~ooO Still Waters Run Deep Ooo~
Hermione Granger stared at the other occupant of the room and wondered how she had ended up like this: sharing a bed with a wizard who was practically a stranger. Granted he was a Weasley… but still!
Percy Weasley was not a typical Weasley. He had broken ties with his parents and siblings back when Hermione was still in Hogwarts. She had a front row seat to see the effect it had on his family – Molly cried, Arthur was disappointed, Ginny was both sad and angry, Ron just angry, Bill was resigned, George and Fred were both angry and vengeful. The schism had not been bridged until after the Battle of Hogwarts, after Remus, Tonks and so many others had died. And even so, Percy had continued to keep his distance from his family — a combination of guilt and defensiveness. He didn’t want to bring up bad memories, so he avoided his parents. He didn’t want to have his past actions thrown in his face, so he avoided the more hot-tempered siblings.
Molly had asked him repeatedly to join them for Christmas at the Burrow, but he had refused in each instance, saying he was joining Audrey’s family for the holidays. Molly had shared the information with Hermione because she needed to tell someone. If Molly had told one of her sons or Ginny they would have flown off to drag Percy to the Burrow for Christmas, and that would have sparked another fight. Usually Molly would have planned for Percy, but this Christmas her optimism had been at a low point – with her depression and slow recovery from the War – so Molly had not included Percy in her sleeping arrangements. No one expected Percy to break up with Audrey right before Christmas and to show up at the Burrow.
Usually Hermione shared a room with Ginny and Ron shared with Harry, but this year she had broken up with Ron, Ginny and Harry were married – they had insisted on a private ceremony, before Hogwarts reopened and Harry had to report to the Auror Academy – and with George, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, and Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin, there were simply no spare bedrooms or suitable space to transfigure into one.
To be honest, Hermione herself was an unplanned guest. She had originally planned on spending the holidays with her parents. They were supposed to fly to London, but her Dad had broken his leg, and it made more sense for her parents to stay in Australia. Then Harry and Ginny begged her to join them at the Burrow for dinner and the gift exchange-opening. So she ended up delaying her Portkey to after Christmas Day lunch so she could spend Boxing Day, a few days and New Years with her parents.
So here she was, a nineteen-year-old witch, preparing to sleep — in the most literal sense — with a near-stranger, because she did not want to share a bed with her ex (Ron), or wizards she was superficially attracted to (George, Fred and Charlie). She knew they only saw her as a sister or Ron’s girl. Hermione suspected most of the Weasleys expected her to hook up with Ron again, but as far as she was concerned that boat had sailed long ago. It sank when she caught Ron canoodling with some blond slag in the Three Broomsticks and then going upstairs to one of the private rooms with her. Hermione would have suspected Molly of trying to push Ron and her back together if it wasn’t for this Event.
She looked around the narrow room that had been expanded to fit the Queen-sized bed — because the Weasley boys were too tall for bunkbeds or twins. She wondered if she could shrink the chest of drawers and desks to fit in a second bed when a soft cough interrupted her train of thoughts.
“I wouldn’t risk any shrinking or expansion charms. Bill and Dad spent weeks balancing the arrays to create and expand storage and living space in the Burrow. Besides, the spellwork has been rune-anchored and set for years. It won’t unravel quickly or easily.” Hermione stared at the middle Weasley child. “Your expression was easy to read. I tried expanding, but it never gave more than an inch or two.”
Hermione sighed. “I’m surprised Molly didn’t make more of a fuss. Or tried to room me with Ginny.”
Percy’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “Ginny made it very clear she is a married lady now and would only share a room with her husband.”
Hermione nodded. “I can understand that. She doesn’t get that much time with Harry since she is still in her last year and boarding in Hogwarts.” She looked around the tiny room. “We’re both mature adults, Percy. I’m sure we can manage sharing a bed for one night. And to be honest I trust you to behave like a gentleman more so than Ron or the twins. Besides, you aren’t interested in me,” she finished off airily.
Percy said nothing before opening the chest at the foot of the bed and pulling out a spare set of sheets. He transfigured it into a long body pillow that would easily create a divide in the bed. Hermione pulled the quilt down and watched him set the long pillow lengthwise in the bed before tugging the quilt back up.
He coughed softly to catch her attention. “You can change in the closet or the bathroom. I’d suggest the closet unless you need to use the bathroom.”
