Completed: (7/14/05) 6:42 PM
Posted: (7/14/05) 7:00 PM

Title: Mum, Dad...Meet My Boyfriends
Author: KissThis
Rating: PG-13/T – just for the fact that it mentions threesomes.

Disclaimer: Wholly my idea, though everything is (still) JK's.

A/N: Oi...I've had this idea for a while, and even a few pages of it already written. I haven't seen a Siremione story yet which has the inevitably awkward dinner at the parents. So, here it is...made me giggle.

Enjoy!


Three years after the war, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had gotten used to not hearing screams when they woke up in the morning; most of all Hermione, in particular, screaming. But there she was, standing in her dressing gown and scaring the dickens out of their post owl Toph by her shrill shriek while they shot straight up in bed and out of grogginess.

"What the bloody hell!" Sirius shouted; Remus already had his wand in hand.

"This isn't happening!" Hermione squeaked. "How do they even know? I DIDN' T TELL THEM!" She exclaimed hysterically, red splotches staining her cheeks by her panic attack.

Toph hooted disapprovingly, but desperately fanning herself with the crumpled letter he'd delivered, Hermione staggered back to the bed as she began hyperventilating. Her eyes were filled by white and startlingly wide in the early morning light.

"What am I going to say? What are they going to say?" She added in a strangled whisper.

"Love!" Remus hushed. Deciding that since she wasn't crying no one had abruptly died, he tucked his wand into the back waistband of his pajama bottoms and crawled over the bed to the hysteric witch while Sirius fumbled for the light.

"Calm down," he soothed. "You need to breathe."

"I don't have time to breathe," she wailed, clutching her chest with saucer-like eyes. "I can't breathe. Merlin, Remus! I can't...breathe...I'm going to die!"

"What is the matter with you? I haven't seen you this worked up since Ginny asked you to be her maid of honor." Remus' lightly teasing face fell back into a frown when he saw Hermione's face starting to turn purple from lack of oxygen.

"Give me that," Sirius demanded; though, he had to pry the fisted letter from her convulsed fingers. None of them were "morning people", save for Hermione, and if she was freaking out over nothing while they could all still be sleeping one big warm pile...well, Sirius would be a not-so-happy wizard.

Whilst his wolfy lover tried to remind their youngest third how to breath with "in"s and "out"s, Sirius flopped down onto his stomach over the scattered pillows and smoothed the note out in front of him. Squirming a bit without his reading glasses – which he detested wearing, he had to put his nose almost on the paper to read it.

It only took a moment to find what had triggered his lover's panic attack. Sirius started to laugh.

"Moony, ha...it seems the Grangerswould like to have Hermione's boyfriend over for dinner..."


The tea was not helping. Here Hermione was, sitting in the warm décor of their kitchen, holding a steaming cup of tea and trying to calm down. The tea was supposed to be helping. It was not bloody helping!

"Moony, where are the fruit loops?"

"Do I look like a grocer to you? Check the cabinets."

"They aren't theeeeeere."

"Then we've probably run out. Just have the cheerios instead."

"I don't like cheerios. I like fruit loops."

"FOR CIRCE'S SAKE!" Hermione shrieked hysterically. "THEY'RE BOTH RUDDY CIRCLES! JUST EAT THEM!"

Sirius was biting down on his lip to keep from laughing as Remus set down the Daily Prophet he'd been skimming with a smirk and whisked the shards of Hermione's now shattered tea cup into the rubbish bin with a flick of his wand. The warm-faced lycan poured her another cup and pressed it into her hands as she fell back into her seat.

"Have some tea and relax, love."

"How can I?" she said sourly. "With the two of you arguing in the background over trivialities like children when I am facing a real and legitimate problem here!"

Her voice, which had gotten shriller after each word, squeaked at the end of her tirade. Consequently, the kitchen's two other occupants had to remind themselves just how fond they were of their nice warm bed and how laughing at their girlfriend would more than likely result in their expulsion from the cottony heaven

"Now, now...think of your blood pressure, pet." Sirius cooed, sitting down at the breakfast table. "It won't do you any good getting worked up like this."

"I am CATHOLIC!" Hermione yelled. The teacup was shaking precariously in her clenched hands; still doing nothing. "Like being a blooming witch wasn't bad enough I figured I ought to go out and become polyamorous too!"

"Sounds like you need a big bowl of cheerios," Sirius decreed charmingly. He plopped the bright yellow box right in front of her and pointed to the front. "Seee? Preeveeentsss heeeart diiiiseeeeease," he recited slowly, annunciating dramatically.

Hermione banged her non-helping teacup down onto the tabletop and they both watched her stomp off to their room. The door slammed painfully loud, and Remus shook his head at a gleefully snickering Sirius. "If she puts me on the couch too...you are dead."


