#secrets we keep

Ludwig finds himself on the couch

I did a thing and posted a new story. I hinestly havent written fanfiction actively since 2013/2014 or so and only wrote a one shot Harry Potter fic. The rest were written many moons ago about a now defunct soap opera called Passions. This story has been ruminating in my mind for about a decade. I hope I can do justice to what's in my brain. Totally Au.

Trigger Warning: mentions of infertility

Ron’s eyes scanned the window of the jewelry store in Muggle London. He’d been there before - plenty of times, actually. There was a jewelry store Hermione fancied.  Their designs were different and for some reason caught her eye more than the goblin made pieces he’d find in Diagon Alley. It had to be perfect.  They’d been through so much in the last few years.  The tears and heartache were so fresh in his mind.  The pavé rose pendant shone in the overhead lights – Ron knew this was exactly what he had been looking for.  In a few months, their little Rose would arrive and hopefully, heal so much of the pain they’d been through.

              With his hand on the buzzer to allow entrance to the store.  That was when he noticed it.  The signage on the shop was levitating.  Ron smile to himself and looked around to find the source.  Of course, there were other Wizards and Witches who frequented Muggle London but, he knew this magic was done by a child who had just discovered the things they could do.

              Ron smiled thinking of the trouble he and his siblings had gotten into as children. Interest piqued, he looked around the square to see if he could place the little witch or wizard in training. His eyes fell on a little girl with a mop of dark curls and brilliant emerald eyes that were full of delight as she ran from the woman desperately trying to keep up with her.

              “Maia,” she called frantically.

              Not looking back Ron watched as she made a beeline for the flowers, she’d set to change color.

Against his better judgement, he headed her off, his height and long gait made ten times the progress of her chubby little legs.  He sat on the bench in front of the girl, not wanting to alarm her.

              “Hullo there,” Ron said as he corralled her in the small benched area.  He swallowed hard when her lashes lifted and he was met with brilliant green eyes, the eyes of his best friend on a miniature version of his wife.

              “Ron?” the familiar voice called from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Ron gave his mother-in-law a crooked smile. “Hullo Thea,” he greeted.

“Won!”

Ron jerked his head back to the little girl with the impish grin.

“Won!” she called again and used his long legs to help her climb the bench beside him.  Her balance not quite perfect, Ron grabbed her before she could tumble backwards onto the concrete.  It’s an instinct he never knew he had.

She giggled and hugged his neck. “Won help My-my.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and Ron’s heart melted instantaneously. Before he knows it, chubby little arms are around his neck.

He’d been angry for so long he’d neglected to realize that there was someone else involved that was perhaps more innocent than any of them.

“Hug Won!” she demanded in a voice so much like her mother that Ron didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry but, as he did when it came to Hermione, he obliged.

Thea Granger seemed to sense her son-in-law’s internal turmoil and pried her granddaughter off him.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered gathering the little girl in her arms.

In an attempt to bring the attention away from the rambunctious girl in her arms, Thea asks “So, what brings you to this part of London?”

Ron’s eyes never leave Maia. “I wanted to buy Hermione something for when the baby is born,” he says absently.

“The baby?” Thea’s brows are furrowed when Ron looks back up at her.

“Her-Hermione didn’t tell you?” Ron frowned.  She seemed so excited

Thea sits beside him, clutching her granddaughter tighter. “Hermione hasn’t spoken to me since she dropped Maia at my door.

Ron pondered this a moment. “So, she’s never-“

Thea shook her head.  He tried his best to wrap his brain around the fact that his wife, the woman who had so desperately wanted children, hadn’t laid eyes on her own in the last year and a half. And now, he’d had more interaction with her little girl than Hermione had ever had. For Merlin’s sake, he’d even hugged the girl.

“How could she just leave her?” Ron asked. “And not tell you about the baby?”

Thea looked at her granddaughter sadly. “I wouldn’t presume to know what my daughter is thinking.  I’ve barely seen her since she was eleven anyway.”

In that moment, Ron realized Thea was right, Hermione had spent most of the holidays with his family since their second year at Hogwarts.  Then, there was the year she’d sent her parents to Australia.

“I haven’t tried to keep her away,” Ron sputtered running a hand through his hair.

