Chapter Text
June 2009, Gringotts Bank
Hermione’s high heels tapped out a sharp rhythm as she made her way to one of the conference rooms in the depths of Gringotts.
She was going to be precisely on time for her 11AM meeting with a potential new client.
This morning she had put extra care into her appearance, making sure her hair was smoothed down in a neatly braided bun, putting on her fiercest red lipstick, and slipping on her sharpest don’t-fuck-with-me heels. She had known that she was going to need an edge, and she had put on her proverbial armour to ensure that she would come out relatively unscathed.
Normally she was less stomach-turningly anxious for meetings with potential new clients. After four years working at Gringotts as an investment manager, nine years of total professional experience, and her reputation from the war which still lingered, people were generally nervous to meet her, not the other way around.
But it wasn’t every day that her potential new client was her childhood bully, the boyfriend of her best friend, and the man who she had secretly been infatuated with for the past two years.
So needless to say, she was terrified to hold a meeting with Draco Malfoy.
She halted abruptly, realizing she had passed the right conference room, lost under her mountain of worry. She back-tracked, grateful the hallway was empty. She stopped in front of the correct door and took a fortifying breath. She was going to treat this like any other meeting and be done with it. He would just be another client, and that was it.
The door opened on smooth hinges and she stepped inside, head held high.
Malfoy was seated at the conference table, and stood when she entered. She put on her best bland-but-professional smile and walked towards him, hand outstretched. He took her hand and for a brief second she thought he was going to bend down and kiss it, but instead he just grasped it firmly, his thumb dragging down the back of her hand slowly, making goosebumps appear on her arms. SHe physically resisted the shiver that ran up her spine at the contact.
Great, this was off to a great start. Totally professional.
“Malfoy, thank you for coming in.” Her voice was steady and she made her way to the seat at the conference table across from the one he had chosen. Already laid out on the desk were her marketing materials, her prospectus, and a lovely tea set that was refined but unfussy.
Malfoy resumed his seat and examined her with an air of disinterest. “Well Granger, Potter sings your praises and the Weasley’s credit you with dragging their family out of poverty. Plus Nott and Flint both call you a miracle worker. So, needless to say, I’m intrigued.”
Hermione did not deny her success. It was true after all. “You’ve been dating him for two years and you still call him Potter?”
“Well,” Malfoy looked a little chagrined and his lips quirked up slightly “old habits die hard, in public at least.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically. She had seen them together, and while Malfoy remained aloof, she was sure he called him Harry at home. She knew he did. That month she had stayed at Grimmauld Place last year still haunted her sometimes. They hadn’t been good at silencing charms and at night she remembered how ragged Malfoy sounded when he moaned out “Harry” and how the thump of the headboard against the wall would increase in pace in response.
She looked down biting her lip and hoping her face hadn’t turned red at the thought of that time. She smoothed her hand across the wood of the table in front of her, trying to dispel the memory.
“Well, you didn’t need to make an appointment. I would have been happy to do this in a more informal setting. You’re practically family now.” Her voice was light and she avoided eye contact, positive she was still blushing. She folded her hands demurely in front of her.
Malfoy’s mouth twisted slightly and his eyes flicked from her face to her hands. She was grateful that she had refreshed her manicure charms this morning.
“I wanted to see you in your element. The way Potter talks about you, you’ve single-handedly revolutionized the magical economy.”
Hermione gave Malfoy half a grin. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was single-handedly. Percy Weasley and Justin Finch-Fletchley have been working with me since the beginning.”
It was true, she had been making money hand over fist. It was also true that she had brought in new investment methods and vehicles to the magical world. And it was true that she had been the one who pushed, who got results, and who people were now desperately trying to emulate.
She had after all, introduced the hedge fund to the magical world. And the venture capital fund. And the private equity fund. And the derivative. And a whole host of other financial securities and organizations.
The Daily Prophet had begun referring to her as the Golden Girl, a play on her membership in the Golden Trio, and the fact that whatever she touched turned to galleons.
It was a far cry from when they had insinuated that she was a slag at 15. It helped that she now owned the majority of the Prophet’s bonds. Bonds that she could call due at any time because they had issued the debt without precise contract language. It wasn’t Hermione’s fault that the magical world was unprepared for sophisticated investors.
Malfoy answered with a grin of his own. “Well, now that I have control of my estate again, I knew that we needed the best. You’re the best.”
His smile gave her butterflies in her stomach, as cheesy as that sounded.
Hermione nodded, she had heard from Harry that the Malfoy fortune had finally been released from conservatorship, after ten years of mismanagement by the Ministry. It had been done under the guise of “reparations” for the war. Reparations to whom she was not sure. She certainly hadn’t seen any of the money, and neither had anyone else who had been victimized by the Death Eaters and Voldemort during the war.
“I’m happy to have you as a client. I see that my assistant provided you with our materials. And Harry has been a client since I started. Do you have any questions or concerns I can answer?”
Malfoy nodded, and took out silver wire rimmed reading glasses from his breast pocket. He pulled over the offering documents, flipping them open to the “Risks of Investment” section.
“Yes, it mentions the risk of future potential regulation in the industry.” Malfoy looked at her from over his glasses with a raised eyebrow. The butterflies in her stomach briefly migrated to her chest. “But from what I’ve heard, you’re the one pushing for reform and regulation.”
“Yes, I am.” Hermione busied herself making tea for the two of them, not bothering to ask how he took his tea. She knew. “When I started my fund I used tactics and methods that would be illegal in the Muggle world. I was the only person doing it and I trusted myself never to go too far. But now there are others trying to emulate my success. And they aren’t as ethical as I am. Also they aren’t as smart. Hence the need for reform.
“Besides,” she said, placing a cup of tea in front of him, “I no longer need those tactics. We have enough capital, reputation, and new tricks that we can still make money and adhere to the norms of the global financial system.”
“Fair enough.” Malfoy closed the booklet and took a sip of tea. “So what’s your current investment strategy?”
“Well, we have begun purchasing, at a significant discount, the outstanding bond issuances of certain companies that, while profitable, are not paying their loans for one reason or another. We are then ensuring that they pay on schedule and in full. Out plan in a few months is to sell the bonds at a higher price than that which we bought them for. It should make a tidy gain.”
“Sounds ruthless.” Malfoy looked impressed.
Hermione shrugged. It was ruthless. But the companies she was targeting were ones that were owned by assholes and blood-purists, so she didn’t care all that much. “Maybe. But it’s very profitable.”
Malfoy examined her carefully. “How did you get into this. I know we’ve socialized in the past two years, but no one ever told me how you became this take-no-prisoners investor.”
She pressed her lips together. She also often wondered how she became the person she was now. Before the war she had thought she would go into the Ministry and work for creature’s rights. After the war she was disillusioned with a government that had been so quick to turn on her, and had sought a different definition of success.
“After the war I did my N.E.W.T.S. via correspondence and enrolled in Muggle University, the London School of Economics.” She didn’t say that her enrollment in Muggle Uni had been a desperate attempt to salvage her relationship with her parents.
Two months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had brought her parents back from Australia. Retrieving their memories hadn’t been difficult, but regaining their trust had been. As penance she had foregone returning to Hogwarts and had enrolled in Uni, just like they had hoped she would before she was told she was a witch.
“After University I worked at a Muggle hedge fund, but I missed the Magical world. So I started my own fund that invested in both the Muggle and Magical world. I used my money from the Order of Merlin, and investments from Justin Finch-Fletchley, Harry, and Neville. Eventually the Weasleys invested with me, and then others began to as well. It was very successful.”
Very successful was an understatement. It had been astronomically successful. The Magical world had not experienced any of the financial system advances that the Muggle world had. And compared to the Magical world of other countries, like the U.S., Great Britain had an especially ancient financial system.
“After a few years, Gringotts was interested in my work, and hired my firm as investment professionals for the bank. We work with select clients. I’ve been here for four years now.”
“Even after you broke in?” His tone was teasing.
Hermione grinned. “Yes, even after that. Goblins appreciate the ability to make money, enough to overlook actions done in the heat of war. Especially because they were very unhappy to learn about all of the dark objects that were being stored in their vaults. Apparently regular contact with dark objects has a negative impact on Goblin Magic, and the contracts that account holders have with Gringotts forbids storing dark items in the bank. So by bringing that to their attention, they were able to confiscate more dark items and fine those accounts. They really like their fines.”
Draco laughed. The sound of it was delightful.
“I was ready to invest before I walked in here, I’m sure you know that. I also know that you’ve been known to turn away some investors. Pansy is especially salty that you turned her down as a client. Why?”
“I won’t make money for people who hate me, hate Muggle-borns. I know you don’t. Harry wouldn’t be with you if you did. His trust is enough for me.”
Draco nodded, thoughtfully. “So what do you need from me?”
“Just your signature on a couple of documents and the amount you’d like to invest. Given the aggressive nature of the fund, investments are risky. Therefore there is a limit that I impose to the percentage of your total wealth I’ll accept as an investment, no more than 25%.” Hermione stood and laid out the papers she needed signed in front of Malfoy. She did her best not to lean in too close to him while she did it. Despite her best efforts she was still close enough to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne.
“Sensible. I’d like to invest 25% then.”
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, but he couldn't see her surprise as he was focused on signing the documents. She had expected a more conservative investment. That he would have some hesitations and not trust her fully. Apparently she had been wrong.
“That’s fine. Once we’re done in this meeting I’ll take your commitment amount from your accounts and begin investing it. You will receive quarterly profits, and your first quarter will be prorated, given that we are already two weeks into the quarter.”
“That’s acceptable. Will I be able to withdraw my investment if I need the money for any reason?”
“Of course,” said Hermione, “it’s your money. If you choose in the future to invest in our venture capital fund or our private equity fund, that requires someone buy out your interest, but in the basic hedge fund you may withdraw at any time.”
Malfoy signed the last document with a flourish and looked up at Hermione expectantly. “Lovely. Harry is waiting in the lobby and we want to take you to lunch.”
Hermione was flummoxed for a second. She had only been prepared for a business meeting. Not a personal meeting. This had not been on her agenda for the day. But she really couldn’t refuse. She had no other plans for lunch, and she could not in good conscious lie to Malfoy, to Harry.
“Sure, let me just grab my purse. And submit these papers for processing.”
Hermione waved her wand over the signed forms. The forms duplicated. One copy of the paper disappeared with a soft pop, and the other copies gathered themself together in a neat pile, ready for Malfoy to collect for his own records. Malfoy grabbed his copy of the documents and placed them in the padfolio he had brought to the meeting.
She left the conference room with Malfoy, assuring him she’d meet Harry and him in the lobby in under five minutes. The time crunch forced her to speed walk to her office.
She whipped around the corner closest to her office and nearly ran into Percy Weasley.
“Fuck. Sorry Perce.” She said, steadying herself.
“What’s on fire?” HIs tone was mildly curious
“I just had my meeting with Malfoy. And now I have lunch with Malfoy. And Harry. And I didn’t know.” Her voice climbed up as she spoke, so by the end of her sentence she practically squeaked.
Percy grimaced sympathetically but didn’t say anything. He knew how much she clung to her schedule and hated unexpected changes to it. He also knew that her feelings about Malfoy and Harry were more complicated than she let on.
He patted her on the back and made his way to his office.
They had never discussed it, but Percy had been at the Weasley family dinner where Harry had introduced Malfoy. He had seen something in her stiff smile and her too tight grip on her wine glass. After dinner he hustled her out of the Burrow and out to a Muggle pub where she got hammered. She didn’t remember much about that evening, but she did recall sobbing on Percy’s shoulder and mumbling something about “dumb boys” and “crushes” and “of course the ones I want don’t want me.” He had helped pour her into bed and had left a hangover potion on her bedside table. That had established Percy’s position as her closest friend.
Their bond had been solidified two months after she had gotten embarrassingly drunk, when Audrey had left Percy and it had been his turn to be carried home from the pub.
Of course Ron and Harry would always be her best friends , but she didn’t see either of them all that much anymore. Ron was busy. He helped George to run Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, played on a rec Quidditch league, and tended to the four children he had with Romilda Vane, of all people. Harry was busy too. He had been promoted to Head Auror, was on the boards of numerous charities, and had Malfoy.
