Author's Note: I own no one, no place, and no thing. Anything or anyone or anywhere recognizable belongs to Ms. Rowling.

Stick in the Mud

Hermione scooped her saturated curls off her back and twisted them up into a hand-sized clip on the back of her head, and rearranged her sunglasses down to shield her eyes. It was already blazing hot at only 10am, and the dip into the pond had only somewhat cooled her overheated body. She and Ginny and a few of the boys' girlfriends had taken up sunbathing posts around the pond behind the Burrow shortly after breakfast, knowing the intense summer heat would be driving them inside before the afternoon hit. The boys were in various pursuits of manly heat-escape, from flying, to diving in the pond, to flying over the pond to dive in it, which Hermione found completely and utterly nuts. How deep could this backyard pond possibly be to allow such madness? Someone could get hurt!

She'd shouted this same thought not more than five minutes ago, when one of the twins had plummeted from more than twenty feet above to land in an almighty splash in the water not five feet from where she'd been lazily floating.

"Oh come on, 'Mione, don't be such a stick in the mud!" Ron had hollered at her before executing a sloppy, and resultantly painful dive-turned-faceplant into the cool water. Hermione and Harry literally had to hold each other up to keep from falling down from laughing so hard.

It was Harry's twentieth birthday today, and the late July heat had effectively banished all plans of doing any in-city partying. It was too blasted hot to do anything but hide in the shade reading a good book, swim, or slather on the tanning potions. And because all of these things happened to be Hermione's absolute favorite passtimes, she'd happily volunteered to make her specialty Muggle sangria and margaritas for the group. She and Harry had spent last night collecting alcohol and citrus fruits from a nearby Muggle grocer, and Hermione had skipped breakfast in order to make gallons of the drinks for her thirsty companions.

"Has it been long enough yet, Hermione?" Harry pushed his glasses up and wiped at his eyes as he questioned his lifelong friend about the birthday drinks. Molly had been appalled at the amount of liquor Hermione was mixing together in her kitchen, and had forbidden any imbibing before lunchtime.

"It's my house!" She'd yelled with her hands on her hips. "If you want to get drunk before mid-day you can go do it at your own house!" The twins had immediately and good-naturedly jumped up and tried to help Hermione pack the pitchers of drinks into a cooler they could drag to the fireplace and take to their own flat, but Hermione had smacked at them until they'd given in and promised their Mother to behave for a few hours.

Hermione squinted up at the sky. It was nearly 10:30 now, surely by the time she'd popped inside, gone to the loo, and packed all the drinks and cups it would be nearly 11.

Absolutely perfect, if you asked her.

"You know, Harry, I think it has. Fred Weasley!" She called to the nearest Weasley male, who happened to be the same male that had cannon-balled right next to her in the pond a few minutes ago.

"Yes, O' Wise One?" Fred was toweling his hair and rummaging for some sunglasses in his brother's bag. The sound of Hermione calling him by his first and last name sent a naughty thrill down his spine. Gods above, that girl looked absolutely fucking edible in her yellow bikini. Fred wondered for the hundredth time why his younger brother would have ever set aside a chance at a relationship with a goddess like young Ms. Granger over there. Instead, Ron had pounced on the easiest prey available, and boy, it didn't get easier than Lavender. Fred could hear her giggling not too far away as she held out a towel for her limping boyfriend, who was rubbing his sore face as he climbed out of the pond. The girl was honest-to-Godric wearing a white thong bikini. To a birthday party at the pond behind the Burrow.


"Fred Weasley, commence Operation Igloo. Anticipate arrival time in fifteen." Hermione smirked at the red-headed man, saluted him and Harry, and spun on her heel to go collect her birthday drinks offerings.

Fred saluted her back and watched her walk away. Harry looked at Fred, looked back at his oldest female friend, and started to laugh.

