#humpdaydrabble

[ralina003]

"Alright, out with it," Ginny said, looking at Hermione with her eyebrows raised at her challengingly. "You've barely even looked at this book over the last hour. Instead, you have eaten about twenty cookies, which is totally unlike you, considering that you barely touch any sweets under normal circumstances. So what is wrong?"

Hermione looked at Ginny with a sigh. "It's complicated," she said, suddenly not feeling like eating another cookie. Not, that she had registered eating the other twenty, mind you. 

"Good complicated or bad complicated?" her friend asked with a grin, propping her feet up on her bed. It had been a while since the both of them had last seen each other, Ginny usually busy with training while Hermione concentrated on the book she was trying to write. Not that this was going very well, considering her late difficulty to concentrate on something else than her current misery. That's why she had decided to take a break and visit her childhood friend at the Burrow.

"How about I-have-a-crush-on-your-twin-brothers-and-am-unable-to-decide-complicated?" Hermione asked, smiling wistfully when she saw Ginny's face break out into a disbelieving grin. Hermione shook her head. She hadn't really planned on saying that, she realized, but somehow the amount of sugar must have loosened her tongue. Well, it didn't really matter. Ginny was her friend and probably the only person she felt close enough to, to talk about her stupid crush. 

"So, you like Fred?" Ginny asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

"Yes," Hermione admitted carefully. 

"But you like George, too?" 

For a while, Hermione said nothing in return, but when Ginny kept staring at her, she nodded, whispering: "...Yes. You see why this is complicated?"

Ginny looked at her with a wide, amused grin. "Not really, no. Cookie?" She asked, pushing the half-full plate of cookies into her direction. Hermione looked at the redhead with a confused expression. Why wasn't she freaking out about what she'd just told her?

"No thanks, Ginny. You can tell your mum they're delicious, but I think I'm going to explode if I have another one of those. In fact, I'm feeling kind of strange already," Hermione confessed with a grimace. 

But Ginny just looked at her with twitching lips. "Well, actually those are not my mum's," she confessed, before turning towards the door. "Fred and George actually made them." She smirked before continuing somewhat louder. "Don't you finally want to come in here, boys? You heard it! She fancy's your pants off. So get your arses down here and snog her already!"

Hermione looked at her friend in horror. "They heard all that?" she squeaked, bolting from Ginny's bed in a panic. But why would they… "Ginny! Did you plan this whole thing?"

"Nope," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "But they did."

Hermione did not have time to say anything to that, as the door opened a moment later, Fred and George stepping into the small room. They wore matching grins on their faces, their eyes twinkling with mirth as they stepped closer. Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. 

"Thanks, Gin," Fred said, winking at his baby sister with a grin. "We owe you big time. But now be a good little sister and go snog your boyfriend for a while."

"Will do," Ginny chirped and before Hermione knew what was happening, her friend, the little traitor, was out of the room. What was she supposed to do now? It wasn't like she had intended to say any of this! Merlin!

"You weren't supposed to hear this," she blurted out, eying the both of them in panic as they kept walking closer. "What are you doing here anyway? If I had known you are at the Burrow, I…"

"...wouldn't have come, we know," George said with a shake of his head. "That's why we had to do something, you see?"

He was right in front of her now, his hand slowly travelling towards her face, where it took hold of one of her curls and stroked it behind her ear. Hermione shivered as his fingers brushed her face ever so slightly while doing so.

"Because Georgie and I pretty much wanted to see you," Fred added, suddenly standing behind her. "And as it appears you wanted to see us, too."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "I…" she started and realized that she was unable to hold her tongue or lie. "I did," she croaked out, her heart beating nervously in her chest. 

George nodded. "Good. And how about kissing us?" he continued, his brown eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her shiver. "Do you want to do that too, love?"

She closed her eyes, taking a big breath but even though her mouth was clamped shut, she found herself nodding at his words. 

"Excellent," she found Fred whispering into her ear a moment later, his breath tickling her skin. Then, suddenly she felt his hands close around her middle from behind and pull her against his muscular chest, as he continued: "Because Georgie and I want to kiss you, too, you know? And do much more, if you'll let us."

At that, her eyes snapped open, right in time to see George Weasley nod, before his face suddenly crept closer, his mouth coming to rest over her's. His lips were soft, she realized, when they brushed hers ever so slightly before pulling back for a few inches again. "Pity we first had to drug you to admit this to us. We could have been doing this for months now."

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "You've drugged me? With cookies?"

Fred chuckled behind her. "Sure. We've added a little bit of truth potion to them. Better than using alcohol."

"Why?" 

"Isn't it obvious? Because we want you to be in possession of all your senses when we do this," he said, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck, "and this." Another kiss followed, this time accompanied by his teeth that scraped her skin ever so slightly. Hermione found herself moaning against George's mouth, but a moment later her mouth was sealed by his lips again. This time they did not only brush over hers but kissed her with a passion, that took her breath away. It only took her a moment to kiss him back, her lips seeking him out with an eagerness to explore his mouth and anything else he would let her. Because she wanted him, wanted them both, Hermione admitted to herself while digging her fingers into the man's shirt before pulling him closer. It was useless to try to deny it to herself any longer. Hermione had eaten way too many cookies for that. 

(Pictures are not mine. Using them for presentation purposes only.)

