Fic: In Summer Heat (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ginny/voyeur!Fred, NC-17)
Title: In Summer Heat
Words: 4000
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny/voyeur!Fred, vaguely implied Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Bondage, quill play, spanking, voyeurism
Notes: Written for bludrummergrl in pornish_pixies May 2006 Fantasy Fest">, who requested "Hermone/Ginny/voyeur!Fred - Things heat up on holiday at the Burrow. Toys, kinks, writing/quill play, bondage, fingering climax a plus. Fred being discovered/joining optional."

In Summer Heat

It was summer, and it was very hot.

Fred tried to ignore the feeling of a single bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he lay on his stomach on his bed, or more accurately, a spare rollaway that his mother had conjured up and squeezed in between Ron's and Harry's beds. Harry didn't even live at the Burrow, but Mum beamed such a smile when she referred to the other twin bed in Ron's room as "Harry's bed." When Mum got to talking that way, sometimes Fred felt like a poor-relation second cousin, and a glance at George and two glances at Ron told him that they felt the same way.

Bill and Charlie and George and Ron and Harry had invited him out for a quick game of Quidditch, which paled in comparison to the performance at the World Cup that they'd seen last week. Fred said no thanks, he thought he'd stay home and get some work done. Five jaws dropped around the breakfast table. Only Percy clapped Fred on the back and shook his hand gravely, making Fred feel like the minor minister of a foreign magical world.

The truth was, he had sort of a bet with George. "Extendable Ears, Eyes, and Fingers, think of it, George!" he'd announced last night, bending over a stack of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes forms that Mum hadn't gotten her hands on. "We'll develop some nifty little gadgets that'll let you hear or see or touch something from another room, and we'll call them – Sublime Senses?"

"Sublime?" George had repeated skeptically.

"Sensational, then. Supernatural. Superdistant. Only three Galleons, my friend, and that'll give me the capital I need to get going – we'll just need to modify some of the charms we already have on those hats – "

"Forget it," George had said. "You're not using your sales pitch for any of this stuff on me. I've already got that Parrot Pasty worked out; give it a try, will you?"

"What does it do?" Fred had said, picking up the pasty gingerly. It looked more like a small pile of gnome dung than anything edible.

"Try it," was all George would say, so of course Fred took a bite and found his nose replaced by a long beak that refused to dissolve until a howling George looked up the counter-charm. "I guess they've got a ways to go, but don't try to tell me that Extracorporeal Eye would be funnier than that!"

"I will," Fred had said determinedly, dropping the pasty on his pillow, "just you wait."

Which was why he was inside, squinting over the prototype for an Extendable Eye (for now, it looked like a long piece of flesh-coloured string), sharp rays of late-afternoon sunshine filtering in through the warped window, sweat stinging his eyes. He paused to wipe his face. It was too bloody hot to be sitting in here like this. He finished charming the string yet again, then glanced around, trying to decide which wall to flick it at. Percy's room was just below Ron's, but the idea of watching Percy labour over his cauldron report threatened to put him to sleep, so he chucked the Extendable Eye out the window toward Ginny's room instead.

* * *
It was summer, and it was very hot.

Ginny lay on her back on her bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing in the thick, tasteless air. Next to her, the only sound was of Hermione flicking the tissue-thin pages of her book. The sunlight skimmed through the window at an angle, catching half of Hermione's head and half the cover of the book in dusty light. Social Infrastructure in Troll Societies, it said in gold on the red leather. Ginny wondered how it could take a whole book to say that there was basically none.

She'd asked Hermione if she felt like going outside with the boys, at least to watch them play Quidditch, but Hermione shook her head. (Ron's face fell across the breakfast table, but Hermione didn't see him.) She thought she'd do some reading, she said. Percy nodded once, approvingly, at her. She didn't see that either.

"You know, you could go on out if you want, Ginny," Hermione said now, turning another page. "It's fine, really. I just want to finish this chapter – the author has some fascinating things to say about the hierarchy of children in Troll society – "

"I told Mum I'd entertain you."