Hermione had her work. She was also on some charity boards, but rarely found time to attend meetings. Her companionship was sparse. Crookshanks had passed a few years after the war, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to get a new familiar. She still saw Harry and Ron, and all the Weasley’s, but they no longer were constantly in each other’s pockets and she saw them maybe once a month if she was lucky.
She wasn’t lonely. Well, she told herself she wasn’t lonely.
She had other friends. Well she had Percy and Justin, who she worked exceptionally long hours with.
Between work, her reputation, and a general distaste for most men, she didn’t have any romantic prospects.
So yes, she was lonely.
She grabbed her purse off of her desk and double checked that her wand was still in her pocket. She took a second to do the deep breathing technique she had learned when she was researching whether to invest in a chain of Muggle yoga studios. It didn’t really help her nerves so she just squared her shoulders and made her way down to the lobby.
She clenched her hands so tightly that her nails pressed deep half moon impressions into her palms. She generally was happy to see Harry and Malfoy, but she normally had a better opportunity to prepare for the emotional onslaught that their company provoked.
She steeled herself for lunch with a man she was deeply sexually attracted to and his boyfriend, her best friend. Her best friend who had held her heart for over 17 years.
Because the universe was unkind, it wasn’t enough for her to be sexually attracted to Malfoy. She also had to be in love with Harry. And neither of them wanted her.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Harry and Draco take Hermione to lunch
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who read, kudos'd, subscribed and bookmarked. Special thank you to all those who commented. Comments are so wonderful and reading them fills me with joy.
Song recommendation totally unrelated to fic: Tears Over Beers by Modern Baseball
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, Gringotts Bank Lobby
All too soon Hermione’s steps brought her to the lobby of Gringotts.
The sharp tap of her heels on marble came to a halt and she took a second to examine the men waiting for her. Time had been very kind to both of them.
Witch Weekly thought so too. They had collectively won every superlative the magazine awarded. Twice.
Harry threw his head back and laughed at something Draco–Malfoy said. He put his hand on the blond man’s waist in what was obviously an unconscious and familiar move to both men. Malfoy smiled and their eyes met. They exchanged a look that Hermione could only describe as soft.
Hermione’s heart twinged and she rubbed her sternum to ease the sensation.
Malfoy, not Draco, she thought to herself. She didn’t remember when she had started referring to him as Draco in her head, but she really did have to stop before she slipped up in front of him.
Harry was no longer the scrawny teenager he had been when she fell in love with him at 13. His hard work as an Auror had filled him out nicely. His shoulders were broad and his robes were just snug enough to show off his obviously muscular frame. He had let his scruff grow into a short beard and had grown out his unruly hair, choosing to wear it up in what Hermione had heard Ginny tease him was his “man-bun.”
Harry glanced her way and caught sight of Hermione lingering by the employee entrance to the lobby. He grinned broadly at her, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses. Hermione watched as his fingers tightened on Malfoy’s side to get his attention. Malfoy looked up and caught Hermione’s eyes. He gave her a smirk and turned to greet her.
Where Harry was bulkier, Malfoy was lean. He had grown into his pointy features. His jaw was still sharp, and she would describe him as angular, but he had filled out as well. He was slimmer than Harry, but still looked like he could hold her up against a wall and fuck until she was a babbling mess. His blond hair was no longer the gelled back helmet it had been at Hogwarts, but was still perfectly coiffed. He wore it neatly styled, short on the sides and slightly longer up top. Hermione longed to run her fingers through it and mess it up.
It was only in retrospect that Hermione realized how scary thin they had all been at the end of the war. She herself had developed what she would refer to as curves on a good day, and lumps on a bad one. Long days in front of computer screens and books did not lend themselves to a toned and svelte figure. Rather, her once narrow frame and protruding hip bones had become generous hips, lush thighs, and full breasts.
Harry took a few long strides to meet Hermione and swept her up in a tight hug, his arms squeezing around her waist.
“Harry,” Hermione squeaked out, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was forced to lean into him as he lifted her off her feet.
“Put me down you oaf!” She demanded, breathless with laughter.
Harry set her down softly on her feet and brought his hand to her cheek.
“Hello love,” Harry said, smiling at her warmly.
His hand was gentle on her face, but she could feel his calluses and had to resist the urge to nuzzle into the contact.
“Hello Harry, what a pleasant surprise.”
“It’s been too long ‘Mione.” said Harry. Malfoy appeared over Harry’s shoulder and smiled at his boyfriend’s antics.
“I saw you just a few weeks ago at the Burrow!”
“But you ran out of there right after dinner and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to you!”
“Potter,” said Malfoy, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and exchanging a look with Hermione, “you know that’s because Molly Weasley cornered Granger. She tried to convince the poor girl to go on a date with that terrible Weasley cousin who is 50 and has been married four times.”
She gave Malfoy a grateful look, it had been he who had distracted Molly when she made her escape.
Harry looked at Malfoy with what could only be described as a pout. “Still, we need to see more of her!”
Malfoy inclined his head in agreement and both men focused their attention back on her.
“So, lunch ‘Mione.” Said Harry, giving her a grin. “We were thinking somewhere Muggle. There’s that new Italian restaurant that just opened a few blocks from Leaky. What was it called Draco?”
“Piccola Cucina,” said Malfoy. Of course his accent was perfect.
“Sure, that sounds nice.” Hermione gestured to the front door of Gringotts, intending to follow the men out. Instead Harry grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. She stiffened up at the contact and he gave her hand what was probably meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Instead it just made her heart turn over like the engine of an old car, sputtering and desperately trying to work again.
Malfoy led them to the doors held one open for them. Once they were in the Alley he drifted to Hermione’s other side, not touching, but still close enough so she could feel his body heat.
In the eleven years since the Battle of Hogwarts some of the fame and notoriety of being Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had died down. Not enough so that the three of them walking down the street didn’t garner a decent amount of attention, but enough that they weren’t being accosted for autographs. It had caused quite a stir when Malfoy and Harry went public with their relationship, but even that had become boring after a month of non-stop press coverage.
When they reached the Leaky Cauldron Draco waved his wand and transfigured their robes into light spring jackets that passed for Muggle.
Hermione still breathed a sigh of relief once they got into the Muggle world though. Here, she was blissfully anonymous and could go to the shop without a bra and not worry about winding up being called a shameless hussy in the gossip rags about it.
They wound their way through the streets of London, Harry keeping hold of her hand and Malfoy remaining close until they reached the restaurant.
They were seated without a fuss and Malfoy pulled out her chair for her. She sat in what she hoped was a ladylike fashion, but she never really got it right. There was a reason she left wining and dining clients up to Percy and Justin. Despite all her success she had never really acclimatized to the world of the wealthy.
She smoothed the napkin on her lap and looked over the menu. She tried to recall the last time she had even been out with just Harry and Malfoy. Normally she either saw Harry alone for a quick drink or lunch or she saw both of them at a larger event. She didn’t think she had spent any time at all alone with the two of them. At least not since the brief stint she had stayed with the two of them last year when she was between apartments.
Against her will her mind flashed to the time she had accidentally seen them in the library, Draco pressed against the shelves with his pants around his ankles, panting as Harry’s harsh thrusts rattled his hips—no. She closed her eyes and gave a minute shake of her head. She would not think about it. She consciously chose not to think about the brief period of time she lived with them.
Malfoy flagged down the waiter with a facial expression that Hermione would only be able to duplicate with years of experience and way more arrogance than she currently possessed.
He said something quickly in Italian and the waiter nodded attentively.
“What did you order?” Asked Hermione.
“Wine for the table,” said Malfoy with a raised eyebrow, daring her to object.
Hermione pursed her lips, holding back her disapproval. She normally didn’t drink alcohol during the day, but she supposed she could make an exception for this occasion where she was trapped at a small table between two people she was wildly attracted to.
Instead she asked, “red or white?”
The corner of Malfoy’s mouth quirked up. “Red”
Hermione nodded and returned her attention to the menu.
“The tagliatelle with mushrooms is really good” offered Harry, smiling at her, obviously trying to soothe her temper.
Hermione nodded again and set down her menu. She tried to remember how to pretend she was comfortable. She had avoided the last three Ministry galas by donating money in lieu of attending, so she had forgotten how to wear her poker face.
There must be a topic that would be inconspicuous and not lead to uncomfortable conversation, she thought.
“So, Malfoy, where did you learn Italian?” Hermione asked, offering what she hoped was a bland but pleasant smile.
“Spend enough time around Blaise Zabini, and you pick up a few things.” Draco replied up, without much expression.
“He’s being modest,” interrupted Harry with a wide smile. “Draco is excellent with languages. Italian, French, Spanish, and Russian, right Darling?”
The pink blush high on Malfoy’s cheeks was very noticeable on his porcelain skin. She wondered if it was Harry bragging about him, or the use of a nickname that was embarrassing Malfoy. Had to be the nickname, she thought, straightening the silverware for something to do with her hands. Malfoy was not the humble sort.
Silence lingered for a minute until the waiter bustled back over.
The waiter delivered the wine, offering the cork to Draco, who delicately sniffed it and nodded. The waiter then poured a taster and Draco swirled the wine in the glass before taking a small sip. “Delicious,” he said, pink tongue darting out to catch a drip on his lower lip. Hermione’s eyes followed the movement.
Draco then tilted the glass to Hermione, offering it up. “Want a taste?”
Hermione’s mouth watered in a way totally unconnected to the wine. Before she could stop herself she reached out for the glass, bringing it to her mouth, she put her lips where his had been and wondered if she could taste him behind the dry bite of the wine.
She thought he must taste good.
The wine was fine too.
Hermione handed the glass back to Draco. His fingers brushed hers and she held her hand steady against the urge to snatch it back. Too close, too intimate, her brain screamed at her. This was not appropriate. She should not behave this way towards the boyfriend of her childhood best friend. It was shameful. It was disrespectful. It was hurtful.
She looked at Harry who was smiling at her, seemingly unaware of her dirty thoughts about his boyfriend and felt a pang of shame.
Draco gestured at the waiter who poured them all generous glasses of wine, took their orders, and left the bottle at the table.
Cheeks red, Hermione redirected her attention fully to Harry. “So,” her voice was only slightly unsteady to her ears and she reached for her water glass. She took a sii that was slightly too large, and had to tab at her lips with her napkin to clean up her spill.
“How has the Ministry been Harry?”
The roll of his green eyes was enough to tell Hermione that the Ministry was up to its same nonsense. “It’s fine. Same bullshit as ever. I heard you were trying to get some legislation passed though? Something to do with financial regulation? Does that mean we’ll be seeing more of you in the vaunted halls of government?”
“Maybe,” said Hermione noncommittally, toying with the stem of her wine glass. “I just want to be sure that reckless investment funds aren’t putting the larger financial stability of Magical Britain in danger.”
“And you’re the person to determine what is reckless?” Draco, no not Draco, Malfoy ’s gaze was probing and Hermione forced herself to break eye contact.
The sip of wine she took to buy time wasn’t long enough. “Well,” she finally said, her tone sharp, “I’m an expert in the field with the degrees and work experience to back that up, I’m the one who introduced almost all of the tactics that are now being copied, I’m the one who made millions for myself and my clients,” including his boyfriend, she thought to herself, “so yes. I am that person.”
Malfoy offered her an ironic salute with his wine glass, and the table once again lapsed into silence.
“Did you know Draco’s a wine expert? He got his sommelier certification last summer.” Harry said, smiling at Hermione, voice only slightly tense.
“That’s...lovely. He certainly did an excellent job selecting this bottle.” There was a slight crease in Hermione’s brow. She supposed it was sweet that Harry was bragging about Malfoy like this, but it was also a little strange. She shot Harry a puzzled look. He was smiling at her in a way she could have sworn was hopeful.
She knew that Harry’s rapid change in subject was meant to ease them into a less tense, more acceptable topic of conversation.
Fuck acceptable, Hermione though, a little viciously. Why not just go full confrontational? “So, Malfoy, you hold your family’s seat in the Wizengamot. Are you supporting my legislation?” She was proud that the aggressive question didn’t come out shrill, just mildly curious.
The thoughtful frown on Malfoy’s face made him look like he was really considering a hard problem. “I must say Granger, the proposed bill is rather...paternalistic, don’t you think?”