"All right Soldier, why don't you shut your mouth before you start drooling." Harry said as he nudged Ginny, who was sprawled at his feet, laying on a large quilt and reading Witch Weekly. Ginny looked up, and saw her older brother's unfocused eyes staring across the yard at her retreating gal-pal. Hermione's soggy golden brown curls were struggling to escape the clip she'd wrangled them into, and the back of her shoulders was starting to show the slightest bit of pink from sun exposure. Ginny was thrilled Hermione had finally worn that yellow string bikini. It looked freaking fabulous on her, and judging by the way Fred's tongue was practically lolling out of his mouth, he agreed. The swimming costume Hermione had originally brought over, a navy-blue one-piece with a matching navy polka-dot cover-up, was now somewhere deep, deep in the pile of clothing Ginny had set aside to donate to St. Mungo's Hospital's Women's Outreach. The damned thing would have looked all right on Ginny's mother, but not a nearly twenty-one year old girl, for Godric's sake! Convincing Hermione to give up on the conservative one-piece hadn't taken a very long time when the weather promised to be so unbearably hot, and Ginny had pointed out the costume's propensity to deliver heinous tanlines.

"Less is more, 'Mione. Isn't that what Mum always says?" Ginny had wheedled last night as she'd waved the yellow triangles and strings in front of her best girlfriend.

"Gin, I think she was talking about makeup, not swimming costumes." Hermione had groaned. Ginny knew she'd won the argument when Hermione's face dropped into her palms. Ginny heard Hermione mutter something into her hands, but it was too muffled to understand.

"What did you say? Something about Harry?" Ginny asked.

Hermione growled a little louder for her friend.

"I said I'm going to need to get rid of some… hair… to wear a costume like this, Ginny!" Ginny had burst out laughing. Hermione was going to come out of her shell!

Ginny had taught her friend a handy maintenance spell, 'brazilianti!', and this morning a blushing Hermione had come out of the Burrow's single bathroom wearing the yellow string bikini. Ginny had tossed her a cover-up, one of her brother's old t-shirts, and they'd gone downstairs to get to work on slicing and squeezing the fruit for the drinks.

That had been several hours ago. Now, at nearly 10:30, Hermione wondered, as she locked herself in the loo, when the HEAT from the spell Ginny had taught her was going to die down. Her… parts… felt like they were going up in flames! While she acknowledged it was hotter than Hades outside, there was no reason for her thighs to be so slippery with sweat, or why her sex was practically dripping with heat. It had started this morning right after Hermione had pronounced the spell that had rendered her nether-regions hairless and smooth, but while the effects had felt like they were dying down as she tumbled down the stairs with her friend, they'd amplified when she'd been in the kitchen. As she'd been smacking the shoulder of one of the twins – Fred, more than likely - that was bent over to collect her cooler of supplies, she'd suddenly become aware that his face when a mere foot from her… stuff… and everything had gone haywire.

She was just so sensitive now! She hadn't felt this exposed and naughty in her entire life, and it was messing with her head!

Harry and Ginny had a brief mental discussion while Fred's brain completed its circuits and finally made sense of the order that Hermione had sent him. Ginny nodded at her boyfriend, then sat up and started whining.

"Fre-ed… why don't you go help 'Mione bring those drinks out? I'm all covered in sun potion and I'm too greasy to go inside. Please? Puhlease?" Ginny's lower lip stuck out as she poured on the baby-sister charm.

Fred grinned down at her. "Sure, Miss Lazy-Whiny-Pants. But then you'll have to commence Operation Igloo. We don't want to piss off the Cocktail Goddess. She won't share her bounty with us if we don't do our part." He was already stuffing his feet into some old trainers and reaching for his wand, so Ginny and Harry figured he'd been convinced to go to Hermione's aid.

"What's Operation Igloo, then?" Harry asked.

"All right, you need to dig out a shallow hole, over there under the tree by the water's edge. Let it fill in with water, freeze it, and then freeze bricks of ice to make an igloo over and around it. Try to make a hinged lid of the top bricks for easy access though." Fred was already walking backwards in the direction of the Burrow, talking as he went.

"How the Hell do I do all that?" Harry said, shocked.

Ginny giggled. Fred snorted.

"Are you a wizard, or what?" they called simultaneously.

Harry blushed.

Fred strode into the house and stood in the empty kitchen. Everything was still sitting out on the counters and in the floor. He could hear someone walking down the stairs. That must be Hermione then. Fred had a couple of hazy, lust filled seconds to decide what exactly he was going to do – tumble her on the table and ravish her? Push her against the counter and wrap her legs around his hips? Drag her by her hair to the nearest couch and untie those yellow strings?

Hips. Yellow strings. Ravish.