Hermione nodded, knowing that there were many who were going to use the toilet before bed. She had already gone and brushed her teeth, so she could change and do a bit of reading before sleeping. She grabbed her flannel PJs and slipped into the expanded walk-in closet, closing the closet door behind her.
When she emerged dressed in her blue-and-cream checked PJs, Hermione saw that Percy had already changed into dark grey and maroon stripped flannel pants and a gray tee-shirt. He was sitting on top of the quilt, back against the headboard as he read through a folder. There was a small stack of similar folders on the bedside table closest to him. She wanted to ask him what he was reading but didn’t feel comfortable nosing in what was not her business. It was probably a treatise on import laws. A faint smile curved her lips as she remembered how Percy had pontificated on the thickness of cauldron bottoms — though he did have a good point about poor-quality cauldrons being hazardous.
She set her clothes on her duffel bag and settled down on her side of the bed, sliding her legs under the quilt, tugging it up to her waist as she rested against the headboard and picked up her current reading, a treatise on the usage of prime numbers in ritual magic.
It didn’t take long for her to find herself dozing off, before waking with a small jerk. Rather than risking an awkward scene — if she fell asleep for good on top of her book — she put her reading material away and slid under the quilt. She was pleasantly surprised when Percy dimmed the lights wandlessly before she even asked. The only source of light was the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table. Sleepily she turned on her side away from the light and fell asleep between one breath and the next.
Hermione stirred in the middle of the night, feeling pleasantly warm. It was much nicer than sleeping with Ron whose cold hands and cold feet always woke her up with a shock. She was too sleepy to think about who was in her bed. She only cared about the nice warm, toasty feeling. She wanted to get closer to it. What was that pillow doing in the way? With a soft growl, she pushed it down towards her feet and scooted closer until she was almost right up against the warmth.
He was not soft, but he was not too hard either. He was warm like a cozy fire, enveloping her from head to toe. She sighed and shifted, pressing her back against him. She could feel the heavy weight of one arm shift and settle over her head, drawing her in close.
Hermione sighed happily and slipped back into a deep sleep.
Percy was still in a sleep fog, as he felt soft curves against his groin, a warm feminine body pressed up against his front. Audrey. He could not resist sliding one hand over her hip and up her front. If Percy had been more alert, he would have realized it was not Audrey, who always wore nightgowns, because his current bed-mate was wearing flannel PJs. But since he was not fully awake, his hand moved subconsciously, pushing his bed-mate’s shirt up so he could run his palm over her soft belly and up to cup each breast in turn, pinching and manipulating the nips into hard points.
It was then that Percy realized something was wrong. Audrey’s breasts were on the small side, her hair was sleek and straight, smelling faintly of lavender, not springy curls with an intriguing exotic scent. Then it hit him: he was not sleeping with Audrey. His eyes opened. Percy looked down at the curly head pressed against his chest and remembered exactly who he was sleeping with — Hermione Granger.
He jerked his hand back and rolled away, trying to increase the space between them. Unfortunately, he had not realized they had migrated over to his side of the bed; his actions sent him falling over the edge and landing with an audible thump, one loud enough to wake his bed-mate with a start.
A thump woke Hermione from a very fun, naughty dream of a large warm hand running over her front and playing with her tits. She had been about to grab and push it between her legs when she woke.
The first thing she noted was her shirt was pushed up past her breasts. Her nipples were hardened and engorged, her breasts felt too sensitive, and there was a slight throb between her legs. Hastily, she tugged her shirt down to her waist and cast a wandless “Lumos.”
A small glowing orb formed above the bed, illuminating the area. She was the only one in the bed although she could easily guess what happened to Percy. His head appeared over the edge of the bed as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a mixed expression — horrified, shamed, aroused, apologetic.
“I’m so sorry Hermione. I forgot where I was. I apologize for my terri—”
“Percy! Stop it! It wasn’t your fault.” She blushed hotly, but forced herself to continue. “You were dreaming about someone else and mistook me for her.”
“This was a huge breach in propriety. I’ll wake Ginny—”
“No!” Then more softly. “There’s no need. It was an honest mistake.”
“Just drop it! It’s not your fault.” She looked around. “Where’s the pillow?”
It took a few seconds to untangle the quilt and replace the body pillow in its original position. Both witch and wizard were blushing faintly, as they slid under the quilt and pulled it up. Hermione ended the light spell with a soft “Finite” and snuggled deeper under the quilt. It took some time for the throbbing between her legs to subside enough to fall asleep.
