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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
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It took Hermione a few moments to recover from Fred's innuendo. Once she had, she noticed that Bill and Fleur were getting ready to leave.

"Well, that's us, everyone. It's past the little one's bedtime," Bill said, indicating his daughter, who had fallen asleep in her book.

"I'm ready to go home, too, dear," Audrey said to Percy. He stood to help her to her feet.

Ron bade his brothers and their wives a good evening and went to go upstairs to use the loo.

Molly and Arthur gave the five departing family members quick hugs goodbye, and everyone else called out their farewells.

"Well, you lot may not have to work tomorrow, but I do. Good night, all. Coming, Molly?"

"Yes, it's been a long day. I'll be up in a trice."

Molly turned to the two still in the lounge. "You all know that you're always more than welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I'll charm our room so you won't disturb us. Have a good night, and remember - if you drink, don't Apparate. I don't want to have to deal with Splinched children in the middle of the night. Be sure to tell George and Ron whenever they come back down."

"Yes, Molly. We promise." "Yes, Mum." Hermione and Fred spoke simultaneously.

Fred turned to Hermione, asking, "How does she always know?"

"Know what?"

"When we plan to drink?"

"Mother's intuition, I guess."

"Is that something all women have, or is does it develop during pregnancy?"

"Good question. I think it starts off as woman's intuition but develops into a more keen sense as you have children - and get to know them. Your mum knows you and George too well to think you're not going to at least get a little squiffy on a Sunday night."

"S'pose you're right."

George returned to the lounge and looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"Mum and Dad went to bed, Bill and Percy went home."

"Where's the wanker?"

"In the loo."

"Boys! You shouldn't call your brother that. It's not nice."

"Doesn't make it untrue."

"Yeah - I notice we all knew who we were talking about."

Hermione had the good grace to blush at being called out.

"Well, what will we do, now that it's just the four of us?"

"Forge, there's a full bottle of Firewhisky in the pantry."

"Yes, there is, Gred. And there's that drinking game we learned at the Muggle pub."

"A Muggle drinking game? What's it called?"

Draping his arm around her shoulders, Fred answered, "Ah, my dear Hermione, it is a lovely game called ‘Fuzzy Duck'."

Hermione looked at him, puzzled. "That's not a drinking game. Some of the girls at my primary school would play it at recess. We were eight years old. It was just a silly game to make you say naughty words."

"Ah, yes, my dear, but if you have to take a drink with every error, it gets quite funny, quite fast."

"Hm. I suppose it could. Does Ron know how to play?"

"Probably not, but it's not like it's too terribly complicated. Even Ron should be able to twig on to it eventually."

"Oi! I heard that!"

"Eh, maybe you were meant to," Fred said with a wink.

Ron scowled.

"Oh, Ron, he's just teasing you. You really make it too easy for them, you know." Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged him into the lounge.

"What are you lot up to?"

"A drinking game. You in?"

Ron considered his brothers. "Sure. How do you play?"

"Okay. It's really quite simple. The game starts off with someone saying ‘Fuzzy Duck' to the person directly to their left. This process continues around the table clockwise until someone says ‘Does he?' The direction changes to anticlockwise, but now players have to say ‘Ducky Fuzz' instead. This carries on until someone says ‘Does he' again, where players must now revert back to 'Fuzzy Duck', going clockwise. This has to keep going, but as fast as possible. When someone messes up and says it wrong or hesitates, they must down their drink. Got it?"

Everyone agreed, and Fred poured four glasses.

George started the game. When they came to Ron, he said, ‘Does he?', and the rotation reversed, as per the rules. When they came ‘round to Ron again, he said ‘Does he?' again.

"Wait! You can't say ‘Does he?' twice in a row! That's cheating! You have to take a drink!"

"Hang on - I didn't know that, did I?"

"What did you think you were going to do, Ronald... just say ‘Does he?' every time we got to you? That's hardly fair." Hermione huffed.

"Well, I didn't know that rule, did I? Can't accuse a bloke of cheating if he doesn't know the rules," Ron asked, blushing with embarrassment.

"We're getting sidetracked here, aren't we? Ron, you can't say ‘Does he?' on every turn. You have to try to keep up with the game. Hermione, don't worry. We'll all have a chance to take a drink. It's inevitable," Fred said with a wide grin, knowing just how quickly they would get pissed. "Ron, just restart the round."

Ron continued the round as requested, starting with ‘Ducky Fuzz', anticlockwise. They were gaining speed, until Hermione blurted ‘Duzzy Fuck' and the three boys exploded with laughter. As soon as they recovered, they pushed her glass closer to her, chanting a chorus of "drink, drink, drink!"

She took the glass, glared at it, and downed the penalty drink.

She looked to Fred, seated at her right, and clearly enunciated, "Fuzzy Duck."

When his face split into a grin, she groaned.

"Sorry, love, but that's a penalty. You'd have to be looking to my less-handsome twin to your left if you wanted to say ‘Fuzzy Duck'."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Fred as George called out, "Oi! I am not the less-handsome twin!" Without blinking, she took her glass and drank her penalty with as much dignity as she could.