Fred ducked into the coat closet right before Hermione rounded the corner, and reached his hand out to drag her inside as she passed the door. He pulled the door shut, locking and silencing it as Hermione's shocked protests filled the pitch-black room.

"Shh, 'Mione, it's just me."

"Fred Weasley? What the Hell?" Hermione gasped as she felt fingers trail along her belly. Fu-uck! What the hell kind of spell had Ginny taught her?

"I was sent in to see if you needed any help." Hermione heard Fred's voice say from somewhere right above her forehead. His hand was tickling its way across her exposed stomach, down to her hip, where his fingers fiddled with one of her bikini's ties.

"What? You're here to help me out of my swimming costume?" She said snarkily as she pushed his hand away before he could tug on the strings. Lord, her thighs were already on fire, and she'd just been dragged into the coat closet by the HOTTEST of the Weasley men. Ronald, no. Too much history, that'd be as gross as crushing on Harry. Percy? Ah, no. They might have a lot in common, but, seriously, no. Charlie, well, he was a bit of a creepy bloke. He looked like he could break a girl in half, and honestly, he seemed like a letch. Those intense eyes seemed to see way too much whenever he made eye-contact with her. So, again, no.

But Fred… Well now, that was a different matter all together. His twin, George, was a great guy too, but Hermione had always thought Fred the more attractive of the twins. Maybe it was his undeniable and never-ending charm. Fred had never failed to make Hermione blush and giggle like a schoolgirl, and she loved the way he called her funny names. He made her feel singular and special and feminine without even trying.

"Well, now, that can be arranged, but actually Ginny sent me in here to help you bring those drinks outside. But I'm a resourceful guy, I'm sure I can manage to help you with the costume and the drinks." Fred casually slid his hand back onto her belly and around her back. She was sweaty, sticky, slippery and hot.

Hermione tensed, and swore softly as a wave of lust washed over her. Seriously, what the fuck? She could feel her insides clenching up, and Fred hadn't so much as kissed her. And what the Hell was he doing? Propositioning her with – what? Sex in the coat closet? Merlin knew, she was about five micro-seconds from agreeing, damnit.

Hermione tried to steady herself by placing a hand on his chest, to brace his body away from hers. But Gods! As soon as she touched his hot skin she felt a zipping tingle shoot up her fingers and straight down her belly. Holyshitholyshitholyshit she was in trouble.

"Fred Weasley, I don't know what you've got going on in your head, but I'm not the kind of girl that randomly shags in the coat closet."

Fred's other hand came up and covered hers that was pressed against his chest. He leaned down to the vicinity of her face.

"I know that, 'Mione, and I'm not the kind of bloke that randomly shags in the coat closet. But, then that's part of what makes this so exciting, now isn't it?" With that, he pulled her hot little body flush up against his and pulled her hand up to his neck, then he ducked his head down to seek out her lips.

"Fred?" Hermione squeaked.


"Why are you doing this to me?" She begged.

Fred sighed. "Because I want to, Hermione. Because you look fucking delicious in that little yellow number you've got on, and I'm dying to take it off of you. If you want to leave, obviously you can. But if you don't…." And then, he flicked his tongue out and touched her lips. She gasped in surprise, and he took the opportunity to seal their mouths together.

So fucking hot. Her lips were fiery, blazing hot. Fred felt her small hand grasping at the back of his neck, dragging him closer to her as her lips slid against his. He pushed closer into her, using his hips to nudge her into the wall as his tongue licked its way into her damp mouth.

Hermione felt him nudging with more than just his hips. She felt the hardness of his erection branding into her belly, and she felt her insides burst into flame. What the hell was wrong with her body? She'd never acted like this before! Fred had barely touched her for ten seconds and she was ready to GO. 'Screw this!' she thought to herself, and ground her hips against him in open invitation.

Fred groaned, and brought his hands around to the front her bikini, where he deftly pushed the yellow triangles of her top away from her puckered nipples. He plucked and rubbed, pinched and pulled, until she was squirming and whining in the back of her throat.

"Yea?" He panted against her mouth as his hand dipped down to cup her sex. She had hitched her left leg up around him and was steadily, mindlessly, rocking against his pelvis.

Hermione's mind was fuzzy with lust. She wanted him so badly, needed to be filled to bursting with him. Her heart was racing and her lower limbs were practically shaking with want.