"I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself," Hermione said stiffly, reaching for her quill and parchment, probably to make notes on the salient points on the relationships between Trolls and Giants in wizarding society (Giants, after all, were considered to be a highly evolved relative of Trolls, Hermione had informed Ginny last night). Ginny had never understood why Hermione wanted to make notes on things that weren't for an essay or an exam.

Ginny fanned the air in front of her face for a moment, then slid off her bed and stood up. She watched Hermione, whose rose-coloured lips were silently mouthing the interesting points in the chapter, then stripped off her shirt, then her bra. The sunlight pricked her bare back at random points, like the sprinkling of freckles on her skin.

Hermione's brown eyes peeked momentarily over the book, then reappeared, holding Ginny's for a longer, suspicious minute. "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining you." Ginny dropped her clothes and walked around to Hermione's bed, placing her hand on Hermione's hip and rolling her onto her back. The cover of the book had flapped closed, but Hermione's hand was still caught between the pages. Ginny plopped herself down on Hermione's hips and waited. It wouldn't take that long for Hermione to decide which was more interesting, Ginny or the book or the stifling heat creeping through every crack in the windows and walls and under the door.

Hermione bit her lip, then eased her hand out from the clutches of the book and put her palms on either side of Ginny's waist. "You'd better be extremely entertaining, Ginny."

* * *
The problem with the Extendable Eye, Fred concluded, was not only did it have to be in the proper position to see what was going on, but also you had to kind of squint and look into one end of the string so that you could see what was going on. And he wanted very much to see what was going on, because right now, all he could see was that Hermione Granger was wriggling out of her white blouse and cranberry bra and reaching up to tug his baby sister's mouth down to hers.

* * *
Ginny gasped a little as Hermione kissed her, softly, although it didn't take long to turn the kiss into something much slicker and more insistent. She kissed one corner of Hermione's mouth, then licked Hermione's lower lip before drawing it between her teeth. It was Hermione's turn to make a noise, low and surprised and laughing, as Ginny nibbled her lip, her teeth accidentally colliding with Hermione's.

The air all around Ginny's arms and shoulders and back was thick and stuffy, causing little prickles to dance around her skin, but the heat between their mouths was, Ginny thought, completely different.

She sucked her way down the curve of Hermione's neck, momentarily covering each inch from the heat of the sunlight. She liked the way the sun felt on Hermione's skin, warming all the places that she touched with first one finger, then another and another. Her palms left a sheen of sweat shaped like perfect, five-fingered prints, which Hermione didn't seem to mind. Ginny shoved the book off the bed and it hit the floor with a thump, sending up a soft cloud of dust that sparkled in the sunlight.

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and tried to look indignant. "Do you mind?" she asked. Ginny raised an eyebrow while she tongued the hollow just above Hermione's collarbone, licking the ridges that the bump of bone made under Hermione's skin. "I promised Madam Pince I'd – oh," she finished faintly as Ginny worked her way down to the flat valley between her breasts, sweeping her damp thumbs over Hermione's pink puckering nipples.

Ginny kissed across Hermione's right breast, running her thumbs along the crease below them and making a lazy, lopsided circle with her mouth. She sucked Hermione's nipple slowly, sweeping her tongue around the pebbled areole, listening for the noises Hermione made when Ginny's teeth found her skin and the sigh Hermione let out when she tipped her head back. It seemed to take longer for Hermione's gasps to reach Ginny's ears, but maybe it was the heaviness of the heat that they had to filter through.

Ginny pressed a final kiss to Hermione's breast, then puckered her lips and blew a long mouthful of air across Hermione's skin, watching as all the damp places from her mouth turned shiny under her breath. Hermione gave a little shiver, which Ginny was quite sure had nothing to do with the temperature in her room, and moved to cup Ginny's breast, but Ginny backed away. "Hey," Hermione protested.