Hermione had spent the better part of the day cloistered in the trio's bedroom; door locked and maintaining radio silence. Remus had spent the time going through papers for the Ministry, while Sirius had walked down to the convenience shop a few streets down and bought himself a box of fruit loops.

They'd both migrated to the davenport, because somewhere through a mouth of sugary breakfast cereal Sirius had managed to convince his long time friend and lover that he needed both the telly and a footrest. So, while Remus sat in the middle of the cushions, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, and a file of papers open in his lap, Sirius was lounged over the arm of the divan watching some cartoon that had its volume up too loud, and with his long legs stretched over Remus' lap and under his papers, munching out of the cardboard box dangling from his fingers over the side.

Remus would tutter every once in a while to turn down the noise and Sirius would obligingly smack at the remote laying on the coffee table with his foot, which, as one could imagine, did nothing for the volume. By six o'clock Remus began commenting on getting a dinner started, but neither man seemed to inclined to physically get up and do something about it.

At a quarter after, a blue glow was emitted from their bedroom door signaling the removal of the locking spells that both males were too prideful to admit they couldn't break, and Hermione stepped out into the living room. She was wearing an old, faded pair of jeans and her rust-colored Arithmancy Club t-shirt from her school days.

"Turn that chicken-scratch off," she demanded.

Sirius made to kick the remote with his foot again, but noting the seriousness on Hermione's face as she walked over, Remus slapped the leg away and turned the telly off in the natural fashion. Setting the file folder closed on the glass table, the brunet pulled off his glasses and smiled up at Hermione.

"Are you feeling better, love?"

She ignored the inviting spot Sirius made for her on Remus' other side by curling up his legs and sat down with firmly crossed legs in the armchair beside them. "Pay attention," she said, and in her hands was a thick stack of note cards charmed blue and pink.

"Fruit loops?" Sirius offered, shaking the box in her direction.

Her look was sour. "If you don't shut up about the da-"

"We're listening." Remus said it loud enough to be heard over them both and quick enough that it cut off whatever profanities she'd been about to let loose.

"Good, because we're going to go through some practice questions for Sunday."

"Practice questions?" Sirius laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Well, you're both idiots and can't be trusted to behave properly in front of my parents. Thus, we are practicing."

Remus traded a look with Sirius. "Do you see the way she talks to us?"

"I think there's a number we can call," Sirius said.

"An abusive relationship if I ever saw one."

Hermione glared. "First question..."

"I say we boycott the questions," Remus suggested, pointedly refolding the flaps on the cereal box.

Sirius looked more devious. Playing with his hair, he said in an offhand manner: "Or we could just let it slip to her old man his little princess is a vixen in bed."

"My god," Hermione exclaimed, turning a bit pink. "Can't you two be serious be for one minute? This is important!"

Still chuckling, Remus consented to her ridiculous endeavor. "Of course we'll do whatever you want, Hermione. Read the question..."

With a look to Sirius, as if he'd dare to argue with the wolf, Hermione cleared her throat and picked up the topmost card off the stock. Judging by its blue coloring, they could safely assume this question would most likely be coming from her father.

The first one was the most obvious. "So, how old are you?"

Sirius crossed his arms behind his head. "Well, Mr. Granger, how old are you?"

"Sirius!"

"Padfoot!"

"What!"

Hermione crumpled up the thin oaktag card and chucked it at his head. But when she looked down at the next card – a pink one – Remus twisted his neck to give his lover a quick kiss on his scruffy jaw. Sirius chuckled and stuck out his tongue at Hermione before she looked up again.

"What do you do for a living?" Came the probably-Mrs-Granger question.

"Werewolf."

"Ex-convict."

Hermione groaned and buried her face in the rose-colored oaktag. Her following words came out in a muffled mime of her mother's voice. "My, my, darling – you sure do know how to pick 'em."

"Why yes, I would like to compliment you on your good taste," Remus added, charming as ever. The light dance of his fingers on the back of Sirius' neck made the taller man grin broadly.

"Next question!"

Hermione scowled – a mental command to take her cards seriously – and the insufferable pair (in her current opinion) gave her the expressions of innocence patented in their days as schoolboys. An eye-narrowing worthy of Madam Pince was directed their way while Hermione shuffled through her questions and then drew one out.

Her stern look disappeared after reading the lines on the card and she groaned before they'd even said anything. Remus smirked and Sirius was the cat anxiously awaiting his canary.

"How did you meet?"

"Oh, well you see," Sirius launched in dramatically. "I dragged her best friend into a magical tree. Of course, I was a dog then—"

"I saved her life," Remus said blithely and examined his fingernails uninterestedly as though he'd just given the weather forecast.

