Legal: I own nothing other than the plot, and make no money from this story.
"Bloody rubbish, this whole lot." George said, slamming his notebook shut and chucking the wooden tube he'd been attempting to charm against the wall. Running his hands through hair that hadn't seen the inside of a shower in days, he slumped against the desk in front of him.
He was bone tired, and knew Fred was equally as knackered. They had orders upon orders to fill from the Ministry and their store had never been more successful. They'd also been popping by St. Mungos to visit Katie. Neither were a problem, per say, it just meant they had less time for experimentation, product development, proper testing and research.
And significantly less time to spend with the witch that was currently occupying most of their waking thoughts. The majority of their non-waking thoughts as well.
George's mood was currently all the more desolate due to the fact they hadn't seen their Witch since she'd summoned them to the shack in aroused desperation. Almost two weeks had passed since, with only letters and their coins to sustain them.
They'd all been more knackered than they'd thought — that night — and despite best of intentions, none of them made it past their first round of satiation. After his solo completion while watching Hermione fall apart against Fred's tongue, George had fallen asleep moments later, and was therefore blissfully unaware that Fred fulfilled one of his own biggest fantasies while George took his kip.
Awakening hours later, George's back was stiff from his awkward slump down in the chair and his arse numb from maintaining the same position for an extended period of time. His flaccid cock and bullocks lay shrunken against his thigh; shrunken not just from his previous release but also from the chilly air permeating the room.
Carefully tucking himself back into his trousers following a quick scourgify, he'd glanced toward the couch where his twin and the keeper of his heart lay. Their arms and legs were entwined in such a manner that he knew there'd be stiff joints and numb limbs upon awakening, but their peaceful slumber was endearing.
With war on the horizon, and all of them front line soldiers of the light, there were currently few moments like this to just exist, to just… be. Casting a glance at the antique watch upon his wrist, George had grimaced in regret.
"Wake up sleeping beauty." He had murmured, having bent to whisper and caress Hermione's ear with his tongue. He'd been rewarded with a soft mewl at his touch, and as he'd run a finger down her hairline, tucking an errant curl away from her brow, her eyes had fluttered open and her lips had curled into a sleepy grin.
"Mmmmmm…" Hermione had said, glancing up at George through her lashes. "What time is it?"
"Half four. We arrived little over two hours ago."
She'd groaned, the sound waking Fred, who had squinted up at George.
"Wotcher, George," murmured Fred, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Ready to join in the action?" He'd yawned then, his body betraying his fatigue.
"Alas, not his time Gred. Our witch needs her proper rest, in a proper bed," George had said, "and as much as joining you in rendering her boneless with pleasure would be divine…"
"You are ours to take care of, Hermione." Fred had finished. He'd stroked his hand down her hair, then reached out to cup her face. "We can't let you run yourself into the ground just because we're selfish wankers who want to eek out every last drop of our moments with you."
"Hermione, love," said George, then had bent and scooped her up and off the sofa. He'd cradled her in his arms, looking down into Hermione's sleep heavy eyes. "There's no need to rush, any of this. I had a bloody fantastic wank at your arousing display earlier, and judging by how disheveled you and Freddie look, I'd fancy a guess neither of you were left wanting."
Shed shaken her head in agreement, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth up. She'd glanced shyly up at George.
"I know you're right. About all of it… you're both knackered from all the hours you're putting in at the shop. I know you also need your sleep and just want to protect me by ordering me back before dawn." She'd sighed and snuggled into George's chest, saying, "I'm not sorry I pulled you out of bed, though, even if it was at a ridiculous hour and just so I could get into your pants." She'd looked put out as she grumbled, "though I'm right cross I didn't even have the privilege of that tonight, George!"
"Darling, NEVER apologize for needing us." George had growled, a feral glint in his eyes. He'd licked his lips before bending his head down and capturing her own in a fierce kiss. It had ended as quickly as it had begun, her lips a bright red as he'd withdrawn.
"You can summon us for anything. In or out of our pants or trousers… wanting us at your mercy or you ours… we aren't choosy."
"We will be here if you call upon us to remove a splinter," Fred had said, smiling.
"Or to debate what fruit preserve is the best to serve with rye bread."
"Or to vent about our prat of a brother copying your homework again."
"Or, and especially when, your needs get to be too strong and you need to get a leg over."
"We're your men."
They'd ultimately convinced her to return to the castle to sleep away the remainder of the the night's hours properly. Despite each of them wishing to fulfill the original intent of her summons, the sheer exhaustion that each of them carried like a shawl wrapped round their necks had become too exhausting a mantle to hide.
"It's probably for the best," Hermione had chuckled, having conceded to their arguments. "I'd hate for wands to be crossed or something to be placed in the wrong… spot, due to a knackered brain not functioning at full capacity."
Both Fred and George had shuddered theatrically, a repulsed look upon their identical faces at her words.
As George had said, some things shouldn't be rushed. Their first times with her fell into that category, unequivocally.
