not sure," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Must be something off with this batch because I didn't mean to say that."

George snorted derisively, but Hermione was annoyed again. She'd been working on this potion for months, and still it wasn't coming out quite right.

She gave a George a look of annoyance, though it was more because of the potion than him.

"Do you have the urge to blurt anything out?" She demanded.

"Not particularly," he said, still glaring at his twin. "Perhaps it's just when we tell a lie….I hated McGonagall." A small blush, a short pause, and then, "I once called McGonagall 'Mum.'"

Hermione had to cover her mouth to stop the giggle from escaping, and Fred burst into laughter.

"I remember that," he said with a grin. "I thought she'd hex you."

Hermione scribbled notes on her page of trials and chewed on the edge of her quill again.

"Well, the potion works at detecting lies now, and the blush has eased off, but I don't know why it's making you blurt out truths," she said to no one in particular. "It shouldn't be. Or at least that wasn't the intention. What does it feel like when it happens?"

"Like my tongue is being moved without my consent," Fred said.

Hermione's nose crinkled.

"What does that mean?" she said, horrified.

George raised an eyebrow and grinned at her mischievously.

"Let's find out, shall we?" He said, grinning at Fred. Both of them immediately turned to face her instead and Hermione's stomach sank.

"What are —?"

"Why have you been weird since lunch?" George demanded out of the blue, cutting her off entirely.

"I haven't," she said immediately, without thinking. Immediately her cheeks heated. It didn't feel quite the same as a normal blush, the heat more intense, but not uncomfortable.

Hermione swore in her head when the twins looked at each other silently.

"Did you have drinks at lunch?" Fred asked again, watching her carefully. Hermione gave him an impatient look.

"No," she said shortly. No response.

"Definitely picks up the truth then," George muttered to himself. "Did you find out that it was us that hexed your knickers to do the jig?"

"No — wait, what?" she said angrily.

The twins ignored her. Fred rubbed at his chin dramatically, making a show of thinking too hard.

"Hmm…" he said slowly. "Perhaps it isn't us then, eh, George? Perhaps she's hiding something. Not keeping any secrets from us, are you, Granger?"

"No," Hermione snorted.

Immediately, her cheeks pinkened. Worse, her tongue began tingling, which she was sure was not a good sign.

Both Fred and George paused at this response, grins spreading slowly across their faces. Hermione's gaze darted toward the door, but she wasn't really sure that she'd make it before they could stop her. She also wasn't sure that they wouldn't tackle her in order to keep her there either, and she'd already been embarrassed enough today.

"Oho," George said delightedly, taking a step toward her. Immediately, she took a step back. "Is it something juicy then, love?"

"No."

Again, another blush. And the tingling seemed to be getting worse though she still wasn't blurting anything else.

"Oh, that's exciting, isn't it, George?" Fred said, bouncing on the balls of his feet like Teddy did on Christmas morning before he was allowed to open his presents. "Something juicy…something juicy…Did Lee tell you a secret about us that he swore to uphold until all three of us were dead?"

Hermione blinked, bewildered by what that could possibly mean.

"No?"

Both he and George seemed to breathe out a breath of relief at this response, and this only further made her wonder what secret Lee could possibly know that they didn't want to be discovered, but George spoke before she could press.

"Suppose that makes sense unless she and Lee have been meeting up at the Leaky in secret," George said to Fred as though she weren't there, carefully considering his next question.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione huffed. "We already know the potion doesn't work, so we can be done with this line of questioning."

"You know sometimes, Granger, it's like you don't know us at all," Fred said with an eye roll. "Is this a secret about you?"

"No," she said hastily, blushing again.

"Hmm," George said with a frown. "I thought for sure it was a secret about us."

"Is it a secret about us?"

"No," she said firmly. The tingling was worse and then her tongue felt like it was trying to unstick itself from where she had it wedged to the roof of her mouth. She fought it desperately, but the potion won out. "Someone was gossiping about you at the Leaky and I overheard the whole thing."

She slapped a hand to her mouth immediately, blushing scarlet, which had nothing at all to do with the potion.

Fred and George brightened.

"Really?" George said, intrigued. "What did you hear? Was it that Fred passed out in the bathroom at the Leaky one night after too many drinks and wasn't found until morning?"

"Because that's not true —!" Fred interjected hotly and George snorted.

"Yes, it is, I saw you in there before I left."

"Well, why didn't you wake me up?"

"Funnier this way, innit?"

"And anyway, what does that have to do with Hermione?" Fred demanded impatiently. "She said it was about her and us."

"Right," George frowned thoughtfully. "Well, what sort of gossip is there about all three of us?"

Fred frowned.

"No, good point," he said. "Maybe the secret she's keeping is that she knows something about us. Was someone talking about all three of us?"

"No, now can we just —"

George pointed at her excitedly.

"No blush! So it was just about us! Is it about something we've said?"

"No."

"Something we've done then?"

"No."

Bright blush, and her mouth was buzzing like a wasp nest.

Fred clapped happily.

"Oh, brilliant," he said, as though Christmas had come early. "Something someone thinks we've done…did they say we've committed a minor crime?"

"No."

"Major crime?" George tried.

"No," Hermione snorted.

"Not to be critical here, darling, but you'd be saving us a lot of trouble if you just told us what you'd heard."

"I didn't hear anything," she said, without thinking it through. If she'd been smarter she'd just have refused to answer and gone about her day, but here she was, her cheeks bright pink again because she felt a desperate need to cover up the sordid secret. "This is absurd. The potion is malfunctioning —"

"She's starting to panic, Georgie," Fred said with a smirk. Hermione glared at him.

"I am not!"

She was though, and she could feel the urge to blurt out the truth again despite all her attempts to keep it at bay because she'd lied. Again.

Hell's sake, why couldn't she just stop talking?

