#this is the first fic-adjacent thing i've written in over 6 years so please be nice

[the-epic-hiram-lows]

Had an idea for an AU where Hermione and Hiram swapped bodies. This gave me plenty of little plot seeds, both funny and intriguing- Hiram as mayor! Hermione fucking up a mob deal she didn't know about! Hermione suddenly talking a lot of shit about teenage boys she knows next to nothing about!- but the one concept that stuck out in my head is the one below.

This is just a tiny blurb to get the idea out of my head. Might expand. Might not! Nothing explicit, at least not yet. Think of this as an excerpt of a longer story that I just haven't written yet.

The novelty of the switcheroo faded fairly quickly, followed immediately by a wave of panic.

Hermione Lodge sat at her husband's desk, wearing her husband's body, but had none of his brain to help her.

Hiram played a dangerous game, not unlike the one they played all those years ago. One wrong move could be a total party kill. Normally, she was thankful for his vague non-answers and careful omissions when it came to his line of work.

Hermione was no fool. She knew exactly who she married, and what she married into, but certain things are better left unsaid- especially when you are the mayor. The pair had a silent agreement- Hiram spent hours upon hours behind his desk fixating on whatever circuitous, Machiavellian scheme plagued him. She left him to pace in his study, fire in his eyes and belly as he plotted to claim whatever he desired.

When a plan showed promise or needed to be aborted immediately, Hiram would clue her in. Anything else was on a need-to-know basis, something Hermione was more than happy to oblige. She had her own shit to deal with- a daughter intent on rebellion, a town in need of just enough improvement to make her look competent, but enough shadows to allow Hiram's misdeeds to go unnoticed.

That was the name of the game- see nothing, know nothing. Admittedly, Hermione sometimes diverted from this plan, incessantly needling Hiram for information, but only on occasion.

Long ago, she and Hiram wined and dined a man who would prove to be a vital contact. A nameless hotshot lawyer, he lived in a penthouse overlooking Frank Sinatra's version of New York. "It is always better to know nothing than to pretend you know nothing," he advised Hermione, half laughing, half stern, as the Harvard alumnus lit their cigars. He was correct. For a mob wife- figurative, or, in this case, literal- there is an undeniable strength in willful ignorance. The man looked at Hermione, bushy brows obscuring his whiskey-glazed eyes. "You don't want to get caught slipping, should there ever be an occasion," he said euphemistically.

Unfortunately, their agreement backfired on this occasion.

Hermione stared expectantly at the study door. She had no idea who would walk through it, and when. The visage of her husband could only do so much. She continued to watch the door. Eventually, the time would come. There would be a knock at the door.

When the time did come, she swallowed, straightening her posture.

"Come in."

Hermione could have broken out into laughter.

All that worrying for nothing. Hermione fully expected to be greeted with the sight of a Rolex, only for it to be the sleeve of a letterman jacket.

Her relief was nearly euphoric.

"Archie," she breathed, standing up from the desk.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Lodge?" Archie nodded curtly, jaw slightly tense with focus.

Mr. Lodge. Right. Be Mr. Lodge.

Hermione matched his nod. She could do this. This was small potatoes. Hermione was no stranger to bluffing her way through conversation.

"Yes. I suppose I did." Not a great start. She cleared her throat, deciding on a bolder approach, stepping closer for intimidation. "And why, exactly, would I do such a thing?"

Archie paused at that, but only briefly. He began to discuss the most inconsequential subjects ever uttered in Hiram's study, listing every minor boyfriend infraction he could think of. He was $12 short for Veronica's dinner. He couldn't call her because Fred took away his phone. He scuffed the Jimmy Choos she was breaking in. It was all painfully normal- dreadfully dull. Hermione doubted Hiram would give any of it more than a moment of his time.

"Is that it, Mr. Lodge?" The boy looked concerned. He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly just as confused about his presence in the room as Hermione was. "Am I in trouble?" He shifted his body tentatively.

Now it was Archie who stepped closer, and so it was Hermione would babble. She began to lecture him on proper dating etiquette in the most cold, threatening way she could muster.

As Hermione scolded the teenage boy, she studied him carefully. He nodded along, his eyes attentive. In fact, he was barely blinking.

Archie stepped closer to the fireplace between them. He was seemingly taking in every word, but something was missing from his expression. He was distracted- by what? His body language was nervous, and his eyes were pools of expectation.

"Do you understand, Mr. Andrews?" Hermione asked, hoping to intimidate him.

But the boy met her with an imploring gaze. His big brown eyes studied her again, a boyish curiosity painted all over his clean-shaven face. What was she missing?

She took a step back, allowing him to get closer to the fire.

"Yes, Mr. Lodge, I understand."

There it was again- that expectant look in his eyes. Hermione raced through her mental rolodex of things Hiram might be providing him. Was he selling drugs to their daughter's boyfriend?

Hermione looked at Archie once again- his pathetic, pleading face was now closer to hers. He unzipped his gaudy letterman jacket as he approached the fire.

There was a tense silence. The kind of silence a person allows when they want you to say something. But she didn't, so Archie did.

"Mr. Lodge?" Archie, now stripped of the jacket, gazed down at her with a mix of concern and self-consciousness. The corners of his mouth formed a hint of a smile, sweetness still lingering despite the worry.

And that's when it began to dawn on her.

"Yes, Archie-"

The switch from last to first name was apparently all he needed. Before she could properly end the second syllable of his name, he engulfed her in a kiss. Hermione felt her skin flush and lose color all at once. Veronica's boyfriend had his hand in her hair, his mouth all but begging for her tongue to enter it.

She didn't move. He intensified the kiss on his own, pausing only to pant against her lips.

Veronica's boyfriend's hand was no longer in her hair, but clumsily fumbling at his belt. He didn't rush it- clearly time was not a concern.

Now Veronica's boyfriend was leaning against the desk, pathetic little whimpers escaping his mouth as he breathed down her neck.

Veronica's boyfriend pressed against her, his cheek now pressed against her collarbone.

But it wasn't her collarbone.

And this wasn't the first time.

It was all coming together. Watching Archie, she realized what a number her husband did on him. He stared up at her briefly, eyes still pleading with every ounce of hope in his body. He was desperate for reciprocation. Knowing Hiram, this was almost certainly a tactic he'd employed on Archie before- withhold all affection from him until he saw fit to dominate him.

Questions raced through Hermione head as layers of realization hit her. She was furious, terrified, and aroused all at once- the last of which was her biggest concern.

Stupid dick. They'll get hard at just about anything.

Yet another mess Hiram got her into.