They'd taken their leave after watching her slumber-driven decent back down into the shack toward the tunnel leading to the castle, with the promise to contact her in the morning via the coin.
That had been over a fortnight ago, much to the trio's dismay.
Sitting in the shop's workroom, George let out a long, suffering sigh; his body not only overwhelmingly exhausted but now also keyed up from remembering that night. His presently cantankerous disposition wasn't helped by the fact that this ruddy product just wasn't coming together, despite all efforts.
The product he was attempting to refine had been giving him and Fred headaches from the get go. There was something elemental that wasn't translating between conception and implementation. Deconstructed incantations, sketches and notes were scrawled across copious amounts of parchment that littered his desk; nothing seemed to address the temperamental aspect that kept delaying the finalization of their design.
"Forge, shut it down in here, ya?" Said Fred, popping his head into the room cautiously. "I've finished the books for this quarter and made us some nosh and a cuppa upstairs."
Sticking his head in further, his nose scrunched and Fred recoiled slightly. "I'm sorry, brother mine, but you definitely need to shower first. We finally see Hermione tomorrow and it may take you most of that time to scrub the layers of grime off your sorry bod." He threw a tired grin his twin's way, before closing the door behind him.
George dragged his weary body into the lavatory and threw himself into the tub, drawing the curtain around and flicking on the tap for the shower. He sighed when the heat of the water hit his skin, sending goosebumps dancing along his flesh. It had been too long since his body had benefitted from a warm shower, and he felt the water wash away the mounting stressors along with the accumulated grunge.
As he made quick work lathering and rinsing, his mind began to wander to Hermione, replaying a visit almost three weeks prior. As he reminisced, his hand travelled further south, and despite his utter exhaustion, he indulged in a thoroughly satisfying wank.
"Sorry I'm late! I got delayed leaving the common room and couldn't extricate myself without looking like a right git!" Hermione said, her face flushed with annoyance and exertion. It appeared to George as if she'd run the entire way down from the tower to the shack.
"S'alright love," said George, closing the book he'd been perusing and unfolding himself from the sofa. He looked bemusedly upon her dishevelment, and felt his heart began to race as warmth spread through his veins.
'Mine… Fred's…Ours…' he thought, proudly.
"It's just me tonight. There were some more hiccups with the new line for the Ministry, and rather than both of us cancelling — again — he took one for the team and stayed behind to iron them out."
George could see crinkles of disappointment form at the corner of her eyes as he spoke. It was a testament to how far they'd come in their relationship that he knew her disappointment stemmed solely from missing Fred as a person. Not, as earlier insecurity would have had him believe, that she was disappointed to be alone with only him; with George as Fred's placeholder.
For her own part, he knew her now to be secure in the knowledge that they both indeed wanted her, were in this together and had no intention of bowing out or losing interest. They'd done their best to convey that to her in every interaction and means possible.
"Such a noble sacrifice… We'll have to make sure he's thoroughly compensated," Hermione said with a wink and a smirk, coming to rest in front of him. Sliding her hands up George's chest, she linked her hands behind his neck and tilted her head.
He dropped a kiss upon her waiting lips, a mere brush that ended up sparking embers that took a solid ten minutes to extinguish. Coming up for air, George took stock of the fact they'd made it from just inside the door to one of the arm chairs, and his hand was firmly gripping Hermione's arse as she straddled him.
"I forget myself with you Granger," said George, his voice husky and breathless from the wonderful welcome snog. His hand squeezed her arse and he felt her slide in closer, her breasts brushing against his chest. "Are you sure you're not part veela?"
Hermione snorted, "Oh yes, quite sure." She said, but the smile that danced across her lips and flashed her perfectly aligned teeth showed her pleasure at his words.
Still straddling him, Hermione leaned back and asked, "Do you want to run through what you've tried so far with the new products? Maybe an extra mind will help…"
"We could…"he said, leaning forward and nipping at her bottom lip. "Or we could continue with what we've been engaging in the past ten minutes or so."
He rolled his hips and was rewarded with her groan of pleasure.
"Soon…"she said. Extricating herself from his lap, Hermione walked over to the sofa and perched herself in the middle.
"Let's make a game of it." She said, eyes twinkling.
George leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation.
"I'm intrigued, Granger. What sort of game has your minxy mind deduced will help sort our production issues?"
"One with… motivation." Purred Hermione.
George swallowed, hard. She'd exchanged heated snogs with both him and Fred, and they had, once or twice, snuck in a grope.
But that was as far as their explorations had taken them.
The way she was looking at him, her eyes smoldering into his…
He felt his body react at the heat, at the focus, of her gaze. He knew tonight they'd be wading into waters currently uncharted between them.
"Alright Granger, I'm in. I assume there are rules?" He said, arousal making his voice slightly husky. He saw her give a tiny shudder.
"Of course." She smirked, and he felt his cock give a twitch. "First, the basic logistics. The what's, for whom, quantities and the magics used, and what the hiccup was. Lay the groundwork to begin. Then, we're going to bounce around ideas, and for every idea or solution that is viable, I will remove an article of clothing."
