errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
A Mother's Love
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
50,356
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
50,356
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Suspicions Begin
Author's Note: Not much action in this chapter. Gotta keep the story moving. I promise at least two hot scenes in the next chapter to make up for it. Please review!
**********************
“Don't stop, I'm going to cum!” Molly's body tensed and shook hard as she came, gripping a handful of young lover's black hair. She fell backwards against the pantry shelf, breathing heavily. “Gods, Harry, you're just – just – brilliant!”
Harry looked up from his position on his knees in front of her and laughed at her assessment of his oral sex skills. “Cho Chang would probably agree with you,” he said, lowering her skirt and standing, “she's the only experience I had before you.”
“So you and Hermione never...?” Molly looked questioningly at him.
“No,” he said, a bit too flippantly, “she's not interested in me.” He made sure she was presentable before peeking out the pantry door to make sure the kitchen was empty. “To be honest, I think she fancies Ron.”
Molly followed him into the deserted kitchen, dabbing her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “Do you think so?” she said, bemused. “I never considered the two of them together. Perhaps she'll be a good example for him, a bit of discipline, you know.”
“Who would be a good example?” Ron demanded suspiciously as he stomped into the kitchen loudly, making both Harry and Molly jump with his sudden appearance.
“Sandra Fawcett,” Molly said quickly, snatching her wand from the table and waving it at the broom and mop, which leapt into service. “I think her daughter is in your year. She inherited a thousand galleons last year when her uncle died and decided to invest in Muggle stocks. With the wizarding economy getting worse, having something solid to fall back on will make all the difference.”
Harry could see Ron's eyes glazing over with boredom already and laughed inwardly. Molly had achieved what she had intended, distracting Ron enough to keep him from wondering why Harry and his mum were alone in the kitchen together and why they looked so flushed and sweaty.
Molly chattered on about Sandra Fawcett's investments until she was forced to pause slightly to take a breath and Ron took advantage of the opportunity to insist Harry join him in a game of Exploding Snap in his bedroom.
“Lunch in half an hour!” Molly called as the boys headed up the stairs.
“Where do you keep disappearing to,” Ron groused as he threw open the door to the bedroom and stomped in. “Hermione and I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“What's going on?” Harry asked, nervous at Ron's irritation.
Hermione rose from her seat by the window. “Don't look so worried, Harry,” she said calmly, “we're not going to shout at you, are we, Ronald,” with a sharp look at Ron. “We were just wondering where you've been all this time. Every time we want to do something, you're nowhere to be found.”
“I'm sorry,” Harry said sincerely, “I've just wanted some time to myself. I'm still getting over the shock of Sirius's death, you know.”
Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, horrified. “Oh, Harry!” she cried in dismay, “I'm so sorry! We should have been more sympathetic to your feelings.” She rushed over to him and took his hand, ignoring Ron's continuing look of suspicion. “We'll leave you alone from now on. Take as much time as you need.” She glared at Ron until he nodded in agreement.
“Thank you,” Harry said. “I appreciate your concern.”
“How are you feeling now? Do you want to be alone?” Hermione continued, stroking his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but what was really just tickling him.
“Uh, no, I'm fine,” he said awkwardly, extracting his hand from her grasp and rubbing it to take away the tickling feeling. “I think I'll go see what Mo-- what Mrs. Weasley is making for lunch.” Hermione looked slightly confused, but let him go. He rushed downstairs before she could question him further and burst into the kitchen, startling Crookshanks, who bolted out the open back door.
The room was empty. Harry peeked out the back door and saw Molly's round posterior protruding from a large shrub at the side of the garden. He chuckled and relaxed slightly. As he approached her, he heard her grunting as she struggled with something.
“Need a hand?” he asked cautiously.
“What? Oh yes, Harry, dear,” she said, slightly out of breath, “I just have this gnome that was getting into the rutabagas. I almost had it over the fence when it latched onto my finger and just wouldn't let go. Can you reach it from underneath?”
Amiably, Harry crawled under the shrub and pulled the gnome out by its feet. It screeched and tried to bite, but he managed to get ahold of the scruff of its neck and toss it over the wall.
“Thank you, Harry,” said Molly, wiping the sweat from her brow and leaving a smudge of dirt there. “Did you need something?”
“Actually, yes,” he said, suddenly serious. “We have a problem.” He explained the problem briefly, stressing Ron's continued suspicious attitude.