"Definitely panicking, you've got that look like you're about to bolt but you know we'd just grab you by the ankle if you tried. Just tell us what they said about us and we can all be on our way —"

"It was nothing. Truly. Just silly gossip, it isn't import — mmph — important," she said, forcing her tongue to say the words even though none of it was true. She thought she'd gotten away with it too, although she had no idea how she'd done so when Fred and George hadn't been able to fight the urge themselves. She'd just begun to relax, thinking she'd managed to fight whatever weird side effect the potion was subjecting them to and then she realized — with horror — that her mouth was moving again. "They said that the two of you share women in bed."

The words landed with all of the aplomb of a jackhammer to concrete, and both twins blinked at her as they settled around them and Hermione tried not to let the floor swallow her whole.

The next moment the twins were laughing.

"Oh, our sweet, innocent, Hermione," Fred said with a shake of his head. "You had us thinking someone found out that we'd harvested Flyleaf root without the proper Ministry permits —"

"I — did you?" Hermione said indignantly. George snorted.

"Course, we did," he said, waving this statement away as if it were inconsequential. "We've no time for bureaucratic nonsense —"

"Good to know we aren't going to get a visit from Harry telling us to pay a fine though, eh?" Fred said with a grin at George.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling as though she were praying for patience, her heart slowing some. They were going back to business as usual, so she supposed that really gave her the answer she needed in regards to the gossip she'd overheard.

She assumed things would be far more awkward if it had been true, but even still, she felt the need to inquire.

"So…you don't share women then?" she asked awkwardly, cutting off their ridiculous jokes.

She was not at all disappointed. Truly.

She just had a naturally inquisitive mind and she needed verbal confirmation to put this issue to rest.

They looked back at her and raised a solitary eyebrow each.

"I don't recall saying anything of the sort," Fred said, smirking when her jaw unhinged and her cheeks darkened. "Do you recall saying that, Georgie?"

Hermione looked to George as if she expected him to say it was all just a joke, but his expression was identical to his brother's.

"Not to my recollection, no," he said, having the audacity to wink at her when she spluttered.

"But — but you — you didn't deny it!" she said accusingly.

Fred shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the workbench, crossing his ankles in front of him.

"Didn't confirm it either."

"Didnt realize you were asking," George said, watching her reaction carefully. Fred seemed more cocky than anything, but there was a consideration to George's perusal that made her want to squirm as if he could see right through her. "You seem quite invested in the answer."

Her stomach swooped painfully, her heart rate picking back up as she took a careful step back. Both twins tracked the movement and she swallowed hard.

This was devolving. Quite rapidly, actually, and she wasn't at all prepared for the direction the conversation was headed, even if her stupid heart was pitter-pattering excitedly in her chest and her brain was considering this newer piece of information about the Weasley twins from every possible angle.

Which really didn't help get the heat off of her at all, and now both of them were watching her reaction carefully with expressions that she didn't dare to contemplate too closely.

"I'm not — invested — I was just — curious."

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, and she prayed to Merlin and God and everyone else that they didn't notice how stilted the words had come out, as though she'd been fighting them with every fiber of her being. It would be a miracle if they hadn't noticed, but she prayed for it anyway because the alternative was mortifying, wasn't it?

Admitting that she'd fantasized about the two of them was horribly, horribly inappropriate and she had no idea how to come back from that sort of admission.

And who even knew how they'd respond to such a thing. They could laugh in her face or turn her down completely, and oddly she didn't know which of those options would be worse, but she certainly knew she didn't want to find out.

There was also still a chance that this was all some sort of joke, even if the room was suddenly filled with a heavy sort of tension that she didn't know how to read.

She swallowed hard in the silence, sneaking another fleeting glance at the door and missing the look the twins shared between them. Her head snapped back toward them when she saw one of them nod out of the corner of her eye.

Fred cocked his head slightly to the side, pushing away from the worktable and taking a step toward her. She took a hasty step backward.

"And what exactly are you so curious about, Hermione?" he inquired suggestively, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes brighter than she remembered.

"I — no, that's not — I didn't mean it like that," she spluttered, her cheeks turning bright red. "I meant scientifically! Academically!"

"Right," Fred said dryly, following her step for step until she hit the shelving unit behind her, the potions ingredients rattling ominously. Hermione could feel her pulse stutter painfully because Fred was still advancing on her, looking at her in a way that made her stomach flutter and her breathing accelerate. This could not be happening.

If she were a smarter woman, she would have looked over at George for help. He was the calmer one, less bold (barely), more susceptible to rational thought. He also had a tendency of reeling Fred in when things had gone too far, and this felt distinctly like they were all walking a very thin line that they could not come back from.

Assuming that she was reading the situation correctly, and it was entirely plausible that she wasn't.

But she didn't look at George at all. Her eyes stayed locked with Fred's as he advanced until he was standing directly in front of her, trapping her between him and the shelves behind her.

Her breath came out in a stuttering gasp when he lifted a hand to brush the hair back off her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the skin there.

"Tell us then, Granger," he said softly, his voice deeper than she previously recalled. He looked like he was enjoying himself quite immensely, a playful heat to his eyes that made her swallow hard and she — she had to grasp the shelves behind her to keep herself from doing something incredibly stupid, like throw herself at him and to hell with the consequences. "What academic interest in our romantic habits would make you all awkward and squirrely?"

"I was not squirrely," she said weakly.

"You were squirrely, sweetheart," George's amused voice came from somewhere behind Fred. It didn't sound like he'd moved at all, but the pet name caused her stomach to swoop out from under her anyway. He'd never called her that before, but she was too busy staring at his twin — the most immediate threat to her sanity — to even point it out to him.