"You didn't save my life!" Hermione exploded, waving her arms about. Her bushy hair seemed to have increased in size to match her fury. "It was a dementor."

"Fine then," Remus conceded, shaking his head. "If you want to get technical, then I saved your soul. Makes it sound a bit more dramatic anyway, don't you think Padfoot?"

Sirius was positively moping. He draped himself over the couch's arm with a pout and said, as though you'd just kicked a puppy, "Compared to that, my story sucks..."

Their chattering stopped short when the two men realized that Hermione had begun banging her head on the coffee table.


Hermione was about to wear a new step into her parent's porch with all the pacing she was doing as she fretted with her pale pink skirt. Her father had always loved her in pink, and though she'd outgrown the fad and now looked on any pink garment with distaste, she'd been so desperate for her parents not to disown her that she'd run out last minute and bought the garment.

"Calm down love," Sirius grinned, amusing himself by following her around the porch like a madly smirking shadow.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," was her answer.

Remus sighed. He was leaning against the railing of the porch – where they'd been for the past ten minutes – and his arms were crossed comfortably over his hunter green polo. If his dearest kept this up much longer, then the Grangers would start looking out the windows and that would be a far more embarrassing start to the evening.

"I think you've had about enough pacing for one evening, dear," he proclaimed and pushed upright. Hermione stared at him in horror as he made for the door.

"Is there still time to run away?" She pleaded, desperately wringing her hands. "You know I haven't been feeling too well. I could be coming down with—"

"Hermione Jane Granger, soon to be Lupin-Black!"

Hermione flushed a rather astounding shade of tomato red.

"You're puttering around like a first-year Hufflepuff," he said.

Sirius closed the distance between them and with strong hands began kneading the tense muscles in her shoulders and neck. The thousand or so pins holding up her hair were never wholly successful and his fingers twined in the curls that had slipped loose down at the nape of her neck. His familiar soothing motions calmed the frantic young witch. "He's right you know," he murmured against her cheek, voice low and husky as always. "But we'll punish you for that later..."

"Sirius..."

Remus could be mighty intimidating when he tried; werewolf and all. But the child-hearted Sirius took it all in stride and gave his other lover one of his usual smirks and placed a hidden kiss just behind Hermione's ear. "Sorry, Moony..."

Hermione didn't think he sounded very sorry at all.

Remus was softly smiling at her. "Now, Hermione...your parents love you, right?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And they respect your decisions?"

"Always, but—"

He pressed a finger to her lips; she hadn't realized how close he'd gotten. Sirius was warm at her back, and Remus' invigorating pine scent swirled in a cloud in front of her. "Do you love us?"

"You know I do!" She exclaimed passionately, and her hands found their way to framing his face. "I love you, both of you, more than anything!"

Remus smiled warmly down at her, and Sirius' murmur of contentment reverberated through the skin along her collar. "So you're not planning on leaving us, then?" Sirius asked, beating the other man to the question.

"Never!" The witch swore vehemently.

"Then what does it matter what happens here?" Remus said logically. "Your parents will honor whatever decision you make, and continue to love you – just as we'll always love you, and you'll always be with us."

Hermione gasped when he took the initiative and rapped at the front door with his knuckles. "Why does it matter?" He repeated. Motion was heard inside.

Hermione's grip tightened painfully on both their hands, and they were both beyond touched when she whispered in a small voice; "Because you deserve for everyone to love you the way I do..."

The door swung open and Hermione surged forward to embrace both of her parents around the neck, sending them staggering back a few steps.

"Oh, Hermione!" Her mother, Helen exclaimed. Michael Granger uttered a dry chuckle.

"You both love me, right?" The brunette asked in a rush that completely took her parents by surprise.

"Of course, dear!" Her mother insisted, looking a little confused but no less firm in her answer.

Her father ruffled her hair. "You're the best thing that's happened to us, princess."

Hermione gnawed nervously on her lip and regretfully released her befuddled parents. "Well, er, just remember that..."

Then she pulled the front door open all the way, and held her breath. Sirius entered first, and Helen fell upon him with a beaming smile and appreciative sounds. Even near forty, Black was quite the looker. Her father had just opened his mouth to speak, when Remus cleared his throat politely from the porchway and Sirius shuffled to the side so he could step into the entry hall.

Hermione was wringing her hands again as she watched her mother look between the two men close to her own age, and her father as he nodded his head repetitively, digesting this new bit of information. The boys smiled charmingly and Hermione gave a weak chuckle.

"Uh...Mum, Dad...meet my boyfriends."

"Oh my."


A/N2: Might post a second chapter if any of you are really interested in witnessing the actual dinner.