|SIYE Time:3:21 on 26th April 2018|
Silence is Golden
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Genres: Comedy, Fluff
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Summary: When Harry goes to Diagon Alley with Molly and Ginny in preparation for their wedding, things get a bit out of hand and leave Harry with few options. So guess who was talked into going? Me. Yep, The Boy Who Lived was going dress shopping. Can’t you just picture the headlines?
Hitcount: Story Total: 11861
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Special thanks go out to my wonderful beta and friend bibliophile20 for his brilliant work. I’d also like to extend my thanks to friends browneydweasley and redhot_witch for taking a look at it for me as well..
written for HPGW OTP Challenge on Live Journal
I never should have done it. But I had to. I HAD to. They were driving me mad and all I wanted was some peace and quiet for once. They were fighting again, as usual regarding every little detail about our wedding. The cake. The flowers. The official. The dresses. The honeymoon. Even our sex life. God, that one was bad. I never imagined marrying Ginny Weasley would give me such headaches. Voldemort, I could handle; Occlumency could at least shut him out. Ginny Weasley fighting with her mother over piddly little wedding stuff is just plain wrong. I couldn’t take it anymore I tell you. So what is it that drove me to do it? Pay attention. You’re in for a bumpy ride.
“Now Ginny, remember, Hermione is built differently than you, so consider that, too,” Mrs. Weasley chided her daughter.
For some reason, I said yes when the two Weasley women asked me to go, get this, bridesmaid dress shopping. Why on earth I went, I don’t know. I had imagined seeing my future wife parade around in pretty little dresses that would arouse my inner beast and perhaps fulfil my deepest, darkest desire to shag in Madame Malkin’s shop. But, of course, that was not to be.
Before I get too far, you’re probably wondering why Hermione wasn’t there. Simple. She was sick. Terribly sick. I mean puking-her-guts-out-while-Ron-held-her-h air-back sick. Well, Ginny went spare, saying that Hermione NEEDED to be there and that we’d just have to reschedule. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, reminded Ginny that we wanted to keep the wedding under wraps and Madame Malkin had gone out of her way to close up shop for us after already rescheduling twice.
So guess who was talked into going? Me. Yep, The Boy Who Lived was going dress shopping. Can’t you just picture the headlines?
So Ginny came out wearing this lovely azure blue dress that kind of went off the shoulder and complemented her wedding dress rather nicely. (Yes, I’ve seen her in it, and yes, I was chastised by her mother. Happy?) The hem of the dress came to a little below her calf, and that’s what set Molly off. Hermione is taller than Ginny by about two inches (gasp!) and I guess showing too much leg is a mortal sin now.
“Ginny, it’s too short. It looks fine on you, but her legs…they’ll be all bare. And it’s going to be much too tight in the bust for Hermione.”
I hid my head when I heard the word ‘bust’ and ‘Hermione’ in the same sentence. Not the image I wanted when thinking of my best friend.
“Mum, that’s what alterations are for. It can be let out and lengthened, right Madame Malkin?”
The woman nodded. I knew she wanted to keep her mouth shut just as much as I did, especially since this one was the twelfth or fifteenth dress Ginny had put on that day.
“But the color…”
“Will look fabulous on Hermione.”
“It’s a bit impractical…”
“It’s a bleeding bridesmaid dress! The one from Bill’s wedding is collecting dust in your attic!”
It went back and forth for at least ten more minutes and two more dresses. I felt like I was watching tennis with Aunt Petunia the way my head kept going from one to the other. I was ready to leave, thinking they’d never miss me, when the question that I dreaded all day was asked.
“So Harry, what do you think?” I was doomed. On the one hand, if I ever wanted to have sex with her again, I would have to agree with Ginny. On the other, if I ever wanted to father any children, I’d have to agree with Molly. My brain was going a thousand miles a second trying to come up with something clever to say when my eyes fell upon my wrist watch. Our two hours were nearly up.