"You know what we think, Hermione?" Fred said, grinning at her sharply, his fingers trailing across her collarbone carefully. It was a whisper of contact, barely there, but she felt it like a lightning strike, her body tightening in anticipation of what he might do next. She might have stopped breathing altogether, she couldn't tell. "We think you have a bit more than an academic interest in this rumor, don't you, love? All that blushing and twitching you've been doing…you've thought about it before, haven't you?"

Hermione tried to speak — anything, any deflection, any excuse — but her mind was full of white noise, her body primed for whatever in the hell was going to happen next because she could sense it, the shift in the room.

It had occurred so quickly that she couldn't have even pinpointed exactly when everything had begun to topple out of her control.

Fred hummed low in his throat, and shrugged, as if her lack of answer was really no concern of his. She mistook this to mean that he was going to let the entire thing go, and blew out a breath of relief, even though her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and her libido was screaming at her to quit behaving like an idiot.

She clearly didn't know Fred Weasley all that well after all these years because he certainly didn't let it go.

"Suppose there's only one way to find out then, isn't there?"

Before she had any idea what he was talking about, his fingers slid up the nape of her neck, twisted in her hair, and pulled her up to meet his mouth. The shock of it caused her to stiffen at first, her mind suddenly firing at a hundred kilometers an hour, trying to figure out how this had devolved and if this was some dream she'd conjured up.

If she'd stayed still a moment longer, she might have botched the whole thing. She could feel it — Fred's hesitation after she didn't immediately respond — but then her brain seemed to have caught up to what was happening, and she was pushing herself toward him, meeting him with a sort of passion she hadn't known herself to possess as far as these things normally went.

The hesitance that Fred had been feeling disappeared in a single heartbeat, his intent unmistakeable as he crashed into her with a desperate urgency, tugging her head back with a tight grip on her curls and biting gently on her bottom lip. She gasped loudly in surprise, the action igniting a delicious heat in her lower stomach, and Fred used the noise to his advantage, plying her mouth open with his as if he had every right to take what he wanted and fully intended to do so.

He didn't ease into it, his lips slanting over hers like he couldn't stand the space between them, like he wanted to swallow her whole. It was messy and consuming from the very first moment his lips touched hers, and she felt like her world was spinning dangerously as she pulled him in to meet her, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

He kissed exactly like she'd thought he would have — fast, hungry, almost reckless — and if she'd had any of her wits about her, she might have been more embarrassed by how easily he was able to pull soft noises from her throat, swallowing each of them greedily as he pressed her back into the shelves behind her.

She had absolutely no capacity to comprehend exactly how they'd landed here, but she didn't really care at the current moment, and apparently neither did Fred because he was spinning her around, taking several steps forward and forcing her backward without even removing his lips from her. She had absolutely no idea what was happening beyond him in front of her, her hands tightening in the hideous magenta robes that they wore in the shop, trying desperately to keep up the frantic pace he was setting, her head too dizzy with lust to care where he was leading her just as long as she was along for the ride.

She gasped sharply when she was pressed into something warm behind her, and then there was another set of hands that came to rest against her waist, and she remembered deliriously that George had been there the whole time. She'd have been mortified at having forgotten this particular fact, but he didn't seem to mind all too much, pulling her back to lean into him, surrounding her in the heat of them and sending a shiver down her spine that made Fred grin against her mouth.

Fred hummed low, nipping at her lip lightly as he pulled back from her, his grin still firmly in place.

"Academic, indeed," he said smugly, but he was spinning her around before she could even begin to think of something smart to say.

Her head was spinning a little as she came face to face with George, whose eyes had darkened to something firm and unyielding that made her stomach flip. Her chest was heaving with a desperate attempt to get air into her lungs after Fred had just kissed the breath right out of her, but it was a futile attempt. George moved slowly, running his thumb across her full bottom lip, and her breath ceased in her chest again.

Merlin, this was wildly inappropriate, lusting after the both of them like this, although neither one of them appeared to think so.

"Alright, love?" he inquired softly, his gaze trapped on her mouth as if he were having a difficult time holding himself back, wanting some sort of confirmation from her that whatever was happening was okay with her.

It was sweet, really, even if the question suddenly made her realize the dangerous line they were treading.

They worked together, the three of them. They had grown up together, saw each other every day and had family dinners on Sundays. She'd dated their younger brother at one time, although that had been years ago. They were friends beyond that, and pushing forward with whatever this was had the potential to upend all of that.

She'd always been careful about every decision she made, weighing the pros and cons of every available choice, researching each option to death until she could make a decision with an almost absolute certainty.

This was not that. This was probably — definitely — a bad decision. It was messy and selfish and could end up in an awkward disaster if she did something embarrassing.

But the opportunity was presenting itself to her on a silver platter. It likely wasn't one she'd see again if she said no now, and that would really be disappointing, wouldn't it? She'd think about that decision for probably the rest of her life if she passed up on it now and…

Well, she was twenty-three years old, and she'd never really made a single decision that was wild and carefree, and that was really quite the shame, wasn't it?

Not every decision had to be logical or safe.

It was definitely stupid and dangerous what they were doing, so instead of answering George and saying something that might ruin the whole thing, she did the next best thing.

She didn't wait for him to kiss her like she had with Fred. She simply twisted her hands in his robes and pulled him forward until his lips slanted over hers, and he met her without complaint, a low groan escaping from his throat at the first brush of her mouth.

Her head had already been spinning, but the contrast of George's kiss did not ease the sensation at all.

Where Fred's kiss had left her breathless and unsteady, George's kiss came like a slow exhale — anchoring, warm, impossibly sure. Where Fred had been frantic, George was slow, unwavering control; where Fred had been all wild, all-consuming heat, George was quiet, deliberate precision.