Hermione took what could only be called an healthy swallow of wine. “No,” she said, clenching her jaw a little to keep herself in check. “It’s not paternalistic Malfoy. The sort of tactic that would be banned are risky and even illegal in the Muggle world. I used them when I first started up, but I was always careful and my one fund didn’t have an impact on the overall economy. But those tactics really should not be repeated.
“Just the other day I got wind of a new fund that was trying to get clients by telling them they were going to quintuple their money, guaranteed. In the Muggle world, making false promises like that is illegal. It should be here too. Clients must be aware of the actual risk they bare when investing in funds. To do otherwise is unethical. Even when I was first starting out I never made bullshit promises like that.”
“But do we not live in a buyer-beware world? Why are these funds different?” Draco– Malfoy ’s tone was goading, and she could tell he was just trying to get a rise out of her. It was working.
“Well Malfoy, because an investor in a poorly run fund can lose their shirt. If you are letting people, especially people with not a lot of money to lose, invest and you are making false promises, and you are not disclosing the real risks, then essentially you’re just robbing people blind!” Her fingers were so tight around the stem of the wine glass that she was slightly afraid it might crack.
Malfoy’s mouth quirked into a grin and Hermione frowned at him puzzled. Why was he so happy about losing a debate?
“That’s precisely what I told Bones when she asked why I was in favor of your bill.” Malfoy’s voice was light and amused.
“Why you were...in favor of my bill?” Her voice hitched slightly, against her will.
“Yes Granger, for your bill. But you do have a bit of an uphill struggle. Some of the old Pureblood families think that you’re trying to curtail their ability to make money and the Ministry appointees on the Wizengamot think you’re out to steal their jobs. They think you’re going to finally take Kingsley up on his offer for you to work as his Policy Advisor.”
“I want neither of those things. All I want is a proper financial regulatory scheme. And I will never work at the Ministry, not when the salary they offer couldn’t even keep up with my book budget.” Hermione sniffed, feigning offense.
She was cut off from expressing more disgust as the food arrived. Harry was right, the tagliatelle was delicious. She told him so between bites.
“I know, it’s almost as good as Draco’s! He cooks on special occasions and it’s always a treat.” Harry was again smiling at her, and Draco was again blushing.
What was Harry doing? Maybe he was trying to make sure that one of his best friends and his boyfriend got along? She swallowed a mouthful of wine and again cast around for a topic of conversation.
“So Malfoy, what have you been up to, other than becoming a sommelier and an expert chef?”
“This and that” drawled Draco. “Sitting on the Wizengamot, fighting with the Ministry to regain control over all the Malfoy assets, being a philanthropist of the highest calibre. You know, this and that.”
Hermione snorted into her nearly empty wine glass before taking the last swallow. “Sounds like a stimulating life,” she finally said.
She set her empty glass on the table and Draco immediately poured her more. She vowed to drink this second glass more slowly. She felt the first going to her head, and lord knew she was a lightweight. She hadn’t properly gone out in years and all the alcohol she consumed nowadays was maybe a glass or two once a month either with Percy or Ginny.
“Draco is the sponsor of a number of charities, including the Fair Treatment for House Elves Foundation.” Harry offered up.
“That’s...lovely Harry. You’re lucky to have such a generous boyfriend.” Her tone was only slightly dry and she pressed her lips together to avoid laughing and looking down at her plate.
“Yes, I am...generous,” said Malfoy, voice huskier than usual.
In a flash she understood the accidental double entendre she made and flushed crimson. She looked up just in time to see Harry and Draco share a heated look and she saw Harry’s hand go to high on Malfy’s thigh under the table. She looked down again, embarrassed and aching to be witnessing such a private intimate moment.
She also wondered in what ways Malfoy was generous, She wondered if Harry was also generous. If they would be generous with her. She mentally slapped herself and was reminded yet again of how terribly off limits both Malfoy and Harry were. Ignorant of her internal shame and embarrassment, both men turned to her and she busied herself taking a big bite of pasta, pretending she hadn’t seen what she definitely just saw.
The pattern of the table cloth was certainly interesting Hermione though idly. She wondered if it was safe to look up yet. A sly glance up through her eyelashes told her both men had returned to their meals, so she brought her chin up, ready to discuss something else, anything else.
“Did you hear Romilda’s pregnant again?” She finally asked. Though neither would admit it, both Harry and Draco– Malfoy loved gossip
“Again?!” Exclaimed Harry. “She just had the last one less than five months ago! Doesn’t that poor woman need a rest?”
Hermione giggled and she caught Malfoy smirking in amusement as well.
“I told her I’d be more than happy to brew her a contraceptive potion,” she said, smiling, “but she insisted that she was gunning for Mrs. Weasley’s record. I was with Molly when she said that and even Molly looked horrified!” The entire table laughed.
“Merlin, does Ron know this?” Asked Harry, slightly breathless from laughter and wiping his eyes.
“He must not,” insisted Malfoy, leaning back in his chair, “if he did, he’d take the bloody contraceptive potion himself.”
“Ron never really loved coming from a big family,” mused Hermione. “But he also isn’t the one responsible for caring for the children. Between the Joke Shop and Quidditch he’s not home too often.”
“You really dodged a bullet there Granger,” offered Malfoy. There was something in his eyes that made her want to squirm. “You could have been Wealsey’s broodmare if things had worked out differently.”
The snort Hermione let out was not elegant. “Fat chance,” she said, draining the rest of her second glass of wine and feeling decidedly loose. “One wet mashing of lips was all Ron and I’s friendship could survive. He lacked a certain...intensity. There wasn’t a spark.”
“Oh?” Harry leaned in, expresion inquisitive and eyes almost burning a hole through her with the fierce and foreign expression they held. “Have there been other...sparks?”
There was an involuntary shift in her chair that Hermione made in response to the focused attention on her. Her tongue ran over her lower lip and then she bit down on it.
“There have been some...sparks. Enough for short flings. But you know that there hasn’t really been anyone serious. I was busy. First with the war, then with school, then building my business.” She shrugged and looked away from the pair. Why was she discussing her sex life with these men?
“So you didn’t have time for fun?” Draco pushed.
She definitely had had time for fun, but she wasn’t about to recount her sordid sex life to her childhood friend and his boyfriend. But then the tipsy part of her said fuck it. They were gay, uninterested in her, and they had asked.
“Well, there was this Muggle in Uni. Dave. There was a spark there. He tied me up once. That was sparky . And then during an internship there was Maria, she was the barista at my favorite coffee shop. She taught me how to use a strap on, and once made me come four times in a night. That was equally sparky . And then there was a one night stand with Cormac last year. He’s still an ass, by the way. But he also did this thing with his tongue that made me see stars. There were definitely some sparks there.”
Harry dropped his fork against his plate and it clattered loudly. Draco had frozen, his glass of wine halfway to his lips. Both were staring at her with wide eyes, pupils too large for the amount of light they were in.
Hermione burst out laughing. “Your faces!” she said between giggles.
“”Mione;” Harry’s voice was unexpectedly husky and his tone stopped her laughter short. “Did you, I mean, are those things true?”
Malfoy had set his glass down, but she could see his knuckles were white he was held the stem of the glass in his fist.
The smile she gave them was mischievous. “Yes, Harry, those things are true. I may not broadcast my exploits, but I’m no nun. Besides, it’s nice to brag a little, and you two are safe to brag to. You’re both gay and in a comitted relationship. Plus after I caught you two going at it in the hallway in that Muggle club we went to, I thought we had no secrets?”
“Yes, well,” Harry cleared his throat. “It’s nice to here that there were some... sparks for you then. But we—”
Draco cut him off by placing a hand on Harry’s and giving him a minute shake of his blond head. If Hermione had not been so keenly watching both of them she might have missed it.
“Thank you for sharing Granger. It’s obvious then that you and Weasley never would have worked out, considering I’m sure he thinks that missionary with the lights on is adventurous.”
Hermione force out a laugh.
They finished their meal, making more small talk about mutual acquaintances. There was a brief tiff between Hermione and Malfy over who would pay the check before Harry told them that he had already paid it during their argument. Both of them frowned at him and he just smiled back at them.
Harry held open the door for them both and they made their way onto the sidewalk. Harry again grabbed Hermione’s hand and she felt herself flush. Telling herself if was just from the wine, she offered Harry a small smile which he returned.
Draco stuck close to them as they made their leisurely to the Alley again. When they reached the Leaky Cauldron Draco ended his transfiguration and their jackets turned once more into robes.
They were a block away when she realized that Harry probably had to make his way back to work and Draco probably had to go off and do whatever it was he did during the day.
“You don’t have to walk me, I’m perfectly fine to get back to work myself.” Her voice was level and she moved to remove her hand from Harry’s.
Harry just held on tighter, not letting her go. “No,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze, “we’re happy to walk you back.”
She opened her mouth to object, but before she could get the words out Draco broke in “Just let us, he’ll just follow you to the bank like a lost puppy if you don’t let him.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine,” she said.
It took a few more minutes for them to reach the bank, but once they were there Harry leaned down to kiss her cheek in farewell.
“Bye ‘Mione,” Harry said, “we’ll see you again soon. Real soon.” He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand once before letting her hand go. She felt the rasp of his calluses against her skin linger.
She turned to Draco to give him her customary nod goodbye when he picked up the hand that Harry had just dropped.
“Goodbye Granger. I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.” Was it just her or did Draco’s voice sound lower? She prepared to shake his hand when suddenly Draco brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss into her knuckles and then turned her hand so he could press another into her palm. The sensitive skin of her hand felt the heat of his mouth and she could have sworn if she had looked at her hand in that moment that she would have seen the impression of his lips burned into her skin. The contact made her shiver and she center clench involuntarily.
Both men turned, Draco’s swirl of robes more dramatic than Harry’s and apparated away before she could say anything.
What the fuck had just happened?
Notes:
This is so fun to write!
I had a comment on the last chapter about a glossary, but since there weren't many terms here I left it off. If I go more into the financial stull I'll put one in the end notes.
I'm now on Spring Break and planning on focusing on this, so expect more updates in this coming week.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Hermione tried to process what happened at lunch and talks it over with Percy.
Notes:
I'm on spring break and avoiding all my other responsibilities, so here is another chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, Hermione Granger's Apartment
After that very confusing lunch Hermione spent the rest of her day sitting at her desk, dazedly examining spreadsheets, but not really processing any information.
Percy had knocked on her door towards the end of the day to invite her out for a drink to talk about it, but she had waved him off. She still needed more time to think through whatever that lunch had been.
She was still distracted and half tipsy as she packed up her bag and made her way to the employee floo fireplaces.
When she got home she toed off her shoes and dropped her bag on the kitchen counter.
Her brain just kept going in circles. Why had Draco kissed her hand like that? Why had they been so shocked when she talked about her love life? Why had Harry been acting as Draco’s hype man for much of the conversation?
She knew that if a friend had told her about this experience, she would tell them that those men were interested in her. But she dismissed that option out of hand. She didn’t want to make that sort of assumption about her childhood friend or her childhood enemy. If she acted assuming that premise was true, and was wrong, she wouldn’t handle it well. She didn’t think she’d be able to stand the shame and embarrassment of making herself vulnerable like that and then being rejected.
It had been hard enough to bounce back to acting normal around them after the time she had spent staying with them. She still had vivid memories of the displays of affection they had shown each other in front of her.
She remembered one occasion in particular. She had come back from work early, eager to spend time around them. Malfoy and Harry had met her at the door with a glass of wine and take-out.
She had been staying with them for a few weeks at that point and was comfortable there. They had fallen into a routine and being welcomed back every evening by them felt like coming home, the type of home she hadn’t felt since she was a small child, before she knew the horrors of war. They had hugged her and touched her in a casual familiar way that she had never imagined she would be comfortable with, but she was. She had begun to think that maybe , even though it was unconventional in the Muggle world, that maybe they both wanted something more with her. She knew of other triads. Bill and Fleur had taken a third, Lee Jordan, after the war, and they had all attended the wedding of Neville, Luna, and Susan Bones.
That evening they had drank and laughed and talked. She had leaned into Harry, putting her head on his shoulder and laughing at a joke he made when suddenly the world shifted.
