Knickers

“C’mon, Molly, don’t be shy, just plow your way through,” instructed Luna.

How did I get myself into this? I murmured to myself as we made our way into the largest department store in London, my arm locked with Luna’s. As we hustled through the doors and were jostled about by the bustling Christmas shoppers, I called to mind how this debacle started.

A party in my sitting room, and here I am, stuck in the kitchen, as usual, I muttered as I choreographed the chicken and vegetables kebabs onto the serving plate. I picked up the food tray, and with a careless, behind-the-back wand wave, I strode out of the kitchen and into the cramped sitting room with dishes, utensils, bottles of wine settling themselves onto the table that was set up in the corner.

I stood for a moment in the doorway and looked at the young women in my sitting room. While Ginny may have been the first Weasley woman born in 75 years, Fleur, Angelina, Katie and Penelope were the next generation of Weasleys as well. Luna, Ron’s intended, had brought Hermione with her, and while Hermione was now married to Severus, she would always be a part of the Weasley family.

The young women were scattered around the room, grabbing a seat where they could find one; on the arm of the overstuffed sofa, a pillow on the floor near the fireplace, and on one of the kitchen chairs dragged into the doorway. Wine was flowing and small bowls of crackers, crisps and nuts were circling the room.

“What have I missed?” I asked with a small smile on my face.

The young women traded glances with each other, and it took several moments before Hermione laughingly replied, “Ginny is going to tell us about how she bought a special pair of knickers to wear for Seamus on their anniversary. He loved them so much that he put … Ouch!”

Hermione turned sharply to Ginny who was sitting behind her right shoulder. Rubbing her head where Ginny’s sharp slap landed, she groused, “What the hell was that for?”

Ginny was trying to glare at Hermione, but the look was lost under the hot blush. “Mum doesn’t want to hear about Seamus and me in the bedroom.”

“But you weren’t in the bedroom,” Hermione retorted, smirking, “you just said you were on the —” she stopped short when Ginny shoved her.

I laughed at how many bad habits Hermione was picking up from Severus in their short marriage and sat forward in my chair. “Ginny, you were too young to remember the parties we once had, and during the Dark years, witches and wizards didn’t gather in large crowds; but before Him, these to-dos were a regular occurrence. Often the women in our family would get together and share stories. Usually we were at my mum’s in Staffordshire, but we had parties very much like this. It wasn’t until He rose up that the parties and socials and dances stopped; it was too dangerous.

"But oh! What a grand time we had! We drank wine and sometimes listened to Muggle music on the wireless and danced. By the end of the night, though, we’d always wind up talking about men and sex.”

“Molly, why don’t you share a story with us?” purred Fleur.

“I have forty years of stories, dear.” I grinned wickedly. “Where should I start?”

“Mum!” Ginny shouted. “Forty years? That would mean that you were… were only…” Ginny stammered while doing the math in her head.

My smile grew. “Yes, dear,” I murmured, “I was fifteen when I began ‘experimenting’ I suppose you could call it. The 60’s were a great time to be young. The culture was changing; the old, reclusive ways were not as important to the young people as they were to the older generations. Not like today, of course, but we began listening to Muggle music, we went to the cinemas, and we tried to, well, not really incorporate Muggle culture into our lives, more like tried to live side-by-side with Muggle culture. Take what we liked and could relate to in our own experiences. That meant the sexual revolution, as well,” I added wickedly.

“I’m not sure if any of you know this, but wizards, as a rule, don’t wear underwear.” At hearing the shocked gasps, I nodded sagely. “It is true. Not in the Weasley family, of course, but in most old, Pureblood families, wizards do not wear anything beneath their robes. Until the 60’s came along, it was a normal practice for most families, even in my family. That all changed for me when I was fifteen.”

“What happened?” asked Penelope.

“When I was fifteen and in my fifth year, a transfer student came to Hogwarts. Celestina Warbeck.”

“She’s your favorite singer!” Angelina interrupted.

“And now you know why,” I smirked before continuing with my story.

“I was fifteen, and Celestina came to school. She was caught up in Muggle music and had brought with her a wireless that could pick up Muggle music stations. Her father had something to do with making it. She introduced us to many things, including knickers. Celestina had brought with her loads of pairs of knickers, in every color and style.