Percy could not resist cupping and squeezing the soft rounded arse of the woman lying on top of him, her front pressed against his — her nipples felt like hard points — the curly head tucked under his chin — definitely not Audrey — the soft puffs of air exhaled over one nipple — he wondered how it would feel if she tongued him — her thighs draped along the outside of his legs — it would be so easy to encourage her to squeeze her knees and to ride him — the warm wetness so near his cock — it would only take a small movement to glide in.
The thought made him freeze and open his eyes. It was dark, but he could see enough. Hermione was lying on top of him. Her pajama shirt had ridden up so her bare front was plastered against his. He could feel the warm moisture from her core through the thin pajama pants. Her hips were rolling gently, pressing against his rock hard prick, the only barrier between them was two layers of material. Where had the bloody pillow gone? It would be so easy to shove their pants down and move her hips until he was enveloped in her tight wet heat… No!
“Hermione. Wake up.” He had to repeat it a few times with a firm pinch before she finally woke up.
Hermione was having a wonderful dream. She was on top of a lean, strong man with a thick cock that was stretching her in the best way. There were sparks in her veins, knots in her belly, tremors in her thighs. She was so close! And then she felt it: someone pinching her arse. But her lover was pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts. Then she heard it: Hermione, wake up. Reluctantly, she did and was horribly embarrassed.
She was riding Percy! Her hands moved down quickly. At least she still had her PJs on, though her shirt was pushed to under her chin. She had spent Merlin knew how long with her bare breasts pressed against his equally bare chest. When did he remove his tee? Carefully she lifted her head, discreetly trying to tug her shirt down.
“Sorry Percy,” she murmured huskily. She knew the proper thing would be to roll off and make space between them, but she didn’t want to do the proper thing! He felt so warm and right pressed against her. The heat in her belly began to build and spread.
He inhaled sharply and looked straight at her. “Hermione, if you don’t get off me right now, you are going to find yourself under me with my cock in your cunt.”
The threat should have made her move, but it only made her wonder what it would feel like to be stretched on Percy’s cock. He felt larger. Would he be wider or longer? She hoped wider. Ron’s cock was rather thin and unsatisfying. Whenever they had sex it had felt like she was using her own fingers. Percy also felt more muscular than Ron. He clearly exercised or played something more than just Quidditch. His arms reached up to wrap around her torso and then he rolled so she was lying under him, positions reversed. She had not thought he would actually carry through on his threat.
Percy shifted back to sit on his heels and gripped her pajama pants at the waistband, tugging them down towards her feet. She knew she could fight him off, kick him in the groin, scream to bring the others running, but she didn’t; she just lifted her hips up to help him remove the barrier. They were off her feet and tossed to the side. She was bare from the waist down now. The thought only made her wetter, hotter.
“If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
She did not want him to stop. If he did, she would have a raving meltdown.
She did have a meltdown as he described every filthy thing he wanted to do to her and those he wanted her to do to him. He grabbed a handful her hair and twisted the curly strands around his fingers. It stung, but felt so good she only moaned and arched, as she complied with his demands to bend and flex and press her body towards his. She never knew Percy could be so… overtly sexual! But then they did say still waters run deep. Very few suspected Hermione Granger of having fantasies of being dominated and fucked to the right side of pain.
When he let go of her hair and moved away, it felt like a loss.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? Since the Triwizard Tournament. You openly supported Harry, even though it put you at odds with Ron and the rest of Hogwarts. When I saw you at the Yule Ball, it just sealed it. I wanted you to drag you to the closest empty room, push you down on your knees, and shove my cock between your pretty pink lips.”
“But you didn’t.”
“You were too young. And then after my choices kept me from my family and seeing you,” he confided, “I didn’t feel you would ever want me. You were Ron’s girl.”
“Not his. Not anymore.”
He was on top of her now, hands planted on either side of her head, leveraging his torso up. His legs were bare, hairy, and rubbing up against her smooth limbs. He had stripped off his pants and was naked. His cock was against her groin, sliding against her wet slit, gathering moisture with each pass. He shifted his hips and the tip of his cock penetrated her folds the next time he moved forward. The friction against her clit was not enough. She whimpered and shifted. The next press of his hips had him sliding into her cunt.