George didn't take — he invited. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world. No rush, no force — just a slow, steady press of his mouth before he caught her lip in a slow pull that made her knees go weak. His mouth moved against her in slow, lingering strokes that made her step into him before she even noticed she was doing it.

She moaned, the sound getting trapped between them as he coaxed her further with soft, languid strokes that had her hands clawing at his robes for more, and that was before she felt Fred's hands start moving, sliding up from where they'd been on her hips, until he had managed to get them in between her and his brother and worked at the clasp that held her work robes together.

George shifted back without prompting and they went pooling at her feet, leaving her in the blouse and pencil skirt she'd worn underneath. Fred's hands were already working at the buttons of her blouse and she was forced to pull away from George in an attempt to ground herself in reality. Her head fell back against Fred's shoulder behind her, her breaths coming out in uneven pants.

"If this is what academic interest looks like, I'm afraid we dropped out far too early, mate," George quipped, his eyes tracking Fred's movements as he worked the buttons of her shirt free, revealing more and more skin as he moved down.

"I can't stand the two of you," Hermione said with not an ounce of heat in her tone.

"Yes, we can tell," Fred hummed in her ear, the sound of his voice sending shivers down her spine as he finally managed to undo all the buttons of her shirt, revealing the black lace bra she'd worn that morning.

"Fucking hell," George swore, letting his hands drift down to cup her breasts in his hands. Hermione gasped, arching toward him in reflex and he groaned appreciatively.

Fred's hands twisted in her hair again, and he tugged, pulling her gaze away from the enraptured look on George's face and tilting her head back to kiss her again.

Really, those women had not managed to quite convey how utterly mind-numbing the two of them were together because any sense of propriety that she had flew directly out the window as they worked together to wind her higher and tighter until she was sure that she would combust soon if they didn't do something — anything — else to end the incessant throbbing between her legs.

Her eyes rolled back in her head when George leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around her over the material of her bra at the same time that Fred's hand had taken their chances and skimmed down her legs, beginning to make their way under her skirt.

She released Fred's mouth with a desperate, keening noise, squirming impatiently between them.

"Fred, please," she gasped, not even sure what she was asking for.

George released her the moment the words left her mouth, his gaze meeting his twin's over her head in some silent conversation that she didn't understand. Before she had any idea what they were thinking, one of them had twisted on the spot, pulling her into side-along apparition without even a word of warning.

They landed in the twins' flat above the shop, but the apparition had taken her so by surprise that she went stumbling forward and sent Fred toppling backward onto the couch. It was not at all graceful and Hermione giggled despite her current circumstances.

"Smooth, Granger," Fred snorted, pulling her to straddle his lap without a word of warning.

"Me?" she said indignantly. "If you two had given me any warning at all then it — oh."

She scrambled to find purchase on Fred's shoulders as he tugged her forward, dragging the hard length of him against her when he ground up. He blew out a breath, grinning at her cheekily when he repeated the movement again and she followed after him, searching desperately for friction.

"What was that you were complaining about again?" he said smugly.

"Prat," she gasped though the pleasure skittering up her spine. She moaned loudly when George stepped up behind her, leaning back into him and taking over the movement of her hips over Fred's when his hands moved to bunch her skirt higher up, increasing the friction between them.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, letting his head thump back on the couch, his hands tightening around her thighs.

Hermione's head was spinning again, her attention pulled between Fred in front of her, moving so perfectly against her that she probably could have come just like that, and George behind her, who was pulling her shirt over her shoulders and tossing it to the side and then making quick work of her bra and tossing it aside as well.

Fred froze beneath her, watching in fascination as George's hands moved around her waist and up to cup her breasts in his hands. Hermione moaned, leaning back into him, seeking more of his touch even as her hips continued the slow, even movements over Fred.

Fred watched her with George for barely a second before he groaned, losing some battle she hadn't known he was fighting with himself, and leaning forward to wrap his mouth around one of her nipples without saying a single word.

It was so blessedly good, the way they worked together, and she suddenly felt selfish for taking so willingly from them when she wasn't offering anything in return. She twisted slightly, trying to reach for George's belt behind her, but he stepped back with a shake of his head and gave her a look of reprimand that confused her at first.

"Patience," he murmured, forcing her back toward Fred instead.

She made a noise of protest and Fred laughed breathlessly under her.

"Don't argue, love," he said, his hands trailing up her thighs. "It'll only work him up more. He likes the control."

The words sent her stomach flipping, but she wasn't provided an opportunity to respond because George was back again, his hands on her breasts, his thumbs swirling around her nipples, pinching them with enough force to cause a spark of pleasure to shoot directly to her core.

Fred's hands were moving higher up her thighs, squeezing tightly, and Hermione was rocketing toward her release again, leaning back into George so that he was really the only reason she was still sitting up to begin with.

She couldn't think through the haze of pleasure, her body desperately chasing after the high that they were both so willingly giving her and —

"Up," George demanded from behind her, recognizing the change in pitch to the sounds escaping her mouth and not at all willing to give her what she wanted quite so easily.

The word didn't make much sense to her at first until Fred's movements paused below her and his hands tightened on her waist, lifting her off of his lap until she stood in front of him.

She swayed dangerously, her legs nearly giving out under her and he winked at her cockily. She scowled at him in reproach.

"Turn around," George said before she could tell Fred to quit looking so smug. Hermione turned to face him, scowling at him instead.

"You're very bossy," she said reproachfully, crossing her arms across her chest.

It wasn't quite as intimidating as she'd have liked it to have been, considering she was topless and the movement only managed to draw George's attention down to her cleavage instead.

It looked like a Herculean effort for him to drag his gaze back up to look at her and he grinned crookedly, not appearing at all apologetic.

"It's my turn, sweetheart," he said, stepping toward her. He'd lost his work robes somewhere in the process of them moving upstairs, and she could not at all remember when that had happened. Even still, both twins were fully clothed which seemed a bit unfair.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him when he took another step toward her, and wrapped her hands around his belt, tugging him toward her and accepting the kiss he gave her without complaint.