One moment they were sharing stories about the embarrassing things Ron had done at the last Ministry event, and then Draco—Malfoy had been in the other man’s lap, legs splayed wide, bracketing the brunet’s hips. Draco’s sudden movement had forced Hermione to lean away from the couple, but she watched as one of his hands laced through Harry’s already messy hair, pulling just enough so that Harry was forced to lean his head back, exposing his neck. Malfoy’s other hand had started methodically undoing the buttons of Harry’s shirt. They had been pressed together making noises that were deliciously obscene, leaving Hermione hyper aware of her pulse thudding in both her nipples and her core. Their kiss had been electric, and Draco ground down into Harry’s lap with a low moan. At the noise Hermione had let a sharp gasp pass her lips, one that she had unsuccessfully tried to stifle with her hand.
That was when Harry’s eyes had shot open, but he hadn’t looked at her, instead he was focused on Malfoy. Harry looked debauched, his lips slick and bitten, his hips making small circles against Malfoy, obviously hungry for more. Harry was completely focused on Malfoy, like he was the only person in the world at that moment.
But Malfoy had turned to look at her. His pupils were blown and his lips were red and kiss-bruised. Malfoy’s gaze was hungry and possessive, his hand splayed territorially over Harry’s chest.
It was like there was a neon “Keep Out” sign on both men.
In that moment she had known that her silly fantasy that this might be home, that she might find something real with these men was foolish and naive. Of course they didn’t want her, they had each other. She had seen how possessive they were of each other. Of course there was no place for her there.
The ensuing silence had been suffocating. So she had fled, face red, deeply ashamed at having played the voyeur. She thought that the display was one of ownership by Malfoy, that this was their way of telling her they wanted privacy, that her gaze, her presence was unwelcome there.
In that flash of a second she had wondered if there had been other signs that she wasn’t welcome that she hadn’t recognized before. Had they been indicating they wanted her out? Had the lack of silencing charms on their bedroom been their subtle way of telling her she had overstayed her welcome? Had she been so blind to their rejection that they had to resort to this blatant display?
After a night of tossing and turning, unable to get the image of the two of them out of her brain, she had redoubled her apartment hunting efforts, avoiding both men as much as possible. She found a new place to live two days later and moved out immediately.
If they had wanted her, they had an opportunity to say so. But instead their silence had spoken volumes.
So she kept thinking about that afternoon as she made herself mint tea and heated up leftover takeaway from the night before. If their behavior hadn’t been about sexual interest, then what was it?
What had been happening? Maybe Harry was bragging about Draco to make her like him more? Maybe Harry was sick of seeing them bicker? Maybe Harry was getting ready to propose and wanted them to be on better terms? That last one made her breath hitch slightly as she magiced away her garbage and set her plates to wash.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to be happy together. She very much did. But them getting married would be a definitive end to her dumb fantasies. But maybe that would be for the best. She had already been rejected once, how much more rejection did she need to show her that they were not an option? Maybe their marriage would be for the best. If they started a family together she would be an excellent godmother. She already was for three of Ron’s brood.
She did a slow lap through her apartment trying to think about how to occupy her brain until she went to sleep. Her hands brushed across her floor to ceiling built in bookshelves, her favorite part of her apartment. But she dismissed the idea of settling in with a book almost immediately, there was no way a book could hold her attention in that moment.
Drawing a bath was the only solution she could come up with. Her clothes came off quickly as she poured herself another mug of mint tea, not ready for more wine and needing a clear head. She made the water as hot as she could stand and slipped in with a grateful sigh.
But why had Draco kissed her hand like that? The kiss to her knuckles she could more easily dismiss. It was mocking, a joke at being a gentleman. But the kiss to her palm, that was intimate. Her core clenched thinking about how his lips had felt on the sensitive skin of her palm. The heat, the wetness. She almost wished she had kissed her palm after, to see if it tasted like the wine they had shared.
Her fingertips ran teasingly across her collar bone to dip down below the water to her breasts. She knew she shouldn’t, not thinking of them, it would be a violation of their friendship. But she couldn’t help herself. Her nippes were already tight and she used her hands to feather around them gently before giving both a sharp pinch that made her back arch and a low moan spill from her mouth.
One hand remained teasing her breasts while the other went to her core. She smoothed her palm down her mound and ran her fingers over her seam, teasing herself with the possibility of pleasure. She stayed like that for a little while, drifting her fingers gently over the intimate parts of herself until she pruned and decided it was time to go to bed.
She stepped out of the tub and vanished the water. The soft fluffy towel kept warm by magic felt luxurious on her skin, and she followed it up with her favorite lotion that smelled like roses.
She climbed into bed, her thoughts slightly more settled, but not by much. She tossed and turned for a few minutes, still restless. Her bare nipples brushed her silk sheets and she was suddenly hyper aware of her body again. She settled on her back and walked her fingers down her soft abdomen to her slit. She was still wet from her earlier ministrations so when she slipped a finger between her lips, her slick eased the way and made the glide of her finger around her clit smooth. She added another finger to circle her clit, increasing the speed and pressure until she could feel herself rushing for the edge. With a sharp cry she went over, her core clenching on nothing, wishing she had thought to fill herself with something.
As she drifted, loose limbed and relaxed form her orgasm, she realized that as she had reached her climax she had been thinking about that night, about the sounds that Harry had made and Draco’s fist in his hair. She thought about how they had each other, and how they had shown her that there was no space in that relationship for her. A pang of hurt hit her low in her gut and she felt guilty all over again.
She finally fell into a restless sleep a few hours later.
June 2009, Gringotts Bank
Hermione was early to work the next morning. It helped that she hadn’t been able to sleep well, taking a long time to fall asleep and then waking several times during the night.
So instead of staying in bed and torturing herself more, she had gotten ready for the day and gone into her office at 6:30am.
The minimalist design of her office was comforting. The clean lines and lack of clutter made it easier for her to think clearly. Her glass desk held her computer and various piles of neatly organized paper. She had forced Gringotts to get her a computer that was able to access the internet, as well as a Muggle coffee machine as a condition of accepting employment offer there. Oddly the coffee machine had been the biggest sticking point in negotiations, but eventually the Goblins had conceded. Her eight cup machine sat in a place of honor, on a small table in the corner of her office. She put it on display so that anyone visiting her office would see it.
She was tapping away at her computer a few hours later when Percy walked in without knocking and settled into the chair she had for visitors.
She continued her work until he cleared his throat pointedly.
Without looking away from her screen Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes Percy?”
“Well, I could not help noticing that you left early yesterday. You have not even left on time in months.” His tone was dry and matter of fact. She cursed his observant nature. It was one of the reasons she had hired him in the first place, but she did hate when it was used against her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I sometimes leave on time.” She knew that was a lie but kept her face straight and her eyes glued to her screen, feeling contrary.
“Bullshit. We both know the last time you left early was when you were living with them.”
Her lips twitched as his foul mouth. It had surprised her when she learned that Percy had the vocabulary of a sailor when he was comfortable around someone. When he needed to be he was still the proper stick-up-his-ass prick he had been when they were younger. But when he was really relaxed he tended to swear quite a bit. She supposed it made sense. Percy had never really been able to be himself in the shadow of all his siblings, just like Ron. So his defence had been to become “Perfect Percy,” but away from that pressure he was free to be himself. And “himself” just happened to curse a lot.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” She couldn’t keep a straight face and her mouth twisted somewhere halfway between a grin and a grimace.
“That bad?” Percy asked, settling back into the chair, obviously preparing himself for a long talk.
She finally looked up from her screen. “Yes,” she said, leaning forward and letting her head drop to the table in front of her, her forehead coming to rest against the cool glass. “That bad.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sat back up. Her answer was immediate and certain. “Not particularly.”
Percy grinned at her. “Let me rephrase. You need to talk about it.”
Hermione sighed deeply, leaned back and contemplated her ceiling for a minute.
“Dr—Malfoy kissed my hand,” she said after a minute of silence.
“Well, he’s always been a proper poncy git, I do not know why him kissing your hand would make you leave work early.”
She shook her head, he didn’t get it, she tried again. “He kissed my palm.”
Percy’s eyebrows shot up. “He kissed your palm ?”
“Yes, that is what I said.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That’s...interesting. How did Harry react?”
Hermione closed her eyes and tried to remember if she had seen Harry’s expression after Malfoy had brushed his lips across her palm. She couldn’t remember, but she was pretty sure that if he had looked mad she would have remembered that. She had been hyper aware of Harry’s emotional state since they were children, and not much had changed in the ensuing decade and a half.
“I don’t remember. I don’t think he had a reaction.”
Percy tapped a finger to his chin, thinking. “Interesting. And how did they act during the meal?”
She struggled with that question for a second. “Normal? Normalish?”
“What do you mean by normal ish ?” Percy asked, pushing up his glasses that had fallen down the bridge of his nose
“Well, Harry kept on bragging about Draco throughout the meal, like he was a proud parent. And then they asked me about my sex life, but acted scandalized when I answered honestly.”
“What do you mean by scandalized?”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, trying to think of how to explain. “I don’t know. They froze? I thought Malfoy was going to choke on something. Their eyes got big?”
Percy looked at her closely, obviously considering everything she had told him. "Do you think that they might be interested in you? They certainly sound like they might be."
Hermione's mouth twisted into a frown. "No, no it's not that. Christ Perce, remember what a mess I was after that? They had ample opportunity to say something if they wanted me like that. I have enough self respect not to try to go where I'm not wanted. I deserve more than that. It's not that."
"Would it be bad if it was that?" She couldn't look at the sympathetic expression on Percy's face and instead returned her gaze to the ceiling.
"I don't know. I can't think that it is...an invitation. Because if I let myself believe that, and I'm wrong again...I can't." She hated that her voice broke at the end of the sentence.
Silence reigned until Percy finally said, “well, not having been there to observe myself, I’m not sure what to tell you.”
She cleared her throat to regain control of herself. “Quite the help you’ve been Perce, thanks ever so much.”
Percy stood and prepared to leave her office, straightening his tie.
“Well, interrogating you was not actually why I stopped by. I just ran into your secretary on the way in. You have a message from Harry. He wants to meet you for a meeting to discuss his investments later today.” Percy’s expression was half pity, half amusement.
Hermione’s head dropped back down to her desk with a dull thud.
Notes:
Reviews bring me so much joy!
Thank you for your time
~Ely
Chapter 4
Summary:
Harry and Draco keep showing up at Hermione's workplace
Notes:
I hope this finds you all well and you are all practicing the appropriate levels of ~social distancing~
Again, thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart to everyone who reviewed. I absolutely adore hearing what you all are thinking, and I can't tell you how wonderful it is.
Also I now have a fandom tumblr! You can find me under the name MissElyLux
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, Hermione Granger's Apartment
The meeting with Harry had gone better than Hermione had expected.
Her heart had not stopped beating double time as she opened the door to the conference room. But she had found her groove pretty quickly. It had helped that Harry had actually wanted to know about how his investments were doing. She learned he was thinking of buying a summer home soon. He wanted to know how he would go about withdrawing the money from the fund, and what tax implications that might have. It had been normal, and she was used to having similar conversations routinely.
But it also had been very not normal.
Because in addition to very normal discussions about investment strategies, Harry had also wanted to talk about her proposed legislation. He had wanted to talk about how Draco had already swayed a few undecided members in her favor. And about how Draco wanted her opinion about another bill in front of the Wizengamot about relations with Muggles. And about how Draco had just made the most delicious Miso Coconut Salmon Curry for dinner the other day.
After their meeting he had insisted on taking her to lunch. She was slightly more prepared for this lunch than she had been for the one the day before, but only slightly.
She had almost asked him what was going on, what had him talking up Draco like he was trying to sell her something.
But she had chickened out.
In her heart of hearts she wasn’t ready to hear that Harry was planning on proposing, or that he could tell that she felt some sort of tension with Draco, and that he was trying to fix it. She wanted to live in her bubble where nothing changed and she didn’t have to deal with her unrequited feelings towards these two men for a while longer.
So instead she nodded and smiled and gave Draco the appropriate kudos for his actions.
After lunch Harry swept her up in a tight hug, tucking her head under his chin and cupping the back of her head with his palm. He stoked down from her head to settle his hand on her hip and she felt her whole body clench at the contact and suppressed a shiver. She marveled at how safe and warm she felt, how she wished she could stay in the shelter of his arms a while longer.