“I think it’s…uh…time for lunch. We’ve been here long enough,” I stammered. Apparently, mentioning that I needed to be fed was more than an adequate excuse for Molly to stop arguing with her daughter. After all, I am too skinny and my skin hangs on my bones like Dudley’s old clothes. I dodged a hex there, but only just.
For most of our engagement, Ginny and I had an unspoken rule, and we lived by it, as did Ron and Hermione. That rule was: ‘What Molly Doesn’t Know, Won’t Hurt Her.’ Now, Ron and Hermione had been, for lack of a better phrase, ‘doing it’ for a while now, and Molly finally stopped nagging Ron about marrying Hermione. When Ginny and I got engaged, let’s just say Ginny started staying over frequently. That was the first thing to fall under the rule; Molly didn’t need to know Ginny and I were having sex. Ron, the noble brother he is, was not so fine with it, and it wasn’t long before Ginny and Ron switched roommates. I think I got the better end of the deal.
Why am I saying this? To drive home the point that Molly Weasley still believed, to the ends of the earth, that her daughter was as pure as the driven snow. That was the sole purpose of ‘The Rule.’ So for her to discover that Ginny was not only as scarlet as they come, thanks to me, but also shacking up with me, well, let’s just say it would be the equivalent of the third coming of Voldemort.
And that’s where things got really out of hand.
We had just left the bake shop, where we were stalked and photographed, and Ginny had made a comment about wanting some pretty lingerie or something. I was all for it, and so was Harry, Jr. This had to be a thousand times better than looking at bridesmaid dresses and I gleefully followed Ginny to Morgana’s Menagerie, a very sexy and very pink shop located on a side portion of Diagon Alley called Roman Tick Street.
“Ginny, you can’t take Harry in there! He’ll…he’ll…”
“He’ll what, Mother?”
“He’ll get…ideas.” The last word was whispered, as if she were passing secrets stolen from the Department of Mysteries.
I stopped in my tracks. Damn right I’d get ideas and some rather delicious ones at that.
“It’s not anything he hasn’t seen before,” Ginny muttered under her breath. She was about a millimetre away from breaking ‘The Rule.’
“Pardon me? What did you say?” Molly had the hearing of a hawk.
“Nothing. Come on, let’s go in,” Ginny ordered, grabbing me by the sleeve into the pink velour encrusted shop.
Molly’s eyes grew wide as saucers at the, er, assortment of scraps of silky fabric that was referred to as undergarments. My reaction was a complete polar opposite of Molly’s; I was drooling and distinctly naughty thoughts gathered in my brain. My God, I’ve never seen stuff like that and the prospect of seeing Ginny wearing something like that made me nearly bust through my trousers. Thank Merlin for the combination of robes and jeans. I needed a good, quick shag. Now.
I walked up behind Ginny who was fingering something called a Merry Widow, and I couldn’t help but put my arms around her and press her bum against me. The little minx wiggled her arse against my pelvis and I groaned.
“Let’s check out the fitting room, shall we?” I whispered breathily into her ear before nipping her earlobe. “I can’t walk, let alone stand with all the naughty knickers around here.”
She giggled and grabbed my thigh. Damn, she’s evil. “Be patient. Should I try this on?”
“You better. Here, take this one, too. It’s white. Your mum’ll love it,” I said, handing her a long white silk negligee that looked something like a sex dress.
Now, that particular piece of white silk wasn’t all that naughty, but something about it grabbed my attention. And with the thoughts I had going round in my head, you can probably figure out what they were.
“Harry, that is altogether decent! I didn’t think decent was the point of this little side trip today,” she teased.
“I like it. Please? Try it on. For me,” I begged. I had ulterior motives, of course, but I was begging nonetheless.
“Fine. Mum!” Molly got up from the pink settee in the corner of the store, looking around, obviously hoping no one she knew saw her in the shop.
“Yes, Ginny.” Her eyes were anywhere but looking at the items Ginny held in her hands.
“Harry picked this out. What do you think?” She held the sex dress up by the hanger and Molly had no choice but to look.