It was the same as it had been earlier: he was in total control, still slow and thorough and so deep that it made her ache with longing. The only thing she could really even think to do was surrender to the promise she could feel in the way his mouth moved. Their approaches were wildly different, and yet she couldn't decide which she liked best, both of them sending her heart into a frenzy and pulling gasps and moans from her mouth without even having to touch her.

Her hands loosened around the belt she'd been clinging to as a lifeline and let her hand graze over the hardness she could feel pressing against her. George groaned low in his throat, sending her heart up into her throat.

"Behave, Granger," he warned lowly when she repeated the movement again, causing him to jerk toward her.

She'd always prided herself on following directions before, but she found that she didn't want to at the moment. Mostly because she liked the way his breath caught every time her fingers moved over him and the sharp hiss he released when she gave up teasing altogether and cupped him quite pointedly in her hand.

But also because she was curious what he would do if she didn't listen. She'd never quite heard him use that tone before, and it had always been Fred who took the lead in social situations and pranks. She'd have expected the dynamic to be flipped. She'd have expected Fred to be the one giving orders and demanding attention. And yet George was the one talking to her now in an unyielding sort of way, one that sent a thrill of anticipation up her spine.

And it had been Fred that had warned her that disobeying would just work George up.

She couldn't ignore such a warning, could she?

It was experimental curiosity, really, that had her pushing him. She wanted to know exactly what it looked like to watch George lose control.

He groaned low in his throat when she moved, dragging the heel of her hand against him, but he didn't pull back, pushing himself forward into her hands instead.

"Hermione…" he warned against her lips, his breath starting to come out in desperate pants, his hands tightening on her waist.

"Yes?" she inquired innocently, grinning when she heard Fred chuckle behind her. George groaned again, his head falling to her shoulder, seeking the pressure of her hand against him.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, sounding like he was praying for patience he didn't have.

She liked the power she had over him, was basking in it proudly when he grunted suddenly, stepping back out of her reach and giving her a look of dark reprimand that had her toes curling and sent her heart pounding in her chest.

"And here I was thinking you knew how to follow directions, love," he said, raising a pointed eyebrow and nodding at Fred behind her.

Hermione squealed in surprise when Fred's hands reached out to grab her hips and pulled her backward onto his lap, her back leaning flat against his chest. He'd also lost his work robes now — presumably when she'd been wrapped up in George — leaving him in jeans and a button up that he'd rolled up to his elbows.

Hermione watched with a sort of fascination as George did the same directly in front of her. It was oddly erotic, though she had no idea why.

Fred situated her so that her legs were hanging over each of his knees, and leaned forward to kiss his way up her neck. She moaned, arching to give him easier access, her gaze locked on George, and Fred chuckled behind her.

"You're in trouble," he sing-songed happily, sounding amused. Hermione scoffed, and opened her mouth to retort that she sincerely doubted that she had anything to be worried about or maybe that he of all people did not have any room to talk to her about trouble when George took a step toward them and distracted her entirely.

The two of them looked at each other and seemed to have some sort of conversation wordlessly as he moved to stand directly in front of Fred, who shifted forward and spread his legs slowly, forcing Hermione's to open with the movement.

It was an incredibly vulnerable position to be in, and her heart thundered in her chest, wondering what exactly they'd been planning just a moment before as George stepped between their open legs. She swallowed hard, her hands moving to grip Fred's arms on either side of her as George moved to his knees in front of her.

She squirmed in anticipation, suddenly feeling as though she knew exactly what they were doing. George gave her a hard look.

"Keep still," he said sharply, his hands moving to slide up her thighs, bunching her skirt up again and groaning low in his throat as he looked at the most intimate part of her.

It should have been mortifying, honestly, but she was too busy trying to remember how to breathe to really care all that much and that was well before he moved to touch her.

She expected, given the slow nature in which he'd been approaching the situation, that he'd make her squirm some more. Make her wait it out before he gave her anything she wanted, but she'd been totally, horribly wrong.

He didn't wait around at all, waving his wand and vanishing her underwear altogether and then he was leaning in, spreading her open, dragging the flat of his tongue up the center of her without preamble —

She keened loudly, her body arching toward him, her hips canting forward to gain more friction against him as he gave her exactly what she needed. Fred groaned behind her, his hands sliding up her stomach to mold against her chest again, every tweak of his thumb against her nipples sending a fresh wave of heat toward George's mouth and he groaned in appreciation, spreading her legs further apart to gain further access to her center, his tongue swirling devilishly around the spot she needed him most.

She was spiraling rapidly toward her release, and if this is what she got for disobeying George's orders then she'd do it again in a heartbeat she was sure because the man was relentless in his attentions. She could hear herself keening, hear herself sounding like she was crying, and she made desperate attempts to increase the friction George was giving her, her hips circling, unable to stop, hitting George in front of her and Fred behind with every circle and she was so fucking close —

Suddenly, George stopped, pulling away from her center with a smirk and slapped his hands against her thighs to stop her movements against him and his brother, who was panting behind her, ceasing his own ministrations at the same time.

"What the hell?" Hermione panted before she could stop herself, fighting against George's hold. Fred groaned, moving to grab her hips to get her to stop moving against him.

Fred tsked disapprovingly behind her, and George grinned at her wolfishly, raising an impudent eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, sounding anything but. "After all that fuss you made, you think you get to come, just like that?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she looked back at Fred to see if this was some stupid joke they were playing, but he merely grinned at her and brushed a kiss to her lips.

"I told you you were in trouble," he said. She scoffed.

"You two have spent your entire lifetimes misbehaving and now you're lecturing me about following George's stupid rules?"