"Uuhhnn… Yea. Fffred… Nnnnow!" She moaned as her hands fumbled at the Velcro fly of his swim trunks. She ripped them open and shoved them downwards, then grabbed at his backside and rocked into his exposed erection. They both hissed at the intense pleasure, and Fred's hands fell to her hips to pull the strings that concealed the last bit of her body from him.

"Spell!" Hermione gasped as she felt her bottoms hit the floor between their feet.

"Right. Okay. Wand…." Fred let go of her straining body to rummage around on the floor for the pocket of his trunks to extract his wand. He crouched in front of her, and gently placed the tip of his wand against her belly with one hand while he ran his other hand up the inside of her thigh.

Sweet Circe, her slick center was completely bare! He brushed his fingers against her slit, wishing like Hell he could see what he was feeling. But he didn't want to light up the small room – he had a feeling she'd be more likely to get embarrassed by what they were doing if they could see each other's faces. Not that he wouldn't like to watch her face as she came undone against his hand and mouth. Fred leaned in and pressed a kiss against her swollen flesh, then nudged her thighs apart with his hands so he could taste her heat.

Hermione groaned loudly and fisted her hands into his hair. She felt his tongue swipe along her naked slit and wailed in ecstasy.

"Yes, please! Oh my God, Fred. Oh, yes…"

Fred was shocked by how loud she was! He slid two fingers into her as she cried and moaned and shook around him. Merlin, who would have thought that his conservative little Hermione would be so uninhibited? He moved his fingers in and out of her sweet body as he ran the flat of his tongue across the tiny bundle of nerves that nearly had her legs buckling.

"Please Fred. Please! Now!" She was tugging on his hair, begging him to stand. Fred didn't think he was going to last very long at this rate, Hermione was literally about to come around his fingers and he knew as soon as he slid into her body he was going to lose control.

"Come for me first, my Pretty Girl." Fred demanded huskily as he worked her clit with his thumb while clutching her hip to keep her from collapsing.

The tension in Hermione's body was rippling over her in more and more intense waves, stealing her self-control. She cried and cursed and finally, finally, came shuddering around his fingers and his tongue. "Noooow!" she wailed. "Noooooow!"

Fred, being the obliging gentleman he was, swiftly stood on his own shaking legs and heaved Hermione up against the wall. He pulled her legs up around his hips and, lining his aching member up with her welcoming heat, slid inside her.

Hermione scrabbled against him, pulling him closer as his thick length sank into her body. Yes! That was exactly what she'd been aching for since that stupid spell this morning! She felt him push her firmly against the wall of the closet, and then, grasping her bum tightly in one hand and her shoulder with another, Fred leaned in and kissed her, hard, and started a punishing rhythm into her body.

"Holy Hell, Hermione…" Fred gasped as he thrust harder and harder, faster… Gods he needed to slow down or he was going to completely lose it.

"Fred Weasley!" Fred stiffened and stuttered to a halt when he heard his MOTHER calling for him. Hermione grunted and wiggled her hips against his, desperate and helpless with her legs clutched around him.

"Fred… please," she moaned quietly.

"Fred I know you're in here somewhere! I need your help carrying out these tables!" Molly's voice could be heard from not too far away – the kitchen door, probably. Fred dropped his head down to rest his forehead on top of Hermione's.

"Pretty Girl, my Mum is five feet away, killing my libido with her very presence. Would you consider a rain check?" Fred whispered into her mountain of hair.

"Are you kidding? No! Fred Weasley, come on!" Hermione huffed indignantly as she squirmed in his arms.

"Ah, that's my girl. So eager for me she doesn't mind getting caught by my Mum." Fred chuckled into her hair as he resumed his pace.

"Fred Weasley, I was about to… ah… right there!" Hermione tensed up as her body shook and shuddered around him. So close, so very, very close...

"Can I?" he huffed in her ear.
"Yea," she gasped.

"Hang on, Pretty Girl," Fred tightened his arms and pushed, hard, until Hermione was pinned against the wall, gripping his shoulders and nearly screaming as he pounded into her. Fred groaned as she pulsed around him, and then he was gone too.

A few moments later Fred realized he and Hermione were tangled up on the floor of the coat closet, and his Mum was still calling for him. It sounded like she'd moved upstairs though. He held out his hand to silently summon his wand, and sent a dim 'lumos' above their heads.

