witch sandwiches & other misleading thoughts
A HariPo oneshot
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. This pairing was discovered by my twin, Morghen, so please give her a little mention if you write them! Thanks! It is one of many of Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings, most of which you may find in the M&MWP forum. Check out and join the forum FUN! Read, review, and enjoy!
For autumn midnights—Merry Christmas, my lil' FFN sis! :')
Romilda is a lover of disaster.
Maybe that's why, once upon a time, she tried to use a Love Potion on the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe that's why, even though she'd been too young, she'd fought in that final battle at Hogwarts.
"Maybe you're just a head-case," Lavender tells her as they sit in front of the older lion's television, the clicker in Lav's hand as she aimlessly looks for something to watch.
Romilda eyes her. Lav's a weird one. A disastrous one. And, well… Romilda is a lover of disaster. But she's also a lover of sense.
"Don't call Romilda a head-case," Morag calls from her kitchen. She's been in there for the past hour doing Merlin-knows-what, but it smells delicious. "There are real people with real problems, and Romilda doesn't have one."
Lav shrugs in response to Mor's correction. She never seems to acknowledge the times when she's wrong and Mor's right, but Romilda doesn't mind it when Morag corrects either of them, because Morag is a sensible one. And Romilda does love sense.
But it's funny, because Romilda can't figure which she loves more—disaster or sense. Because it surely doesn't make sense, this agreement the three of them have. And it surely can only end in disaster.
Besides, how can one person love two people? Aren't they asking a lot of her?
But…that's just how things go. Before the battle years ago, Romilda had been attracted to Morag's quiet intellect. There were no kisses and no cuddling, but there were long talks of the things to come and where to find comfort and—and—well, Romilda had been swept away by the girl.
After the battle, Romilda had found the once haughty Lavender and taken her to Parvati and Padma and Pomfrey. She'd helped Lavender, but her acquaintance with the girl grew into a quick friendship after. Then Romilda understood just how much of an animal Greyback had made Lavender, because they became more than friends. They became hot looks and heavy breaths and biting teeth and soft lips and jabbing fingers.
Somehow, Lav ended up in Romilda's apartment, and she never left.
Life moved on, of course. Lavender doesn't do much, though she sometimes goes out on the weekends and catches…err, fresh food, and brings it back, cleans it, and stores it. Romilda has to admit, fresh quail and wild goose do taste quite good.
But Romilda ran into Morag at the Ministry, in the Auror Office. Even though it had become Morag's ambition to be an Auror during the war, Romilda had applied first after school. She ended up as Morag's boss, though she's come to treat Morag as more of an equal. It makes a bit of sense, since Morag has the tactical mind where Romilda has seniority. And they were colleagues and friends and… And then they were stolen glances and blushing cheeks and half-spoken sentences and brushing fingers and too-close legs and frustrated looks and finally "Me, toos" that meant something a whole lot more.
Somehow, Morag came over for dinner one night and then another and another, and she's been back every night since then.
Life continued, obviously. Morag does a lot, like cooking and cleaning and organizing and looking after Romilda. She likes to make sure that Romilda's always safe and happy. Romilda has to admit, she likes to be coddled in that way, because Morag treats her like the princess she never once thought herself to be.
And still Romilda can't figure out whom she loves more. No, no, what she loves more—disaster or sense. If she starts asking herself who, then she'll really be in trouble.
"Speaking of head," Lav says automatically, her filters never working as she crassly changes the subject. Romilda glimpses that Lav zipped past some channel on which two wizards were doing something that looked an awfully lot like gymnastics of sorts. But Lav turns the telly off and grabs Romilda's hand, and Romilda instantly blushes, knowing what will happen next as she leads her from the living room. "We'll be out soon."
"All right," Morag says. "You've got twenty minutes before the food's ready."
Romilda can hear the wolfish grin in Lavender's voice. "Sounds good to me."
And it's good for Romilda as Lav at least closes the bedroom door behind her before she sheds hers and Romilda's clothes. If there's one thing Lav knows, it's how to love Romilda's body. Every inch of her is set on fire, and her gasps tire her the most when Lav licks her fingers and makes them go "treasure hunting." Romilda really needs to tell her to call it something else.
Twenty minutes go by as if they were five, and Lav stands and walks to the bathroom, claiming she'll dress there. Romilda, a hot mess, is forced to put her old clothes back on, and she goes to the kitchen to find Morag.
"Sounded good in there," Mor teases as she stirs some lovely sauce.
Romilda's mouth waters, but she looks at Morag. She wonders just as she has all these years why Morag is never bothered by her and Lavender.
As if reading her mind, Morag turns and plants a chaste kiss on her lips. But when the kiss lasts and deepens just a little, it's no longer chaste. But somehow it makes sense. Morag and Lavender will share her only to an extent. Maybe they've each got a stake in Romilda's body and heart, but it's a kind of brilliant chaos that causes butterflies in Romilda's belly, and so she simply ends up feeling like the luckiest witch alive as she sits down to dinner with her two most favorite people in the world.
Romilda tells them over dinner that it was just another boring day of field patrol.
Morag says it must've been better than the paperwork she had to do.
Lavender states that she could never work at the Ministry, because she can't run free there, not to mention that even almost-werewolves still aren't widely accepted.
When they go to bed for the night, Romilda nestled between the gentle arms of Morag and the possessive limbs of Lavender, it clicks. She doesn't have to choose between what or whom she loves more. They aren't making her choose and probably never will, and for that she is grateful.
Romilda is a lover of disaster, after all…but she loves sense just as much.
Weird and wonderful. XD I love crass!Lav, especially post-DH. ;P Ah, I almost wanna write more for this little universe… *happy sigh* :] Btw, the pairing Romilda/Morag belongs to my pal, autumn midnights, so give her a nod if you write them, though Lav/Romilda's credit goes to my twin, Morghen. Haha, this was strange…and I think my first threesome. :O Of sorts. Meh.
Thanks for reading and please review! Hope you loved it, Jessla! X3