Entry tags:

fic, hermione/fred/george, smut, threesomes

Fic: Ton-Tonguing, Fred/Hermione/George, NC-17
Title: Ton-Tonguing
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: Certainly don't think JK would be happy about this!
Pairing: Fred/Hermione/George
Rating: NC-17!
Summary: It's just Hermione's luck that the twins should find her alone here, mid-hunger strike in the midst of their midnight snack.
A/N: For darling Cassafrass, a belated birthday present! A million and one thanks to butterscotch for the jawesome last minute beta. :x

Incorporated a movie scene into book canon for purposes of threesome.

"It's not going to wo-ork!"

Hermione uses her bossiest tone possible, rolling her eyes at the twins as they brandish their age potions. They both turn their attention to her as she speaks, eyes twinkling with challenge, but it's Fred who answers first.

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Granger?"

"You see this? This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself."

Suddenly there's a mop of ginger hair on either side of her and the twins continue, in unison, as they plop down beside her on the bench.

"So?"

Hermione bites back a smile and pretends to be concentrating on her studies, not even bothering to glance up at them when she answers.

"So a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something pathetically dimwitted such as an age potion."

She watches George's expression break into a grin out of the corner of her eye as he responds.

"That's why it's so brilliant!"

Hermione shakes her head and ignores this reply, refusing to engage them in any more ridiculous debate. Of course the potion wouldn't work.

The twins are already crossing arms and downing their vials when she looks up again, to the cheers of the surrounding students. Hermione feels her heart speed up a beat as they step over the line, and for just a moment, a shock of fear shoots through her. She's not afraid of being wrong – she's afraid of what the Goblet will do to them.

Everything happens so fast that she can hardly keep up, but next thing she knows, they're rolling around on the floor together, matching silver beards and hair. Hermione can't help but stare, and she knows she's not the only one. It seems like all the upper form girls can talk about anymore is Fred and George. Fred and George. Her gut twists at the thought, something so wrong and twisted and, well, they're family. But the way they roll across that floor, their limbs tangling up in each others' robes, the way Fred – or is it George – is shoving his leg between his brother's, the way that their bodies are so tightly entangled that there is hardly room for them to be breathing without sharing the same breath, matching beards of silver nearly tangled together as they wrestle their way across the floor. Hermione's breath catches in her throat as she watches them and her cheeks burn red as she realises that Viktor Krum has entered the room.

She feels his dark eyes boring into her and she smiles weakly at him as he casually drops his name into the goblet.

She feels weak in the knees, but it's got nothing to do with Viktor.

***

Hermione has boycotted the Hogwarts kitchens for as long as possible.

She sees the twins sneak in tonight, though, their arms loaded down with sweets and cakes and things and she shudders at the thought of the poor house elves, frowning her disappointment into her studying and ignoring the twins' whispers.

She probably should have known she wouldn't be left alone, and she should've finished her studying ages ago, but she'd gotten distracted by Harry and Ron, and now she's the only target left for Fred and George in the empty common room.

She feels the couch sink underneath her, as the twins make themselves comfortable on either side of her, and crumbs from cakes spill onto her parchment. Hermione grits her teeth, and Fred slides an arm around her shoulders as George shoves another biscuit into his mouth.

"What, still up working? Our little brother giving you problems again?"

"Asking you to Hogsmeade yet?"

"Or threatening Krum, maybe?"

Hermione looks up in surprise, in spite of her determination to ignore them. Ink spills from her quill in a messy splatter across the 12 inch essay, but at the moment she's still trying to process what they've just said about Ron… and Viktor.

"What are you two on about now?!"

Her voice is a bit more hysterical than she intended, and Hermione feels her cheeks flush with heat.

There's a heavier weight on her shoulder now, and she turns to find that George has slung his arm around her shoulders too, bumping comfortably up against Fred. He has a bit of cookie crumb on his lower lip and Hermione can't stop staring at it. George grins.

"Knew you liked ginger hair. Didn't I tell you, Fred?"

Fred shifts next to her, and Hermione blinks, finally tearing her gaze away from George in order to look back at Fred, whose face is now much too close for comfort.

He's holding a pumpkin pasty between his fingers, and he brushes it across her lips, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Hermione's stomach aches in a painful reminder of her hunger strike and she closes her eyes, trying to take in a deep breath without smelling cinnamon and sugar.

