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Hermione's Furry Little Problem	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 242839 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 20
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its associated properties. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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Molly Weasley waved her wand at the pan with the bacon, trying very hard not to think about her two missing sons. One had gone astray the day he had joined the Ministry, and the other was currently being held captive by him somewhere. She took some solace in the fact that Charlie was safe in Romania at the moment, looking after dragons at the Preserve because they were understaffed.

One by one, the bacon strips rearranged themselves for a nice even crisp while she flipped over the fried eggs in the pan she was tending to. She was just arranging the food on the plates when her husband blearily staggered down the rickety stairs.

“Here you go Arthur, eggs over easy, just as you and Bill like them,” Molly beamed at her husband. “Where is Bill anyway? Still in bed? I know you didn’t get in till after three last night, but still, it’s already seven thirty...”

Arthur flushed as he looked guiltily at his wife.

“Oh... er... Bill didn’t come back with me last night,” he muttered, focusing his attention on his steaming cup of tea.

“Why ever not?” snapped Molly. “I told him I’d feel much better if he stayed at home with us while he’s taking time off from Gringotts to help the Order...”

Molly’s husband sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t let it go. If he wanted a peaceful breakfast, he’d just have to get it all out at once and hope for the best.

“Erm... well, he met a girl last night while helping to rescue muggles from the Inferi...”

“And he went home with her already?” Molly frowned. “That’s a bit quick off the mark don’t you think? Who is she? Another French trollop? One of the witches that Mr Delacour sent over to help the Order no doubt!”

Arthur struggled not to roll his eyes, thinking back to the French girl that Bill had met during the Triwizard Tournament while visiting Hogwarts for the Final Task. She and Bill had got on like a house on fire in the stands while everyone else had been eyeing the outermost hedgerow of the maze in boredom and anticipation.

Then Bill had invited the pretty blonde Beauxbatons girl to dinner the following week and it had been a complete disaster. Molly had done her utmost to restrain herself and be on her best behaviour, but it had been impossible for her to totally hide her disdain, and Ginny’s attitude hadn’t helped. Not to mention Ron openly ogling the girl with a gormless expression on his face.

The poor girl and Bill had felt uncomfortable the entire time, and the next time Arthur had seen Bill, his son had glumly told him that she couldn’t be with someone whose family had such little regard for the French.

After that, Arthur had taken Ginny aside for a serious conversation about not being rude to people just because her mother didn’t like them. He’d also tried to impress upon Ron that it was considered impolite to drool while staring at pretty girls--that it was better to just take quick surreptitious glances out of the corner of one’s eye--but he expected that his breath had been wasted on Ron.

Arthur noted that his wife was still glowering at him while breakfast began to cool. He adjusted his glasses, took another sip of tea and cleared his throat.

“No... the girl is British actually,” he began, eyeing his wife warily, “a muggle secretary he met in the building he was securing. He does seem to like her, but he only went home with the girl to look after her because she was frightened to be alone--her family doesn’t live in Puddleby.

“And I don’t blame the poor girl after all those Inferi, and then having the muggle military set loose on her town...”

“Oh!” said Molly brightly, her frown vanishing. “Well why didn’t you just say so to begin with Arthur? She sounds delightful! You should have Bill bring her to tea or dinner... Just remember this time not to scare her off...”

“Me!?” said Arthur incredulously, forgetting himself momentarily.

“Yes, you! ...With your silly self-deprecating jokes about rubber duckies and pretending you don’t know how to say ‘electricity’ or ‘plumber’...”

“Nonsense Molly--it puts muggles at ease to think that they know things that wizards don’t.”

Molly rolled her eyes. For such a smart man with exceptional muggle engineering skills as well as having been top of the class at Hogwarts, her husband could be quite thickheaded at times.

~o0o~
Percy Weasley unlocked and opened the door of the room that was currently occupied by his youngest brother. Percy smiled wryly and shook his head slightly when he saw Ron still digging into his breakfast, currently shoveling sausage and the remnants of the scrambled eggs into his mouth.
Ron looked up from his tea-tray, hoping his own expression was more nonchalant than he felt, his heart thumping wildly.

“Heypercewazup!?” Ron mumbled with a grin as he tried to swallow the huge mouthful of food and nearly choked.

Percy rolled his eyes and chortled. The poor table manners were a good sign that Ron was obviously feeling much better about things and that Percy’s efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“I was wondering, Ron, how would you feel about being on the Wiz-Vision again?” Percy asked hopefully. “...Without being imperiused this time? If all goes well, I’m sure that I can talk the Minister into arranging an outing to Diagon Alley... maybe even to buy you a Firebolt while we’re there...”

