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Wands and Wheezes	By : auntlynnie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40170 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Anti-Litigation Charm: Sadly, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own any canon characters, locations, or situations. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
When Hermione arrived in her shop, there were about five families of what appeared to be Durmstrang students waiting for the shop to open.
When Voldemort had killed Gregorovich, he didn't have an adequately trained apprentice. Therefore, in post-war Europe, the number of quality wand makers had dwindled from three to two. This resulted in Hermione's shop being even more successful than it had been under Ollivander's watch, making Hermione quite a rich witch, indeed.
Since Durmstrang had a longer Yule break than Hogwarts, their students returned to school mid-August. This translated to Hermione's shop being quite busy from mid-July until the end of August.
Hermione unwarded and unlocked her front door with a smile, saying, "God morgon. Jag �r ledsen att jag �r sen. Talar du engelska?"
"Yes, thank you. We speak English."
"Ah. Good. I'm glad, as my Swedish is quite abysmal." Her honesty earned a chuckle from her assembled customers.
"So, who is first?"
A young boy stepped forward. "I am Andrei."
"Welcome, Andrei. Is this your first year at Durmstrang?"
"Ja," he said, with a serious nod. Hermione smiled at the sombre youth.
"Well, let's see what we can do for you." She pulled a wand down. "Walnut with dragon heartstring. Nice and whippy without too much give. Give it a wave."
The boy took the wand, waved it, and nothing happened. He handed it back to Hermione with a shrug.
"Hm. That's a �no'. Let's see... Ah. How about this one? Cherry with unicorn hair." She handed him the wand, handle-first.
As soon as the boy completed an arc, it was obvious that this was a good match. Sparks flew, and the boy's face lit up. "Ja. This is the one."
Hermione looked at the boy with a thoughtful look in her eye. Most Durmstrang students were paired with wands containing dragon heartstring, not unicorn hair. In fact, she had begun making wands from Thestral hair, even though Ollivander never had - simply because the shop's customer base had changed since the war. She found that while Thestral hair didn't work well for most British folk, there were many from other regions who could work very well with such a wand. In her experience, Eastern Europeans were a good match for dragon heartstring or Thestral hair more than any other core material. Shaking her head, she went back to business. "Wonderful! Who's next?"
"Excuse... ees eet true?"
"Is what true, Andrei?"
"You are Miss Hermowninny Granger, yes?"
"Yes, I am Hermione Granger."
"Ze stories... are zey true?"
Over the years, Hermione had been asked many questions about her past by her youngest customers. They had heard stories of her Hogwarts exploits and stories of the things that had happened during the war.
She was more accustomed to these questions coming from her Hogwarts customers, however. Most Durmstrang students didn't ask too many questions about the war, as they hadn't been as directly affected by it, and they were loath to impinge on her privacy. Furthermore, she was less of a public figure to witches and wizards abroad; to them, she was usually just a skilled wandmaker, which was more than acceptable to her.
"Which stories, Andrei? I'm afraid there have been many stories about me."
"Vell... did you date Viktor Krum?" His eyes were wide. Clearly, Viktor still had fans. To most Bulgarians, he was a national treasure. The boy was obviously a fan, and remembering her friend gave her a smile.
"Oh. Well, I suppose you could say that. He was my date for the Yule ball in my fourth year, and we spent a good deal of time together while he was competing in the tournament. After that, though, we were mostly just pen friends. We are still friends. He's amazing to watch, isn't he?" Then, she added with a wistful whisper, "He makes me want to fly."
When Hermione made what she thought would be a simple confession of friendship, the members of all four families in her shop turned and goggled a bit.
"Well, shall we continue? Who is next?"
A tiny boy who looked much younger than eleven years old stepped up. "I am Jakob."
Most of Hermione's Sunday was spent helping Durmstrang students procure their wands. She enjoyed meeting the youngsters and their parents from around Europe and was pleased to note that although Durmstrang may not admit Muggle-born students, the students and their families did not seem to mind buying wands from a Muggle-born wandmaker. It seemed like the Wizarding world might just be making progress regarding blood status.
~*�*~
Sunday morning at WWW...
George arrived in his flat, changed his clothes quickly, and then made his way downstairs to the shop. When he entered, he found his brother grinning like an idiot. "So, Gred, how are you this fine morning?"
"Fred... all I will say is that I am fairly well embarrassed to call Ronald Bilius Weasley kin... He is a complete and utter fucking moron."