Then she gave her hand a sharp pinch and withdrew from him, trying to remind herself that he was her childhood best friend, that he had a serious boyfriend, that he was not hers to take comfort from. She hoped that her blush, part made of embarrassment, part made of pleasure, wasn’t visible to his keen eyes. If it was, he said nothing and left with a promise he would see her soon.
She had spent the rest of the day in a slight daze, but had managed to actually get some work done. It wasn’t until she was back home, that she realized that Harry hadn’t ever scheduled a meeting at work with her before. Sure, they had discussed his investments, but it had normally been over a meal or when they ran into each other at the burrow or over owl. She didn’t think that he had actually ever come in to her office before.
Strange.
After arriving home she had again retreated to her bathtub to contemplate the situation. She wondered when Harry would propose to Dra—Malfoy, because that was the only explanation she could come up with for Harry’s alarmingly frequent brags about Malfoy and his various prowesses. He probably wanted her to stop sniping at Malfoy. That was probably it.
She sank deeper into the hot water, allowing it to cover her shoulders and neck. The warmth and the smell of her lavender bubble bath helped soothe her frayed nerves.
She liked Malfoy fine. She liked him more than fine, too much in fact. He had never apologized outright for his actions when they were in Hogwarts, but he had been fun to spar with, exceptionally attractive, and surprisingly thoughtful. It had been Malfoy who had offered to host her when she had been between apartments. Malfoy was also the one to remember not only her birthday, but also the anniversary she began her business, hell, he had even sent her parents an anniversary gift last year. He was an excellent gift giver and a thoughtful host. His housewarming gift to her had been a first edition Hogwarts: A History . She had been forced to briefly retreat to her bathroom to splash cold water on her face to prevent herself from crying over the book.
The water was growing unpleasantly cool and most of the bubbles had popped by the time Hermione forced herself to get out of the bathtub and ready for bed. She gathered some of the documents she had taken home from work and read them until she fell asleep, parchments littering her covers.
June 2009, Gringotts Bank
The next few days had been a welcome reversion to the mean. Perhaps Percy was hovering a little more than usual. He had even recruited Justin into bringing her coffee every day to check on her. But things were back to how they should be. Other than the fact that her heart would beat a little faster every time a new appointment was put on her schedule, a small part of her hoping it would be one of them.
On Friday, after three normal days, she had just begun to convince herself that whatever had happened those two days was a fluke.
She swung open her door to leave after the end of a very long day. Her eyes ached for sleep and all of her limbs felt slightly too heavy. She was looking forward to falling straight into bed and hopefully getting more sleep than she had been able to for the past few nights.
She jumped at the unexpected large masculine presence so close to her door. Opening her mouth to scold whoever it was that scared her, she suddenly lost her voice as she realized who it was.
Malfoy was leaning against the wall in the corridor, the picture or aristocratic nonchalance. As always he was dressed impeccably, but with just enough slouch to his posture that it looked effortless and cool.
Running a self-conscious hand over her hair to try to bring some order to her riotous curls, she couldn’t help but frown at the blond.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes darted up and down the empty hallway. It was a Friday and long past quitting time, so there was not a soul in sight.
“Granger,” his tone was amused and it made her frown deepen.
“I’m about to leave for the day Malfoy, if you want to meet with me to discuss your account you’ll have to schedule something with my assistant.” Her tone was tart and she desperately tried to not oogle the man in front of her.
There was a huff from Drac—Malfoy that could have been a laugh as he pushed off the wall to prowl towards her. She couldn’t call his journey to her a walk, because there was something more predatory about his smooth controlled gait, something that made her pulse quicken and her mouth go dry.
“Purely social,” Malfoy’s voice was a low purr and Hermione could swear she felt it in her bones. Suddenly what was once a wide hallway seemed to be closing in on her, and becoming unbearably hot.
The blush that stained her cheeks embarrassed her even more, which in turn made her blush deepen. She knew that every interaction with Malfoy was part game of wits, part game of endurance. She also knew that by showing how flustered he was making her meant she automatically lost.
“Pu—purely social?” Hermione stammered out.
“Yes Granger, social.” Malfoy was now standing too close. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body and in a second she realized how cold she had been. She resisted the urge to sway into him, into the warmth of his body.
“I don—What did you want from me—socially?” She schooled her facial expression into something skeptical.
“Well, Potter is working late and I have a bottle of a 1987 Bordeaux that is begging to be opened. It’s been a long time since you last were over to our place.”
“Oh—I mean I was going to—” She ribbed her eyes, trying to rouse her tired brain into finding an excuse out of this situation. She cast around, trying to think of some way to talk her way out of what sounded like an intimate encounter with Draco—Malfoy.
“I’ll feed you. I know you don’t have any food in your apartment. And I just happened to have made the curry that you told Harry sounded, and I quote, ‘delightful.’”
Worrying her lower lip between her teeth she met his gaze. The shadow of the hallway made his eyes flash with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“I would love to, bu—”
Draco cut her off with a smirk. “Wonderful, shall we then?” He offered his arm to her with a courtly flourish and Hermione found herself nodding without thinking about it. Obviously she didn’t do her best when accosted, especially when he was tempting her with something she wanted but knew she shouldn’t have.
When she didn’t move to grab his arm he plucked her hand from where it hung loosely at her side and placed it in the crook of his elbow.
She felt the sinewy muscle of his forearm through the thin material of his Oxford shirt, and her hand automatically tightened.
Draco grabbed her bag from her, she opened her mouth to object.
“Hush,” said Draco, “I’m a gentleman. All you need to do is walk with me and be lovely. I’ll do the rest.”
“I’m sorry—” Hermione’s tone was outraged and she could feel her face heat for a very different reason. The rush of anger made her words catch in her throat.
“Quite right, lets go.” Draco led her out, and she sputtered at him, trying to come up with some objection, while at the same time thrilled in a guilty way that made her stomach turn.
He walked her out to the empty lobby and through the front doors of Gringotts. Almost as soon as they exited out on to the Alley he side-along apparated her to Grimmauld Place.
June 2009, Grimmauld Place
Gimmauld was no longer the dour, cobweb ridden pit of depression it had been when Hermione first entered it, almost 15 year ago. After the war Harry had demolished most of the interior and turned it into an airy, welcoming space. After Malfoy had moved in he had added his own touches, and much to Hermione’s delight, massively expanded the library.
They apparated through the wards straight into the foyer. Draco placed her bag on the hat rack and gently removed her outer robes before she could fully process the whirlwind that was Draco Malfoy.
Hermione finally got her wits about her.
“D—Malfoy!” She snapped, “you are the most high handed, irritating pr—”
“Wine?” Draco was completely ignoring her protests and instead had ventured towards the living room. He pointed his wand at their wine rack and with a little flick removed a bottle and uncorked it. He summoned two glasses and poured them both generous servings.
Handing one over to Hermione he took a delicate sip of his own and regarded her with an artfully arched brow.
Her numerous and vociferous objections died in her throat. She followed the pink of his tongue as it wet his lower lip, catching a drop of wine.
She insead took a healthy swallow of her own glass. It was a deep rich flavor and Hermione savored it, closing her eyes against the image of Draco’s tongue doing other things.
A warm hand touched her elbow and Hermione’s eyes flew open.
“Come along Granger, dinner is waiting.”
Mouth twisted half in a smile, half in a grimace, Hermione bit her tongue and followed him to the dining room. While his approach left something to be desired, she did enjoy spending time with him. She didn’t like how much she enjoyed it.
Stepping through to the dining room Hermione’s shoulders relaxed.
After the library, the dining room was her favorite room in the house. She had helped decorate it, back when Harry had first been renovating. She had been 19 and had held a candle for Harry for five years at that point. He had still been dating Ginny then, so she had bit her tongue and just tried to be the best friend possible for him. He didn’t need any more drama after the war.
Part of her being a good friend had involved long nights removing unexpected curses from the old house and stripping down the wallpaper the Muggle way.
She had been the one who had chosen the solid oak table that could seat 10 comfortably, and it had been she who had chosen the cream color for the walls that was perfectly offset by the light grey they had painted the moulding. She was the one who had hung the slightly too elaborate lighting fixture one night close to midnight, as she and Harry hurried around the house trying to prepare it for his housewarming party the next day.
The dining room was meant to be welcoming, somewhere that Harry could imagine sitting down with his family to a meal, somewhere he could feel comfortable reading the paper while eating a leisurely breakfast, somewhere he would be happy to seat his guests while gathering his chosen family around him.
She had wanted him to have a dining room like the one she had grown up with, where she had family meals, joked around with her mother, was doted on by her father. She wanted a room where he could be at home with his family.
She had hit it out of the park, to borrow an American Muggle saying.
Still to this day, she felt warmer, more welcome, as soon as she set foot in the room.
The table was already set and there were two plates of curry kept warm by stasis charms. One plate was at her favorite seat and the other was right across the table. She settled down in what she considered to be her place. Or what she once had considered to be her place, because Draco was right, She hadn’t been back at Grimmauld since she had run away, tail between her legs after getting her new apartment almost a year ago.
“Please,” said Draco with a gesture for her to eat.
Instead, she settled back into her chair and regarded him with open curiosity. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch under her scrutiny, and she wondered what he was doing. What was the point of this?
She took another swallow of wine and squared her shoulders.
“So, what is this for?” She kept her tone mild and was rewarded by a small grin from Malfoy.
“For, Granger? I’m giving you what I’m sure is your first home cooked meal in weeks. Does it have to be for something?”
“I know you Dr—Malfoy. You’re not one to give something for nothing.”
“Maybe I wanted to pick your brain about the upcoming Wizengamot legislative session.” Malfoy offered up blandly, taking a sip of his wine.
“Maybe” she conceded. She set down her wine glass and took up her fork, taking a bite of the curry. She stifled a moan of pleasure. Harry had been right. This was delicious.
Draco was outright smirking at her. “Good, right?”
Hermione finished chewing and shot him an irritated look. “You know it is.”
His smirk turned to a smile and she rolled her eyes, focusing back on her food.
They ate in silence, Hermione savoring what was in truth a delicious meal. She looked at Draco up through her eyelashes and examined him. He looked relaxed and she watched as he dragged a finger up and down the stem of his wine glass.
“So,” Hermione finally broke the silence after a few minutes, “why am I actually here?”
“Potter got an interesting owl from Weasley.” Draco said after a second of silence.
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Ron?” Why would Ron have owled Harry about her? She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and hadn’t had a real conversation with him in probably years.
“No, Percy, the one you work with.”
Ah, thought Hermione, that made slightly more sense. “Percy Weasley sent Harry an owl?”
“Yes. Said you hadn’t been taking care of yourself.” Draco’s expression was serious and the corners of his lips were down turned in displeasure.
Hermione scowled. That meddling prick. She wasn’t all that surprised. It had hardly been the first time that Percy had enlisted someone else’s help to force her to reduce her work load or take a break. The last time Percy had made Justin call her mother who had forced Hermione to go on a three-day cruise. It had been miserable. There had been limited internet access, the rocking of the boat had made her mildly nauseous the entire time, and she hadn’t been able to do any magic at all since she was constantly surrounded by Muggles.
But Percy knew how she felt about these men, he had known and yet they had been the ones he had owled. That bastard. She would have preferred being forced on another cruise. She would certainly have words for him the next time she saw him.
Instead of replying, Hermione knocked back the rest of her wine and Draco pressed his lips together, obviously holding back a grin.
For a few moments Hermione just contemplated Malfoy. Maybe that’s why he and Harry had been around so much recently. Maybe it was some misguided attempt to save her from herself. The thought that their attention was coming from a place of pity made a hollow cavern open up under her heart and she rubbed her free hand over her chest to try to dispel the feeling.
“Ah,” she finally said, placing the empty wine glass back on the table.
“Well. I appreciate the attempt, but I’ll get out of your hair then. I’m sure both of you have better things to do than babysit.”
Hermione made a move to rise, but Draco leaned over the table and pinned her hand to the surface, preventing her from standing.
“This is not babysitting ,” said Draco, his tone scathing, “this is because we care and we don’t want to see you run yourself down. I remember what it was like when you came to stay with us, how you were.”
Hermione regained her seat and frowned at him. She remembered what she had been like then too. She had been working extraordinarily long hours, constantly exhausted and with a low grade cold. The first week of her residence at Grimmauld both Harry and Draco had doted on her, bringing her soup, buying her new books, and insisting she stay home from work for a few days. It had felt wonderful being so cared for. It had also made what happened at the end of her stay all the more painful.