[not-harry]

Mornings || Drabble 02

Something made consciousness start to stir in Harrison's brain, causing his eyes blink open. It took a minute to place his surroundings but it wasn't exactly unusual to find himself face-down on his desk with a book as his pillow. A soft laugh came from behind him, making him realize that was the sound that woke him up. And that was unusual. Blearily he turned, fighting back a yawn and squinting slightly before recognizing the figure in his doorway. "Mom!" A slight flush colored his cheeks as he quickly straightened up, subconsciously raising a hand to fix his hair as he looked for a clock. Three hours. Not bad. "It's nice to see not all things change," his mother said fondly. Harris rolled his eyes, but he pushed himself up, moving over to properly greet her.

"When'd you guys get here?" Her arms were soft around him, and the smell he could never find a word for but instantly meant home and safe filled his nose. Unreasonably he felt his eyes prick as he held on a little harder. "Just now," she replied back, pulling back to tug at his hair with another little grin. "Look at you. Your hair! You look good, Harrison. Tired, but good." A soft huff left his lips, but he couldn't quite wipe the smile off of them either. "So do you."

"Awh, you always were a charmer."

Harrison laughed but let go and stepped back eyeing her familiar clothes. "You heading out to the studio?"

"Yeah, I've got an 8am class. Just thought I'd drop in and see if you wanted to join me. Everyone keeps asking about you. And it would be nice to show them more than just a picture of you."

Harrison wondered briefly what the harm would be just to go and watch, but it wasn't worth the risk. "No, no thank you. Tell 'em I said hey and I was doing the lazy college boy thing and sleeping until noon. How is it going though? Everyone alright?"

"Harrison."

"Mother."

"Fine, but I'm picking you up after and we're going to go to dinner. Just me and you, alright? I feel like we haven't spent any time together in ages. I miss you."

"Miss you too. And dinner sounds good. I'll see you then."

She hesitated, but Harris just wanted to try and crawl into bed while he still felt groggy enough to maybe sleep for another hour or two. "I'll see you at dinner. I promise I'm fine. Go torture five year olds at way too early in the morning."

"Alright, alright! Love you."

"Yeah, you too."

Harris gave her a real smile before shutting the now empty door and crawling back under his covers. Unfortunately his brain had other ideas. He groaned, trying to bury it into silence with pillows and blankets but he only lasted ten minutes before he was back up at his laptop, deciding to give in and do his online homework for next week and hoping that'd bore him back down to some kind of sleepy state.

[not-harry]

Memories || Drabble 01

There were certain things Harris tried really hard not to think about. The really hot TA in biology, how he was probably going to be a virgin forever, and anything related to do with his dad were all things topped the list. And this summer had already made him think about all of them. Jeremy's casual mention of his own dad had sparked up anger in Harrison that he had sworn never to look at again. It just wasn't fair that two guys who had the label 'dad' thought fit to derail their sons lives because they weren't comfortable enough with themselves to deal with it. Realizing it was not just their dads but parents, teachers, friends, everywhere just made him feel worse. Nobody asked for their sexualities, and it was ridiculous to see the effect it had on quality of life when hair, height, and eye color couldn't even remotely compare.

He still remembered the time he'd come home happy and slightly sore, spinning around the living room in his eagerness to show his dad what he'd learned that day. Time had taken what exact move it was away, but he'd never be able to forget perfectly executing it and turning around fully expecting to bask in his pride and instead getting a disappointed sigh and, "You look like a girl. Go change and come back. We need to talk." Nine year old Harris had been confused, but he went changing into jeans and after a moments hesitation between his favorite lilac shirt and the black one, went for the darker one. He'd felt like he was in trouble and couldn't think of what he'd done wrong.

His bed was made, he'd done the dishes the night before, his homework had been finished before he left, what had he forgotten? A small frown settled onto his features, but he climbed up on the couch next to his Daddy who was patting the spot next to him anyway. "Son," his dad had started, "Dancing is for girls. Kind of like how football is for boys. You don't see any girls on the field during the games we watch, do you?" Even more confused now, he shook his head but promptly opened his mouth, "But what about Tommy and Drew? They're boys and they're in my class. There's even boy teachers! They said if I kept practicing, I could maybe be a teacher one day too!" His dad's eyes had shut like he was about to sneeze before he was turning and placing both hands on Harris' tiny shoulders, tight enough to make him squirm. "No son of mine will be a poofy dancer, you hear me? You're done. You are better than that. You're going to go outside and play. Kick a ball around, climb a tree, get dirty. Be a boy, Harrison."

What fun was being a boy if you could only do things Harris didn't like? "But - " "No. My mind is made up. It's final. No more dancing, no more flowers, no more musicals. I'll talk to your mother about it. And trust me, you'll thank me for this later. Now, Daddy has a very important chapter to write so go outside, alright? Take your sister! She at least knows how little boys should be. Maybe she can help you."

Harrison had slid off the couch without another word, effectively creating the rift that would always exist between him and his father. A sense of being made wrong had filled him even then as he walked away. He never did go find his sister that night. His mother had been crying in her room and he'd gone in there instead, not saying a word but just letting her hug him until she stopped crying and apologizing. And the next day when he'd come home from school to find all his clothes had been taken away and replaced with rougher, darker things, he didn't say a thing. Just pressed a smile on his face and kept his head up, playing the part of happy perfect son that was expected of him. The rest of his teenage years had followed the same pattern, with him instinctively clamping down on any tells before they could fully form and steering consciously away from things that peaked his interest - like theater. If he liked it, it was a safe bet his father would not, and he didn't have enough left in him to keep fighting that battle.

His father had broken something that afternoon and Harrison wasn't sure it was something that could be mended, not if just over a decade couldn't do the trick.