“Dear,” Thea sighed taking Ron’s hand.  “Does anyone make Hermione do things she doesn’t want to do?”

“Won!” Maia shrieked “Ook!” with that, the colors of the flowers in the closest planter began changing color.  It was like she knew what she was doing, Ron mused.  Instantly, he realized the danger of exposure.

“Uh-Maia, let’s play a little game.” The girl freed herself from her grandmother and managed to stand on Ron’s legs.  “Let’s try to only play with the flowers at home,” he suggested. “What do you say?” he poked her belly making her laugh in the process.

“No!” the colors became brighter and far more noticeable.

“What if I gave you ice cream?” he asked.

“I cream! I cream! I cream!” she chanted jumping on his lap

“Really Ronald? Before lunch? Honestly,” Thea sighed.  Maia would be a sticky mess and wouldn’t eat anything she tried to give her in terms of real food. She very quickly felt bad for scolding her son-in-law. “Alright,” she said defeated.

“I was actually wondering if you would mind very much if I took her myself?”

Ron’s face looked so very hopeful, especially when he added, “Y’know, I’m going to need some practice.”

Thea laughed and gestured to the ice cream shoppe across the way. The truth was, she could use some time alone.  She wasn’t as young as when Hermione was a baby.

Forgetting about the gift for Hermione entirely, Ron grabbed the diaper bag and excited little girl and made his way to the shoppe. 

How was it, he wondered, he could think so far as bringing her to Diagon Alley, sending her to Hogwarts, teaching her to ride a broom, all within having met her not half an hour before. Where did this feeling come from?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron took his wife’s hand and led her toward their kitchen table where dinner was waiting.  He’d left a little rose in a bud vase in front of her place setting as he’d done at nearly every meal they’d shared since reconciling. 

His level of devotion overwhelmed Hermione.  Here she was, the one who, in her own eyes, didn’t even deserve forgiveness, and Ron was still fawning over her.

She lightly touched the velvety petals and looked up at her husband with a smile.  She held his hand tighter.  She wouldn’t take his love for granted again. Ever.

“’Mione?” Ron brought her hand to his lips and then dropped it to his chest. “If I tell you something could you promise to maybe try and stay calm?” He felt her hand tense and knew immediately what she could be thinking.  “It’s nothing like that,” he assured hurriedly.

Hermione stared at her husband pointedly. “Well?” her brows rose as she sipped the water at her place setting.

“I was in muggle London a couple of weeks ago.”

“O-Ok…” Confused, she wordlessly urged him on.

“I ran into your Mum.” He met her eyes to gauge her reaction, “and Maia.”

Her breath hitches.  “Ron,” she tests her voice and looks at his feet.

“Maia was with her,” he says softly. “I took her for ice cream.” He adds with a half-smile.

Hermione’s head shoots up and her eyes search his. “I think your mum was a tad put out because it was before lunch.” It was if she had forgotten to breathe.  Ron had taken her daughter for ice cream. The child she hadn’t seen since she was days old.

“I would like to bring her home, Hermione.”

“Ron,” she begins softly. “She’s not…” she looks away, ashamed.

“She can be.” He cups her chin in his thumb and forefinger and brings her gaze to meet his.

“How would this even work Ronald? How could we bring her here?” her throat is tight, but she continues. “Your Mum and Dad would hate her for starters.  Then there’s Ginny.  She’s barely speaking to me as it is.

“I’ll tell her it’s my idea.” He sits in the seat beside Hermione. “It is my idea.”

“No, she’s better off with my Mum.  We’re all better off that she’s with my Mum.”

“No, we’re not.” He says shaking his head.  “We’re doing her a disservice not raising her.”

“Really Ron,” Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes

“She’s showing abilities already.” With this, Hermione seemed intrigued, Ron continued. “Your mum said when you were a child, you were like her though she didn’t put it together until you were older and your abilities didn’t begin quite so young.”

Hermione let out a breath.  He’s speaking of her daughter with something akin to pride. “If we talk to the family – get their buy-in?” he asks.

Her eyes are wet.  When did she start crying?

“We talk to Harry and Gin first.” Her voice is barely audible as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her soundly.

“I don’t think this will be a problem.”