The soft, sweet, crumbly edge of the little pie is sliding past her lips in the next instant, and Hermione opens her eyes in surprise. Fred grins back at her as he breaks off the pasty, sliding a finger past her lips that tastes just as sweet as the turnover.

This might be the first time she's had someone other than a dentist shoving a finger in her mouth, and Hermione's not really sure what the proper way to respond is. She knows she ought to have gone up to bed a long time ago, but something's keeping her here, sandwiched between Fred and George on the Gryffindor couch.

Tentatively, she moves her tongue across the finger that's still in her mouth, watching Fred carefully. She's rewarded nearly instantly, as Fred's eyes widen and his hand shakes, and a biscuit or two drop from his lap to the floor as he shifts a smidge closer to her.

Fred wiggles his finger against her tongue, and Hermione crosses her legs a bit tighter, gripping the quill and holding onto her parchment for dear life as she tries to lick the sugar from his finger with light, careful swipes of her tongue.

"Didn't think Hermione even liked pumpkin."

Hermione blushes at George's admonition and twists away from Fred, letting his finger slip from her mouth and drag across her lips before falling away.

George gives her a grin, and she feels Fred move his arm out from under George's, but before she can ask if she's done something wrong, George is pressing an ice mouse into his mouth and leaning towards her.

Hermione's never exactly been in a situation like this before, and she's a bit light-headed from the lack of food and sleep, so really she doesn't think she should be blamed for letting George kiss her, or letting him press the ice mouse into her mouth with his tongue, or for enjoying the way his fingers are tangling in her hair.

Her twelve inches of essay slip from her fingers to the Common Room floor, followed by the quill, and Hermione fists her hands in her skirt to keep them busy as George kisses her. It's icy sweet and she's glad. She needs this, needed this, because for some reason it's awfully warm in here tonight.

She's almost forgotten about Fred, actually, until she feels a hand sliding up her thigh, to where her hands are gripping the pleats of her school skirt. Hermione relaxes her fingers, trying to act more natural about this as George pushes his tongue past her lips again, and she's not really sure if he's trying to taste the ice mouse or her, the way he's stroking it against hers.

It really should have been clear to her where Fred's hand was heading, but for some reason she thought he was going to grab her hand, so she's surprised when she feels a warm, rough palm sliding up her inner thigh, directly underneath the wool of her skirt.

The couch cushion shifts underneath her, and she hears what sounds like the rest of Fred's midnight snack hitting the floor, but his hand doesn't stop its journey.

When it brushes against the damp cotton of her knickers, Hermione jerks, squeaking into George's mouth and clenching her thighs shut, trapping Fred's hand.

George breaks the kiss almost immediately, and his eyes aren't sparkling the same way they usually do. Hermione hopes he thinks the squeak came from the ice mouse, though it's mostly melted now, and the thought makes her blush even harder.

In spite of George's apparent concern, Fred wiggles his fingers, and Hermione has to dig her fingers into the couch cushion to keep from jumping off of it, biting her lip to make sure she doesn't make any more embarrassing noises.

The grin is back, though, and George swipes a finger under his bottom lip as he eyes her, with a quick glance at his brother, who Hermione still has not been able to make eye contact with.

"Liked that, did you Hermione?"

"I guess our little brother hasn't been doing nearly what he ought to be."

Hermione doesn't know if she's ever been this humiliated, and is at least sure that she couldn't be any more humiliated, but then Fred speaks again.

"Think I might be losing feeling in my fingers, Hermione."

"Don't listen to him, Hermione. He can't even handle a Ton-Tongue Toffee without bursting into tears."

"Still haven't forgotten about that one, brother dearest."

Hermione smiles, in spite of her extreme desire to run for her dormitory, and relaxes her thigh muscles as much as her adrenaline will let her. To her immense surprise, however, Fred's hand stays put, long slim fingers brushing casually against the wet centre of her knickers.

She doesn't know if she's ever bitten her lip so hard. George eyes her with interest.

"Need something to suck on?"

In spite of how improper George's suggestion sounds, she assumes that he is referring to another ice mouse, or perhaps one of the other sweets the twins have, now scattered across the floor. She nods weakly and Fred makes a choked sound.

George slides off of the couch and motions for Hermione to follow him, Fred's hand slipping easily away as he stands with his brother.

