The Favor

Title: The Favor (2/4)

Author: ianthe_waiting

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.

Pairing: Hermione/Fred/George, mentions of Hermione/Ron.

Rating: NC-17/MA

Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Three years ago, Hermione asked a huge favor from the Weasley twins, and now they have come to collect what Hermione owes them in return.

Warnings: M/M/F, light Twincest, toys, oral, anal, spanking, some bondage and overall wickedness therefore, be warned... Also, some light HBP spoilers...

Genre: Somewhat romance, mostly smut and a reason to get Fred and George to be extremely naughty. ^_^ Gods, I love red heads!

Author\'s Notes: Nothing too smutty yet, but please bear with me, it is coming! This fic is also archived in my LJ and AFF.net. Thanks to SeductionsClaim and viccro for beta-ing! You can view Rousseau\'s ‘The Dream\' here: http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/rousseau/rousseau.dream.jpg


Part Two - Into the Lion\'s Den


It had always seemed to Hermione Granger that people thought she was some sexless thing, somewhat feminine in appearance, and judging her only by her plain exterior and more for her overwhelming instinct to learn something about absolutely everything. This sentiment was prevalent during her days as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and continued through her early twenties as she apprenticed under various Masters before receiving her own title as Potions Mistress. Hermione had given up long ago trying to prove she was a sexual being like a normal person, it was futile, her reputation as a ‘bookworm\' seemed to precede her everywhere she went. This reputation even prevented Hermione from finding a suitable, attractive date on a Friday night. Even her reputation as part of the ‘Golden Trio\' and friend to the famous Harry Potter seemed to stave off men from pursing her. No one wanted to know her outside of her academic and war-time efforts.

Hermione knew she was fiercely independent, and she knew she was downright intimidating. But when Hermione was alone, sans heavy robes, hair down, she was all things feminine and beautiful. It was only the necessity of her profession that she wear obscuring robes and her hair was pulled back tightly from her face, it had nothing to do with her own self-image or disinterest in beauty like her House mates had once accused her of year before.

Perhaps the only person who really knew her outside of her robes, noxious potion perfumes and stringy hair had been Ron Weasley. But thinking of her current status, Hermione realized that all her womanly wiles had been wasted on Ron. Deep in her heart of hearts, Hermione feared that she would end up an old maid and perhaps the only people who would have appreciated her delicate balance of intelligence and beauty were dead, missing, or too far obscured by the darker sides of the world she did not want to join them in that particular hell.

So, Hermione had her own means to take care of her sexual frustrations at the very least. This means to an end manifested itself in the form of Hermione\'s interesting collection of ‘toys.\' It had been true she had given Ginny a gag gift, but Hermione\'s personal life and affairs were her own, and had no bearing upon the intentions of the gift. No one truly knew, except for perhaps Ron\'s feeble understanding, what Hermione\'s sexual appetites consisted of or how she took pride in her self-expressed depravity.

No one knew her fantasies or how wildly she dreamt at night, her fingertips wrinkled from delving into the damp juices between her thighs and the violent bouts of masturbation that left her clit red and raw. No one knew Hermione liked to have her pink ring of puckered flesh teased open or how she wished someone would caress those petals with the tip of their tongue... No one knew that she occasionally liked a slight amount of asphyxiophilia, or breath control play, to begin her steep ascent to climax. No one knew that she liked to pinch her nipples to the point of bruising... And no one knew how she wished to be kissed from head to toe and hear sweet words of endearment. Or how she how she wanted to be cherished and loved to the point she could feel her heart swell and her eyes water with tears of happiness. Hermione\'s fantasies and nightly thoughts would turn to these desires more often than not. She was wanton, she was lovely, she was hurting and through time, she was getting more and more desperate for just a thorough fuck.

When Fred and George Weasley had asked their favor, Hermione could not help but feel a bit embarrassed. The Weasley twins were getting closer to her secrets, but when had she somehow considered her sexual nature some sort of horrid secret? As Hermione lay in her bed at Hogwarts, she realized that all the twins knew of her deepest wishes and desires was the fact she had bought Ginny a muggle sex toy. While Fred and George has discussed their plans, Hermione remembered feeling very warm, almost feverish. Between talk of revenue and profits were ideas of adding magic to items that she had relied on before and after her breakup with Ron to soothe that deep itch in her blood. Of course, she had ‘magicked\' a few of her toys on her own...the vibrator to work without batteries, her flogger to snap at her flesh without the aid of a second party, to name a few...but what did the twins have in mind?