"Hey yourself," Ginny said, reaching for her wand, which was on the floor somewhere near Hermione's book; another puff of dust unsettled itself from the rug. "I said I was entertaining you. I didn't say anything about you entertaining me."

Ginny watched that look appear on Hermione's face again, half stubborn, half amused. She mumbled something and watched Hermione's features crumple themselves into an expression of full stubbornness as two water-coloured cords whispered from the tip of her wand and bound themselves to Hermione's wrists, her wrists to the bed. "Ginny."

"It's okay," Ginny said, setting her wand on the bed, down near her thigh. "You'll get your turn, I promise."

Hermione didn't exactly look mollified, but the creases between her nose and eyes showed acquiescence, and Ginny kissed her again, enjoying the taut taste of the sweaty skin between Hermione's neck and shoulder. She stroked Hermione's other breast, keeping the tips of her fingers light on the pale skin, and Hermione arched her back to bump her nipple up into the cup of Ginny's palm. "You're very eager," Ginny noted, tracing her thumbs in mirror-image patterns across Hermione's stomach, circling the jutting bones of her hips, barely brushing the spot where her pubic hair started between her thighs.

"I'm not eager," Hermione said, glaring pretty forcefully for someone whose hands were bound over her head. She didn't say anything else until Ginny finally took her nipple between her teeth and pressed her knee between Hermione's legs, and then she mumbled, "Maybe impatient."

Ginny couldn't help laughing at that, and it was enough to send her hands inward, eight fingers and two thumbs finding precise points between Hermione's legs and thighs and lips. She traced one finger from the top of Hermione's slit to the bottom, then moved back up to circle the damp hood of her clit, watching Hermione's face the whole time. She hardly looked relaxed; her sweaty features were changing from pained to surprised to concentrating and back again. She looked like she was having trouble remembering the material for her exam, never mind making notes on it.

Which was enough to make her want to kiss Hermione again, deep hot-mouthed kisses while her first two fingers found their way inside her. She liked the way Hermione tasted, like this morning's pumpkin juice and musty pages and dry heat, but she also liked being able to watch her face – brown eyes squeezing shut as Ginny ran her thumb over Hermione's clit, mouth dropping open into a small, contained O as Ginny dove in to the length of her fingers. Ginny could feel the slickness sticking to each millimeter of her skin, and when she drummed her fingers lightly inside her, Hermione's wetness shifted and rearranged itself into new patterns against her fingerprints. She would have liked to stay like that, exploring the way every new arrangement of her thumb and fingers felt, but Hermione's thighs were hard and anxious against her wrist, and so Ginny concentrated on a slow, steady rhythm around Hermione's clit. She counted roughly two brushes of her thumb for every deep thrust inside Hermione, and she couldn't help pressing a smiling kiss against the side of Hermione's neck as she came, with gasps and fluttering eyelids and a sudden clenching around Ginny's fingers. Hermione wasn't the only one who could concentrate so dutifully on her studies.

* * *
The other problem with the Extendable Eye, Fred thought, running his fingers down the length of his cock, was that you had to use one hand to hold it up to your eye, when, really, the use of both your hands would be very helpful. Or else you had to Charm it so that it would hover an appropriate distance above the ground, which took far too long and didn't quite work and resulted in his needing to consult his textbook for the appropriate counter-charm. He was quite sure that Hermione Granger never needed to look up the right counter-charm, and that reminded him of Hermione and the things Ginny was doing with her fingers and tongue, and so he forgot about charming the Eye, grabbed it out of the air, and ran his thumb over the tip of his dick as he watched Hermione come.

* * *
Ginny had had every intention of letting Hermione loose as soon as she was finished, but the look on Hermione's face and the set of her jaw were too amusing for Ginny to give in. "Please?" Hermione tried first, and when Ginny merely stayed there, crouched over her body, Hermione's eyebrows turned straight and steely. "Ginny. Now."

"What," Ginny said lazily, drawing her hand down the side of Hermione's body, leaving trails of sweat and come, "don't tell me you've never read a book on this."