George's angry countenance and narrowed eyes told Fred that it wasn't the right time to tease. He might be a mischief-maker, but he had learned when to step back. "Well. I won't ask you to kiss and tell... although I'm more than a little intrigued by what happened to inspire that statement."
George looked askance at his twin. He trusted Fred with his life, but he knew that Hermione would kill him - or worse, never give him another blow job - if he told anyone about their private life. "Sorry, mate. That will remain between me and Hermione."
"Guess I'll have to take your word for it, then, eh?"
"Guess so."
"You know what they say... his loss..."
George grinned. "Is my gain."
"Do you want to work on that new hair-colour potion today?"
"Yeah. It's just mindless enough. And maybe we can test it on ickle Ronniekins."
"Can we each try a different colour, so he'll be all stripey?"
"That was my plan all along, dear brother of mine!"
"Wicked."
The two worked in their lab most of the day while their assistant, Verity, took care of the customers. It wasn't terribly busy, as Hogwarts students hadn't yet begun coming to Diagon Alley to prepare for the upcoming term. At this point of the summer, the majority of students in Wizarding London were Durmstrang students, and as a rule, their parents weren't too keen on pranks and jokes. That didn't mean, however, that there wasn't the occasional student who broke away from Mum and Dad.
It was these students who were slowly building the Weasley reputation at Durmstrang. While Hogwarts' staff turned a blind eye to Weasley products, Durmstrang's faculty took a dim view. As such, students using products like the Skiving Snackboxes were unusually successful, because their teachers didn't realize just how brilliant the shop's products were. In fact, Fred and George were trying to see about building a small shop near the Durmstrang campus; but first they had to find out where it was.
The longer George worked in silence, the angrier he got about how his younger brother had treated Hermione. Adding to his frustration was the knowledge that he couldn't betray her trust by telling anyone - not even Fred - and he was accustomed to telling Fred everything. He had to think of something even better than striped hair. It would be a good prank, but certainly could do nothing toward paying him back for the damage he'd done to Hermione's self esteem. While Ron didn't like when they used experimental products on him without warning - or permission - it wasn't unheard of. He wanted Ron to know that this was retribution.
As they were finished with bottling their experimental potion and cleaning up for the day, the perfect hex for his dear younger brother came to mind.
~*�*~
After closing time, Hermione walked over to Fred and George's shop in order to Floo to the Burrow together, as was their custom. It was simpler than walking to the far end of Diagon Alley for the Apparition point, and Fred and George's Floo was always directly connected to the Burrow. The three arrived in the empty sitting room, and Fred regarded his companions with a twinkle in his eye.
"Whatever you do, wherever you do it, do us all a favour. Make sure the door is closed and put up a Silencing Charm. You never know who's going to Floo you at... a critical mo'."
Hermione stared at Fred, agog, refusing to allow her mind to process what Fred was saying. She looked to George to gauge his reaction, and he seemed as dumbstruck as she. "What... what do you mean?"
"Oh, Hermione, George... while it was certainly... entertaining and informative, I doubt you want Mum to place a call to your flat just to hear how bloody brilliant you are. As we all know you're bloody brilliant, she may want to know a bit more about the context... and why George would be bellowing it at the top of his lungs." With that bald statement, Fred just smirked and walked away, leaving the pair to figure out what had happened.
Hermione's eyes grew wide in realization. "Oh. My. God. George!" Hermione started swatting at George's chest and shoulders. "He must have heard us! This morning! Oh, my God!"
George caught her hands and tried to soothe her with a hug and gentle caresses up and down her back, planting sweet kisses to the top of her head, but the grin on his face negated any calming effect of his actions.
"George! Stop it!" she hissed, pushing him away. "We can't do that here! No one knows, and we agreed - we need some time before we go public. If Molly were to walk in, we'd be..."
"We'd be... what?"
"George, please... I don't want to argue and I don't want to push this - us - too fast. I don't want outside pressure to force us to become something for the sake of family before we're ready. I've been through that, and it didn't end well. I want us to build a strong foundation together before we open ourselves up to scrutiny. And you know your mum scrutinizes me. She always has. She still doesn't understand why I need my own career and why I'm not married yet. Do you really want her focussing her �Hermione needs a man' energy on you?"
George paled. "I see the wisdom in your logic, love. It's just so hard to keep my hands off of you, and when you're upset, I want to be the one to comfort you. Keeping this a secret is going to kill me."