He was thick, almost too thick. Her body was forced to part and give way beneath the weight and girth of his. He was not hesitant or gentle or shallow. He knew what he wanted and did not hesitate in wringing it from her.
“Wrap your legs around my waist.”
Blindly she obeyed, crossing her ankles over his arse. It left her open to him, but felt more comfortable. He clearly thought the same as he began to fuck her in earnest.
Hermione could see the spots dancing in the corners of her eyes, the knot in her belly tightening, but it wasn’t enough, she needed more. He shifted the angle of his hips, and she gasped. His flesh was rubbing up against a spot inside her with each glide in and out. Her vision was turning white at the edges. She dug her nails into his forearms and came with a breathy scream. She could feel him come, the warm wetness flooding her cunt.
She drifted off, too exhausted for a second round or to even think. She was vaguely aware of him pulling out of her and drawing her close to the warmth of his body. She felt like she had to say something.
“Thank you. That was perfect.”
He chuckled, a deep rich sound that seemed to surround her. “That was only a taste.”
Hermione fell asleep before she could think of asking him what he meant.
When Hermione woke much later, she was in a daze — sore, sated, content. She would have gone straight back to sleep if it wasn’t for the soft glow of a night light orb. Irritated, she turned on her side ready to snuff it out when she saw Percy lying on his side, head propped up on one hand and looking down at her. Then she remembered precisely what they had done not so long ago. She could feel the ache and sticky residue between her thighs.
Hermione had not expected this. She had no plans or thoughts on what to do next. She didn’t know what to say to him. To her relief, he spoke first.
“What do you want to do? Pretend nothing happened?”
Her response was immediate and reflexive. “No.”
She saw it, the barely hidden strain in his expression. Guardedly he asked her, “Then what?”
Hermione knew she had to be careful. Percy was not like Ron (easily led) or the twins (redirected with a joke or threat). So after some thought, she spoke. “I’d like to try. The two of us.”
He frowned slightly. “Okay.”
“But I need to know something first.”
The guarded look returned. “What?”
“What about her?”
“You said you broke up. Is it serious? Not some temporary thing until you make up and get back together? If so, I’m not interested in being a temporary fill-in girlfriend.”
He snorted softly. “There is no chance of us making up.” After a long pause, he explained. “I found her in bed with another wizard.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “She might have been drunk or upset and not meant it.”
“I doubt it.” His expression hardened slightly. “Hermione, there are some things I cannot tolerate: infidelity and broken vows. I expect fidelity in a relationship. If you ever find yourself wanting something else, I hope you respect me enough to be honest about your change of heart rather than cheat and lie.”
Hermione nodded vigorously. It was something she could appreciate and want herself. “Of course. And I expect you to do the same for me.” She hesitated before pressing. “Audrey…?”
“During the course of our argument, she was angry enough to tell me he wasn’t the first. That she was only with me for my ‘prospects’ as a future husband,” he added mockingly.
Hermione winced sympathetically. “I’ll never do anything like that!” she assured him.
He rested his head down and pulled her close. “So, will you tell me why?”
“Why you want to give us a try. I’m nothing like Ron or even Viktor Krum.”
It took some time to gather her thoughts before she began speaking slowly. “Viktor was just a friend and never a real romantic interest. And as much as I hate comparing, you’re much better for me than Ron.”
“Really? I’m not popular or well-known. My job is not exciting. And you know my brothers call me boring and stuffy.”
“True, but that’s in public. But you’re different from what I thought, a bit of a thrill seeker in the bedroom.” She reached out and stroked his cheek.
He blushed slightly. “I was… ungentlemanly.”
“Exciting,” she corrected. “I liked it.” She brushed her fingertip over his lips. “I’ve only been with Ron but I’ve read a lot about… you know… sex.”
He smiled, a slightly wicked smile. “Read something you wanted to try out?”
She blushed hotly and nodded.“Ron looked at me like I was crazy when I said I wanted him to go down on me.”
“Did you refuse to reciprocate?”
“No!” Then she continued more softly. “It was easier than vaginal sex. I could get myself off while doing him.”
“Interesting. Did you swallow, or allow Ron to come on your tits?”
“Neither. He would stop and insist on… you know… penetration.”
“Idiot.” He stroked a calloused fingertip over her cheek and lips. “Would you swallow?”
“I don’t know. I don’t mind the taste.”
