Virgo's Broom

Hermione got home.

At last! Her day at the ministry had been so, so busy—she had got a promotion just the week prior, and so she had much to adjust to, new responsibilities, new tasks and much, much to learn. Yet, today…she couldn’t think of much besides Ron. Besides being alone and quite free from clothes with Ron. Longing for the feeling of the heat of his bare skin against hers had tormented her all day. Snippets of maddening lustful memories of coming undone around him taunted her insistently–

But not for much longer, she told herself.

Smiling mischievously, she spared a check at herself in the mirror. He didn’t know what was about to hit him.

‘Ron, I’m home!’ she sang.

‘In here, love,’ she heard him say from the living room. His voice had an unusual composed air about it. Maybe, she thought, he’d been having the same persistent visions all day.

Yes. Right here, right now.

Hermione wanted to get at it at once, to be at Ron’s lap getting her bra hastily out of the way as he groaned because she had moved just right. She knew he would like it. She removed her top, her tights, her shoes and—she was feeling inspired—her knickers. Oh, what a burning inside.

Adjusting her skirt, she decided to enter the living room going big.

‘You know what I thought about all day today, love?’ Hermione crossed the threshold. ‘About your long, thick c—‘

Oh.

Her voice caught at her throat. Ron was sitting on the couch alright, but by his side was none other than her mother-in-law, Molly. And sat in her beloved green armchairs beside them, Harry and Ginny.

Hermione could feel the burning now taking place on her face. She must be purple, standing stock-still by the door, clad in her bra and skirt only. Thank Merlin she had stood by a pinch of mystery and not removed those too.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows had shot up. Ginny had her mouth gaping open. Harry looked away hastily, stifling a laugh.

Ron, delayed in a few seconds by shock, jumped up in front of Hermione, fumbling with his body trying to shield her from view as best he could. He compromised by standing with his back to her, one hand on his waist and the other at the door frame to offer as much coverage as possible. Red faced and trying to look at her, he began in an exclamation,

‘Hermione! Er—it was—um, a surprise! Mum and Harry and Ginny…y-your promotion at the ministry—well, since they couldn’t come last week…’

As his effort at explaining died in a mumble, Hermione’s mind suddenly unjammed. She shot out, desperately,

‘Broom.’

‘What?!’ Ron faced her, quite forgetting to block the view.

‘Broom!’ Hermione breathed. ‘I was thinking about your broom because it’s so hot today, I was very hot. At work. All day—‘

‘Oh. Right—‘

‘Yes. I fancied a fly—‘

‘I see—‘

‘I’ll go and change.’ Taking a stab at smiling at their guests, she added in a breathy tone, ‘It’s so nice to…have you all here.’

And dashed up the stairs.

Hermione closed their bedroom door as if her life depended on it. She wanted to cry. Harry and Ginny were bad enough, but Molly? Them she could eventually manage, but her mother-in-law?

Screwing her eyes shut the berated herself, what had she been thinking? That’s what lack of a clear, well-thought plan got you. Mrs. Weasley witnessing such an…intimate, private set of words.

She knew Molly liked her but Hermione always thought that wasn’t enough—she always sought to maintain the approval she had got. When she told Ron this, he had said being on good terms with her in-laws was not a school subject, and she could not get a good grade from Mrs. Weasley because of it. Hermione scoffed, internally. Hah. She always could, and would, fight for a good grade in anything important to her.

And Ron’s family was so, so important to her!

What would Mrs. Weasley think? It was just so inappropriate! Forever a blemish in her image as a daughter-in-law.

Well. What now? She couldn't possibly go down and face them after that. Yes, she’d call Ron up and say she was feeling very sick–or, better yet, a work emergency had arose and she would be needed at the ministry for HOURS. Then she would hurry downstairs and—MERLIN, her knickers were still by the entrance door somewhere.

That was it, she wasn’t ever going to look at Mrs. Weasley again. No, she was never going to leave the house again, yes, that was a good idea—

Hermione was startled out of her spiraling. There was a knock at the door.

‘Open up, it’s me,’ said Ginny’s voice.

Hermione thought it over. Yes, she could ask Ginny to tell her mother she was feeling really sick and wasn’t normally like that. She opened the door to do so, but Ginny walked resolutely in and seated herself at the bed, keeping her gaze on the carpet. Hermione closed the door tightly shut and looked pleadingly at her.

When their eyes met, Ginny cracked. She burst out laughing, and laughed for so long her eyes were watery and she was completely out of breath.

‘His…his, oh Merlin, I can’t,’ she wheezed. ‘His long…oh, Hermione! Gross!’

‘Oh, shut up, Ginny! Honestly, if you came here to laugh—’

‘No, no, no. C’mon.’ And Ginny took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes, as if the sight of Hermione would send her off again. ‘Don’t be like that, now. It’s fine, Hermione, really—’

‘It’s COMPLETELY unfine!’. Hermione sniffed, now turning to rummage in her things for the most possibly proper clothes she could find. ‘Terribly unfine, forever! Your mum saw me almost naked and heard—well, that!’ She buried her face in a blouse. ‘How am I EVER going to speak to her again?’

Ginny finally opened her eyes and stifled a coming giggle. Another few deep breaths. Clearly, this was costing her a great effort. And Hermione appreciated it.

‘You will talk to her in a few minutes. She loves you; it’ll be fine.’ Ginny assured her in a calming tone, although her mouth still quivered. ‘You two are married. It’s n-normal.’

‘It’s awful,’ retorted Hermione while putting on a turtle neck.

‘Hermione, please, my mum had seven children. How do you think that came to be? Also, she’s not a prude. Never been, from what I heard…’

‘Well. Yes. But at least nobody saw her…almost at it.’

Ginny snorted. Hermione shot her a deadly glare and proceeded to look for pants. Socks. Robes. Anything.

‘We don’t know that. And I’d rather keep on not knowing, honestly’. But as Hermione emitted a strangled sort of noise in response, she added, placatingly. ‘Look. She’s had seven teenagers living under her roof.’ And gazed at the distance. Then grimaced. ‘She’s seen worse things.’

As dressed as she could be, Hermione sniffed again. Well, Ginny did have a point. Maybe it wasn’t really so bad and she could face Mrs. Weasley. And apologize. She’d need a few more minutes to lose the red face though.

—

Only later would Ron tell her his mother's take on the situation had not at all been what Hermione imagined.

As Ron, Molly and Harry sat in a silence filled living room, she was the one to finally break it.

‘Well!’ she quipped, with an amused grin, ‘Should I expect grandchildren from you soon, then?’