She gasped, and I reckon it was a good gasp because she began ooh-ing and ahh-ing over it. It was rather spectacular, if I do say so myself. White silk with lace around the, um, breast area, thin straps and a slit that looked like it would go all the way to her hip. Damn. Just looking at the thing immediately redirected all blood flow south.
“Oh, it’s beautiful! Try it on,” Molly told her. “And Harry, you stay away from that dressing room.”
Ginny took the gown and the Merry Widow toward the back of the shop. Once Molly turned around, Ginny motioned for me to follow her with a come hither look and a kiss into the air.
After a proprietary amount of time, I pretended to need to use the loo and left Molly in the storefront. Stopping at the first curtained room, I whispered, “Gin? You in there?”
The curtain whipped back and there was Ginny. “So what do you think?”
“You expect me to be able to think?”
My eyes travelled up and down her body, drinking in the very sight of her. She was wearing the black Merry Widow and the garter belts grazed her thighs, while the corseted top half pushed her breasts up so they peeked out over the top. On my second trip down, I noticed the triangular swatch of black fabric of what I supposed was meant to be knickers.
I growled at her and pressed my lips against hers, pushing her back inside the little room. With speed I never knew I possessed, I undid my trousers and dove into the knickers with my hand and shoved them down her hips.
“Oh God, Harry! Quick!” she moaned as my hand found its way to her folds. “Oh bloody hell!” She leapt onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist as I held on for dear life. With my legs spread wide, I moved myself into position and with a fluid movement, drove myself into her.
“Go, go, go!” We rocked against each other, speeding toward the edge.
And then it went to hell.
In a hand basket.
Molly Weasley drew aside the curtain to find her daughter, naked from the waist down with her legs wrapped around me while I fucked her with my trousers down around my ankles.
Ginny and I froze on the spot and Ginny suddenly felt very heavy, even though I couldn’t put her down because then my future mother-in-law would get an eyeful. An impressive eyeful, mind you, but not really something I’d want to have happen.
“Get dressed. You have two minutes.” The curtain closed and I set Ginny down. Neither of us said a thing as we dressed and were out of there in under seventy-five seconds.
“Stop! I don’t want to hear it, Ginevra!”
“Well, you’re going to whether you like it or not!” Ginny’s eyes blazed with anger as she stared at her mother in the middle of Morgana’s Menagerie. “Yes, we have sex. Lots of it!”
“Not here, Ginny…” Molly seethed.
“And we’ve been doing it since we got engaged!”
Molly’s eyes flew from Ginny to me and my mouth went dry and my mind blank. Fortunately, Ginny rescued me.
“Don’t you dare go blaming him, Mother!”
“Well, you certainly are proud of your accomplishment, aren’t you? I certainly didn’t bring you up to be a …”
“Don’t say it! I’m tired of you treating me like a child! I’m nineteen years old, Mother, and I’m getting married in six months!”
“Then act like it. I would have thought you’d have enough sense to wait,” Molly huffed.
“Like you and Dad didn’t! Know what? There’s more, Mum.”
At that moment I was positive Ginny was going to break ‘The Rule’. Shatter it into millions of pieces. Destroy her mother’s blissful unawareness.
“Gin…Don’t.” That was absolutely the wrong thing to say as Ginny whirled around, wand in hand, wearing a menacing look. I raised my hands in surrender and stepped back, taking in the scene before me. Customers stared at us; the sales ladies ignored us; a crowd gathered outside the plate glass window. It was out of hand.
I watched helplessly as Molly and Ginny continued bickering back and forth. Closing my eyes, I ran through the series of arguments from earlier in the day. They argued at the florist’s. Ginny wanted tulips, Molly wanted lilies. Personally, I prefer roses. They argued over whether the cake should be marble or raspberry-filled. They argued about having the wedding at The Burrow or at a hotel. And you already know about the arguments over Hermione’s bridesmaid dress. Everything ended in an argument. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
“Stop it! I’ve had enough of both of you!” They shut up at my outburst and the observers hung their heads and began to walk away. Apparently, the prospect of an angry Chosen One didn’t have the same appeal as the one who was in the middle of a cat-fight.