He moved his other hand towards her waist, lower under the blanket to cup her groin, sliding two fingers along her slit to gather moisture before seeking out her opening and penetrating. She could feel the digits stroking along her slick tight channel, curling forward in a come-hither motion against the perfect spot deep inside. Heat began to rebuild in her groin and belly.
It felt like a loss when he removed his hand from her, and then a small shock when he pushed those wet, coated fingers against her lips. “Clean them.”
Obediently, she stuck out her tongue and ran it along one digit. It tasted salty, musky, a bit sharp like green apples, but nothing really nasty. Hermione didn’t have any issues with swallowing her vaginal fluids and his cum. If it were piss or feces, she would have hexed him.
It didn’t take long for her to lick all traces from his fingers and hand, leaving them shiny with her saliva. She looked up at Percy. He was very aroused. She couldn’t see or feel his cock due to the quilt covering their legs up to the waist but his eyes were dilated, lips red and slightly swollen, ears deeply flushed, skin more lightly, nipples dark pink and hard.
Hermione could not stop herself from leaning in and kissing him languidly, sliding her tongue between his red lips and against his own, tasting, arousing. Her arms slid around his neck for balance. When she finally broke the kiss and moved away, a string of saliva connected them, stretching but not breaking. The second time it was Percy who initiated the kiss. It was hard, dominating, forceful. He used her hair to tilt her head back, to leave her jaw and throat open to his lips and teeth. He spent more time under her ear, nibbling and sucking, and she was certain he would be leaving a bruise. Thank Merlin it would be hidden if she left her hair down. She would need to transfigure one of her shirts into a turtleneck for tomorrow.
She did not understand. What else?
“What else did Ron refuse to do?”
Oh. “He didn’t like me on top.”
“Like how we started out tonight?”
Her belly clenched, and she became wetter at the memory. “Yes.”
Percy chuckled, a deep sound she could feel vibrating through her hands. She gasped as his hands settled on her hips and lifted her without warning. She relaxed and allowed him to move her closer to him. Then he shifted one hand to the back of her thigh and guided it over his legs before tugging her hips down. She was on top!
She shifted forward until she could feel his erect cock against her wet curls. He hissed as she ground her groin against the base of his cock, but did nothing else. In fact, he linked his hands behind his head and rested comfortably against the headboard.
“I’m more than happy to lie back and let you do all the work,” he murmured softly.
Hermione smiled and raised herself on her knees, reaching down to grip his cock and angle it towards her opening. She sank down, engulfing the turgid flesh within her body with a sign of pleasure. He felt even better in this position, reaching deeper, higher. She was now sitting on his groin, feeling his bollocks against her arse. She liked feeling him so deep. She wanted to always feel him that way, pressed against her cervix. She rolled her hips, front-to-side, side-to-back, back-to-side, side-to-front. The circular motions set off explosions deep inside — for him too, given how he was now gripping the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, lips curling back from his teeth as he hissed and tried to stay still.
“Still happy?” she asked teasingly.
His eyes snapped open, and he snarled, a feral sound one would never expect from the middle Weasley son, a side he would only show to his lovers. Suddenly she felt angry, enraged that other witches had seen him like this. Percy was hers! Hers!
“Were you like this with others?”
He looked up at her, uncomprehending. “What?”
“The witches before me! Penelope. Audrey. Were you like this with them?”
His expression turned exasperated. “Hermione, I had sex—”
“No! Not sex! Were you feral? Did you talk dirty? Pull their hair and dominate them?”
Understanding dawned. “No. I was quiet. A considerate, careful lover.”
She studied his face intently before nodding. “Good. I don’t want anyone to know you like I do. You are mine!” she growled, as she combed her fingers into his hair before twisting the strands around her fingers and tugging sharply. He hissed, but didn’t protest.
“If you want to mark me, do so!”
She did not know where the thought came from, but she couldn’t stop herself from acting on it: Hermione leant forward to set her teeth into his shoulder and sink deep enough to draw blood. The sharp coppery-tang spread over her tongue and coated her mouth.
He groaned and released his grip on the headboard. His hands did not push her away; instead one twisted in her hair, pinning her against his chest, while the others went straight to her hip, pressing her down as he thrust up hard against her, pubic bone grinding against her clit. She climaxed moments before he came in a rush, filling her to overflowing. She removed her teeth from his flesh, licking the blood from her lips. It didn’t taste horrible or feel wrong. It felt good, right — she had marked him as hers. Warily she lifted her head, uncertain of how her lover would react to her violent act.