“Really? That sounds smashing Percy...” answered Ron, looking extremely interested. “And if I go on the Wiz-Vision enough, I’ll be more famous than Harry in no time.”

“Precisely!” beamed Percy. “Excellent, Ron! If you’re finished with breakfast, we can go downstairs and work on your lines in the sitting room for a bit.”

“Yeah, sure! I’m done eating for now...” said Ron eagerly, hastily downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.

Ron followed Percy out of the horribly pink room into the equally horribly pink hallway. At least the bannister of the stair railing was plain wood, mahogany polished to a high sheen. At the bottom of the stairs Ron spied the kitchen and dining room to his right, and a hallway leading to what looked like a laundry-room near the back door.

Through the threshold on his left, where Percy was heading, Ron could see a Welsh Dresser with shelves full of collectible plates with pictures of horribly pink puppies gamboling across them. Ron reckoned now was as good a time as any.

“We’ll just take a seat on the sofa...” Percy began saying as he turned his head to look at Ron. Percy’s smile was replaced with a look of horror.

“What the hell...?” were the last words that Percy managed to blurt out before Ron’s fist crashed into the side of his face. Ron furiously slammed his fist into Percy’s face two more times and his brother dropped to the floor, out like a light.

Ron scowled at his prone brother on the floor, his fist still shaking with nervousness and anger, and not a small bit of pain, his knuckles bleeding. Nostrils flaring, Ron almost kicked his brother, unconscious though Percy already was, barely managing to restrain himself.

“If you weren’t my brother...” Ron muttered savagely. “...Bastard! It’d take more than a bloody Firebolt to turn me into a Slytherin! That was for torturing Dad...”

He had hit Percy hard enough to hurt his knuckles, but still, Ron didn’t know how long Percy would be out. Ron looked longingly at Percy’s wand. He considered taking it, but thought better of it. Ron knew he’d be tempted to use it and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself once he’d departed.

“...Still, I reckon it’s safe enough while I’m still in the Minister’s house,” he told himself out loud. Ron took Percy’s wand and used a stunning spell on him for good measure, thanking his lucky stars that Fred and George had taught him the spell.

“That oughta keep you quiet for a bit,” Ron muttered again, replacing the wand in Percy’s pocket. “Wonder if that hag has a broom in this bloody place...”

Ron searched the hallway and the kitchen, looking for a broom closet, not bothering with the Floo system because he knew it was being monitored closely. He breathed a sigh of relief and grinned when he spied an old Comet 220 which looked like it had been used more for sweeping than riding in a cupboard under the stairs.

“Excellent! You’re no Firebolt, but at least you’re better than Charlie’s old Shooting Star.”

As he headed for the back door, Ron shot another furious glance at Percy who was still out cold on the pink shag carpet in the sitting room. He swallowed and fought back sudden tears, wondering if he would ever see Percy again--the annoying old Percy who was only a pompous prat, a bossy know-it-all... not this mad twisted Slytherin version of Percy that he’d become.

“...Though I suppose you always were a bit of a Slytherin,” Ron said quietly as he thought back to how Percy had always been selfish, greedily ambitious, and looked down on the rest of the family as if he were a vastly superior being adopted into a family of dunces.

A sudden flush of shame crossed Ron’s features, recognising a few of his older brother’s worst traits in himself. Percy had known only too well the buttons to push to try and turn Ron against Harry. Then Ron felt a little better, knowing that he’d managed to put most of his jealousy and feelings of inadequacy behind him. And there was no way that Perce could’ve ever got him to believe in that Pureblood rubbish.

He thought again of Seamus, and of some of the girls who had seemed more interested in Ron after he’d helped Gryffindor win the quidditch match. With pleasant fantasies in the back of his mind--now much more realistic--of a girl or two joining in with him and Seamus and messing around all together, and of eventually becoming a famous professional quidditch player, Ron stalked out of the Minister’s back door and jumped onto the broom, soaring up into the clouds without once looking back.

Once above the clouds, Ron tried to decide which direction to go. He had no real idea where in Britain the Minister’s house was, but it hadn’t looked like Scotland or Wales down below.

