Aurors Talking In Code - R/Hr - NC-17
Title: Aurors Talking In Code
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Words: 1200
Rating: NC-17

helmet_fest2008, round two – Hermione.
My prompt : Quidditch Gear (make it smutty!)
Probability that Hermione will make an actual appearance : 18%

Thank you, magicofisis, for giggling at it.


Aurors Talking In Code
****
Ron slid into his chair, handed Harry his drink and sighed dramatically; Harry took a long swallow of beer and ignored him.

Ron frowned and tapped his fingers annoyingly on the table; finally Harry rolled his eyes and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I really wish you were shagging Parvati,” Ron said.

Harry blinked at him.

“Any particular reason you want Ginny to hex my bollocks off?” he asked.

“Well, exactly,” Ron said, shuddering ostentatiously. “Then I would never be exposed to an image of your hideous, hairy bollocks and my delicate, baby sister in the same sentence.”

Harry snorted.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“You’re my best mate,” Ron said solemnly, leaning forward and looking intense. “And after… after all the crap we went through, is it too much for me to want to be able to sit here with my best mate and have a few drinks and tell him… you… about how my girlfriend does… stuff.”

Harry smiled and ducked his head.

“OK,” he admitted. “Fair point.”

“If it was… Lavender, I just left in bed…”

“Just?” Harry interrupted. “It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Well, there you go,” Ron said emphatically. “If it was Lavender I left in bed at five o’clock in the afternoon, I could get to the pub and say ‘sorry I’m late, Harry, but after I left you after the department’s Quidditch practise this afternoon, I was all hot and sweaty and I went home to grab a quick shower and Lavender has this thing about my Quidditch uniform’. Get it?”

“I think I can decipher your fiendish code, yes,” Harry said. “Although hearing about your sex-life is almost as disturbing as hearing about Her… Lavender’s.”

“Pffft,” Ron said dismissively. “You haven’t heard what she did.”

Harry looked half pained, half intrigued and he grunted his permission for Ron to continue.

“It’s the gloves and wrist guards,” Ron whispered. “The laces of the wrist guards get all knotted and sweaty and wet and I can’t undo them, one-handed, and Lavender tuts and reaches for me and bends her head over my hands and bites her lip and it’s so cute,” Harry smiled weakly, “and then she kneels down to undo my boots and that puts her face right…”

“I can’t,” Harry interrupted.

“What?” Ron said, looking a bit hot and bothered and a bit confused.

“I can’t sit here and listen to you describing… Lavender going down on you,” Harry said. “It’s just not right.”

“I should fucking well think not,” Ginny shrieked, behind him.

“No,” Ron said. “No, no, no.”

“What have you done?” Ginny gasped.

“Nothing, no. Me? Nothing,” Ron pleaded. “Gin, listen…”

“I think Hermione needs to hear about this,” Ginny said, turning on her heel and leaving the pub by the time Ron had struggled to his feet and stopped babbling.

“Shit,” Harry said.

“What just happened?” Ron said, gaping at the closed door.

“I think,” Harry said, “and I could be wrong, but I think that Ginny – who hasn’t had four years’ Intelligence training, working as an Auror - was fooled by your code.”

“What am I gonna do?” Ron wailed.

“Try to get to Hermione before she does?” Harry suggested.

“Or let Hermione have a few weeks to calm down,” Ron countered.

“You can’t avoid her for a few weeks, anymore,” Harry pointed out. “You’re married, now.”

“I have to go home,” Ron said weakly. “Don’t I?”

Harry nodded.

“And explain?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

Ron squared his shoulders, downed his beer, wilted pitifully and headed for the door.

When he Apparated into his hallway, he could hear his sister’s voice becoming shriller and shriller, as his wife tried to calm her down. This was possibly a good sign. Maybe Hermione was willing to give him a chance to explain; or, on the other hand, maybe she was really, coldly angry, and there was a swarm of Billywigs waiting to attack him.

He pushed open the door to the lounge and slunk bravely inside.

“So, you dare to show your face, do you?” Ginny said. “You have put Harry in an impossible position, compromising him by telling him what you’ve done, and if you think you can bluff your way out of…”

“Please go home, Ginny,” Hermione said calmly. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“He’s not coming to stay with us, when you kick him out,” Ginny said hotly. “Harry won’t allow it.”

“Now,” Hermione said.

Ginny snorted, glared at her brother, and Disapparated.

Hermione turned to face him, her face blank.

“I don’t know how much Ginny overheard,” Ron said quickly, “but she totally got the wrong end of the stick, and I’ve come straight here, to explain.”

She nodded for him to continue.

“I was telling Harry how Lavender likes to suck me off in the shower…”

“I admit I wondered why you would do such a thing,” Hermione interrupted.

“I would never let Lavender near my bits, you have to believe me,” Ron pleaded. “She has that broken tooth, for one thing, and a bloke’s bits are more delicate than we let on. And, of course, I’m with you. Obviously.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I wondered why you would tell him it was Lavender,” Hermione said. “If Ginny’s too freaked out to notice that my hair is still wet from kneeling at your feet in the shower, then we’ll sort her out, later. But why would you tell Harry about it?”

“Because he’s my best mate,” Ron said pitifully. “And I know it’s bragging, but I want to be able to tell him stuff like… you pulling me into the shower, fully dressed, and kneeling at my feet and undoing my trousers, and…”

“But why would you pretend it was Lavender?”

“Because Harry has problems hearing the words ‘and Hermione sucked my cock’,” he explained. “It was code.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Hermione?” he said. “Please?”

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, trying not to smile.

“Uh, various completely inappropriate things are springing to mind,” he said hopefully.

“Do they involve you putting your Quidditch uniform back on?”

“Several of them do, yes,” he confirmed, looking a bit brighter. “Are we OK?”

“Honestly,” she said. “I didn’t think you were sleeping with Lavender.”

“Or showering.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“But are you going to carry on telling Harry stories about Lavender tying your wrists to the shower rail, using the laces of your wrist guards?”

“Probably not,” Ron said.

“Will he ever hear how Lavender won’t undo your jock strap until you’re begging her to?”

“Not from me,” he said. “But if she wants to tell him how much she likes my arse framed in the leather straps, then I won’t stop her.”

She giggled.

“Does your best mate need to know you were so wound up, you came all over my hair, as soon as I released you?”

“Um, no, not upon calm reflection,” he said, crossing the room and sweeping her up in his arms.

“Idiot,” she said fondly, as he buried his face in her damp hair.

“Sorry about the spunk,” he said, inhaling deeply. “I see it washed out, though.”