Hermione\'s curiosity had been peaked and she knew she was beginning to build the resolve to take Fred and George, trouble with a capital ‘T,\' to a muggle sex shop. She only hoped the twins would not makes total arses out of themselves... But their ideas were brilliant on all accounts, incorporating muggle and magic. And besides of the obvious profits, Hermione wondered if it only had been the gag gift that turned Fred and George Weasley to the idea at all. Hermione yawned, it was no time to questions motives, she had spent too many dark summer hours thinking...

* * *


Flooing from Hogsmeade to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione immediately spotted the Weasley twins at the bar speaking to Tom, the publican. She noticed with some relief that both twins were outfitted in muggle clothing, right down to faded tee-shirts with muggle classic rock groups. Whether Fred or George knew who the Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin were was something Hermione tucked in her brain to ask at another time.

Casting a quick cleaning charm on herself to take care of the Floo ash, she stepped toward the identical men, a satisfied smirk on her painted lips.

\"Early again,\" Fred commented, eyeing Hermione\'s low rise jeans, tank top and sandals. Her hair hung lose and clean about her shoulders and her eyelids were colored with a pale violet eyeshadow, a small messenger bag hung off her left shoulder, passing for a purse.

\"Always,\" she purred, her voice confident although her stomach was trying to do flip flops.

George turned, letting his pale blue eyes move from Hermione\'s head down to her toes and then grinned. \"So, are we ready? We have muggle money, and we\'re dressed...is this alright?\" George said cheerfully, stepping away from the bar to do a silly twirl.

\"Good enough, let\'s go. I really don\'t want to waste time...\" Hermione trailed, a sudden apprehension rising up in her throat like a ball of thick bile.

\"Of course not, time is galleons in our line of work, but we have a little something to ask you later,\" Fred said softly, peering around Hermione to gaze coldly at some patrons who seemed to watch their interaction with mild interest.

\"Whatever...\" Hermione shrugged, wishing the whole ordeal was over with and she could go home to take care of the minor itch that was forming between her thighs. She wondered if it were because she knew she were going to the shop and unable to buy anything for herself. Or if it was George\'s somewhat heated perusal of her body. She had noticed his eyes lingering on a bit of bare hip above the waist line of her jeans.


* * *


Hermione was relieved that Fred and George had not acted like fish out of water when they left the Underground station and began walking into the darker parts of London. Luckily, Hermione thought, her favorite shop was on the outskirts of the seedier parts of the city. In fact to get from the Underground station to the shop, they had to walk through the ‘bohemian\' district, a center for interesting music, food, art and people unlike the streets with triple ‘X\' theaters and shilling peep shows.

The Lion\'s Den was a discreet shop with a tasteful storefront: opaque glass which had been painted with a large interpretation of Henri Rousseau\'s The Dream. The lions in the center of the painting were accentuated with metallic gold paint and emphasized. Fred and George seemed to appreciate the storefront as like most people in the district, for the twins were whispering to each other too softly for Hermione to hear, but resulted in warm smiles from the two brothers. Perhaps they were thinking what Hermione first thought when she first came to the shop over three years ago, the painting and the name of the shop, which was painted with a flared hand at the top of the scene, had too much significance with their House at Hogwarts. With much trepidation, Hermione led them down a short, darkened corridor to the door of the shop.

That familiar knot of apprehension tightened in Hermione\'s throat as the twins went in before her, not seeming to notice that when the shopkeeper looked up, he recognized Hermione and spoke...

\"Jane! Back again so soon?\"