Hermione rests her head on her husband’s chest.  “You’ve clearly not spoken to your sister recently,” she muttered.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione and Harry had barely been near one another since before Maia’s birth. They’d spent functions at the Burrow as far away from one another as possible. To say being at the same table together was uncomfortable was an understatement.

Not that the Burrow had been neutral territory, it most certainly wasn’t but, it was a far sight better than Harry and Ginny’s home.

Since the affair – could you deem a one night stand an affair? Maybe when a child was involved, she mused. Hermione had received quite the cold shoulder from Molly.  Not that she’d expected the woman to welcome her back with open arms but, she’d hoped for at least the same treatment Harry had received.  Silent treatment for a few weeks, followed by annoyed glances, a talking to, the likes he’d never seen before, even when doing something incredibly dangerous like bringing her youngest son along on a horcrux hunt. It had taken some time, but she’d returned to being his surrogate mother.

Was it that she, Hermione, should have known better? Her mother-in-law surely didn’t know the desperation and heartbreak of trying for years to have a baby only to be met month after month with failure. She didn’t know the way it ate at your soul until you were just a husk of a person. She didn’t know the way it felt to let your husband, your partner in everything down month after month as you were sure he was tired of reassuring you when you couldn’t reassure yourself that one day you would in fact have a child.

She didn’t know that the hormones you would ingest and shoot into your body just to have a fraction of the number of children she’d borne would give you hot flashes, mood swings, bouts of rage and frustration. She didn’t know the oceans of tears that had fallen from your eyes. Until one day when you watched your husband with his new nephew, your best friends son and while he doesn’t know you’re there, you hear him speak to the baby and wonder if he will ever get to hold someone so new that’s his.  Wonder if he will ever wake up in the middle of the night to change diapers or warm bottles. To hear his innermost doubts about their future.

And that’s when you finally crumble inside.  That’s when you pack just enough clothes and items to get by.  Your husband is too good of a man to leave you.  You feel completely broken inside.  These are things a woman should be able to do and do easily, are they not?  and find a flat near the ministry.  Your job is the only thing you have anyway.

After not taking any visitors for months, your best friend shows at your door with a bottle of firewhiskey.  It’s an expensive bottle.  He’s got the galleons.  His son hasn’t slept through the night in the last two months and he’s losing his mind. When you’ve had half a bottle of very expensive firewhiskey, your mind does very stupid things.  It reaches for comfort first of all – especially when you’ve devoid yourself of human contact for the better part of two months. She doesn’t know who reaches out to the other first, but she does remember tracing his scar with her index finger.  Very gently.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he says stupidly, green eyes never leaving hers. “It used to burn when he was trying to get into my mind. It sounds crazy but, it was lonely at first – after that connection was broken.”

She knows all about lonely and broken connections. His eyes settle on her mouth and then back up to her eyes.  Perhaps this is what Ron was afraid of when they were searching for Horcruxes.  Perhaps this is what she should have been afraid of when she let Harry in earlier in the evening. Perhaps firewhiskey and an empty stomach don’t mix.  His body moves over hers and before she her brain can catch up to what’s happening, their clothes are gone from their bodies and in a heap on the floor.

She knows she’s awake first because the sunlight streams into her eyes and Harry is beside her on the floor with nothing on but his glasses which are askew on his nose. She throws a pillow at him to cover up and he awakens with a start. Black hair standing on end, he tries to focus and realigns his glasses as she clutches a hand to her head.  They both realize very quickly that she is naked as well.  She grabs the blanket from the other side of the sofa and covers her bare body.

Very Explicit

He insists on carrying her over the threshold. "Come Jamie. We aren't traditional." She says when he lifts her up at the door.

"I ken. But, I am Scottish Mrs Fraser and some things must be done." She surrenders and he carries her over and into the house. He continues up the stairs and heads towards their room.

"No, that door." She points towards the door at the end of the hallway. He looks at her with wide eyes. "I know. We, Gel, Mary, and I prepared it." He nods and heads that direction.

They enter and he stops at the entrance, his wife still in his arms. "I guess ye did. I dinna recall a bed being here." He lowers her to the floor. Gellis had slipped into the room ahead of them and lit the candles. It is the perfect mix of romantic and kinky. It is them.

"It has always been here. Comes out of the wall." She explains.

"This room is full of surprises." He says stepping farther in.

