Wide Awake and Dreaming

Voldemort was dead. Most of the loyal Death Eaters had been rounded up, and the entire Wizarding World was in a general state of celebration. The younger members of the order were all gathered at the loft that Hermione had been using as a combination safe house, research facility, and a secondary base for the Order of the Phoenix. The older generation was all busy, with their public roles, or currently holding their own, more sedate celebration at Grimmould Place.

Here, wine and fire whiskey flowed, in generous portions, and the hard, driving beat of some pop song filled the air, making conversation almost impossible. Though, from the looks of things, no one felt much like talking. Charlie and Draco had already snuck off somewhere together; Ron had Luna pressed up against a bit of wall between the front windows, snogging the daylights out of her. Harry and Ginny, while more subtle, and likely less experienced, weren't fooling anybody, as they sat next to each other on the love seat, with their thighs brushing against each other, sneaking little touches and kisses between sips of wine.

The atmosphere was getting to Hermione, too. She felt a slow burn in her belly, as she swayed alone in the middle of the makeshift dance floor and she couldn't completely blame it on the glass of fire whiskey cradled against her stomach. Suddenly, as if her thoughts had form, she was surrounded on both sides, as the twins slid into place in front of and behind her. She leaned her head back, sliding her eyes closed and not caring which was where. She just molded her body to the one behind her and kept swaying to the rhythm. The one in front of her lifted her glass, with his fingers wrapped around hers and took a drink. Then, his tongue snaked out and licked across her finger where it rested on top of the glass.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. George. That must mean that Fred was the one holding her, rubbing against her in a way that was much more seductive than she had realized. She looked around the room, troubled, wondering if anyone else had noticed. No one seemed to care. Ron was helping Luna on with her coat, with a lot more touching than seemed necessary and a huge, sloppy grin on his face. He caught her eye, as she looked his way, and waved goodbye, indicating that they were leaving. She nodded and smiled, feeling like a fraud, as she innocently wished him a good night.

Harry and Ginny noticed the exchange, and took it as their own cue to depart. Ginny came up to give her a hug and thank her. "Do you need a hand cleaning up? I mean it's kind of a mess, and we don't have to go, if you need help."

Hermione could see that the pair was awkwardly hoping that she would deny their request and she granted their reprieve. "Don't worry, I'll rope these two into helping before they leave."

"Hey!" They both protested loudly.

Ginny giggled. "I'd like to see that." She looked from one twin to the other, then at Hermione. "Then again, good luck. If anyone can do it, you can. We're out of here."

"Was she implying that you're bossy?"

"Or just that we are slaves to your every whim?"

"We could be, you know." George answered, leaning in a little closer, and rubbing his thumb over her fingers where she still held her glass.

"Cleaning up is the easy part, though."

"We're wizards, and you may have noticed, we have a bad habit..."

"Of making a mess of things."

"Of course, we're also pretty good at..."

"Using our *wands* to make things right."

With a joint flick of their wands, and a muttered spell, the room began to tidy. Fred directed the glasses and plates across the room to the kitchen area. George seemed to be gathering the trash into the bin. When they were done, they smiled down on her. She just laughed and disentangled herself to put the leftover food away into the refrigerator.

"Fine, Fred, you're on dish duty. Use magic if you want, but don't break anything, or I'll break you." She softened her threat with a cheeky smile, and George laughed.

"Tyrant."

"Oh, really, for that, you get to pick up the rest of the trash and gather up the alcohol. Empty bottles go in the blue bin. Close up the rest, and put it on the table. I'll sort it tomorrow. And put the chairs back, or I'll be tripping on them in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am." He bowed to her, and she reached around to swat him on the butt. They all knew it was teasing. They had gotten used to each other over the last year or so. The twins had actually made pretty good research partners, and they had all spent a lot of time together studying the horcruxes and obscure potions and hexes.

The twins had even combined their discoveries into a few useful experiments that had been quite helpful in battle, such as a liquid version of the canary hex, that they had been able to throw at their enemies to turn them into large yellow birds, unable to hold their wands, or fly away. It allowed them to capture and restrain the Death Eaters with more ease - which was helpful, as they had been outnumbered almost three to one in that final battle. Unfortunately, one of the chemicals required to keep it in its liquid state was quite rare and expensive, and an inaccurate throw, or interception by an incoming hex or spell, could backfire on them as well. Still, it was one of the many ways that they had helped turn the tide by incorporating the element of surprise into the Order's attacks.

They made her laugh, when Hermione really needed the release, and yet, were surprisingly sensitive enough, after the first few weeks or enforced closeness, to know when to let her alone and let her stew, or leave her to Ron or Harry or Ginny to sort out. Fred would bring her cups of tea and sweets, mostly unlaced with their creations, and George would sometimes perform the magical equivalent of muggle magic tricks (like pulling flowers from thin air) or pulling her feet into his lap and rubbing them while they watched the telly.

She was comfortable with them, even more comfortable than she was with Harry and Ron, but at the same time, she felt a strange tension when she was the center of their attention, especially both at once. She had taken to trying to distract them when they got to be too much, and she was hoping that they hadn't noticed the way her whole body seemed to vibrate in their presence.