George sighed as though she were making things painful for him, but there was a twinkle in his eyes again that clearly conveyed how much he enjoyed her disobedience.

"We'll be here all night with that attitude," he quipped, grinning widely when she growled in frustration. She stiffened in surprise when he ran a finger up the center of her slowly. Her legs shook in his hands. "Not that I'm complaining, sweeheart. You're so beautifully wet for us."

Fred made a noise that clearly conveyed his jealousy that George knew this when he hadn't touched her there at all yet, and a moment later he was reaching around her and dragging his fingers through the wet heat of her. Hermione whimpered at the same time that Fred groaned, his fingers dipping and swirling and circling up and up and up —

"Yes," Hermione breathed desperately when he found her clit, circling slowly, dragging the pleasure back out of her, making her squirm helplessly in George's grasp.

"Holy hell, Hermione," Fred groaned in her ear. She moaned, something about the way he said her name making her limbs shake as she moved to meet his fingers. "That's it, love…so fucking close, aren't you?"

"Please," she whispered desperately, fighting against George's control and moaning gratefully when he released one of her legs to press two fingers inside her. He swore emphatically when she tightened around them reflexively, curling his fingers once before he pulled out of her and moving to halt Fred's movements.

Hermione was not easily deterred — it was clear that George wouldn't budge, but Fred she might be able to convince. He was all heat and uncontrolled passion, his grip bruisingly tight as he fought for control, his mouth desperate and hot when he kissed her, his groans skittering low in her ear when she squirmed between them. Fred wanted this as badly as she did, and he wasn't subtle about it either.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, leaning back into Fred and tilting her head back until their gazes locked. Fred swore under his breath, and gave her exactly what she wanted, sending her arching up when he pushed two fingers inside her.

"Fred," George warned sharply, tightening his grip on his brother's wrist.

Hermione moaned, and for a moment she thought Fred would keep going, would take pity on her and get her there despite his brother's silent command to stop, but then George said his name warningly again, and Fred pulled back, looking for all the world like he wanted to be doing anything but.

Hermione sobbed as the orgasm receded again, and she wished she could kick George in the head, but she had no use of her limbs at the moment.

Fred ran a soothing hand up her side.

"Shhhh, we'll get you there," he promised gently and she glared at him, angry at him too for listening to his stupid brother in the first place and despising whatever sadistic game this was that they were playing.

"I'm never speaking to the both of you ever again," she said vehemently, and George chuckled below her.

"We'll see about that after you've come all over my tongue, sweetheart," he said crudely and she refused to give him the satisfaction of responding.

Fred hummed as though he found such an option appealing himself, moving the hand he'd been touching her with just a second before and lifting his fingers to his mouth. Hermione watched the whole thing as though her eyes were completely outside of her control, and her entire stomach dropped out from under her.

It was lewd and shouldn't have been at all arousing, but even still she couldn't help but squirm against him again.

He made a noise of approval, tilting her face up to meet him.

"I get a taste next time," he promised quietly, sending her stomach into a flutter of butterflies.

Next time.

They'd not even discussed a next time before they'd gone and thrown their entire working relationship to the wind, but now the option was suspended between them and she had a thousand questions about what they meant.

Before she could even consider the implications of that statement, he'd tilted her mouth up to meet his. She sighed into his mouth, reaching up to tangle a hand in his hair and let him ply her with his lips, trying desperately to convince him to send her over the edge with her kiss alone.

So caught up in kissing him, she didn't notice George moving again until his tongue was exactly where she'd needed him several minutes before. She cried out against Fred's mouth, her hand tugging on his hair in time with his brother's movements. He groaned low, dragging his mouth away from hers and kissing his way down her jaw and pulling her other hand up to tangle in his hair as well.

"He told you not to move, Granger," Fred murmured in her ear when her body started searching desperately for George's tongue. "He won't let you come if you don't listen."

"I — I can't help it, George," she gasped brokenly. "Please, I —"

She cried out loudly when he responded by pushing two fingers inside her at the same time that he sucked her clit. Hard.

Her body jerked forward automatically, searching for more, and George made a disapproving noise as though he weren't making it deliberately difficult for her to listen. Hermione whimpered desperately.

"Shhh," Fred soothed, moving to grip her legs just above his brother's hold to keep her from jolting forward. "Just like that, love. You're perfect."

It was worse somehow than it had been before because without the added friction the buildup was slower, more intense, more overwhelming. Her hands tightened in Fred's hair and he groaned in her ear, his hips circling underneath her at the same time that George curled his fingers inside her.

"God, George," she gasped wantonly, fighting against their hold desperately as he worked her up. She could feel it building again, slowly behind her navel, and she was desperate for it, trying not to get her hopes up when he'd denied her twice before. His name on her lips had him groaning against her, the vibrations of it sending her back arching even though she wasn't able to move otherwise.

"Good girl," Fred murmured gently, kissing and nipping his way across her neck and shoulder. "You're doing so well for us, Hermione…Just a little more…"

She couldn't, she needed the friction, she needed something — anything — that would send her over the edge, her legs fighting desperately against their hold, trying to close around George's head as he lapped at her until she was sure that she wouldn't survive it.

She could feel herself getting close again and she waited for him to pull back, to deny her again, to tell her she hadn't been listening well enough, but he didn't this time, running the flat of his tongue over her until she could barely breathe through it.

And then he was curling his fingers and swirling his tongue at the same time, and she shattered into a million pieces so suddenly that it took her entirely by surprise. Her breath left her in a rush as the wave crashed over her and George worked her through the spasms drawing them out until she was trying to squirm away, her vision blacking out around the edges and her mind going utterly blank.

