I Think You've Lost It

Author:

luminousmarble
Challenge: Hermione has no sex drive; the boys do everything in their power to entice her again.
Title: I Think You've Lost It
Summary: same as challenge, really, except with naked breakfast
Warning: not angsty
Word Count: 2000ish
Rating: R for language and innuendo
Notes: Thanks to

calliope14 and

littlesnitch for giving it a look-see ahead of time.

If you asked Harry, late spring was the best time of the year. He waved at the last of the crowd Apparating out of Hedley Arena, one of four regional Quidditch pitches the Weasley twins had built for recreational league play (after their overseas expansion made them wizarding London's richest men). Late spring meant days with hazy afternoon sunshine and feeling like a kid again while the wind whistled around his glasses. It meant the exhilarating feeling that went along with chasing the Snitch and, usually, catching it.

Harry stripped off his gloves as he walked into the locker room. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than a hot, steamy shower with plenty of soap. Once his hands were free, he pulled his robes off over his head.

“What’re you doing?” Ron looked up from the broom he was polishing to a high sheen.

“Taking a shower.” Harry opened his locker and threw a towel over his bare shoulder. “Hurry up, or there won’t be any hot water.”

“Well, er, I wasn’t going to take one.” Ron’s color heightened, but his demeanor was serious. “You remember when we came home from the match last month? When the pipes were broken?”

A wobbly sort of feeling raced across Harry’s kneecaps. “I remember. Why?”

Ron stood up and shouldered his broom. “I reckon Hermione sort of enjoys it when we come home without. All sweaty like.”

The two exchanged thoughtful looks and Apparated.

***

Hermione was in the kitchen, reading an enormous book. This was not at all uncommon; however, it was uncommon for her not to acknowledge the presence of her two best...best everything, no matter how absorbed she was in research.

Ron took it for a challenge. He tiptoed behind her chair, his boots betraying him with loud squeaking sounds. “Hermiiiiiiiiione,” he whispered against her neck. “Put that thing away.”

Hermione shook her head the slightest degree, as if a fly had buzzed past, and continued reading.

“Hermione,” Ron repeated, twining his fingers into her hair and planting a kiss below her ear. Still Hermione did not react. Exasperated, Ron disentangled one hand and used it to flip her book closed.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in,” Hermione said distantly. “I think I’m going to go take a nap.” She gathered herself and her book with a wan smile and headed up the stairs.

Harry leaned against the countertop, smirking at Ron’s befuddled expression. “Thanks a lot, mate. Wear her out and she’s not good for anything anymore.”

“Me, wear her out? This is all your fault, Harry. Every night this week it’s ‘no, sorry, I’m tired’ and I’ll thank you to remember that we agreed to share everybody equally a long time--”

Harry cut in. “She’s been turning you down too?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment. In the end, Harry moved first. He Summoned two shot glasses and a bottle of Ogden’s Old from the pantry. Ron dropped into a chair opposite him and held the drink to his forehead in agony.

“Do you think she’s bored with us?” Ron’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Do you think she wants to move on?”

“No, of course not,” Harry reassured him while echoing Ron’s words to himself in his head. “I think...I think...Maybe she’s lost her...you know. Her wannafuck.”

Ron slapped a hand on the table. “It’s sex drive, mister I-can-say-the-Dark-Lord’s-name, and you can’t just lose something like that.”

“Sex drive,” Harry forced out in a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes. “And yes you can. I think. If you’re a girl. I’ve heard some girls don’t have any.” A thought of Aunt Petunia, notoriously frigid, was stamped out before Harry could wonder if boys could lose theirs too.

Ron had one eyebrow raised skeptically. “Really?”

Harry swallowed. After all, Ron had five brothers and a sister. And, Harry had dated that exhausting whirlwind of a sister, who--though he wasn’t going to tell Ron--was his original inspiration for the term wannafuck. “Maybe it’s a Muggle thing?”

“Hermione’s Muggleborn.” Ron tapped a finger against his lips. “We have a mission.”

***

They started the next morning. Harry squeezed oranges and Ron burned toast and they put it all on a tray with a bud vase and served it with little more than a smile.