She swallows, licking her lips nervously as she stands, because Hermione's fairly sure that they're not going to offer her sweets, after all.

"Well, Hermione," Fred says from behind her.

"Everything seems to have fallen on the floor," George finishes.

Hermione exchanges a look with George that suggests she knows exactly what they're suggesting, but she lowers herself to her knees all the same, brushing cakes and sweets out of the way, and fretting over the wasted effort of the house elves. She's just starting to get upset about it, actually, when George brushes his fingers against her chin, tilting her face up toward his.

"Not wasting anything, are we Fred?"

"Of course not, dear brother."

George looks up and over her at his brother, and Hermione wonders how long she's going to have to kneel here and just what she's doing here, and dizzily thinks that she ought to stand up and wish them goodnight. But her knickers are damp and her nipples are hard and raw against the cotton of her bra, and she thinks she needs this at least as much as they do. She can see how much George needs it, at least, can make out the hard bulge under his robes.

She doesn't really know what she's doing as she raises herself to her knees, but it seems to be the right thing. She brushes a hand tentatively over the bulge and George's eyes cross slightly, which Hermione finds to be somewhat encouraging.

It doesn't take long to tug his robes up around his waist and by that point George is shucking them all together, and all that Hermione has to do now is undo that zip on his trousers.

Just as she's pulled it down and is sliding her hand inside the damp warmth of George's shorts, Fred's hand brushes against her thighs and up under her skirt again. Hermione clenches and unclenches her thighs at the feeling, until his fingers are skating across her bum and Hermione's taken hold of George's cock, pulling it carefully through the slit in his shorts and trousers.

It's hot and heavy and a little slick with sweat and pre-come in her hand, and her lips still taste like ice mice as she licks them, tentatively brushing her fingers across the length of it and glancing up at George.

It's a little hard to concentrate, actually, because Fred keeps moving his hand across her bum, cupping her arse and dipping the occasional finger between her thighs to press against the damp part of her knickers. Hermione thinks she might fall over.

She glances over her shoulder, finally, because she can't take wondering if Fred is watching her or George anymore, and finds that Fred's on his knees behind her, his eyes trained on her.

George shuffles his feet, moving forward slightly and forcing his cock to slip through her fist towards her.

Hermione turns back to face him slowly as Fred's fingers continue skirting her knickers and tugging up her skirt. George shifts his hips forward as she turns and bristly hairs ensnare her fingers as the tip of his cock brushes against her cheek, warm and silky wet.

This makes her squirm a bit more, and there's a cooling wet spot on her cheek as she tentatively tilts her mouth towards his cock, letting it drag lightly across her cheek until her lips are pursed against the slick ready head of George's cock.

She closes her eyes as George shifts his hips again and it's pushing past her lips, sliding over her tongue and filling her mouth. It's at this point that she hears the sound of another zip being lowered and Hermione's eyes fly open as Fred's fingers tug her knickers aside.

George's eyes sparkle mischievously and he raises his hand to her hair, twisting curls around his fingers as he shifts his hips, his cock moving in a slow, salty slide against her tongue. Hermione adjusts her grip on his cock, trying to direct it better and keep it from jutting against the inside of her cheek, causing George to let out a low moan. She twists her tongue under the heavy weight of George's cock, wondering if she's even doing this correctly as Fred slips a finger inside of her.

Hermione clenches instinctively, but Fred wiggles his finger and she finds herself pressing her arse back against him, her knickers cutting into the crook of her crotch and thigh. She didn't realise she's unclenched, actually, until she feels Fred pressing another finger inside of her.

She's been so focused on what Fred is up to that she's scarcely been paying attention to the cock slipping in and out of her mouth until it's slapping up against her cheek, a sticky wet sting of reminder that she is dealing with twins.

Hermione stares up at George, her lips forming a loose little 'o' of surprise, and George drops his fingers from her curls to wipe a glob of spit from her chin before tilting her face to admire his handiwork. She can only imagine how her cheek is shining in the dim light of the common room.

Though her jaw is currently clenching to the point of mild pain, Hermione has half a telling off composed in her mind when Fred's fingers slip out of her, curling around the elastic edge of her knickers and leaving wet smudges across her bare arse.