He kissed her hard, tongue swiping traces of his blood from her mouth and teeth, blue irises a thin ring around blown-out pupils.
“Do you want to know how I want to mark you?” She could only nod. “I want to take you repeatedly, anywhere, anytime. I want to fill you with my seed again and again until it takes root. I want to watch you swell and expand, grow heavy with child, my child.” She closed her eyes and shuddered, as her agile mind brought his words to life. She could feel the heat blossoming in her core. She wanted it. She wanted him. “Everyone would know that you are mine. They might wonder how or why, but none of them would know how hot and tight your cunt feels around a hard cock, my cock; how you enjoy being fucked hard like a wanton slut, being stretched and pounded until you’re swollen and sore and soaking wet.”
She couldn’t control the climax that washed over her, leaving her swollen and sore and aching, stretched and impaled upon his still hard cock. Her nipples felt almost painful, engorged and erect and pressed against his chest. She shuddered gently as she came down, muscles spasming from the aftershocks, breathing heavy and unsteady as she rested her head on his chest, one cheek over his heart.
“I’ll let you.” The words burst from her without conscious thought.
He went very still. “That is something to talk about after you have had the time to think about it,” he murmured into her curls.
She made a soft disagreeing sound. “That’s precisely why I like you, and I trust you to take care of me.”
“Ron would have pushed and taken advantage of me, gotten me pregnant at the first chance even though we weren’t ready. He didn’t like it when I used the Charm until I got on the Potion, because I didn’t trust him not to muck up. But not you.”
“Hermione, I just said I want to get you up the duff!”
“And when I said yes, you said I should take the time to think about it first.”
“Yes, well, it’s the right thing to do.”
“That is exactly why I think you are the right one for me.”
He growled and thrust his hips up against her. His cock was hardening within her, rubbing up against swollen sensitized flesh. She moaned and rolled her hips, grinding her engorged clit against his pubic bone.
“Why don’t we discuss this later?” she asked desperately, as she felt her arousal rebuild.
And with that, the couple spent the rest of the early morning hours communicating with their bodies and wordless sounds rather than logic.
Molly was a little surprised when Hermione did not show up to help prepare breakfast. Molly didn’t really need the help, but it made the girl feel better, so Molly never denied her. One by one, the occupants of the Burrow trickled downstairs to the kitchen, prepared a plate for themselves, ate and cleaned up before leaving. All but Percy and Hermione. She was debating if she should send Ginny up to wake Hermione and Percy. It was not like either of them to sleep in. Before she could call out for Ginny, Hermione stepped into the kitchen wearing a fluffy robe over her sleepwear.
It was clear she had just woken up and only cleaned her teeth and washed her face. She stumbled slightly, as she made her way to the Always-Hot teapot, poured herself a cup of tea, and stirred in lemon and sugar before taking a long sip.
“Is something wrong dear?” Molly asked idly, as she charmed the scrubbing pads to start cleaning the pots in the sink. “It’s not like you to sleep in.”
Hermione drained her tea and prepared a second cup before speaking. “I was up late reading. And I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.”
Molly nodded. “I can definitely understand wanting to sleep in. Ginny has written plenty about your study habits – late nights, early mornings, no lazy weekends.”
“It’s a habit. And I didn’t bring any work that needs to be done, just reading.”
“Well it’s Christmas morning! It’s time to celebrate and open presents!” Molly stated firmly. “Is Percy up?”
“He’s in the shower. I’m going to eat some toast before going up to bathe and change,” Hermione answered, as she picked up a slice of buttered toast and took a large bite before chewing and washing it down with a sip of tea, and then repeating the process.
“I’m going to prepare a plate for Percy. Do you want me to whip up something for you?” Hermione was a light eater who preferred porridge and sliced fruit for breakfast instead of the traditional protein-rich fare of a Burrow breakfast.
“Eggs and sausage, please. And orange juice if you have it.”
Molly blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Of course dear. Why don’t you run up and freshen up? Percy should be done with the bathroom.”
Hermione smiled brightly and finished her tea, setting the mug down with a soft click before turning. As she moved the robe edge shifted, baring the side of her neck. It looked slightly bruised. Before Molly could ask, Hermione was walking away.
Molly made an idle mental note to ask Hermione if she needed any bruise balm cream. But first she needed to prepare two plates for Percy and Hermione.
She didn’t know that she would be linking those two names quite often in the future.