Hermione was dressed and combing her hair. “Aren’t you two a bit cold?” She glanced at the toast and professed herself to be ‘not hungry’.

Back in the kitchen, Ron scraped a blackened piece of toast over the sink. “It’s not like we didn’t try. Breakfast in bed, served by us! I mean, look at us. I’m tall and muscular and I know she likes to think she can make my freckles go away if she licks them enough. And you, you’re lean and wiry and”--he glanced over at Harry--”hard as a rock in the morning. You were right. She’s lost her wannafuck.”

Harry drained the untouched glass of orange juice to stop himself saying you said wannafuck. Instead, he busied himself cleaning up the breakfast tray. “So? We’ll help her find it.”

“Should I take out an ad in the Daily Prophet? One libido, usually associated with brainy bookworm type, reward?” Ron snapped the dishtowel at Harry’s backside.

“Ow! No, seduce her, Ron.”

Ron let the towel hang slack. “I dunno if I’m the seducing kind. I’m sort of the grab ‘em and kiss ‘em and go for it kind. Or the sure, I’ll have a blowjob if you’re offering kind. Feet sweeping...not so much.”

“How hard can it be... Stop laughing,” Harry said, covering himself with his hands.

***

They were desperate. There had been those times at Hogwarts when they’d put a Silencing Charm around the bed and talked late into the night; sometimes, they’d done more than talk. But it had been a long time since they’d done anything without Hermione. Instead, they used their ‘together’ time for boys’ nights out and, lately, stayed out of the way when one or the other wanted a coed night in.

“Two heads are better than one,” Harry insisted, shoving the stack of women’s magazines toward Ron.

“Yes, but she’s not showing any signs of giving it.” Ron’s nose was buried in a copy of Quidditch Weekly. “I am not taking any more compatibility quizzes with you.”

“C’mon. It’ll take me all day to read these by myself. And, look. Some of them have good ideas in them.” Harry slapped a magazine on top of the racing broom centerfold Ron held.

“Sex tip number three thousand and twelve. Spend twenty minutes in the bath to get yourself in the mood for hanky panky--use your favorite aromatic oil! Jasmine, orange blossom, or lavender will make your man randy. Fondle yourself so that when he gets wind of you, you’ll be ready.” Ron let out a sputtering laugh. “Who the hell writes this shit?”

“Ron. I got these out from under Hermione’s bed. If we do something from one of these articles, she’ll put two and two together. She’s smart like that.” Harry sat back triumphantly.

Ron dropped the magazines in his lap. He was thinking about it, Harry could tell.

“Shall I run the bathwater?”

“Not by yourself,” said Ron, standing up. “I don’t want you to get all the credit.”

They raced each other up the stairs and into the master bath. Their jostling knocked over a glass bottle of bath gel, which Harry caught before it could shatter on the floor. “Melonball wash.”

“We don’t want to wash any melons.” Ron took the bottle out of his hands and rummaged in a drawer. “This one. It says jasmine, like in the article.”

“I thought you said the article was shite.”

Ron uncorked the bottle and sniffed apprehensively. “It was, but this isn’t so bad.” He turned the tap and dumped the entire bottle under the running water.

“It could be more romantic,” Harry said.

“She doesn’t have any of the other flavors.”

“No, candles or something.” It was Harry’s turn to paw through the contents of the cupboards. “Light these and put them in the window.”

Ron complied. A sudden crack rang through the house, signaling Hermione’s return from a shift at Arithmancy Unlimited.

“Quick! Let’s get out of here so she thinks a house...er, an elf did it.”

Harry and Ron turned at the same time. Their sudden movement ruffled the tulle curtain that hung in the window, sending it through the path of the candles’ flames. Ron pulled his wand. “What’s the opposite of an Inflamare?”

“Water, water,” Harry gasped. They both jumped into the tub and flung handfuls of water in the general direction of the problem. Eventually, they doused the fire, but not before drenching themselves.