Her head gave an abortive shake as she shoved those memories back down in the box she kept for them. This wasn’t the time for that. Not when she knew that Draco was a skilled legilimens, who had not strong moral code about not using his ability for personal benefit whenever it suited him.
“So then, what does Percy expect you to do?” She really was going to ring his neck the next time she saw him. Feeling a headache coming on, she pressed her hand to her forehead, desperately wishing she was less tired, more with it for this conversation.
“He didn’t set out expectations. When the owl arrived yesterday we agreed that it would be in your best interest to come stay with us again.”
Hermione was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. No, she couldn’t stay with them again. That would be a surefire recipe for more pain for herself, and she wasn’t a masochist in that particular way. But her attention was also caught by the fact that they had only gotten the owl yesterday. That was after the strange behavior started, odd.
“No, no thank you.” She was firm in her refusal, not leaving any space for Draco to object.
Draco squeezed her hand, and she realized he had never let her go. The sensation shot electricity up her arm and suddenly she was hyper aware of the imprint of every one of his fingertips into her skin.
“We thought that might be your reaction.” Harry’s voice from the doorway was unexpected. She hadn’t even heard him enter the house. He was still in his full Auror robes, but barefoot, which made for an amusing image.
The soft smile the men shared made Hermione feel like an intruder all over again, and her mouth tasted sour with guilt. She had been shivering under the touch of her best friend’s boyfriend. How dare she.
Harry carried on, heedless of her discomfort. “So instead we’re going to do this. You’re not going to work this weekend or all of next week. You’re going to come over here, or we’re going to go over to yours to make sure you’re spending time relaxing. You don’t have to spend the night here, but if you aren’t getting enough sleep, we will make you. Percy and Justin have everything covered.”
For a second her temper flared, how dare they dictate to her like this. She was a grown woman. But as soon as she acknowledged the anger she tried to let it go. Hermione shut her eyes, trying to think this through, trying to think past her resentment for their imperious and arrogant behavior.
On some level she knew that their actions weren’t unwarranted. She had a long established habit of running herself into the ground. She knew that she had never been able to pull herself out of one of her spirals alone. She also knew that she had been working ridiculous hours as of late unable to sleep, one of the prime symptoms that she was getting overwhelmed again. Someone, or in this case someones making the effort to pull her out now would save her from a dramatic crash and burn in the not too distant future.
Harry’s heavy footsteps brought him directly behind her char and she felt his large warm hand rest on her shoulder. Draco once again tightened his grip on her hand. Her heartbeat pounded, like a bunny trapped between two wolves, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Her eyes opened and she twisted to look at Harry and then back at Draco.
She knew this was for the best, that they were just being her friends. If she refused their help she would hurt their feelings, damage her relationship with them irreparably, and probably be forced on another cruise with her mother. So if the alternative to those things was to bite her tongue and swallow down her feelings for these two men, then that was the price she would pay.
“Fine,” her tone was resigned, “fine, that’s fine.”
Notes:
What with my grad program going full online, I should have more time for this. I expect this to be done by mid-April at the latest, but hopefully before. I make no promises though.
I really wanted to get this chapter out, so there is a chance I'll go back and edit it for grammar later this week, but nothing significant will change.
Stay safe, wash your hands, avoid crowds!
Thank you for reading!
-Ely
Chapter 5
Summary:
Hermione, Harry and Draco have breakfast
Notes:
You can now follow me on Tumblr
Mind the change in tags! Also there is a very slight spoiler in the end notes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She had been done with dinner by the time that Harry had arrived, which was good, because she didn’t think that her appetite would have survived that conversation.
After her reluctant agreement to comply with their high handed plan, she had announced she was tired and wanted to go home.
With his broad hand burning an imprint into her lower back, guiding her towards their floo, Harry had escorted her back to her flat. Bone tired, pride dented, with her fill of being overwhelmed, she hadn’t mustered the ability to object to being manhandled and tucked into her bed.
With a shiver she remembered what she had felt like sitting at the dining room table. Trapped between them in that moment Hermione had felt so overwhelmed that it was a physical sensation. Her heartbeat had echoed through her head and she had become hyper aware of her own breathing.
She had agreed to relax, to be in their presence constantly for the next week, in large part because she was aware she needed to. From the safety of her bed, she could admit that she had been running headlong towards a brick wall. Her behavior last night had been evidence of that. Had she been on her A-game she would have been able to cut Draco down to size with a sentence and a glance, and would not have felt like a 12 year old with her first crush.
She could admit that Percy owling Harry about her had hurt. But she also knew that Percy had tried coming to her first with his concerns. He had told her she was running herself ragged and she hadn’t listened.
She turned over in bed, not yet ready to fully wake yet. The six hours of sleep she had gotten had helped to clear her mind and to center her thoughts. But she also knew that her sleep deficit required way more than a mere six hours to work its way to even.
She kicked herself for getting complacent. She should have steeled herself against the possibility that Harry and Draco would show up again. She hadn’t, and so when Draco had turned up it had completely thrown her for a loop. Had she been expecting Malfoy, had she not gotten five hours of sleep in the previous two days, had she not been working herself to the bone, she would have been able to avoid what was bound to be an emotionally painful week of longing, pining, and trying to box up her emotions so that they wouldn’t spill out of her. Had she just taken better care of herself she might not be spending the next week pretending she felt nothing for these two infuriating, kind, beautiful, men other than platonic affection.
But instead she would be with them almost all of her waking hours.
She had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it.
The noise of someone flooing into her flat made her sit up against the rails of her headboard. There were a limited number of people who had access when her wards were up. Percy, Justin, Harry, and her assistant, Jaqueline. Knowing who it probably was, she stiffened her spine in anticipation, reminding herself that he was just her friend. That there was nothing else there.
Swinging her legs out of bed, she reached for her robe. One of the indulgences she allowed herself once she began making money was a luxurious silk robe. She slept naked and being able to slip on her silk robe every morning felt sumptuous and decadent. This morning was no different.
She padded barefoot into her living room to find Harry unpacking groceries.
“Open your floo to Draco, would you?” He said, his back to Hermione.
Harry was dressed like he too had just rolled out of bed. Grey sweatpants that had seen better days were slung low on his hips. The tee shirt he had on was stretched taut over his broad shoulders. It had a hole in it by the collar large enough so she could put her hand through it and touch his bare skin.
“Sure,” Hermione waved her wand, lowering her wards on the fireplace.
A minute later Draco entered, carrying more groceries. He too was still obviously wearing what he had slept in. His was free of holes though, and obviously made of much more expensive fabric.
“Are we having a four course breakfast?” Asked Hermione, yawning behind her hand.
“No,” Draco was putting vegetables in her bare fridge and spared her a backwards glance. “But we knew you had no food in your home. You really do need to stop living off take aways.”
Hermione waved her hand in a lazy dismissing motion. “Sometimes my take always are salads,” she said, a smile in her voice.
The dramatic roll of Draco’s eyes told her that he thought that was bullshit.
The morning light was highlighting the men puttering around her kitchen in the most flattering way possible. They looked like the picture of domestic bliss. So comfortable together that they moved around each other effortlessly, like a dance they had practiced a thousand times.
Want hit her low in her gut. She took advantage of their inattention to shut her eyes and breathe deeply in an attempt to shut her feelings in a box. She needed to clear her mind and treat them like her friends. Just friends.
“‘Mione go sit down, breakfast is ready.” Harry called from the kitchen. Her eyes snapped open and she nodded, though neither man was looking at her, still caught up in making breakfast.
She made her way over to her dining room table. Her open concept flat didn’t let her have the sort of warm family dining room she had helped Harry build at Grimmauld Place. Instead a heavy dark wood table sat between her living room and her kitchen, matching the bookcases of the same wood that lined the walls, making the space feel like part dining room, part library. With a flick of her wand she cleared the table of the piles of papers that had accumulated there, making way for the dishes she could hear Draco and Harry plating.
Draco left the kitchen first, floating three mugs of coffee, a stack of plates, and a serving dish of eggs that were perfectly fluffy and so hot. She could see the steam coming off of them, and the flecks of pepper told her they would be perfectly seasoned. Draco settled across the table from her and one of the mugs of coffee floated down gently in front of her. She reached to cup it between her hands, blew on it to cool it, and then took a sip. It was exactly how she liked it, milk and slightly too much sugar.
A question in her eyes, she regarded Draco with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not as unobservant as you think Granger,” Draco said in response to her unasked question, “you did live with us for a month, of course I saw how you took your coffee.”
She offered him a small smile as Harry bustled in, levitating a plate of bacon, toast, a carafe of orange juice, three glasses, and a platter laden with a variety of pastries she recognized as coming from her favorite bakery. He sat on the same side of the table as Draco, so they both were facing her.
“This is too much,” she protested, pulling her robe more securely around her shoulders.
“Nonsense,” said Harry, “This is a lovely weekend breakfast. Don’t think your assistant didn’t rat you out for skipping breakfast and lunch most days.”
Hermione mentally added another person to her hit list and hid her frown behind another sip of coffee.
Harry had begun piling a plate high, including a chocolate chip scone and the crispiest pieces of bacon. He then set it down in front of her without a word. He had remembered both her favorite baked good and that she liked her bacon extra crispy. It wiped the frown off her face and filled her instead with a warm fondness for both men.
“So,” she said, putting down her mug and picking up a fork, “what do my lovely jailers have in store for me today?”
Harry and Draco exchanged a look that she just barely caught from under her lashes.
“Well,” said Harry, picking up his own fork, “we thought that you could go to Flourish and Blotts. We know you haven’t had the chance to go in a while, and that novelist you like just released a new book. After that we thought that we could come back either here or to Grimmauld.”
“My vote is for Grimmauld,” drawled Draco, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “though I do find your flat delightful Granger, you don’t have that huge couch or a working fireplace to lounge in front of.”
“I think you’ll find Malfoy, that most people don’t spend much time lounging in front of fireplaces,” Hermione said tartly. “That behavior is normally reserved for wealthy widows whose husbands died under mysterious circumstances.”
“Well with that robe, you could have fooled me Granger. I don’t think I’ve seen any witch wear a silk robe like that since I last visited Blaise and saw his mum seducing her latest victim.”
Hermione’s mouth curled into a delighted grin. This was the banter she loved to have with Malfoy and had desperately missed since she had started avoiding him.
“I’ll take that as a compliment Malfoy. Are you volunteering to be my first victim?”
“Hardly would be a victim Granger. I’m sure I’d die with a smile on my face.” Draco quipped.
“Awfully presumptuous of you to assume that I’d let you go, who knows, I might keep you around to have fun with,” The response had left her mouth before she fully considered it, so caught up in the back and forth. She immediately bit her tongue, regretting her hasty response. It was too close to the truth.
Two slashes of color appeared high on Draco’s cheeks and Harry’s eyes were comically wide.
Silence fell on the table and Hermione felt her cheeks heat to crimson.
She dropped her gaze to her plate and resumed picking at her food. She had single handedly ruined the mood and blown up the easy atmosphere that had been so comfortable.
She chanced a glance at Draco who was pressing his lips together and then to Harry. She saw Harry’s arm move under the table, hand obviously going to rest on Draco’s thigh. The motion made her stomach drop.
Of course, of course, of course.
Harry was laying his claim to Draco, telling her that she couldn’t catch him, either of them, they belonged to each other, not to her. She bit back a sigh and closed her eyes, trying to put her feelings in the little box they kept escaping from.
“So,” she forced her voice to be bright and break through the awkwardness like she didn’t notice it. She was proud of her steady tone, despite her cheeks, that she was sure were still bright red. “Flourish and Blotts. I’ll go and get ready then!”
She did her best not to run from the table, but the scratch of her chair on the floor gave away her haste to leave.
Harry’s arm shot out and grabbed her hand before she had the chance to stand. He held her in place, his hand pinning hers to the table.
“Sit,” his voice was low and commanding and brokered no argument. She sat almost automatically, wanting to obey. It did nothing to help her blush.