"Oh, George. When you say things like that, I don't want to keep it a secret. But I know it's the wisest thing right now. At least Fred knows now, and you don't have to keep it a secret from him any longer."
"Yes, that's true. But if I can't snog you, we should probably join the others, or they'll assume something's going on, anyway."
Hermione practically jumped away from him. "You're right! Weasley teasing usually becomes gossip only to breed premature wishes and hopes. Let's go!"
When Hermione and George stepped through into the crowded kitchen, at least one pair of eyes were shrewd enough to notice that they stood closer together than normal and their hands seemed to be brushing. She also noticed that George scowled when he saw that the only open chairs were either between Fred and Bill or Percy and Ron, and Hermione had opted to sit between Fred and Bill.
He would be stuck between the two Weasley gits all through dinner.
~*�*~
Dinner conversation was, as usual, quite varied. However, from George's seat at the table, his choices for conversation were limited to either Percy's discussion with his wife Audrey and their mother regarding the ramifications of the decision to legalise magic carpets and various related regulations, or Ron's defence of the performance of his pitiful Quidditch team. Evidently, this was a rebuilding year. By the time the Cannons finished 'rebuilding', they would bloody well have the Ancient Rome of Quidditch teams.
It made it all the easier to place the hex on him. He wouldn't be distracted by conversation. He just had to wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself.
The hex he'd chosen was essentially painless, but it wasn't entirely undetectable. It didn't require a verbal incantation, and he could hex him with his wand still under the table. No one would know who had placed the hex or when. George's biggest concern was the 'essentially' painless part of the hex. Ron wasn't known for his ability to withstand discomfort, so there was a chance that he would complain like a bitch when he got hexed, and stealth was going to be the best part of this prank.
So George kept his wand in hand, trained on his youngest brother under the table. When little Victoire flung her heaping bowl of hot mashed potatoes and gravy across the table and into Ron's lap, it was the perfect cover. George quickly hexed him.
Ron didn't know what hit him. He certainly would, though, next time he tried to bed one of his Quidditch groupies. The impotence hex he'd been hit with had a very specific counter-charm, and George wasn't sure if or when he'd be willing to apply it.
Ron went into the kitchen to clean up while Fleur fussed at her daughter for flinging her bowl at her uncle. Molly followed, asking the others to clear the table while she helped Ron.
They made quick work of clearing the table and setting the dishes to wash. Fred and George snickered at Ron over their mother's shoulder as she cosseted him. Ron's face twisted into a petulant expression, which made them laugh outright as they left the room.
Molly bustled back into the dining room, floating a selection of treats for pudding. Ron followed her, still in a right strop. She placed the serving bowls in the middle of the table. "Well, dig in, everyone! There's popovers, trifle, and rice pudding."
Hermione looked at the desserts - "No Spotted Dick, then? I rather had a taste for it." a moue of disappointment on her face as she took a helping of trifle. The pretty blush blooming on her face betrayed her cheek for what it was. Fred and George struggled to contain the laughter that threatened to explode at Hermione's sassiness, each taking a popover and rice pudding. When the family was done serving themselves, there was almost nothing left on the table.
When she was done eating, Hermione excused herself to the loo and made her way upstairs. George darted a look at his twin and, after a few minutes, excused himself to go upstairs, ostensibly to look through some boxes in his old bedroom.
George went to his old bedroom and left the door ajar, watching the hallway. He waited until Hermione was walking past and pulled her into the room.
"George! What are you doing?" she hissed.
He grinned at her, closing and locking the door. He made a show of placing a Silencing Charm. "Well, I should think it's fairly obvious. You did say you wanted some Spotted Dick." He pressed her up against the wall, placing his hands on either side of her body, effectively caging her in. He nuzzled the soft spot below her ear, inhaling her scent and kissing his way down her throat. He licked along her collarbone and kissed the hollow of her throat, drawing a soft whimper from his witch.
Hermione grabbed his head and pulled him in for a searing kiss.
George slid his hand under her shirt, rolling a straining nipple through the lace of her bra. Hermione broke their kiss with a gasp.
"But George... How... won't they come looking for us?"
George looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "No worries, my dear. Fred will cover for us," he said, palming her breast.
"Uhhh... it's useful having a partner in crime, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, Fred is dead useful, love." George opened Hermione's jeans and reached into her knickers. "Oh, you really did want that Spotted Dick, didn't you?"