Hermione froze just inside the door, casting her eyes toward Fred and George who had already moved down the aisles of the shop. Hermione took a breath and slowly raised a finger to her lips demonstrating to the shopkeep, named Warren, to keep quiet. Warren, a tall and slender middle aged man with long black hair winked and nodded, going back to reading his paperback as he sat on a stool behind the register. Hermione tried to smile in thanks to Warren, who knew her well by the items she had purchased on numerous trips to the shop. Finally able to move, Hermione walked around the front display case of body jewelry and small oddities on display, moving to the first rack and absently moving her hands over the naughty lingerie on the various hangers. Her attention, however, was set on moving her eyes from Fred to George and back again. Fred was slowly walking down one row of shelves, studying the various objects, tapping his forefinger against his lips as if considering something more philosophical than sex toys. George was down another row, mirroring his brother, but was the first to pick up a package and tuck it under his arm... Hermione glanced back at Warren who was watching the twins over the top of his book, watching like a father would watch their child for their first bicycle ride. Hermione liked Warren, liked him in the way a person would like their local grocer or mailman. But of all the times Hermione had come to the Lion\'s Den, Warren would engage her in a conversation that had nothing to do at all with the store and its contents. Warren was an avid reader of the strange and occult and on more than one occasion Hermione wondered if Warren were a Squib for he seemed to know much about things magical which most muggles considered too odd to discuss in polite society. But then again, sex shops were not part of what Hermione truly considered ‘polite society.\' Hermione sighed and turned her attention again to the Weasley twins who had both accumulated several items under their arms to purchase later.

The shop consisted of four rows of shelves and bins, in the open spaces in between were racks for hooks and hangars, all of which either displayed various sexual implements or risque clothing for both men and women. In the back of the shop was a large display consisting of nondescript mannequins wearing some of the clothing, but posed to demonstrate the use of harnesses and ‘swings.\' This display seemed to draw Fred and George together in the back of the shop. Considering it for a few moments in silence, Fred and George parted company again to walk down two different aisles. George stopped before a shelf of assorted anal toys while Fred was gazing at a rack of various adult films ranging in preferences of taste. Hermione noticed all the while, her hands now at her sides, as she leaned slightly against the clothing rack that neither of the ginger haired shoppers seemed not at all nonplused at the range of provocative items they were perusing like grocery shoppers considering the quality of exotic fruit.

Hermione took a deep, cleansing breath, expelling stale and nervous air from her lungs. So far, so good. She felt the tension drain from her body as she moved down a vacant row to consider a few items while waiting for Fred and George. She tried not to seem the least bit excited as she found a new toy, an S-shaped ‘wand\' for G-spot stimulation where the label on the package read ‘Designed by Women for Women.\' No, she held in her urges and tried to take a deep breath to help exercise some restraint lest she would have to activate the damage control plan she had considered that morning in case some situation would arise while in the shop. Hermione exhaled, walking away from the shelves, thinking of a way she could transfigure one of her own toys to resemble the new toy she had found.

Perhaps twenty-five minutes later a very aroused, very excited Hermione noticed that the twins were making their way toward the front counter and that both had their arms full of items. Panicking slightly, Hermione could not stop the inevitable conversation beginning between Fred, George and Warren.

\"...there are different types, some are self warming on contact, some are flavored, some are more viscous than others...but it depends on the effect you want. But not all are water based, other are silicon based and some have different types of ingredients that is also up to preference,\" Warren was explaining as he set out different tubes and bottles of lubricant from behind the counter.

\"We could break down the ingredients, I suppose,\" Hermione heard Fred whisper to George who nodded in agreement.

\"And what about those?\" George asked pointing to several brown glass bottles in the display case.

\"Ah, massage oils and aphrodisiacs... The massage oils are great, the scents tailored for arousal. Some scents are said to stimulate better blood flow, now this...\" Warren sang slightly, pulling out one bottle from the display case and setting it on the counter top. \"...is said to increase penile blood flow by twenty-six percent...\"

This near clinical conversation went on for another ten minutes as Hermione stood a few steps behind Fred and George, also quite interested in the wealth of new knowledge Warren was providing. But finally the Weasley twins decided on several bottles and tubes of lubrication as well as the aforementioned massage oil before moving down the counter to the register. Hermione inwardly gasped when Warren pronounced the final total...it was as much as Hermione made for three months wages. But to the twins, it seemed, the total was not something that worried them at all. It was Fred who paid for everything with still many a pound left in his wallet.

Everything was loaded into six large plastic bags with the words: \"Thank you for your patronage,\" printed on the sides. Hermione winked at Warren and smiled slightly as she followed the twins out and into the corridor where the street sounds were almost foreign to the silence inside the shop. As the door shut behind Hermione, Warren blew a kiss to her and waved a silent good bye.

It was over...or so she thought as she noticed that the twins had discreetly shrank their bags in the shadows of the corridor, Fred tucked three small bags in his jeans pocket and George the other half. Nothing was said during the trip back, not even a joking word exchanged between the twin brothers. The silence made Hermione uneasy, and it was not until they had entered the Leaky Cauldron that they spoke to her. She was arranging to Floo back to Hogsmeade when they stopped her.