Hermione's hair had finally worked out of its clip, and her bikini top was shuffled and scrunched out of place. She had both hands covering her eyes. The large, brilliant blue sapphire of her engagement ring flashed in the light. He reached out and pulled her hands away from her eyes, bringing her ring to his lips so he could kiss it.

"If I had known you would react like that to being dragged into a coat closet, Hermione, I would have done it years ago. What in the world got into you?" Fred asked as he dragged his wilted fiancé into his lap.

"Ugh, Fred, it was that stupid spell Ginny taught me this morning. I've been on fire all morning!" She buried her face into his shoulder in embarrassment. Fred considered this for a second, then started laughing.

"Does this have anything to do with the abundance of naked flesh I encountered a few minutes ago?" He asked as delicately as he could while ran his hands up and down her back.

"Yes. The new bikini required it," Hermione sniffed.

"Hmmm, well I like the bikini," Fred murmured.

"Obviously," she said. Then she lifted her head up and smiled hesitantly at him.

"You don't think it's… too much? Or too little, rather?" Hermione asked shyly.

"No, I don't think it's too much, or too little for that matter. It's perfect. Less is more, you know. I've heard my Mum say that to Ginny many, many times."

"Oh come on! That's only for makeup! Look at Lavender! Less is definitely NOT more!" Hermione smacked his chest as she giggled.

"Ah, well, Lavender is a special case. She's trying to appeal to my younger brother's refined tastes," Fred said sagely.

Hermione snorted.

Fred nodded in agreement.

"Well now that I'm feeling a little less overheated, shall we go join the party?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I agree that we shouldn't stay in here alone together for much longer. People might start to talk. Then where will your reputation be?" Fred waggled his eyebrows at her as he waved his wand over her hair to dry and detangle it for her.

"Oh no! You think they'll be able to tell what we were up to?! Fred Weasley, your MOTHER!" Hermione wailed, mortified.

"O Paranoid One, we're getting married in a month. We've been living together – and shagging like bunnies, I might add - for six months. I'm pretty sure everyone knows what we're up to, and no one really cares," Fred pointed out.

"Really?" Hermione squeaked in horror.

"You know, I'm finding your embarrassment a little insulting," Fred said as he lifted her out of his arms to stand and pull his swim trunks back on.

"Fred! I'm sorry! I'm just not used to acting like this!" Hermione ran her hands through her chaotic curls and looked up at her fiancé in supplication.

Fred smirked down at his conservative girl, and finally chucked her lightly on the chin.

"Come on now, is it really such a big deal? It's human nature, you know. Surely you've read about it in your books? Spontaneity and hormones?" Fred said as he leaned down to gather her up off the closet floor.

"I don't know, Fred, it's just not like me to go randomly shagging in-"

"Yes, I know you don't randomly shag in closets, we already discussed that. But here's the thing. Sex and sexuality can and will happen at many points and places in your life, especially after we get married and you submit to my will in all things," Fred said in his most somber voice possible.

"Oh is that so?" Hermione's eyebrow lifted as she watched her fiancé warm up to his topic.

"Oh yes, cooking, cleaning, baby-making, the whole bit. That's what you signed on for, right? Oh wait, no, that's what ickle Ronniekins is looking for in a wife, not me," Fred said as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Then he grinned and looked down at her.

"I remember now, you signed on for adventure, romance, and intellectual stimulation! Well, Love, that romance bit may call for sex and sexuality outside of our bedroom. So next time you find yourself in need of that handy spell you used this morning, don't worry, your loving husband will come to your aid! Especially if you're dressed like this," he bent down to nibble her shoulder as he tugged on one of her hip strings again.

"Fred Weasley, where are you?" Molly's footsteps sounded above their heads as she came back down the stairs.

"Come on, Love, let's go get those drinks and bring them out to the party," Fred took Hermione by the hand and silently extinguished the light.

"Fred Weasley?"


"Ronald called me a stick in the mud."

"So I heard."


"Well what?"

"Am I?"

Fred chuckled as he wrapped one arm around his fiancé and one hand around the doorknob.

"No, Hermione, I think that between the twenty gallons of liquor, the bikini, and the closet shag, we can safely say that you are not."

"Fred Weasley?"


"I love you," she whispered.

"Mmm, I love you too, Pretty Girl."