“Harry, stay out of this! This is between me and her!”
“Don’t talk to him that way!”
Before I knew what I was doing, my wand was in my hand and I shouted, “Silencio!”
A mute Molly and Ginny Weasley stood before me, gesticulating wildly.
“That’s enough!” I’d never seen Ginny listen to me so quickly outside the Quidditch pitch. “Now sit!”
They slumped down into the settee and stared at me with identical looks on their faces. They were too much alike at this moment, and I’m surprised that Ginny hadn’t mastered a non-verbal Bat-Bogey Hex by this point in her life. For that, I am eternally grateful. But I digress.
“This has to be the most unenjoyable day that I have ever spent with either of you. Yes, Molly, Ginny and I have sex. Let it go. And you!” I shouted as I pointed at Ginny, “You tell your mother the other half of the story. Soon. Preferably when I’m not around.” I took a deep breath and steadied my heartbeat. “I don’t want anymore fighting about the wedding. The ceremony will be at my house. The cake will be chocolate with raspberry filling. We’ll have white roses and Hermione will wear that blue dress. Understood?” They nodded. “Now come on. Let’s go.”
“But Mr. Potter, aren’t you going to lift the spell?” asked a petrified customer.
“Why the hell should you care?” I snapped, causing the woman to shrink back. She was on the verge of tears, but I really didn’t care; nor did I consider the possible repercussions of that, with the Daily Prophet gossip columnists still hounding me on a regular basis. “I’ll lift the spell when I get home. Out!” I pointed toward the door and followed them out.
We returned to every single shop we had appointments at and I informed the shopkeepers of the decisions I had made. I was a man on a mission, an efficient decision-making machine and had settled the details in only forty-five minutes.
When we finished our second round of Diagon Alley, in utter silence for once, we returned to The Leaky Cauldron and waited at the Apparation point. A tapping on my shoulder caused me to turn around to find Ginny mouthing something at me. I gathered it was about the spell.
“I said at home,” I reminded her. “You don’t need to speak to Apparate, remember?” I quickly Apparated home and soon found myself joined by Ginny and Molly.
“When I lift the spell, I want the two of you to stay down here and work things out. I’m going upstairs.” I turned around, walked into the study and grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky before heading up the stairs. Looking down into the entry hall, I muttered, “Finite Incantatem” as I headed into my room to stare into the fire and drink the day away.
“So that’s all that happened?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m surprised I’m still alive. I’ve never talked to Molly that way before and Ginny, well, she’s just…”
“Yeah. Unpredictable. I’ll never underestimate her again.” I sighed and looked at my feet nervously. “So are we done here? I have some serious ass-kissing to do.”
I got up to leave but was pulled back.
“Just be grateful I was the one who got the call. Moody or Shacklebolt, even, wouldn’t have been so easy on you. Shagging in a public place is a serious offence.”
“I know.” We both had to try and stifle our laughter. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?”
“I s’pose so. You’re luckier than Ron was.”
“What?” Now that was news to me.
“Moody was the one who got the call when he and Hermione did it in the stands at Puddlemere Stadium. Ron couldn’t argue as well as Hermione could, so he got a Section 24B-3a.”
“You’re kidding! I thought it was just a joke!” I sat down again, flabbergasted.
“Well, Moody was the one who perfected that potion, you know.”
“Poor Ron. How long did it last?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“Three weeks. And it so happened that Hermione had her, um, cycle the next week.”
“Ouch. He never told me that. Neither of them did.”
“Would you want to hear about them shagging in the stadium while hundreds of spectators came for the exhibition match? He forgot it was rescheduled.”
I shook my head.
“Well, I have one last question for you.”
“Okay. You know everything, so what’s one more?”
“Would Remus like me in that Merry Widow?”
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