Hermione bit her lip and nodded in reply. George ran his finger along her slit, using her own moisture to lubricate his fingers. He swirled his finger around her clit, alternately stroking and tweaking the bundle of nerves. When he felt her begin to tense in anticipation of her orgasm, he swept her jeans and knickers down to the floor, encouraging her to step out of them. He then made quick work of his own trousers.
Hermione looked at him in foggy incomprehension. "George, shouldn't we..." She indicated the bed.
"Oh, no. We're going to try something new." George reached under her thighs, lifting her above his cock, her legs draped over his arms. Hermione's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. She reached between them to grasp his hard member. She drew the tip through her folds and positioned him so he could lower her onto his straining cock as he continued to brace her against the wall.
"Fuck! Hermione, you feel so good! I thought I imagined it."
"Mmmmmm! George... so full... ungh... please... move."
George began thrusting and Hermione's arms wrapped around his shoulders, fisting his shirt. "Oh, God, George!" In this position, every thrust brushed his pelvis against her clit.
George could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, and he increased his tempo. Her walls clamped down in orgasm, and he thrust a few more times. He kissed her fiercely as her body milked his orgasm from him.
He let her legs drop and they slid down the wall in a tender embrace.
"That... was amazing. I never imagined..."
George smirked. "I do what I can, my lady."
Hermione smiled. "Well, I suppose we should make our way back downstairs. I've been 'in the loo' for a very long time."
"Don't worry, love. Fred will take care of us. And they know I came up here to sort through some old boxes, so we can say that you were curious. They know you've developed some products for the shop. It's plausible enough. We can take our time." He kissed her again, more sweetly than passionately this time, still catching his breath. "Hermione, you are absolutely amazing. You take my breath away."
"George..."
"Hermione. You will have to get used to me singing your praises. You may not be accustomed to it, but I can't stop myself. I feel like the luckiest bloke to be able to be with you, and while I certainly enjoy being private with you," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, "I can't wait until we're able to be more public... and everyone knows you're mine."
Hermione carded her hands into his hair and pulled his head down for another kiss. They pulled apart, and she looked into his eyes, considering him as she stroked his face. "I think you're pretty incredible, too, you know. You're so much more than I realized when I was younger. I have been... blessed to have this second chance to get to know you.
"Having you - and Fred - as friends has helped me in so many ways. You have taught me to not take life too seriously all the time, and I've learnt so much about having - and making - my own fun. You've helped me find my inner imp, and I am ever so thankful. My life has been so much more fun since letting the two of you in.
"And as much as I would like to stay right here with you, I really think we would do well to make our way back downstairs, love. While I may have learnt to embrace my mischievous side, I doubt your family will believe I'm so very entranced with old boxes of pranks to warrant staying up here so long."
"I suppose you're right. Let's get cleaned up, then."
With a quick cleansing charm, it was fast work to get redressed, and they made their way back downstairs.
Fred caught Hermione's eye and said, sotto voce, "So, did you get some Spotted Dick anyway, Hermione?"

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According to the Harry Potter Wiki, Durmstrang is probably located in Sweden or Norway (there is an argument that it could possibly be located in Russia, as the Durmstrang coat of arms carries the name of the school in both Cyrillic and Latin lettering). In GoF, Dumbledore referred to the Durmstrang contingent as "our friends from the North". In my opinion, this should preclude Russia as a candidate, as he probably would have said "our friends from the East". I also don't believe Durmstrang would be located in Bulgaria, as the climate there is too temperate to warrant the extremely warm uniforms they wore.
As the Malfoys had considered Durmstrang for Draco's education, it's clear that students attend the school from more than one country, as opposed to Hogwarts, which seems to only matriculate students from Great Britain.
As such, I am making the assumption that they are in Sweden.
Anyone who speaks Swedish... I'm sorry. I used Google Translator. If anything is heinously wrong, just let me know via PM, and I'll fix it.
God morgon = Good morning
Jag �r ledsen att jag �r sen = I'm sorry I'm late
Talar du engelska = Do you speak English
Ja = Yes
Remember: Gred is George and Forge is Fred (again, according to HP Wiki). I can never keep them straight, so I figured I'd make note of it. :)
Sotto voce means �in a low, soft voice so as not to be overheard.�
- 7
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Wands and Wheezes