Hermione's mouth dropped open briefly, and then she shrugged – or at least, she would have shrugged if she'd been able to move her shoulders and arms normally. "All right, then," she said, and if Ginny hadn't been watching closely, she would have missed the mischievous look that crossed Hermione's face for just a second. "Come here."

"Here?" Ginny said uncertainly, sitting up on top of Hermione. Given their positions on the bed, there wasn't much here for her to come to. "Here where?"

"Give me your hands," Hermione directed, and when Ginny did, she gave a gentle tug. "Here."

"Here where?" Ginny was about to ask again, at the risk of sounding like a total idiot, when she realized that her breasts were hovering just over Hermione's fingers and she was over Hermione's mouth and oh God, Hermione's tongue was probing at her gently. "Oh God," she said aloud as Hermione found one of Ginny's breasts with her thumb – if she'd been thinking, she would have remembered to be impressed at Hermione's dexterity – and her tongue found the edge of Ginny's clit. Ginny felt like everything in her body was about to collapse; then she remembered the headboard that Hermione's hands were still tied to and hung on gratefully.

Hermione was licking her way up and down the folds of Ginny's lips and the bud of her clit cautiously, deliberately. She was so achingly slow that Ginny wondered if she hadn't found a book about this after all, about the way she was drawing her lips and teeth across Ginny's clit and the way she was tracing letters and shapes just inside her. Ginny carefully removed one hand from the bed and reached down to tangle it in Hermione's damp hair, splayed across the pillow on the inside of Ginny's knee. Her thighs were tight and tense, and the nerve running all the way up from her clit to her throat sang as Hermione licked more insistently, confident in her rhythm and coaxing out Ginny's orgasm with her tongue.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as she came, seeing black and red and yellow behind her eyelids. One or both of her arms hit the headboard and she mumbled something, some sort of pained cry that brought Hermione's laughter against her heat and wetness, and then it was over and she could feel the rushing of hot blood in her ears, the heat of the sun speckling her arse, the drop of sweat rolling down between her breasts.

When she scooted down Hermione's body to hug her and reach for her wand to remove the bonds, she couldn't tell if she damp patches on Hermione's skin were sweat or her own come or something else.

"Thank you," Hermione said with great dignity, rubbing lightly at her wrists as she took them down from the bed. Ginny was sure that magical cords didn't chafe the way real ones would, but she felt bad for Hermione, momentarily, a feeling that disappeared quickly as Hermione kissed the spot below her earlobe and then pinned her to the bed.

"Hey – " Ginny protested, sitting up to see what Hermione was digging for on the floor, dust puffing up in the air like smoke. She was rewarded by a firm smack on the thigh, not hard, but steady, like when Mum wanted to know who had tried a Jellylegs Jinx on the chickens.

"You said I'd get my turn," Hermione reminded her, pressing Ginny's leg down with her knee, "and I think it's my turn to entertain you, don't you agree?"

Ginny opened her mouth again, ready to complain, but Hermione's hand came down on her skin again, this time on the side of her arse that wasn't pressed firmly to the bed. Ginny blinked as the skin reddened momentarily, but maybe that was the sun. "Okay," Ginny said meekly, easing herself back onto the mattress. Her back and shoulders curved to the damp indent of where Hermione had just been.

Hermione smiled sweetly, and Ginny felt a different kind of prickling on her skin, more concentrated this time, from something harder and firmer than the sunshine. She glanced down to see Hermione trailing the tip of her quill along her skin. "Wait. What are you – "

"It's okay," Hermione said, her warm fingers curving along Ginny's lips, perpendicular to her smile. "There's no ink, you won't look like a sailor."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

Ginny closed her eyes as Hermione skimmed the sharp edge of the quill over her body, circling each freckle on her arms and chest (at least that's what it felt like she was doing, and she gave up fairly quickly), then making loose, lazy designs over her stomach and hips. The tiny, sticky barbs of the feather brushed against her skin when Hermione tipped the quill down, and she fought the urge to laugh as a ticklish feeling built up in the bottom of her stomach. She swallowed hard against the laughter as soon as Hermione found the edges of her breasts, stroking alternately with the quill and her hands.