She was distracted from her train of thought, as she bent over to put the last tray in the refrigerator and Fred reached out and grabbed her with wet hands, around her hips, hauling her off her feet. She squealed in surprise and kicked a little, trying to get down, without getting dropped on her arse. They laughed heartily, and he deposited her on the couch next to George, who began tickling her just above her left hip. She was squirming on the couch, as Fred pulled off her shoes and got her from the other end. She twisted and kicked between them, breathless with laughter.

She caught Fred with a glancing blow of her heel across his ribs, and he reached around to gather her legs under his right arm and hold her immobile. "Oy, she's dangerous. Better hold her down, before she hurts someone."

He followed his words with action, still holding onto her legs he leaned down over her, pressing her against George, and covering her body with his own. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath caught, her laughter dying on her lips. She forgot her pretense at hiding her feelings, and the flush covering her body deepened.

Above her, Fred froze, looking into her face and George stopped tickling her. "Damn, you are so beautiful."

"Fred."

He slowly backed away from her, visibly trying to get himself under control, as he rubbed his hands on his trousers, inadvertently tightening the material over the bulge of his arousal. Hermione sat up, her gaze drawn to it, to him, and the hopeless look on his face.

She turned behind her, "George?" seeking assurance from him with a whisper, and grabbed his hand, with hers. He smiled and nodded, and squeezed her hand in his. "Anything you want, love."

She leaned forward to urge Fred to lift his head and look at her. Her broken, "please" caused him to comply, and she captured his mouth for a kiss. George leaned up behind her, mirroring Fred's earlier position on the dance floor, and she melting back against him as Fred kissed her back with a hunger that blew her mind. George pushed her hair out of the way, and began to kiss her neck and earlobes, and she could feel herself starting to get wet, as they crushed her between them.

Her fingers itched to touch them, and she slid her hands under Fred's shirt, brushing through the trail of red hair that she knew was there, and up across his belly to his smooth, almost hairless chest. He moaned into her mouth, and broke the kiss long enough to pull off his shirt and toss it across the room, then he grabbed her ass and pulled her against him, kissing her once more.

Temporarily abandoned, George wasn't one to be idle long; he removed his clothing and then and took advantage of her position to reach for her shirt at her waist and begin tugging it free from her skirt. He pulled it up and the back toward him, so that she fell back away from Fred and against the warm expanse of his chest, as he tugged the shirt free of her long hair.

Once the shirt was gone, he ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, sliding the straps of her bra away with his motion, as Fred made quick work of removing his own clothes at the other end of the couch. George helped her slip her arms free of the straps of her bra, and inserted his hands between her breasts and the cups, baring them to his sight and touch. He kneaded them gently, and circled her nipples with his thumbs, making her squirm.

While George teased her breasts, Fred slowly caressed his way up her thighs, under her skirt, to her knickers. He traced the edges of them, between her thighs, with his thumbs, dragging the tips of his fingers across the damp cotton across her slit, up over her mound, to the waistband. Then, he pulled them down, his fingertips never losing contact with her skin, from her hips to her ankles, until he tugged them free, and tossed them aside.

After Fred had removed her knickers, George coaxed her into a new position, taking a moment to unclasp her bra and finish removing it. Then, he rearranged her against his chest and leaned down to nibble gently at the side of her neck. He supported her, as Fred knelt between her thighs and pushed her skirt up around her waist, to settle her naked bum onto his lap.

They surrounded her and had her spread between them like a buffet. She turned her head to the side and nuzzled her face against George's shoulder. Fred ran a single finger down the length of her slit, and she felt herself arching into the light touch, trying to press against both of them, hungry for more.

It didn't come. Instead, Fred put his hands on her thighs, just above her knees and spread her legs a little wider. George's voice was a harsh whisper against her ear, as he told her, "Touch yourself, Hermione. We want to see you."

She moaned at his words, and her hand began to rise of its own volition, but she hesitated panicked, unable to bring it to her need. George gentled her, with soft words in her ear, and softer touches along her breasts and sides. Fred slowly took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He placed easy open-mouthed kisses along her knuckles, until she was staring at him wide-eyed and breathing in heavy pants. Then, he slid his tongue along her fingers, swirling around the tips of each one before sucking the lengths into his mouth, one at a time, coating them with a thin layer of his saliva.

When her hips began to rock in his lap, nudging at his own arousal, he guided her hand to her folds, and spread them open. She fingered herself, while she took turns looking back into George's face, and up into Fred's. They both watched her raptly as she circled her clit, pressing it gently against the ridge of her pelvic bone, as she circled it over and over, occasionally dipping her fingertips down into her opening to gather more moisture to ease her journey. She was so close; her legs were tightening around Fred, pulling him closer. His cock was almost sliding between her folds, as she rocked her hips, seeking friction, and she wanted him inside of her so badly.