"You don't mind, do you? I thought it would be the perfect way to redeem it."

"I dinna mind at all." He draws her to himself. "I am curious what surprises are under that conservative dress.

"I am curious if you are wearing anything under that kilt." She replies pressing close to him.

"Ummmff." He grunts as she begins to grind against him. "shall we see?"

"Let's." He reaches back to unzip the dress. It falls in a puddle at her feet. Under it is a white lace teddy, cut high on her legs and low on her breasts. She has fishnet stockings halfway up her legs. He grunts low at the sight of her. She steps out of her dress and stands before him in just the teddy, stockings, and gold sandels.

"Ye are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He says in a choked voice.

"Strip." She orders. He does with shaking hands. He undoes the belt and it hits the floor. It is the most erotic sound Claire has ever heard. Her nipples tent the lace and she lifts her hands up to them, rubbing them with her own thumbs as she watches her husband undress. He pulls his shirt up and off, takes the boots off, and reaches for the kilt.

"No. Leave it on for now." He looks up and sees what she is doing and loses his ability to speak. ""Like that?" He nods. She smiles and let's her other hand trail down her body. He watches her proccess with lust darken eyes. She just feathers her hand over her wet sex. He licks his lips. She does it again with a soft moan. She watches him as she starts to play in ernest. Her fingers pull at his nipples as her other hand starts to stroke over the lace and satin. His hand starts to stroke over his kilt as he watches her pleasure herself. They are both breathing hard as her fingers move faster.

"Ohhhh shit. Christ Jamieeeee!" She cries out as she cums. Her legs almost give out but her husband is there. He pulls her close and kisses her hard. She clings the him as she struggles to get her breath back. He moves his head down to her super erect nipples. He pulls one deep into his month. "Oh f*ck! Harder." He does while drawing the teddy down to free the other to his hand. She pants against him as she reaches under his kilt to see he had went full Scot. She starts to stroke him. He works the other with his mouth after dropping the teddy to her waist. After fully lavishing her breasts, he drops down and ran his tongue over her center.

"Ohhhhh Goddddd!" He works her back over the edge before fully lowering her teddy off. He doesn't remove her stockings or shoes.

"On the bed Fraser." She orders when she can talk. "My turn." She straps his waists to the headboard securing his hands above his head. She starts at his lips, kissing him before moving down. She pulls and sucks on his nipples too.

"Ah Dhai! Ah Dhai! Please!" He is pleading after a bit of this.

"Relax husband. I have you." She kisses down his belly, twirling her tongue in his bellybutton. He arches up, letting out a delicious scream. "Like that, do you?"

"Oh aye. Please." She grins and continues to play with his naval. When he is panting and unable to talk, she moves down. She kisses up his legs, holding him still with her own legs. Finally, she lifts his kilt. He is shiny with need. She loses her breath in anticipation. She lowers her head.

After a few minutes, she replaces her mouth with her vagina, easing down on him. He is still bond, given her full control to ride him hard.

"Oh bloody f*ck do I love you." She groans out as she cums hard.

"And I ye. Please Claire. I need to touch ye." She undoes his cufs and he pulls her close and rolls her over taken over the rythymn. She lifts her own arms up, securing them only with his own hand as his other runs over her lips and breasts with the other one.

"Mrs Fraser, give me yer mouth." She does and swallows her name and his own cry as he cums a second later.

They leave for their honeymoon the next morning.

by Dana Gioia

So much of what we live goes on inside—

The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches

Of unacknowledged love are no less real

For having passed unsaid. What we conceal

Is always more than what we dare confide.

Think of the letters that we write our dead.

I still love Her and She loves me.

Yet in my heart love another love grows.

I hide my feelings so You cant see.

I could be with You as long as She knows.

What do I do with this twisted heart.

Can I do what it wants me to do.

I need you in my life I don't wish to part.

Just Your smile warms me through and through.

How many times I wish I we had just kissed.

Even though I feel You're not attracted to me.

Such an act would make You pissed.

You'd kick me out and from my life You would flee.

So here I write my feelings on this place.

Somewhere where You and She will never look.

Because I have feelings I can't express face to face.

If I were asked I would lay the truth out like a book.

Until that day I will try to keep You near.

She will still stay at my side.

My heart is big with room enough for two in here.