George's mouth went dry.
"And is this a watching only game, or is… interaction, encouraged?" He asked. He was a fan of games, especially games with both rules and enticements.
"Watching for the majority, lest we get distracted. You do prefer to watch, if I'm correct," she murmured, eyebrow raised, and he felt himself grow harder, if that was even possible. "Once the hiccup issue has been solved to the best of our ability for the evening, the grand prize will indeed be of an interactive variety."
"Your terms sound fair and reasonable." Said George, barely restraining himself from possessing her mouth and pressing her back into the sofa in approval of her intoxicating proposal. She crooked a smile, and it was only then — the tiny wobble at the corner of her mouth betrayed her — that he realized she was nervous despite the veneer of confidence.
Moving so that he was kneeling in front of her on the plush rug, he gripped her hands within his own. Even kneeling, his eyes were on level with her own. His thumb rubbed circles over her knuckles.
"Hermione, there is no expectation… for any of this. Your help on our business, you baring yourself… I, we, never want you to feel you need to prove or be something for us. We value all of you, and whatever you give us we cherish and hold in the highest honor."
She let out a sigh, and leaned her forehead against his.
"You read me so well… I just… just don't want to let you down. Smartest witch and all that rubbish. You're so busy, and I'm so bloody proud but I miss you, both of you… If I can help…"
"Oh sweetheart, you help us more than you possibly realize. You make us whole." George cupped her face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.
Deciding he needed to get her back from the edge of self doubt and rekindle the teasing mood of moments before, he quirked an eyebrow and, dropping her hands and instead running his hands up the length of her thighs said, "now, Ms. Granger. I do believe you've asked for some information…"
"Oy, George, you drown in there?!" Yelled Fred, pounding on the door. "Soup's getting cold."
George, having just cum from the memory of Hermione's lips wrapped around his cock as she knelt before him topless — his reward for a fantastically thorough brainstorm session — found his interlude abruptly interrupted. His body was still shuddering with pleasure though he could feel his pulse begin to slow as he let his forehead rest against the tile wall in blissful surrender.
'Bloody hell! Thank Merlin Fred hadn't shouted a minute sooner…' he thought.
"Bugger off Freddie!" He growled, "I'll be out soon enough. Just finishing off here."
'In more ways than one,' he thought, giving his cock a final stroke before quickly soaping and rinsing his body. He heard Fred's laughter and an utterance of 'I bet you are!' disappear toward the direction of their kitchen as he turned off the water.
Stepping out of the tub and into the steam that drifted around the room of the lavatory, George gave a contented sigh.
"Finish up ok in there?" smirked Fred as George, once dressed, joined him in the kitchen.
"Quite," said George, flashing a roguish grin that had his twin laughing.
"Thin walls and enchanted coins make for limited privacy." Chuckled Fred knowingly, sitting down at the small square table they used for dining when in their flat.
"Just remembering how talented a tongue our little witch possesses," winked George as he joined his brother for warm soup and now tepid tea.
"Lucky bastard," laughed Fred. "Though I haven't had that pleasure as yet, I for one, can't wait to sample the taste of her again. To make her thrash and scream… have her squeeze my head with her thighs as she comes undone."
"And I can't wait to watch her come undone…" said George, remembering all to well the visual of Hermione orgasming. It was one of his favorite memories. George was staring blankly toward the wall with a lopsided grin before giving his head a shake and delving into his food with gusto.
"Thanks for making supper," said George.
"You get clean up." Smirked Fred. "I gemino'd all the dirty dishes in revenge for using up all the hot water."
George opened his mouth to laugh at Fred's naivety when Fred said, "And I spelled them to temporarily repel magic. For two days. So you'll need to wash them all by hand."
"Wanker." Laughed George.
Their mother had balked when they'd originally moved out, two bachelors on their own with firm instructions that their flat was off limits to her meddling. Her worries they would starve or be lost under piles of rubbish and soiled laundry were unfulfilled. For all the twins appeared oblivious they were in fact quite adept at house charms and, as their date had revealed to Hermione, also incredibly proficient around a stove.
They also took great pleasure in taking the piss out of the other, and forcing them to do chores the muggle way. As such, they each possessed a wide array of creative talents in ways to effectively clean a household by hand. For the most part, though, they were so busy downstairs in the shop or with Hermione that their flat had a very minimalistic, barely-lived-in atmosphere and appearance, save for the various take-away containers they had Verity fetch from muggle London when their work ran late.
"Do you think she's close to cracking the cube?" Asked Fred as he took a sip of tea.
"She hasn't mentioned it." Replied George. "I wonder if we miscalculated…"
Fred's eyes narrowed fractionally in apparent contemplation before he shook his head, no. "No, we don't want to rush her. It's a good thing the cube doesn't play to her strengths. Otherwise, it might end up revealing it's treasure too soon. By the time she opens it, I believe the timing of the reveal will be just right."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, communicating without words how much they were anticipating the reveal, and Hermione's reaction to what they'd hidden inside.