But it was still morning and the sun was still rising, and even though he was no Hermione, Ron at least had an idea of which way was North and South. He considered trying to find his way back home, to the Burrow, but then he reckoned that there was only Mum and Dad, and that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Ron sighed when he realised that he would be safer at Hogwarts, which was probably hundreds of miles away. And it should be easier to find as there was no mistaking the mountainous region surrounding the Castle and the Black Lake. He’d know the landscape when he saw it. There was nothing for it. Keeping the sun to his right for the time-being, Ron began heading North.

~o0o~
The Coven’s friends were all thrilled that the Potters and the rest of the Unaffiliated had returned to Hogwarts sometime late the night before, after mysteriously departing halfway during the Halloween Ball.
“So what was up with the glowing last night?” Ginny Weasley asked quietly as she and Neville sat with the Unaffiliated at the Mingling Table during lunch time.

Hermione cringed, her furry ears and tail twitching with agitation. Harry turned beet-red and Parvati nearly choked on her meat pasty. The rest of the Coven turned pink and glanced at each other anxiously, not knowing how to respond. Ginny, Neville, and Viktor, were the only students who knew they were a Coven, but the Unaffiliated were hardly prepared to discuss the intimate details of the things they got up to in private.

“How... how did you...?” Harry managed to gasp.

“Neville and I were closest to the window in the Common Room last night, snogging when we spotted you lot arriving on the lawn,” Ginny replied with a puzzled expression on her face. “Fred and George were throwing their usual after-party...”

“...What’s wrong?” she asked when nobody said anything more.

Neville gulped when an odd thought occurred to him. There was only one thing he could imagine Harry and Hermione not sharing with him and Ginny, good friends as they all were. Ginny’s jaw dropped as comprehension dawned on her at the same time. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth and blushed furiously.

“Never mind! I’m sorry!” Ginny squeaked. “Forget I asked...”

“Don’t worry,” said Hermione quickly, giving the rest of the Coven a quick glance. “It’s alright. I know you won’t tell anyone else. Anyway, I’m not sure exactly what triggered it last night, but the... er... the glowing did originally occur after a... erm... a Coven ritual...”

“We won’t say anything,” Neville muttered, as red-faced as everyone else. “We promise! Right Ginny?”

“Of course!” Ginny immediately agreed, nodding. “We’re just happy you’re all safe and back at Hogwarts with us for now.”

“We should have a bit more time to hang out too,” said Harry. “Our schedules will be a bit more flexible now that we’re all doing an Independent Study programme...”

“Brilliant...” said George Weasley who had just appeared at the Mingling Table with his twin and Angelina in tow, all of them grinning.

“...That means we’ll have another chance to prove that we can clobber you and Viktor on the Quidditch Pitch, Harry,” added Fred with a wink.

“Fat chance of that!” chortled Angelina, swatting Fred on the bum...

~o0o~
Minister Dolores Umbridge felt much better after visiting with the Prime Minister. The PM had been in a bit of a panic when she had arrived, but he too felt a sense of relief at the conclusion of their meeting with his good friend--the muggle media mogul who had arrived from New York on a private jet shortly after Dolores and the PM had downed their first round of brandy while grimly watching the BBC.
The deputy mayor of Puddleby had been sworn in as Acting Mayor by the Puddleby City Council early that morning, and she had been giving interviews on television ever since, demanding that Parliament open an investigation into the failure of the military and MI5 to evacuate Puddleby as the PM had promised, and expressing equal befuddlement as to how the city had survived both the rampaging Walkers and the military’s mysterious decision to attack the city instead of rescuing it.

For their part, muggle television News Announcers and Experts were having a field day speculating about the events--a few of them even going so far as to suggest that an Act of Providence which proved the existence of God had saved the town of Puddleby. A rather well known gadfly had responded by pointedly asking if that meant God hated all the people in small communities and neighbourhoods who had previously been killed by Walkers.

And there were indeed rumbles among the Opposition Parties in the Parliament about opening an Investigation. Even a few rogue members of the smaller party in the Coalition with the current Majority had implied that they might support an Inquiry. The Royals had of course maintained their neutrality in a Press Release from the Queen’s office, expressing her utmost confidence in the government to conduct itself fairly and with openness and integrity.

The media kingpin had snorted with derision and laughed outright at the Queen’s written statement, tossing back his third whiskey before the television had been turned off. He had peered shrewdly at Dolores.

“So, you’re the one ‘oo introduced television to the wizard world eh?” the perceptive man wryly drawled in his Australian accent. “And I hear that you’re quite the fan of my American news network...