The game continued on, and outbursts of ‘Duzzy Fuck' and ‘Fucky Duzz' became increasingly more common. After about an hour, all four were completely rat-arsed.

While waiting for Fred to take a shot, Ron stretched out on the floor and was snoring in moments.

"Hey, Ronnie! You done playin'?"

Fred nudged Ron's shoulder with his foot. "I should say he is... He's out cold. Should we move him to the sofa?"

"Nah. He's fine. D'you two want to stay here tonight?" Fred asked.

Hermione hiccoughed. "No. I don't want your mum to see me hung over. Can we Floo back to your flat?"

"As long as you think you can say the address."

"I think I can... I think I can... I think I can..." Hermione said, giggling at the memory of one of her favourite childhood stories.

Fred and George just looked at each other and shrugged. "She's stonkered."

"Pfft! So're we!"

"Shyeah."

Fred Flooed first, then Hermione, and George went last. When he arrived, he tumbled out of the fireplace and tripped over Fred and Hermione, who seemed to have collapsed as they stepped off the hearth.

"Owww... you stepped on me."

George laughed drunkenly. "Sorry, love. D'you wanna go home, or stay?"

"Mmmmm. Stay."

George kicked Fred. "Hey, mate, give a hand?"

Fred blinked twice at his brother and stood on Hermione's other side. The two of them helped her to the first bedroom, where they all collapsed.

~*°*~

Late Monday morning, Hermione began stirring to consciousness. Hesitant to open her bleary eyes or move her groggy head, she luxuriated in the feel of her lover's arm draped over her torso, gently cupping her breast. Feeling him spooned behind her, she ground her arse into his groin, eliciting a soft moan. Smiling, she opened her eyes to see George's sleep-relaxed face just inches in front of her.

She blinked several times before realization crashed over her.

If George was in front of her... She turned her head and saw Fred's sleeping face behind her-and it was, indeed, his hand on her breast. She slipped out from between the two and exited the bed via the foot, making a dash for the loo. Once inside, she closed the door quietly.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod...

Taking a quick inventory, she was relieved to see that she was in the same clothes she'd worn to the Burrow the previous evening. Once she regained her breath, she rooted around in the bathroom cabinet, knowing that the twins were more likely to have hangover remedy on hand than a standard headache potion.

Locating the potion, she downed a dose straight from the phial, leaving it on the vanity for the boys. She felt the fuzziness and pain recede from her brain. Equilibrium regained, she took a quick shower.

What do I do now? Do I go back to the room and wait for them to wake up? Do I go to the lounge and wait? Do I just leave and come back later?

After less than two minutes' debate, the rumbling in her stomach sent her to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

~*°*~

Fred and George woke up within moments of each other. They cracked open their eyes and saw each other.

"What..."

"How..."

"Where's..."

They stopped for a moment and smelled what would normally register as a delicious breakfast being prepared. Instead, in their still-hungover state, they grimaced and then practically tripped over each other in their haste to get to the loo.

They were grabbing at every phial they could get their hands on, but none were the right one. "Aaah... Where..."

"Here!" George cried in triumph. He tipped the phial Hermione had left out on the counter into his mouth and then handed it to his brother, who took it gratefully.

Once relieved of their hangovers, the two took deep sighs of relief and made their way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, love!"

"Morning, Hermione."

"Well, you two certainly look chipper today." Hermione said, accepting a kiss on the cheek from George and giving a slightly nervous laugh when Fred kissed her other cheek. "Breakfast's almost ready," she said, indicating the lovely fry-up, the scent of which was permeating the flat.

"You... are wonderful. Have we told you that lately?" George asked.

Hermione smiled. "No, I don't think you have."

Fred laughed. "Fishing for compliments, Granger?" he quipped, causing Hermione to blush.

"Well, suffice it to say that not only did you leave more than ample amount of hangover potion for us, it's lovely to wake up to a hot breakfast. Most birds probably would've made coffee and been done with it."

"I suppose I'm not ‘most birds', then."

"Definitely not."

"Thank you, I guess."

"You're welcome, I reckon."

"Oh, stuff it. Let's eat!"

"Language, Miss Granger!" Fred admonished in his best approximation of Professor McGonagall, causing all three to break down in laughter as they sat at the table to eat.

"You two are a bad influence. I swear, I never said things like that before you started corrupting me."

Fred's face broke out in mock horror. "Corrupting you? Well... I never!"

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, replying, "I'm quite sure you have." They all burst into laughter.

Once they started eating and the conversation waned, Hermione became pensive. She thought of the fun they'd had the night before, the fun the three of them always had together. Their relationship was easy. Natural. She thought of how it felt to wake up with both Fred and George this morning. She was surprised that it didn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong. It would be ever so much simpler had it felt wrong.

But it hadn't felt wrong. Not in the slightest, and she had almost no idea what to do about it.

~*°*~

After breakfast, Hermione had Flooed back to her flat, and Fred and George cleaned up the kitchen.

"So, mate, were you able to slip Ron the potion?" George asked.

"Better believe it. All the hair on his body should be rainbow-striped by now. I'm surprised Mum hasn't sent us a Howler yet."