Something a little larger is pressing against her wet little hole now and Hermione feels a sudden flash of fear that nearly wipes her irritation with George from her mind. This isn't going to work. What if it doesn't fit? How could it fit?

Just as she's turning to inquire these things of Fred, George lowers himself to the ground, letting his hands slide down her arms and pull her forward as he lays back on the cold stone floor.

It takes a moment, after she finds herself on her hands and knees, hands planted on either side of George's waist, for Hermione to figure out what the twins had intended. It's at this point, in fact, that she feels Fred's hand slide between her thighs, gently urging her to part them further, his cock bumping aimlessly up against her crotch.

Crumbs from pasties are digging into her knees and they're starting to ache, but Hermione parts her thighs obediently, letting her knees slide further apart as George lowers a hand to his prick, stroking himself boredly while Hermione stares down at the huge stiff cock sliding and slipping in his fist and wonders just how identical the twins really are.

Hermione is about to find out. She can feel Fred's cock pressing gently against her, wet and hard and hot as it bumps up against her arse and slides slickly between her thighs, skin against dripping wet skin, and she nearly jumps as the head of his cock rubs against the wet tight hole he's just taken his fingers out of.

She knows that it will hurt, at least for a bit. Hermione's read all about this sort of thing, knows charms that can make it hurt less, but she doesn't have her wand and anyway, she thinks she ought to feel it, at least this time. George's cock is sliding into her mouth again as he tightens his fingers in her curls, and she nearly chokes when he pulls her up a bit more roughly, thrusting his hips forward until his cock is nearly hitting the back of her throat and Hermione can't help but gag around it.

She wants to pull back, but there's nowhere to go. There's a sudden sharp burning stretching pain and Fred is shoving his cock into her. He doesn't stop and Hermione wonders how much she can take, but now he's pushed into the hilt and his balls are slapping warm and sticky up against her, his thighs pressed hot and sweaty to hers.

She swallows around George's cock, trying to keep from gagging again and closing her eyes at the feel of his fingers tugging on her curls. She tilts her head toward his grip unknowingly and George mutters something to his brother, laughing softly as he tugs on her hair a bit more sharply. Hermione moans and Fred shifts, and that's when he starts to move.

He's hot and hard and slick and stretching her as he shifts, his shaft sliding in and out of her in slow steady thrusts, his fingers twisting in her panties, and it's not long before his thrusts in start feeling better than his agonizing pulls out.

Hermione starts shifting back against him, his balls slapping wet and loud against her thighs as he fucks her, filling her just as his brother is filling her mouth, choking her with identical thick hard cock.

Hermione's surprised and relieved that they aren't cracking jokes, but glancing up at George's face, she realises that they probably aren't capable of much at the moment.

She feels Fred pull out all of the way this time and there's a pause in their rhythm as Hermione rocks back onto nothing. She glances over her shoulder, George's cock slamming into her cheek, and finds Fred grinning crookedly at her, his prick in hand, red and shining.

She's not sure what to expect, but it's certainly not the firm slap of cock against her pussy in the next second.

She feels George jerk underneath her and his hips shoot forward, his cock shoving desperately against her tongue and cheek as he shoots his load into her mouth. Hermione's lips open in surprise and disgust at the sudden hot salty sticky wad, and George takes hold of his prick, milking the last few globs onto the collar of her school uniform shirt, leaving wet shining streaks along the cotton at her throat.

Hermione frowns down at her shirt collar, wondering when she'll have time to get cleaned up, but she doesn't have long to think about it before Fred is taking her by the arm, spinning her on her knees so that she's facing him.

He pushes something past her lips and before she really stops to think about it, Hermione begins chewing on the sweet… it tastes an awful lot like toffee, and that's when she realises what she's done.

She claps her hands over her mouth, but it's too late. She can already feel her tongue growing and Fred is eyeing her expectantly, raising himself slowly to his feet and grinning at his sated brother.

Hermione's sure he's been planning this for weeks, and since she really has no idea how to fix her ton-tongue problem, she pulls her hands away, marvelling at the strange thick feeling of her tongue as she tries an experimental swipe of her lower lip.

Somehow she manages her shirt collar, and she frowns as she catches a salty glob on the tip of her tongue.

Fred moans and shifts his hips toward her, and Hermione smiles slowly up at him, wondering if the Weasley twins have any idea what they've gotten themselves into.