“Don’t look so shocked Minister Umbridge, I’ve met a few wizards in my time--some that aren’t too fussy about the International Statute of Secrecy for the right price--and they are currently in my employ, keepin’ me informed of everything goin’ on in the countries that I’ve invested in the most.”

Dolores returned the muggle’s smirk with one of her own, knowing that she had met another who would have done well in Slytherin had he been a wizard.

“Splendid,” she replied in her sweetest, breathiest tone, “This shall be much easier without the pretense then!”

“Too right, it will,” the man chuckled. “And I must say that I’m quite the fan of what I’ve seen of your programming. Looks like you and your people are doin’ just fine...”

“Ah, well thank you very much,” Dolores had responded. “Unfortunately, one of my best propagandists is now working for the other side, and they have been... what is it you muggles say? Ah... yes, they have been ‘hacking’ into our feed with broadcasts of their own.”

“Yeah, I caught it on the flight over.” The mogul nodded sympathetically. “Still, I daresay you’ll need less help crafting an effective media response than my good friend here,” he added with a wink at the Prime Minister.

The mogul had been right in the end. Dolores had quickly run her ideas to counter the pirated broadcasts by him to his great approval. The rest of the morning had been spent devising a media strategy to paint the Prime Minister as a victim of circumstances, military bungling, and hounding by his political enemies. Which was for the best, as there was very little that magic alone could have done to solve the PM’s problems.

As it was, he would still likely face an Inquiry in the Parliament, but it would no doubt peter out eventually after a few months of media reports blasting the Opposition as loony ‘Conspiracy Theorists.’

Satisfied that they had all done the best they could, given the situations they faced, Dolores had entered the green flames in the hearth and arrived in her office back at the Ministry to make plans with the subdepartment of the Unspeakable Office which handled propaganda before returning home to see how Percy was getting on with Ronald.

It was nearly noon when she stepped out of her own fireplace at home. Dolores’s face fell when she spied Percy Weasley sprawled on the floor groaning and holding his head, one of his eyes swollen shut and purple, his cheek bruised and bleeding.

“Oh you poor dear,” Dolores gasped as she scurried to Percy’s side and helped him stagger to the sofa. “Did Ronald do this to you? Did he get your wand somehow?”

“No! He didn’t take it at all. The little bugger actually hit me... three times! I can’t believe it!” Percy moaned.

“I can’t believe it!” Percy repeated. “I was so sure... He’s always been jealous of Potter--just as much as he hero-worshiped that jumped up little blood-traitor! ... That’s why I thought he’d be easier to un-brainwash than Ginny! I don’t understand! I swear... I thought Ron had finally seen reason...”

“There, there, dear,” said Dolores in her most motherly fashion as she summoned her first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Never mind, never mind...” she sighed, pushing back at her own bitter memories, Percy’s relationship with his family reminding her strongly of her own. “I know how painful it can be when family disappoints you... Please don’t fret dear. Ronald’s escape is no great loss.

“Just remember that you’re worth a hundred times more to me than any other member of your family. You’re the smart one, and you have done more to restore your family’s good name than any other Weasley...”

~o0o~
The smell of bacon and eggs frying woke Bill Weasley. Yawning, he looked around the living room of the flat from the sofa on which he had been sleeping, reminding himself of where he was. The clock on the wall indicated that it was after noon, fast approaching one o’clock. He had been snuggled with Miriam on the sofa watching the television until finally falling asleep as the sun came up.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Miriam, grinning as she bustled into the living room with a tea-tray which she set on the coffee-table in front of the sofa. “I hope you like your eggs over easy.”

“Perfect! Just the way Mum makes them,” Bill beamed back at Miriam, taking a few sips from the glass of orange juice she had brought him.

“So what did you think of the Predator films?” Miriam asked as Bill buttered a crumpet.

“More terrifying than the Inferi,” Bill chortled. “Especially that huge bloke with all the muscles in the first one...” he added with a wink and a fake shudder of fright as he dipped his crumpet into the runny yolk of the egg.

Miriam giggled.

“You were right though...” Bill continued after swallowing a bite of the crumpet and a piece of bacon. “The Predators’ camouflage is a lot like the Disillusionment Charm. It was really interesting to see their more complex portrayals as warriors with a special code of honour in some of the later films--the ones with the Xeno-whatsits...”

“Xenomorphs...” Miriam interjected.

“Yeah those...! Speaking of which, I know a bloke by the name of Hagrid who would give anything to have one of those horrors as a pet...”

AN: A thank you for my latest reviewer, Knightblazer! :-)
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Hermione's Furry Little Problem