Molly sighed, bemused. “Meet me at the stream tonight at midnight. We'll talk then.”
**********************
“Don't stop, I'm going to cum!” Molly's body tensed and shook hard as she came, gripping a handful of young lover's black hair. She fell backwards against the pantry shelf, breathing heavily. “Gods, Harry, you're just – just – brilliant!”
Harry looked up from his position on his knees in front of her and laughed at her assessment of his oral sex skills. “Cho Chang would probably agree with you,” he said, lowering her skirt and standing, “she's the only experience I had before you.”
“So you and Hermione never...?” Molly looked questioningly at him.
“No,” he said, a bit too flippantly, “she's not interested in me.” He made sure she was presentable before peeking out the pantry door to make sure the kitchen was empty. “To be honest, I think she fancies Ron.”
Molly followed him into the deserted kitchen, dabbing her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “Do you think so?” she said, bemused. “I never considered the two of them together. Perhaps she'll be a good example for him, a bit of discipline, you know.”
“Who would be a good example?” Ron demanded suspiciously as he stomped into the kitchen loudly, making both Harry and Molly jump with his sudden appearance.
“Sandra Fawcett,” Molly said quickly, snatching her wand from the table and waving it at the broom and mop, which leapt into service. “I think her daughter is in your year. She inherited a thousand galleons last year when her uncle died and decided to invest in Muggle stocks. With the wizarding economy getting worse, having something solid to fall back on will make all the difference.”
Harry could see Ron's eyes glazing over with boredom already and laughed inwardly. Molly had achieved what she had intended, distracting Ron enough to keep him from wondering why Harry and his mum were alone in the kitchen together and why they looked so flushed and sweaty.
Molly chattered on about Sandra Fawcett's investments until she was forced to pause slightly to take a breath and Ron took advantage of the opportunity to insist Harry join him in a game of Exploding Snap in his bedroom.
“Lunch in half an hour!” Molly called as the boys headed up the stairs.
“Where do you keep disappearing to,” Ron groused as he threw open the door to the bedroom and stomped in. “Hermione and I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“What's going on?” Harry asked, nervous at Ron's irritation.
Hermione rose from her seat by the window. “Don't look so worried, Harry,” she said calmly, “we're not going to shout at you, are we, Ronald,” with a sharp look at Ron. “We were just wondering where you've been all this time. Every time we want to do something, you're nowhere to be found.”
“I'm sorry,” Harry said sincerely, “I've just wanted some time to myself. I'm still getting over the shock of Sirius's death, you know.”
Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, horrified. “Oh, Harry!” she cried in dismay, “I'm so sorry! We should have been more sympathetic to your feelings.” She rushed over to him and took his hand, ignoring Ron's continuing look of suspicion. “We'll leave you alone from now on. Take as much time as you need.” She glared at Ron until he nodded in agreement.
“Thank you,” Harry said. “I appreciate your concern.”
“How are you feeling now? Do you want to be alone?” Hermione continued, stroking his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but what was really just tickling him.
“Uh, no, I'm fine,” he said awkwardly, extracting his hand from her grasp and rubbing it to take away the tickling feeling. “I think I'll go see what Mo-- what Mrs. Weasley is making for lunch.” Hermione looked slightly confused, but let him go. He rushed downstairs before she could question him further and burst into the kitchen, startling Crookshanks, who bolted out the open back door.
The room was empty. Harry peeked out the back door and saw Molly's round posterior protruding from a large shrub at the side of the garden. He chuckled and relaxed slightly. As he approached her, he heard her grunting as she struggled with something.
“Need a hand?” he asked cautiously.
“What? Oh yes, Harry, dear,” she said, slightly out of breath, “I just have this gnome that was getting into the rutabagas. I almost had it over the fence when it latched onto my finger and just wouldn't let go. Can you reach it from underneath?”
Amiably, Harry crawled under the shrub and pulled the gnome out by its feet. It screeched and tried to bite, but he managed to get ahold of the scruff of its neck and toss it over the wall.
“Thank you, Harry,” said Molly, wiping the sweat from her brow and leaving a smudge of dirt there. “Did you need something?”
“Actually, yes,” he said, suddenly serious. “We have a problem.” He explained the problem briefly, stressing Ron's continued suspicious attitude.
Molly sighed, bemused. “Meet me at the stream tonight at midnight. We'll talk then.”