She tried to imagine what Hermione would make and write on her skin if she had ink – the drawings and shapes she would form, what kind of words she would use. Ginny pictured Hermione regurgitating everything she'd just learn about Troll societies, and that was enough to make her laugh for real.

A third slap shocked her body, but what got her attention was that the delicious tingly feeling on her skin stopped. She opened one eye and met Hermione's stern brown ones. One eyebrow quirked at her, and Ginny made an apologetic face.

After a moment Hermione smiled, tracing a straight line down Ginny's body with the soft tip of the feather. It brushed against Ginny's clit once, then again, almost too lightly for Ginny to even feel it; she gritted her teeth at Hermione, who no doubt knew exactly what she was doing. She reached desperately for any part of Hermione's body, her damp curls, flushed cheeks, steadying hand that was propped on the mattress next to Ginny's breast; Ginny's thighs and arse and stomach were sucked up and tense, waiting for a little more pressure against her clit. She breathed in the hot, musky air. She held her breath. She made an irritated face. "Please," she said finally, hoping that her begging erased all traces of irritation from her eyes and mouth, because she wanted it, she wanted it so much that – "Please," she repeated, wondering if Hermione thought her voice sounded as strange and thick as she thought it did.

Hermione slid one finger, then two, inside her, and Ginny heard one or both of them make a noise, a groan mixed with a sigh that went down her throat like a lump. Hermione was still balancing the end of the quill in her hand, so her thumb controlled it against Ginny's clit, and the heat and the barest pressure and the dance of Hermione's fingers inside her were enough to convince Ginny that she was the one making all that noise. "Oh, God," she said aloud as all the tension went out of her body, her legs and tummy and shoulders, in one great release.

There was a very soft sound as Hermione dropped the quill on the bed and crawled up so that she was face to face with Ginny. "I'm sorry to tell you this," she said, "but I don't think I'll be able to use that quill again."

The sun cradled Ginny's face gently, and she and Hermione both burst into laughter.

* * *
The final problem with the Extendable Eye, Fred had determined as he rolled his balls in his cupped palm, was that it wasn't an Extendable Ear, so he couldn't hear a bloody thing as he watched Hermione finish fingering his sister and bring her off with a flurry of sound that he could only imagine. He guessed, from the shape of Ginny's mouth and the smile on Hermione's, that they were some good noises, but he was quite sure that they were nothing like the ones he was making.

It was his last thought before he came in his palm, and a string of come dripped across George's half-eaten Parrot Pasty.

* * *
An hour later, George came back from his game of Quidditch, red-cheeked from flying and the hot summer breeze. He, Ron, and Harry barged in to dump their brooms and finish up what sounded like an ongoing debate on whether Ron, Harry, and Bill had actually beat Charlie and George fairly. "I told you we won, even Charlie couldn't do better than you, catching that stupid apple!" Ron was saying to Harry as they clomped back downstairs.

"Hey, George, wait," Fred said as George made for the door himself. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Listen, I think you were probably right. Your Parrot Pasty is, er, a better idea than the Extendable Eye."

George raised a rumpled red eyebrow at Fred. Fred spotted a small bruise on George's forehead and wondered if the apple had done more damage than any of the Quidditch players cared to admit. "You're not serious, yeah?" He glanced around the room. "What'd you do with the rest of that pasty? Did you figure out how to include the counter-charm?"

"No, I just – er – I didn't do any work on it, but mine didn't come out quite like I'd hoped," Fred said, flustered. "Look, I guess my idea wasn't so sublime after all."

"I guess not." George gave him a long look. "Well, okay." He stepped forward, so close that Fred could smell the summer sweat clinging to the ends of his hair, and hooked his fingers inside the waistband of Fred's jeans. "I guess you've got a ways to go, then."

fin.