She took us shopping for knickers in Hogsmeade one weekend. Celestina had made a request to Madam Malkin to stock them, and Madam Malkin had hesitantly agreed to a trial run. She had just brought some up from London that week, and we were excited to see what was in stock. While the selection was modest, it was more than enough to satisfy us teenagers. My favorite pair were pink and lacy.” And not unlike Celestina’s own pair, I continued in my head.

“I wore them the night Arthur and I had our first snogging session.” I grinned at the memory. “He got a bit of a feel of them that first night, too!” I added, laughing crazily at the horrified look on Ginny’s face. “But that is enough of that! You girls have your own stories to share; mine are old and not so interesting.” Amidst half-hearted protests to stay, I excused myself and returned to the kitchen, tidying up a bit before I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the new Witch Weekly. I didn’t read it, though.

Sitting with a cuppa in my hand, I let my mind drift back to those long ago school days. Those knickers. They were gorgeous, and she looked gorgeous in them. Even now, I lick my lips when I remember how she looked standing in front of her mirror, the tops of the pink silk panties resting on her protruding hip bones, the way they covered her pussy and the bump of her clit that was pushing against the thin material, the material that barely covered her soft round cheeks that looked as if they were perched on a small shelf. She never wore a brassiere or undershirt, and her tits had been as perfect as her ass, soft and pink-tipped. How I ached to hold them, to touch them, to know they were real and not some figment of my imagination or some naughty glamour. How I wanted to drop to my knees and worship those panties, to lean in and smell them, to rub my cheek against their softness. I didn’t, of course. Whatever feelings she inspired in me, I was not one to act on them.

Lost in thought, I didn’t heard Luna enter the room until she piped up, “You know, Molly, Celestina Jones just came out with a clothing line, and there is a small collection of lingerie, too. They are available at Harrods.”

“Harrods?” squealed Hermione, entering the room behind her carrying empty dishes. “A witch is designing clothing for Harrods? Since when? I think you’re a bit mixed up, Luna.”

“Since Lady Diane became involved with Dodi Fayed, silly,” replied Luna beaming.

“Everyone knows Diana is a witch, and why she didn’t hex the bits off Charles, I’ve no idea. Her and Dodi have gone into hiding. They couldn’t stand the harassment any longer,” Luna explained in her dreamiest voice.

“Luna,” Hermione began, taking a deep breath, “Lady Diana and Dodi Fayed were NOT a witch and wizard, they were normal Muggles. She and Mr. Fayed were killed in a car crash.”

“Oh, those car crash stories do get around, don’t they?” Luna smiled beatifically, then turning to me she said, “Since I’ve a spot of shopping to do for the honeymoon Molly, why don’t we go down to London and have a bit of a shopfest? I’ve always wanted to visit the Egyptian displays. Do they still have the cobra browsing the shoe selection, you think? It’s really Dodi, you know; he’s an unregistered animagous. He likes to visit his father’s store now and again.” Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes behind Luna’s back, but didn’t comment.

Against my better judgment, I agreed to the shopping trip with Luna.

Which is how I ended up here, I gently reminded myself, standing in front of a life-sized model of Celestina, once again clad in a pair of pink silk knickers with her arms crossed over her seemingly still-pert tits. I was once again fifteen and almost overwhelmed with the urge to fall to my knees before her. Instead, I turned and made my way to the racks of hanging knickers. The collection was immense, it seemed. The colors, the styles and material were living memories from long ago. As I rifled through the lot, my hand fell on them. The same pair, my brain screamed.

While Luna browsed, I quickly and quietly pocketed them, then confounded the saleswoman who had noticed the indiscretion and met up with Luna. We were making our way to the Egyptian displays and the shoe department when I ‘turned’ my ankle. I apologized to Luna for ruining her shopping trip, but insisted on Apparating home to elevate it and apply a cooling charm to stop the swelling. Had she noticed anything amiss in the panty department? I wondered as I walked through the kitchen door back at the Burrow a short time later. I stopped only long enough to hang up my coat.

I climb the stairs and enter our bedroom, mine and Arthur’s, holding the panties. He knows every little bit about me, my longings and fears, my most joyous memories and darkest secrets. I love him fully and completely, I think as my fingers work furiously over my clit while I rub the panties against my cheek. I tremble violently as I come.

If he occasionally uses Polyjuice and dons a pair of pink knickers, well, it is because he loves me and wants me happy.


A/N: A huge hug and a million thanks to my wonderful beta, Dynonugget! Rawr!!!