The condensation on the mirror had cleared enough through misdirected deluges that they could see two fully grown (and fully clad) men standing in a tub full of violet bubbles next to a burnt curtain. Not very romantic. Or sexy.

Hermione opened the door of the bathroom, took one look at them, flicked her wand, and disappeared.

“At least we don’t have to fix the curtain,” Ron said, eying the result of Hermione’s charm.

***

“I promise,” Harry swore. “If this doesn’t work, I give up. I concede defeat. Hermione has no sex drive. She’s pulling away from us physically and emotionally in preparation for a breakup.” Harry rubbed his hands over his eyes. He’d read waaaay too many of those women’s magazines this week and was worried about his change in vocabulary.

Ron’s eyes bulged out. “Where did you find this?” A brightly colored flyer shook in his hand.

“I was in a pub, and these girls were talking about something called slash, and they were so enthusiastic that I couldn’t help overhearing.” He made his voice softer, in case Hermione was overhearing right then. “They seemed to get pretty worked up about it. So I thought that maybe Hermione would, too.”

“And where are we supposed to get more of it?” Ron’s voice squeaked and broke.

“We write it ourselves.”

***

“It’s been ages since I had to read your work for you.” Hermione adjusted the pillows behind her back. “Brings back memories.” With a smile, she slipped on a pair of reading glasses and turned up the bedside lamp.

“Once upon a time, there were three people named Ron, Harry and Hermione. They lived in a big house and they loved each other a whole lot. You started off like a fairy tale, but this seems to be a non-fiction--”

“Keep reading,” Harry said. He began unbuttoning Ron’s shirt.

“Sometimes they spent their time together, reading or talking or even playing chess. Other times, they played more interesting games.”

Harry’s shirt joined Ron’s on the floor.

“Games meant to be played indoors. We had a big section on Quidditch being like these games, but Harry said to cut that part out because we didn‘t have time for metaphor.”

Two pairs of trousers were discarded, and Harry nibbled gently on Ron’s lower lip.

“We just wanted to say that it’s not as much fun to play with--that should probably be by--ourselves as it is to play with you there. Oh, maybe you meant...” Hermione trailed off as Harry groaned under Ron’s hand. “Er, what’s this all about?”

With a frustrated laugh, Harry pulled Ron onto the bed beside Hermione. “We think you’ve lost your wa--”

“Sex drive,” Ron finished. “If it’s someone else,” he said, defiant and stoic, “tell us and get it over with.”

“There is someone else,” Hermione said. She didn’t look Ron or Harry in the eye, and twisted the edge of the parchment she held. “That’s the reason I’ve been avoiding both of you.”

Harry moved to the edge of the bed and dropped his face into his hands. Ron jumped up and started pacing. “If he treats you bad, I’ll break his nose!” he said, pounding his fist into a palm.

“I’m pregnant.”

“And if he doesn’t take care of the baby, I’ll break his other nose!” Ron roared. His arms fell to his sides. “You’re--really?”

“Pregnant?” Harry mouthed, turning around.

"I wasn't going to say anything until I was sure. Especially since it was going to be 'I told you so'." She muttered something about 'ninety-seven percent effective when used correctly' under her breath.

The other two came to a mutual agreement within seconds, unspoken until Harry voiced it. “We’ll be here for you, always, Hermione.”

“Better be,” she said, looking pleased. “One or the other of you is responsible. Now, go away and let me get some sleep.”

“Right, right.” Ron tucked the blankets around her carefully while Harry retrieved their clothing. "Do you need anything, like pickles or ice cream?"

"No, thank you." Hermione smiled sleepily at the figures in the doorway after being kissed goodnight as if she were breakable. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will come back after the baby is born.”

“What, love?” Harry asked, a hand on Ron‘s shoulder.

“My wannafuck.”

Hermione turned out the light.
***

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75 comments

ceilidh

April 4 2004, 19:15:19 UTC 8 years ago

OMG, I am cackling SO. Hard. at this fic! Harry and Ron are a couple of clueless t00bs and Hermione's just...

. This is just hilarious, I love it!!! <3

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I Think You've Lost It

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the slash thing

Re: the slash thing

AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Re: AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

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