\"Let us buy you supper,\" Fred suggested, tugging on Hermione\'s wrist like a spoiled child.

Hermione protested shortly, but was persuaded to sit in a booth in a smoky corner of the pub, across the table from Fred and George. She sat tensely, wishing the twins would finish their business with her and let her return home and take care of the itch that had groan into a horrible ache between her thighs.

Wooden bowls of potato soup were placed before the party of three as well as hot loaf of brown bread in the center of the table. A jug of pumpkin juice and three goblets were set out and supper commenced. Hermione noted, though somewhat preoccupied, the twins had better table manners than their younger brother and felt herself smile absently as they used their napkins accordingly. Toward the end of the meal, George ordered a round of butterbeers as Hermione pushed her near empty bowl away, too full to eat anymore, and more anxious than ever. And after the butterbeer was set upon the table, Hermione felt that the ‘conversation\' she had been dreading was about to begin.

\"Your favor is only half fulfilled,\" Fred announced, his lips poised just above the tankard of butterbeer in his left hand.

\"Is it?\" Hermione asked as nonchalantly and as innocently as she could muster.

\"We want your insight and opinion on our purchases,\" George answered, wiping his mouth of froth with his dinner napkin.

\"I do not think my opinion would matter much...\" Hermione added gently, her ambers eyes falling to the wood grain of the table in mock coyness.

Fred and George both smiled and Hermione quickly took her butterbeer up for a sip.

\"But we think it would matter a great deal, Hermione,\" Fred purred, resting his elbows on the table on either side of his drink.

Hermione tensed at Fred\'s words and let her tankard set on the table with a heavy thud. She glanced at either twin through her eyelashes, her breath hitching slightly noticing their grins...predatory and alluding to something a little more than friendly.

\"We think you will have a lot of insight on our purchases, in fact, your opinion on such matters is of great value to us,\" George then purred, mimicking his brother by also resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward slightly.

\"I don\'t know what you mean...I...\" she said hastily, her defenses raised.

\"Give it up, Hermione, we know...\" Fred breathed, stretching his well toned up over his head, cracking his shoulders as he flexed.

\"Know?\" Panic was beginning to set in fully.

\"Ron has come over many a time and drunkenly spilled his guts...about you.\"

\"I...\" she mouthed, her throat dry, her face flushing. Hermione sat back in the booth and slowly sighed...in defeat.

\"Our baby brother has filled us in...about part of the reason why the two of you broke it off. And believe us, we are not going to defend the prat,\" George continued, his voice deep and serious.

\"He must have inherited his prudish ways from Percy...\" Fred muttered.

Hermione felt her jaw set angrily, wondering what exactly Ron, the git, had told his brothers.

\"We always kinda figured you were wild in bed, and don\'t take that the wrong way, but Ron was apparently mortified when you asked him to go down on you or spank you,\" Fred chuckled, giving Hermione a playful wink.

\"Gods, what else did that bloody git tell you?\" Hermione growled, somehow prying her jaw apart enough to speak...but Ron was not the only reason she was becoming a bit angry. The conversation, the fact that the twins knew about her personal matters, were making her knickers very wet and very uncomfortable.

\"Oh...that you liked it rough, that you liked things Ron did not quite grasp with that pea brain of his. The whole idea of Dom/Sub is far out of his little world...\" George answered, this time his turn to chuckle.

\"And we know you like toys...\"

Hermione bit her tongue, but mumbled, \"H-how?\"

\"It didn\'t escape our notice that you seemed a bit more familiar with that shop than just going there to buy Ginny her gift,\" Fred remarked.

\"The shopkeep called you by name, your middle name...\" George supplied as Hermione began gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

\"So you like a little more ‘oomph\' in the bedroom, we won\'t begrudge you that,\" Fred stated before emptying his tankard. \"It\'s actually really hot...\" he finished, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand so that his last words were almost a mumble.

\"But we want your input, your expertise...as a step to fulfilling your favor.\"

Hermione tasted blood. It was out in the open for all to see; Hermione Jane Granger: sexual deviant, ice queen having to use sex toys to get off, bookworm, and masturbator. She wasn\'t sure she liked where this conversation was going...