"He's probably still asleep, but you make a good point. Maybe we should find something to do... elsewhere... for the day."

"Wait a minute, George. Why were you so happy to let me dose Ron's drink? Why didn't you want the honour?"

George grinned evilly. "I got my own revenge."

"Re-heaally, now? Do tell."

"Remember when Victoire dumped her dish in his lap?"

"Yes..."

"I might have hexed him at just that moment."

"What hex? Nothing happened. Are you sure you hit your mark?"

"Are you doubting my hexing skills?"

"Never. So, if there was no immediate reaction, what sort of hex was it?"

"Impotency."

Fred grinned, wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, and simply said, "I love you, brother mine."

George grinned in return. "Yes, I was quite proud of it myself."

"As well you should be. Shall we call on fair Lady Granger, or do you fancy doing something else with our free day?"

"I would love to call on fair Lady Granger."

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

~*°*~

Fred and George Flooed over to Hermione's flat above her shop.

They looked around, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Must be downstairs."

"Working on her day off? That's just wrong. We must save the fair maiden from herself."

The two made their way down the stairs to Hermione's workshop almost silently. She was so focussed on the runes she was applying to her broom that she didn't hear them approaching.

They poked their heads around the corner to see Hermione Granger working on a broom. They gaped at each other with a look of shared shock. They then heard a cry of triumph from their favourite witch.

"Yes!"

"Have a breakthrough, did we?"

Hermione jumped. "What... when did you get here?"

"We only just arrived, but we've been here long enough to see you working on a broom. Why are you working on a broom, Hermione?"

"I'm... I'm... Ugh." Hermione's shoulders slumped.

"What's wrong, love?"

"It's just... I've been working on this project for so long, and I just had a breakthrough, but it's not even close to finished, and I didn't want anyone to know until it was ready. I've been pressuring myself so much, I didn't want the added strain of people inquiring about the status."

"What sort of project is it?"

Hermione bit her lip. "It's no big secret that I don't care for flying."

"Yes..."

"I did some research and found that broommaking and wandmaking are related."

"Seriously? That's... brill... wait... why would you care that they're related?"

"I know I probably shouldn't. But... not being able to fly a broom has always - to some extent - fuelled my insecurities as a Muggle-born witch. Ever since that first lesson, when my broom just rolled over on the ground instead of springing up into my hand like Harry's did, it's been a sore spot. Harry was raised as a Muggle, as I was. We were both exposed to the concept of flying on a broom at the same time. Why was he such a natural and I was such a disaster?

"And... I know everyone thinks I hate Quidditch, but I don't. I don't think it's the be-all, end-all of life and I can't spend countless hours discussing strategies and rehashing plays, but I really do enjoy watching the games. But watching the games makes me want to fly. And I can't. Fly, that is." The blush that had stained her cheeks was now spreading.

"So you're... what? Building a broom?"

"Yes. I decided to deconstruct the broom to see how the charms and enchantments were applied. I figured that if I could add some additional protective... and other... charms, and if I could attune the broom's magic to my magical signature, I might be more successful than I have been with mass-produced brooms."

"I see. So you bought a top of the line Nimbus 1700 and stripped it down?"

Hermione's eyes started to shine with excitement when she thought they understood her project. "Exactly! After a few months of searching, I was able to get my hands on Elias Grimstone's notes from when he developed the Oakshaft 79. It was designed more for comfort and safety than it was for speed and agility, which sounded like a good start for someone who's broom-shy. I was able to incorporate a modified version of the Horton-Keitch braking charm, which works like... well... like a charm," she said with an uncharacteristic giggle.

"If your hands should come off the handle, the broom will come to a gentle stop, and if you give it no further direction, it will float to the ground. When I installed the cushioning charm, I also incorporated a mild sticking charm, to make it almost impossible to fall off the broom. It's got to be the safest broom in the world." Her face was shining with pride at her accomplishment.

"But... that was a Nimbus 1700."

She looked at George with confusion in her eyes. "I know, George. It's not like broommakers make it easy to figure out how to create your own broom. They make it difficult so that they can stay in business. I had to deconstruct an existing broom so that I could create my own. Why are you so disturbed by this?"

Fred stepped in, saying, "It's just an unusual approach, my dear. Most people wouldn't sacrifice a Nimbus 1700 in order to build their own broom."

"I understand, but most people wouldn't be able to build their own broom, would they? And if I can't ride a Nimbus 1700, but I can ride my broom, which one will be more valuable to me?"

George stepped forward and drew her into a hug. "I'm sorry, love. It was just a shock. I never thought I'd see you within a hundred metres of a broom, let alone trying to build one to ride, and your method was surprising."

"I understand. I know how you love your brooms. Since we have the day off, do you want to go for a test flight?"

Many thanks go to my beta, LiteraryBeauty.

All broom information was taken from Quidditch Through the Ages, chapter nine.

I found "Fuzzy Duck" online at http://www.alcohol-stuff.co.uk/drinking-games/

PLEASE - review! Reviews really make my day, even if I don't know how to reply to them. XD
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Wands and Wheezes