It took her several long, glorious seconds before she came down enough to feel her own limbs again. Fred was running a soothing hand up her side as she gasped air back into her lungs. George was still kneeling in front of her, his cheek resting on the inside of her thigh, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Still with us, Granger?" Fred inquired amusedly behind her as though the two of them hadn't just given her the best orgasm of her life.

She would like to have made a quip to this question, perhaps have played off the entire thing as though it hadn't ruined her for every other experience that would come after, but, as it was, she had no words left in her vocabulary, nor could she get her limbs to cooperate enough to move, so there wasn't much she could do for it.

Their egos would surely grow to three times their current size, which was a tragedy, really, but there was no way for her to play the entire thing off convincingly.

George laughed below her, kissing his way up her body until he was leaning directly over her with a cocky grin.

"Am I forgiven then?" he said amusedly, his eyes back to sparkling at her mischievously.

Rather than answering, she reached up to pull him down to meet her mouth, putting every single ounce of gratitude that she could into the kiss. Some of that control he'd had earlier was wavering now, and he groaned low in his throat when she nipped at him playfully.

She gasped loudly when he lifted her off of Fred, pulling her legs around his waist and stumbling down the hall. She scrambled for the buttons of his shirt, suddenly desperate again and only slightly annoyed that he was still fully clothed.

She squealed girlishly when George released her suddenly and she went toppling onto one of their beds without warning. Both of them were grinning at her when she'd stopped bouncing, standing side by side and clearly not at all bothered by the glare she was giving them.

"You two are insufferable," she growled at them.

"Now, now, love, there's no need for flattery," Fred quipped, flicking his wand and vanishing all of their clothing.

It didn't tame her annoyance as much as it had distracted her entirely because they were both standing before her entirely naked for the first time, and she was suddenly very aware of the size of them.

It was probably rude to ogle, but she couldn't help running her gaze over them — if this were going to be her last opportunity to see such a thing, she may as well take advantage. They were indeed identical at first glance — freckled chests that were toned from years of Quidditch, a dusting of hair across their chests that led enticingly lower to the clearly thick, heavy length of them. She swallowed hard, only slightly intimidated by the sight of them even though heat was coiling low in her belly as she looked at them.

She itched to reach out and touch them, wrap her hand around them, or kiss her way down that copper-gold trail of hair that was suddenly very distracting.

She wasn't given an opportunity to consider the possibilities in front of her because Fred seemed to lose all patience with waiting because he tangled a hand in her curls and pulled her up to meet him, swallowing the moan she released when the warmth of his skin came into contact with her own. She couldn't help herself now that he was so close to her and she let her hands trail down his chest until she'd wrapped her hand around him.

He hissed through his teeth as she ran her hand over him, basking in the power she had over him. A moment later, he groaned painfully, swatting her hand away from him.

"Later, love," he panted, turning her to face George instead. "I've got other ideas for you at the moment."

She had absolutely no idea what that meant, but she didn't have time to ask too many questions because George, who had moved to sit on the bed, pulled him toward her and swallowed her questions, pulling her over him.

She whimpered when he moved beneath her, dragging the length of himself through the slick heat of her. He'd given her plenty already, but suddenly she wanted more, seeking the hardness of him desperately. He groaned against her, letting his head fall back as she moved against him.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, his hands tightening around her thighs.

Fred made a disapproving noise behind them, and anchored his hands on her hips. Hermione shuddered at the added touch as he moved behind her, his chest pressing to her back as she moved against his brother.

"Not a chance, mate," he said to some unspoken words he could read in George's posture that she couldn't. "You can have her next time."

Hermione's brow furrowed, confused by this statement before Fred moved further back, tugging her back suddenly.

She squealed in surprise again, her hands scrambling for purchase on George's thighs before she could go tumbling into the bed beneath her.

"Fred Weasley!" she reprimanded sharply in annoyance. "You are by far the most annoying —!"

She sucked in a sharp breath when he moved to settle himself behind her, moving her legs further apart. She huffed when he didn't immediately move to take her, and he chuckled behind her, running a hand slowly up her spine.

"So needy for someone who finds me so annoying," he said smugly. She growled at him. "I don't think she learned her lesson earlier, Georgie."

"Very impolite," George agreed, smirking down at her. "Perhaps I ought to make my point one more — fuck me, Granger!"

She smirked up at him, her eyes flashing with a mixture of annoyance and smug satisfaction as her hand gripped him tightly, moving slowly from base to tip. He hissed through his teeth when she ran her thumb over the top of him, collecting the moisture that had built there before she moved her hand back over him again. He panted below her, his hands tightening on the duvet beneath him.

Fred swore behind her, and finally moved to line himself up with her center before he pushed forward slowly. Hermione paused her movements over George as Fred pushed himself inside her slowly, whimpering when he was finally seated inside her, so deep that it was bordering on painful even as pleasure was welling within her.

Fred groaned behind her, pausing briefly to give her a chance to catch her bearings. She blew out a slow breath, pushing backward into Fred at the same time that she ran her hand over George again. They groaned simultaneously, sending a shiver down Hermione's back as Fred started to move, clouding her brain again.

For the first time in her entire life, there were no thoughts in her head as she took pleasure from the man behind her. His retreat was achingly slow, but he thrust forward hard, sending her arching back into him desperately, her hand tightening over George with every movement until he was panting desperately beneath her.

"Fuck, I — Hermione —" he gasped, jerking up into her hand when her hand twisted over him in just the right way. "Love, please."

She shuddered at the sound of his pleading, and Fred curled over her, his hands tightening over her hips as he pulled her back to meet her thrusts.

"No more teasing, love," he said into her ear, groaning when she tightened around him reflexively. "Take him in that pretty mouth of yours."

She moaned wantonly, too utterly overwhelmed with pleasure to do anything but obey. Probably not the best precedent to set with the Weasley twins, but she didn't particularly care because the sound George released as her mouth settled around him made her toes curl and her core clench around Fred, who swore behind her, forcing himself to remain still as she took George in as far as she could.