She began begging in a broken, breathless voice, not even aware of the words, or coherent beyond a multitude of "please" and "need" and "Fred" and "George." George's erection was digging into the tattoo at the small of her back and Fred's was so close to her heat. She shifted around, trying to impale herself on one or the other, until Fred caught her hips and held her still, pushing two fingers deep into her cunt. She cried out in relief, and began to frig her clit harder and faster, as he pumped his fingers into her hard and fast, inserting a third and stretching her wide with each thrust. George squeezed her tits and pinched at her nipples and she didn't last long. She leaned back to bite near George's neck and cry out her pleasure as her walls tightened around Fred's fingers, in waves with her climax.

When she began to sag between them, catching her breath, Fred slowly slid his hand out of her and carefully flexed his fingers, with a wicked grin on his face. Then he brought his hand to his face and inhaled deeply, smelling her scent, and then sucking the length of his ring finger into his mouth. He made a show of it, teasing her with his expression, then catching her gaze, as he pulled his finger from his mouth and leaned across her, offering his wet hand to George.

He slid his brother's fingers into his mouth, and began to lick her juices from them, sharing her taste between them. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight, and she wanted to capture his lips with her own - taste them - her cum, Fred's saliva, George's, all of them mixed together. She leaned up and twisted around, so that she could do that.

Fred's hand dropped away and went to her hips, where he helped he to turn to her knees, so that he was kneeling behind her. As she kissed George deeply, licking her essence from his tongue and lips, Fred spread her open and pushed his cock into her wetness. She moaned into George's mouth, and he brought his hands up to tangle into her hair, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth. Fred began fucking her in a slow, steady rhythm, driving so deep with each thrust and then back, almost all of the way out, before doing it again. She began gasping for breaths, and digging her nails into the skin on George's shoulder's as she held onto him.

His hands tightened in her hair, almost painfully, as he watched his brother fuck her - sliding his cock in and out of her body, glistening with her juices - he told her how it made him feel, as he pushed her head down his chest, guiding her mouth down to his cock, where the head was swollen and red, and wet with pre-come. She stretched her tongue out and swiped it across the spongy head, licking up the wetness and groaned along with George as her first taste of his cock exploded across her tongue.

She felt incredibly wanton, as she was spread out between them, impaled on either end. George kept up a litany of dirty phrases and encouragement, a very vocal lover. Fred was quieter, but his actions were rougher, less patient. She knew that she'd probably have bruises on her hips when the night was over, and it made her feel almost and hot as George's descriptions and orders.

She was sucked George into her mouth, taking his cock down her throat, and playing with his balls with one hand, while balancing on the other. She alternated that with sucking hard on the head and looping her tongue up and down over the ridge, and she could feel him getting closer, as he began to buck his hips toward her mouth, and his balls began to firm up in her hands, as they tightened in preparation. His pre-come coated her tongue on almost every stroke.

Behind her, Fred gave up on his slow rhythm, and began pounding into her body. He pushed her legs wider, and almost upset her balance, causing her to fall forward and take George more deeply into her mouth. She gagged slightly, tightening her throat around him involuntarily. She had just enough time to pull back slightly and catch her breath, before he was coming. She swallowed around him, as best as she could, breathing through her nose between spurts, she suckled his orgasm from him, until he caressed her cheek with his thumb and gently eased himself away from her mouth, too sensitive for any more stimulation.

She laid her cheek against his thigh, and grabbed his hips with her hands, as Fred continued to pound into her from behind. The new angle was driving her wild, and she was almost keening in pleasure, as she mouthed and licked and buried her head against George's thigh, mindless with the pleasure of it. She was so close, and slid one hand down her body, to rub her clit.

She could hear Fred swear quietly behind her, "Fuck!" as he picked up the pace once again, and his hips began to stutter in their rhythm. Her orgasm seemed to catch them both by surprise and she keened and she clamped down around his cock. He just pushed deep into her, and rode it out, with his head thrown back, and she jerked against him.

George was brushing her sweaty hair away from her face, and making soothing motions to her shoulders, as she eased down from her orgasm. Fred's hands were gripped tightly on her hips, and he thrust twice more before arching his back and slamming into her one last time, harshly crying out her name. He slumped forward a bit, and slid his hand from her hips, up her sides, to her breasts, pulling her up and back against his chest, rocking gently with her, and placing small kisses all along her nape. George looked deeply into her eyes and rubbed his thumb along her swollen lips. She had never felt more beautiful, or more sated, in her whole life.

She pulled George closer, and they all shared a tight embrace. She could feel George motioning with his head, against her shoulder, but she let her eyes drift close, floating on the moment. She was being lifted off of the couch, and cradled against George's chest. He carried her to the bedroom, and laid her gently onto the bed, crawling in next to her. She heard water running, briefly, and then Fred was there beside her, with a cool flannel to clean her up, and a glass of water. She thankfully took a few sips, and then smiled contentedly and snuggled down between them on the bed.

She felt happy and peaceful. This was the crux of what they had fought for - the simple right to be who they were, love who they would, and not be judged because of it, not to be told that she didn't belong in this world, or with these men. She wasn't naive enough to believe it would be easy for any of them, but she had a feeling that it would be worth it. After all, they already knew how to make her smile, and sometimes that was the best gift that she could ask for - foot rubs, cups of tea, and magic flowers included.