One Big Horny Weasley Family- Chapter 17 Here We Go Again

This is a work of Fan Fiction. All characters are the properties of their respective owners. I own the story line.

Here We Go Again

George looked down at the dozing forms of Fred and Lavender, and thought about waking them up. Fred was so cute as the little spoon in front of Lavender, who had her leg draped over his hip. He would love to have had a picture of it to save for later when Fred was feeling all cocksure of himself and saying how he would never stoop to being the little spoon. They both knew it was poppycock of course, but a little evidence never hurt anyone. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, recovering the evidence of last year’s birthday party had cost Weasley’s Wheezes and its subsidiary, Weasel’s Wicked Wonders, all of their first and second quarter profits. Fortunately, Madelaine’s was making enough profit by then to keep lights on and food in the house. Besides, they all agreed that not having evidence where some unscrupulous person, like Penelope, could find it was the best policy.

He glanced at the clock and hoped someone had laid out the lunch spread by now. Granted, they had a late breakfast, but that was over three hours ago and he’d had a pretty energetic morning. He decided to let them sleep and wandered toward the kitchen. The first thing he noticed when he walked in was the note on the refrigerator that was addressed to him. He didn’t immediately recognize the slightly spiky ***********, but it was definitely a girl’s handwriting; and since he didn’t recognize the style that also narrowed the field of who it could be from, which meant that it probably wouldn’t explode when he opened it.

George, come find me when you get this. I’m probably taking a nap. –HW

George stuck the note in his pocket and opened the fridge. There was a tray of turkey sandwiches on the second shelf along with a veggie tray. There were days when he wished Angelina wasn’t quite so health conscious; he could really go for a pizza or sausages or something bad for him; it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to burn it off anyway. He grabbed a sandwich and rooted around until he found a bottle of Lee’s homebrew. Say what you would about their menus, they never lacked for good beer as long as Lee was around. He was finishing his sandwich and opening his beer when Lee strolled into the kitchen between Fleur and Alicia.

“Don’t drink too much of that,” Lee warned him. “That’s the bourbon barrel stout. I gravity tested it a couple of days ago, it’s about 16%; and you know what the bard says about booze.”

“It giveth the desire and taketh away the ability,” George replied at the questioning looks from the girls. “That would be bad,” he agreed. “Thanks for the warning.”

He leaned up and kissed his wife as she bent down to him. “I need the bedroom tonight,” she said and flicked her tongue across his ear.

“What kind of plans you got?” he asked with a lewd wink.

“I’m going to try and track down Ron, Bill, and Hermione for a foursome. We started one last night in the hot tub, but I wanted your little brother all to myself and I don’t think that she was ready for anything more adventurous than Bill at the time.”

“I take it you and Ron got on well last night.”

“We got off well,” she said with a wicked smile. “He has a much greater appreciation for Whitesnake now, too.”

“You finally got Ronniekins into your bed and all you could do was listen to Whitesnake. I’m so disappointed in him.”

She slapped his shoulder as she sat down in his lap and took a drink of his beer. “I put ‘Slide It In’ on infinite repeat.” He pinched her bum for stealing his beer.

“Good choice, I like you slow and easy.” He took another drink of his beer and offered her the last bite of his sandwich, which she declined. “I’m about to go find Hermione, you want to come with me so you can talk to her.” He showed her the note, and a wicked smile crossed her face.

“I almost wish I could be there to see that.” She ignored his question about what. “Just tell her I’ll talk to her at dinner.” She gave him a long, lingering kiss. “You’ll have to tell me about it afterward.” Then she pulled him out of his chair, stole his beer, and sent him down the hall with a pat on the butt.

After a brief stop by his room, George knocked quietly on the door to Ron and Hermione’s room. He listened, but there was no sound coming from inside. He carefully opened the door and peeked in. He was relieved to see that the bed was occupied, and from what he could see it was only Hermione. He reached in to his pocket and removed the white string like object. He pointed his wand at it and whispered, “Draco Dormiens Titillandus.” The white cord uncoiled, slithered out of his hand and dropped to the floor. Once he saw that it had nosed its way under the duvet he closed the door and leaned against the wall. He began to count backward from five. When he reached zero a shriek pierced the silence. He smiled to himself.

“Stop it, stop!” Hermione shrieked, then squealed inarticulately and howled with laughter. This went on for another half-minute or so. “George, you grea- aiee, that tickles, stop!” She was shrieking and laughing. “George!” Her shriek was desperate and breathless. He finally decided she’d had enough and yanked the door open.

“You called?” he said trying to sound out of breath from running. Hermione was sitting on floor on the far side of her bed with her back against the night stand. When he came around the bed she was trying to keep her feet away from what appeared to be an eight inch long piece of heavy string. He dove across the bed and grabbed the string which immediately fell limp. He couldn’t help but notice that she had very pretty feet, but her toenails needed a good polish or buffing. “You,” he took two great gasping breaths, “okay?”

“Don’t you play the gallant hero with me you knave,” she accused him after she finally caught her breath. He gave her his best look of wide-eyed innocence. She crossed her arms and leveled her best Prosecutor’s stare at him. He broke first and began to guffaw loudly. “You are horrible,” she said, “what was that?”

“Apparently you had a loose string in your bed,” he replied, the grin on his face betraying his lie. He finally broke down and told her about his latest experiment, an enchanted string that sought out the nearest sleeping person and tickled their feet. He hadn’t come up with a good name yet, but he’d figure it out soon enough. When he asked her why she hadn’t gone for her wand she admitted that it was in the bathroom and when she tried to go around the string it would move like a snake and strike at her feet.

“I’ve half a mind to rescind my invitation,” she threatened him as he helped her up off the floor.

“Let me make it up to you.” He bowed floridly without releasing her hand and bent his head to kiss her fingers. “I’ll give you a foot massage to make good girls weep and bad girls swoon.”

“And which do you expect me to do?”

“Two days ago I would have said weep, but we could hear Ginny’s screams in the great room last night.” Hermione blushed a bit and dipped her head. “Maybe you will still cry,” he said with a lecherous smile.

She drew breath as though to retort but settled for smacking him on the arm. “Meet me in the garage in twenty minutes. Sit in the driver’s seat of your jaguar and open the sun roof.”

“Alright,” he said cautiously. George was very confused now. Alicia had insisted that they use his beloved white 1988 Jaguar XJ6 to transport the food and other incidentals they were going to need for the weekend rather than Apparating as they normally would. He was also surprised to see that the garage had been cleaned when they brought it up Thursday night. It seemed his wife and his sister-in-law were in cahoots. “Do I need to bring anything other than me?”

“A jar of your best foot lotion.” She smiled and shooed him out of her room.

Seventeen minutes after leaving Hermione’s room, and three minutes after finally convincing Fred that he didn’t need a wing-man for this date, George slid into the driver’s seat of his greatest material treasure.