“You haven’t finished your breakfast,” Draco pointed out, eyes focused on her face, tone the same sort of firm as Harry’s had been, but gentler, kinder. It was a heady feeling, being the center of attention, having both men’s eyes focused sharply on her. It made her swallow against the tightness in her throat, her nipples coming to hard peaks under her robe. The silk pulled deliciously across her breasts as she shifted in her chair and she desperately wished she had put on more clothes before going out to greet Harry.
Harry’s eyes flicked between her breasts and her face and he exhaled sharply, looking to Draco for something, exactly what, Hermione didn’t know.
Harry’s hand went from hers to briefly grasp her wrist. The pressure of his calloused fingers around the soft skin on the inside of her wrist made her core clench and all thoughts seemed to flee from her mind at once. She looked down at her plate and used her free hand to fumble for her fork, desperate for a distraction.
One of the men cleared their throat, but Hermione didn't look up to determine who it had been. Harry gave her wrist a squeeze that was just this side of gentle and then let her go, fingers brushing across her knuckles as he retreated.
She took a few more bites of her food in the ensuing silence, head still looking down at her plate. She wanted time to compose her face, try to hide the reaction Harry had elicited simply by touching her, pinning her, grabbing her. But it was more than that, her traitorous body told her. It was just somehow more.
She shook her head to dispel the unwelcome thought and instead tried to cast around for an uncontroversial topic of conversation.
“So,” she finally said, her voice slightly more breathless than usual. Her head was still a little empty and she peeked up at the men on the other side of the table, “what are you two going to do while I’m at Flourish and Blotts?”
Draco’s eyes squinted at her, incredulous. “We will be there with you Granger.”
Hermione’s “oh” of surprise was more air than words.
“Someone has to carry the dozens of books you’ll acquire.” Harry was trying for his normally loose and jokey tone, but the strain she could see on his face belied this attempt at a casual response.
“And we are gentlemen, hence my lady, we will be your loyal pack mules today,” Draco was trying for a sardonic tone, and he almost made it. But the soft smile on his face both caught her off guard and ruined the harder edge he was going for.
She opened her mouth to argue, and then thought better of it. She couldn’t seem to hold an argument in her head long enough to articulate it. If they still wanted to spend time with her after whatever awkward mess had just happened, then more power to them.
Draco asked Harry something, but it was mostly white noise to Hermione as she finished what was on her plate. She managed to make the right interested noises at the appropriate intervals, buying herself enough time to clear her head from whatever had happened when Harry had wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
After what seemed like forever, but what was probably actually less than fifteen minutes, she had managed to make a sizable dent in her breakfast. She focused back on the men who were carrying on a conversation, both keeping one eye on her. When she set down her fork Draco stood from his chair and walked around towards her side of the table. She looked up at him curiously.
He sketched out a bow and pulled her chair gently from the table, offering her his arm to help her stand. She stilled for a second, flummoxed at this turn of events, before reaching for his proffered assistance. He didn’t really seem like he was mocking her, and after that breakfast, she had been a little afraid she would stumble white standing if she tried to move from the table without assistance.
Draco walked her to her bedroom door, eyes firm on her face, her hand in the crook of his elbow. He opened the door for her and stood in the doorframe, just watching her as she entered the room.
“I don’t need help getting dressed. Or an audience,” said Hermione, her voice slightly peeved. She needed a moment alone to gather her thoughts.
Draco smiled at her, an unfamiliar expression on his face. “I know Granger, just wanted to make sure you didn’t make a run for it.”
“I’m in my own flat Malfoy. Where would I run too?”
His wide shoulders shrugged, looking unconcerned and aristocratic, but his eyes still focused on her face, “Just making sure Granger. Get dressed. We’ll be waiting.”
Hermione nodded and made a shooing motion with her hand. Draco complied with her silent demand and turned, closing the door behind him and leaving her alone.
She dressed, preparing herself for the outing. At least she could avoid more awkward time with just the two of them. After all, they were just going to Flourish and Blotts, a very public bookstore. What was the worst that could happen?
Notes:
This chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but that's because the next good place to stop would have made the chapter way way too long.
The world is a scary place right now and writing fic is one of my methods of escape. I hope this brings you a little of that too.
(Also spoiler: the E rating is finally going to be put to real use in the next chapter)
I hope you are all keeping healthy and safe and exercising social distancing.
~Ely
Chapter 6
Summary:
Harry, Draco, and Hermione go to Flourish and Blotts
Notes:
This is just pure filth. Please note the additional tags.
Reviews give me deep joy, thank you for everyone who has reviewed so far!
You can follow me on Tumblr
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, Flourish and Blotts
Draco and Harry met her in her living room, already dressed for their day out, both in sharp but casual robes.
During her time getting dressed, she had done her best to stiffen her spine in anticipation of a day of interacting with them, but as both of their gazes snapped to her, she could tell that her work had been for naught.
Harry gave her a glance that was unmistakably appreciative as he walked to her side and took up her hand in both of his. She tried to swallow around whatever had just gotten caught in her throat and fought down the urge to blush.
“You look lovely ‘Mione. Shall we?” He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, a move she was sure he had learned from Draco.
“What a gentleman,” she teased, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“I’ve had to beat it into him,” Draco said sardonically.
She let out a light laugh as Draco caught her other hand in his, lacing their fingers together. This was—this was so much, she thought frantically, pressed tight between them.
They side-along apparated her to the corner of Diagon Alley closest to Flourish and Blotts. She tried to attribute the feeling in her stomach to the apparition, but she didn’t quite believe it.
The bookstore was mercifully empty, the crowds she had been used to during the rush of back to school shopping noticeably absent. She had discovered after graduation, that off-season, Flourish and Blotts was downright relaxing. It was a far cry from the frantic rush that she remembered from her school days.
The man minding the till greeted the trio with a deep nod that was almost a bow. As always, the momentary flash of discomfort about being The Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, in public washed over her, but she shook it off. Draco squeezed her hand gently and she gave him a soft smile in return.
Once they were a few steps into the store Harry took a step back and Draco let go of her hand. For a second she felt cold, almost bereft at the loss of their closeness, but she did her best to ruthlessly suppress the feeling.
“Go wild Hermione,” said Harry, grinning at her, “we’ll be wandering around, but once you start gathering books to buy just come and leave them with us. Like Draco said, we’re your pack mules for the day.”
“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” said Hermione mischievously. She turned on her heel, set on her task of acquiring what was sure to be too many new books.
Despite her unstated promise to go on a shopping spree, she was relatively picky about what new books she acquired. She had spent the past ten years buying books, so her already impressive personal library was robust. So on this trip she was mostly looking for recently published books in her favorite topics. She spent fifteen minutes wandering around and lost sight of both men.
Flourish and Blotts was so much bigger than she had known it was when she had only been able to go during breaks at Hogwarts. Her summer trips had been so limited in time and space that she had never been given the opportunity to explore. In addition to the main room and the second floor, where the textbooks had been kept, there were basement levels, attic levels and side rooms. There was so much space in the store that Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that there were several illegal expansion charms at work.
She made her way to one of the basement levels that was entirely unoccupied. It was the section dedicated to ancient arithmancy, a topic that was not popular, but a particular favorite of Hermione’s. It had proved useful in developing the algorithms she used to select which Muggle stocks to buy, so she was always looking for new books on the subject. It was a hard section of Flourish and Blotts to find, not only was it in the basement, but it was also around a series of hidden corners, tucked behind some larger shelves. She hadn't seen anyone for several minutes by the time she arrived there.
It was comforting to be back on familiar ground, and Hermione kicked herself for not coming here more often. She spent so much time hiding in her work, in part because going out in public could still mean uncomfortable stares and awkward questions. She was still salty at Percy for throwing her to the proverbial wolves by sending the letter to Harry and Draco, but a tinge of gratefulness was starting to creep in. It was good to have friends who cared about her enough to save her from herself.
She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, not looking for anything in particular, just more than happy to explore. The leather under her fingertips was cool and soothing.
That was when she heard it.
A low groan punctuated by a soft “fuck.”
The masculine voice was unmistakable. She had heard it so often growing up. And the month she had spent in Grimmauld place made even his groans familiar.
She peeked around the corner and had to press her hand over her mouth to keep from moaning out loud at the sight.
Draco was on his knees between Harry’s spread legs, the blond head bobbing in an unmistakable way. Harry’s hand was fisted in the fair hair, pulling in a way that made Hermione’s toes curl.
“You’re so good at this, love—fuck—you’re so good at sucking my cock, such a talented mouth.”
Draco hummed in response and it made Harry choke out another expletive.
“You like this, don’t you?” Harry asked, breathless. “You like being on your knees for me, in public, where anyone could see, don’t you? You want to be seen. I know who you want to be seen by.”
Draco pulled off of Harry’s cock with an obscene pop. It gave Hermione a look at Harry, who had his trousers undone just enough to give Draco access. He was thicker than she had imagined, and the idea of it inside of her made her core clench. She was sure if she touched herself she would be soaking wet.
“I know who you want to be seen by too,” said Draco, voice smug, stroking Harry’s cock while looking up at him. “I don’t know why you’re playing this game. We both only want to be seen by her. By our Hermione. That’s what got you all hot and bothered. She was bending over getting books from the bottom shelf in that tight skirt of hers and you got hard.”
At the sound of her name Hermione’s heart felt like it stuttered. What she thought she knew, and what was layed out before her went to war in her brain. All at once the past week or so flashed in front of her. Was this why they had looked at her like that? Had touched her like that?
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed Harry’s reply.
“You did too,” Harry said, out of breath. “I saw you Draco, how your mouth watered at the scent of her. How you loved her in only her silk robe this morning. How much you wanted to tear it off of her and take her over her kitchen table.”
Eyes wide, hand still pressed over her mouth, Hermione took an involuntary step back. She hit the shelf behind her, hard enough for it to rattle.
Both men’s heads turned towards the noise, neither of them looking alarmed at the intrusion.
“Looks like we got our wish,” said Harry, eyes roaming Hermione’s figure and licking his lips in a way she could only describe as lewd. The juxtaposition of the movement with the fact that this was Harry, her first friend, the kid who had saved her life, the man who she had known for eighteen years, made her breath catch in her throat.
Draco stood from his kneeling position and stalked towards her, all feline grace. She was up against the bookshelf and had nowhere to escape to. More to the point, she didn’t really want to escape.
Her brain was still playing catch up with what she was witnessing. Over Draco’s shoulder she could see Harry fisting his cock, eyes intent on her.
Her whole body felt hot and tight, and she could swear she heard her heartbeat rushing in her ears. Her clothes suddenly felt off and wrong, and her nipples formed hard peaks under her sensible bra.
“So, Hermione,” said Draco, drawing out her first name, making it sound lascivious and lush. He was now less than an arms length away from her and his eyes burnt a path from her face, to her chest, and back up to her face.
To her embarrassment Hermione let out a sound that was closer to a whimper than actual words.
Draco’s smirk grew. He was so close now that his body was blocking her view of Harry, but Hermione heard Harry’s dark chuckle at her reaction.
“So, Hermione,” Draco repeated, bringing a hand up to cup her jaw. He used a thumb to run over the seam of her lips. In an act of daring she would never be able to replicate, she opened her mouth enough to take the tip of his thumb in her mouth, swiping over it with her tongue.
Draco’s pupils dilated and he raggedly inhaled.
“Fuck, Hermione,” he said, pressing in closer.
“What did she do?” Harry’s voice was curious and lower than she had ever remembered hearing it.
“Little minx took my thumb in her mouth and ran her tongue over it. I bet she wishes it was my cock.” said Draco, gaze bright with lust.
Hermione nearly groaned and shut her eyes against the onslaught.
“No, no, little minx, look at me.” Draco’s tone brokered no argument and her eyes opened immediately at his command. His thumb left her mouth and rested on her plush lower lip, rubbing back and forth gently. The drag of his finger pad across her lip made her desperately aware of the pulse of her heartbeat in her cunt.
Heavy footsteps heralded Harry’s approach. He came up behind Draco, one hand on the other man’s waist, the other reaching around to pet Hermione’s hair.
“You planned this,” the accusation came out breathless and Hermione did her best to gather her wits about her.
Neither of them bothered to deny it, and Draco shrugged carelessly.
“So what if we did?” The blond asked, tone mild and curious. His intense look betrayed his casualness though. He looked like he wanted to devour her. Harry’s look matched Draco’s. Being observed like this, being the center of their attention, it was something hot and heady.