His hands wrapped themselves in her hair as she moved over him, swirling her tongue around the tip of him before she sucked hard.

"Holy fuck," he hissed, jerking against her before he could stop it. "So fucking good, love…"

She moaned around him at the praise and he shuddered below her, his hands tugging deliciously as she moved her mouth over him. Fred gave her a moment to find a rhythm before he was moving again, continuing the pace he'd set earlier. George thrust up into her mouth, releasing a long string of praises that made her eyes roll back in her head.

"Gods, Hermione, you feel so fucking good, love," Fred groaned, his pace picking up slightly. She whimpered, writhing between them as her orgasm built again. She was spiraling, her body desperately seeking the relief that they'd given her earlier. Each of Fred's thrusts pushed her into George in front of her and then back into him behind her and it was making her head spin. They'd kill her like this, she was sure, and she moaned again when George tugged on her hair at the same time that Fred pushed forward, hitting a spot within her that made her eyes roll back in her head. "Shit…you're going to come for us, aren't you, darling? You going to show us how good we make you feel?"

She couldn't respond, but the moan she released around George had the man below her arching up to meet her.

"Fuck," he groaned below her, his head kicking back as he let go completely. She did her best to swallow what she could when Fred was still moving behind her, not at all slowing his pace and still hitting that spot that made gasp desperately. George's hands loosened in her curls and she released him, resting her cheek on his thigh as she chased her own orgasm.

Her hands tightened on his thighs, her nails digging into the skin and then Fred had hit that spot again and she shattered around him, her breath freezing entirely as it washed over her and pulling Fred into his own release with a groan.

It was several long moments before any thoughts came back into her head, and by the time they did, she was panicking.

Because now that everything was said and done, it was impossible to ignore how messy this could get.

Christ, she'd just had sex with her bosses. That was surely illegal. Or at least heavily frowned upon. Not to mention that it had been mind-blowing, which would make looking them in the eye in the future to be impossible — especially without a slew of inappropriate thoughts running through her head.

And nevermind that she —

She startled when George pulled her up his body, twisting so that she was sandwiched between the two of them. She flushed to the roots of her hair when she met George's eyes and Fred curled himself around her.

"That's a pretty blush, love," George said, raising a hand to run his thumb across the apple of her cheek and grinning at her widely. "I hope it's us you're thinking about."

"Can't be," Fred murmured behind her. "She's more tense than when we accidentally walked in on Luna and Ron in the —"

"Do not finish that sentence," Hermione said, covering her ears hastily. George laughed, one of his hands playing absently over the skin of her sides. She fought a shiver.

"Or perhaps she's thinking about how her little potion didn't work —"

"Seems to work just fine where I'm standing," Fred snorted with a wink in her direction.

Hermione huffed.

"Yes, sleeping with my bosses is exactly what that was intended for, Fred."

"We've told you not to call us that," Fred said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "It gives me hives just thinking about it —"

"Well, hang on, mate, maybe it's a kink of hers," George said, looking over her head and ignoring the groan she released. "We wouldn't want to discourage that, would we?"

Fred paused thoughtfully.

"Suppose we wouldn't, would we, George?" he nodded. "Otherwise, we won't be able to bend her over my desk —"

Hermione spluttered between them, trying to turn to face the man behind her and give him what for, particularly because he'd said it so casually, but it was impossible to move with them surrounding her so completely.

"Your desk?" George said indignantly. "Why's it your desk? Why not my desk?"

"Because I'm older —"

"You can't use that excuse to get the bigger room and to seduce Granger —"

Hermione groaned loudly between them, squirming between them in annoyance. They'd clearly forgotten she was even there, and she truly did not have time for this nonsense.

Mostly because it was incredibly irritating, but also because the thoughts that their words were conjuring up were incredibly inappropriate, and she'd already crossed one line today.

Or was it two?

Semantics, probably.

"Will the two of you shut up and let me out of this bed? There will be no desks or anything else. We work together, this is clearly wrong and —"

George nodded, looking solemnly at Fred.

"She's right about that, Freddie," he said seriously. "We did do this a bit wrong, didn't we?"

"Yes, nothing for it now, I'm afraid," Fred said, just as seriously. Hermione was tempted to rip out her hair. "We'll just have to do damage control."

"Indeed," George said before he grinned down at Hermione. "We did the whole thing a bit backwards, but all the same, we'd like to take you to dinner."

Hermione stilled between them, her jaw dropping at him in surprise.

"I — you what?"

"Dinner," Fred repeated as though she'd hit her head. "Courtship, Granger. Very romantic. Flowers optional, although I'm partial to chocolates myself."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. There were no words at all left in her head to rationalize what was happening at that moment. Her fifteen year old self was swooning, her stomach was flipping like mad, but her brain was frantically trying to make sense of what was happening.

"You want to take me to dinner," she said slowly, trying to get her thoughts to resemble some kind of order. "The both of you."

"Are we saying the right words?" Fred inquired of his brother jokingly. "She doesn't seem to be hearing us properly."

"I can hear you just fine, you prat," Hermione huffed.

"Great," George said happily. "So dinner then. Seven o'clock?"

"I didn't say —"

"Seven is good, I think we've worked up quite the appetite, don't you, Granger?" Fred grinned at her.

Hermione groaned.

"If I agree to dinner — one dinner — will you please shut up for the next ten minutes?" Fred grinned at her and George zipped his lips pointedly. She sighed, trying to hide her smile in the pillows. "Fine. But there will be no desks."

"Good luck trying to land a man with that attitude."

"Give us twenty minutes and we can convince her otherwise."

Hermione groaned into the pillow beneath her. She really should never have listened to that stupid gossip in the pub.