She didn’t have a real response to that. So what if they planned this? Whatever was happening obviously meant she was wrong about them not wanting her. They did want her. At least they wanted her sexually.
A flash of recklessness overtook Hermione and she decided that she would go to bed with them. She would do anything for that, in this moment.
She met Harry’s eyes and then Draco’s. She grabbed Draco’s hand, the one that he was using to rub a maddening pattern against her lower lip. Deliberately, she guided Draco’s hand so that she could catch his thumb in her mouth again. This time she bent her head forward further, taking the digit deeper in her mouth. She maintained eye contact as she circled the tip with her tongue and sucked on it provocatively.
Harry’s groan was jagged and his eyes were fixed on Hermione’s mouth wrapped around Draco’s thumb.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, sounding unbelievably eager and desperate.
For half a second she hesitated. A distant voice in the back of her head told her that it was a bad idea. That while she wanted to fuck them both desperately, her feelings went beyond lust, and their fleeting sexual interest would get her heart broken.
She pushed that thought back and instead Hermione nodded.
Draco withdrew his thumb from her mouth with a wet pop. He dragged his thumb back down to her lower lip and then over her chin, his hand coming to rest against her throat, leaving a wet trail that cooled as it hit the air, and felt indecent.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.” Hermione was pleased that her voice was steady, though perhaps a bit more sultry than her normal tone.
“Thank Merlin,” Draco breathed out. He leaned in and kissed her, almost reverentially, his lips gentle and teasing. She leaned into the kiss and he brought his free hand to tangle in her hair, drawing her closer.
Harry was at her side, body hard against her softer curves. He wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her in close. She looked down and saw that while Harry had covered himself up, the hard line of his cock was still visible through the fabric of his trousers, and she felt it press against her hip.
Harry’s mouth went to her neck as he peppered her décolletage with kisses. She was glad she had chosen her scoop neck shirt for their outing, so that she could feel his lips on her skin.
Draco withdrew his hand from her hair and instead brought it to press in between her legs. She widened her stance to accommodate the intrusion. Harry helped him by pulling up her skirt so that it was bunched around her waist. Draco ran his fingers over her knickers across the lips of her sex, too gentle for her to derive any satisfaction from it, but hard enough to drive her wild.
She opened her mouth to ask, to beg, to plead for him to really touch her when Harry caught her mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like she had imagined his kisses would be. It was rough, and demanding, and the nip of his teeth on her lower lip made her moan. She felt Harry smile satisfied and smug into their kiss.
If someone were to enter now, they would see her pressed between these two handsome men, lips bitten red, legs spread wide. The idea of being caught like this was both exciting and terrifying.
Harry brushed one of his hands across her breasts and she tried to arch into the touch. But Draco’s hold around her neck kept her in place.
“We’re going to go home now.” Harry said. Hermione could only nod fervently. Draco’s hand on her throat tightened for a second and she let out a broken groan at the sensation. His fingers briefly dipped under the elastic of her knickers to circle firmly around her clit and her knees almost buckled at the sensation. Draco withdrew his hand and Hermione keened at the loss.
Draco brought his digits to Harry’s mouth. “Want a taste?” The blond asked. Harry caught the other man’s index and middle fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, savoring the taste of her like it was a fine wine. The sight of it made her core pulse with need.
“Delicious,” murmured Harry, looking her straight in the eyes.
“We’re going to take you home, and bend you over every surface we can find,” said Draco, breath hot against her neck as he leaned down to nip at her pulse point. “You’re going to be so filled with the two of us. You’re going to drip from it.”
Hermione whimpered high in her throat. She could almost see it now. Spread out over Draco’s overly stuffy desk he had moved into the library, Draco fucking her throat while Harry pounded into her.
“Please, please—fuck—please,” Hermione was practically panting with need. She had never been so wet in her life.
“Do you like to be made to beg?” Asked Harry as he pinched a nipple through the fabric of her top and bra. It pinched just enough to make her squirm, wanting both more and less of the sensation. “Do you like to be desperate for it? Do you want us to fuck you so well you see stars and want nothing more than our cocks in your mouth, your pussy, your arse?”
“We’re going to take it slow though, we’ve wanted this for so long. I remember you talking about how you wanted her first on her knees, your cock in her hot mouth, making up for all the times you had to go take a cold shower after watching her bounce around in short-shorts all those summers at the Burrow,” said Draco.
“You’re right,” mused Harry almost idly. He would have hit the right tone if he wasn’t looking at her with such hunger in his eyes. “I did say that. I remember you saying something about how you want her tied to the bed as you make her come over and over again until she begs you to stop.”
It was so unfair, thought Hermione desperately, how they were teaming up on her like this.
“This sounds like a lot of talk for men who haven’t even properly gotten me out of my knickers yet,” she said, looking back and forth between the men. She felt unbelievably needy and could feel her own slick soaking through her knickers.
Draco and Harry shared a covetous look and rearranged themselves, Draco grabbing her left arm, while Harry grabbed her right.
The three of them apparated out of Flourish and Blotts with a pop, leaving the pile of books Hermione had planned to buy scattered on the floor.
Notes:
This chapter is a touch shorter than normal because I had to break up one massive chapter.
I had so much fun writing this, it has been so great to have fanfic as an escape during this weird and difficult time. I hope all of you and yours are staying safe and healthy, I'm think ing of all of you.
~Ely
Chapter 7
Summary:
Hermione, Draco, and Harry return to Grimmauld place.
Notes:
This is the longest chapter yet and it's literally just sex (and some feelings).
One of my lovely commenters pointed out that there is some bad BDSM etiquette in this chapter! Everything is entirely consensual, but they do play hard enough so that they probably should have used a safeword if they were going about things in the right way. This is why communication is so important in all relationships! (And why these three are not paragons of good communication)
Thank you so much to everyone who left a review! It so lovely to get feedback on this thing I write alone in my apartment!
All mistakes are very much my own (No beta, we die like men).
You can ask me questions/follow me on Tumblr!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, 12 Grimmauld Place
Hermione, Harry, and Draco landed in the master bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place in an undignified pile of limbs. She had landed on her arse, her legs splayed wide. The men had landed in similarly awkward positions so it took them a second to get back up to their feet.
For a second Hermione’s gut tightened in a mix of fear and sweet anticipation. What if she was fucking up her relationship with the most important person in her life? What if by acting on her wild lust for these two men she was sacrificing a lifetime of friendship? What if—
Her spiral was stopped dead in its tracks. In her momentary freak out she hadn’t seen the men move until she was pressed between them, Draco at her back and Harry at her front. Her mind went blank with bliss as Draco trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh to press against the gusset of her knickers. She spread her legs more to allow him better access and rocked into the pressure, wanting more. He had piano player’s hands, long fingers, excellent control, she thought distractedly as she bit her lip to keep from begging for more.
“Stop thinking. I can see you over-thinking this.” Harry’s tone was still that delectable and commanding low tone. It made her mouth water. It was like dark chocolate or sinking into a hot bath. It made her want to do whatever he said.
“As if Hermione could stop thinking,” scoffed Draco in a teasing lilt to his voice, “we’ll just have to shut her brain off for her. How many times do you think she has to come before that brilliant mind of hers stops racing?”
“Hmm...good question. Hermione, how many times have you come in a row?”
She tried to gather her thoughts, but it was hard when Draco’s hand would pull away periodically, teasing her and making her hips seek out the contact. “I—uh—f-four?”
“Four? That’s decent. Who was it with?” Harry asked.
“The barista, Maria. It was over the course of like six hours. It was with a strap on and with—with a Muggle sex toy—fuck Draco please touch me.” She hadn’t meant to say the last part, but in her desperation it had flown from her lips unbidden. She blushed at how wanton she had sounded.
Draco smirked, and Harry smiled down tenderly at her.
Harry stroked a hand down her flank tenderly “Poor pet. So desperate to be touched.”
Hermione nodded, yes, yes, she did want to be touched, and these jerks were holding out on her.
Draco made a comforting shushing sound, stroking his fingers against her center. “I know, doll. What do you think, Harry? I think we can match that.”
His eyes glinting in the mid-morning sun, Harry’s grin to Draco was ravenous and raw. “Yes. I’m sure we can. ‘Mione, what do you like?”
“I—fuck Harry, Draco, please.” Harry pinched her nipple viciously to get her attention and she yelped, the pain warm and spiking the throbbing between her legs.
“I like how you talk to me. I—fuckfuckfuck—I like how you tease me,” she babbled out.
“What else, pet. What fantasies have you always hidden from other lovers, but desperately want fulfilled?” Harry’s voice was rich and full of dirty promises.
“I don’t know,” it was hard to think because Draco’s fingers had found a steady rhythm, pressing against her seam through her panties. Harry’s hand had delved beneath her blouse and he was stoking her tits, fingers ghosting over her nipples.
“Yes you do, pet. It’s what you get yourself off to when you’re alone in your flat at midnight. It’s what you’re too embarrassed to even think about when you don’t have your hand between your legs. It’s whatever is making you blush right now.” Harry punctuated his last three words by applying just the right amount of pressure to both nipples, making Hermione arch, unsure if she wanted to be closer to the contact or father away from it.
“Fuck, I want...I want you both inside me,” Once she started she found she could’t stop herself. Out poured things she had never wanted to admit to anyone else, “I want to be helpless and at your mercy. I want you to fuck my throat until I cry. I want both to fill me again and again. I want to be...”
“What do you want to be pet?”
“I want—I want—I want to be your good girl.” She buried her face in her hands with the admission.
“No, no, no, none of that Hermione,” said Draco, using his free hand to drag her palms away from her face, “no embarrassment doll, we want to know what you want. What you need from us. Thank you for trusting us. What you—” Draco stuttered and cleared his throat, “what you want is fucking hot.”
“He’s right. Fuck ‘Mione, it’s so hot. We want that too. How do you want us both inside of you? Do you want us both in your tight little pussy or do you want one of us in your arse? Have you ever taken anything up your arse before.”
Harry’s crude language somehow made her blush more than his dirty talk had.
She made to cover her face again, but both her wrists were still held captive behind her back by Draco’s large hand. “In my arse. I’ve never had anything—I mean. Maybe a finger?”
God, this was not at all how she had thought the day was going to go. There was still a niggling voice in the back of her head, warning her that this could, and probably would, end badly. But their hands making paths of pleasure and warmth across her skin kept that voice very quiet.
“Well then we’ll work up to that. You’re not going to take one of us in that delectable arse of yours tonight, but we’ll both fill you. Can you kneel for us, doll?”
Despite Draco lacking the same blatant command in his voice that Harry had, she was still desperate to obey him and her knees practically buckled at his question. Both men had taken a step back to allow her the space to kneel. It put her at perfect eye-level with Harry’s cock. She would have reached for them except Draco hadn’t let go of her wrists. As she knelt Draco had repositioned himself so that he was on tall knees at her back, her arms held behind her like she had been placed under arrest, with Draco’s hands as the shackles.
“Now, Draco is going to keep a hold of your hands, and I‘m going to use that throat of yours like you begged us to. When we feel you’ve done a good job I’m going to fuck that perfect cunt of yours and you’re doing to take Draco in your mouth. Does that sound good, pet?”
She nodded so eagerly that some of her hair escaped her ponytail.
“You’re just gagging for it aren’t you?” Draco breathed against her neck. His body was hot behind her and his free hand was stroking all over her body. “You just can’t wait to have his thick cock down your throat. I bet your mouth is watering for it.”
Hermione blushed crimson. He spoke too close to the truth. She had begun to salivate. Sucking off Harry had been a part of her fantasies since fourth year when she learned what a blowjob was.
She could feel the sweat beginning to bead at her hairline, and her body felt flushed all over. She bit down on her lip to keep from begging in a way that would embarrass her in the morning. She had been with other people before, she had been in mildly kinky situations. But for some reason, having these two men look at her like they were about to devour her turned her into a dripping mess like nothing else had before.
A hand grabbing her ponytail and yanking her head back made her realize that she had failed to answer the question.
“Aren’t you just gagging for it, doll?” Draco repeated deliberately.
“Yes, yes, yes.” said Hermione quickly, wanting desperately to please him.
“Good girl” said Draco. His words sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. He relaxed his grip on her hair enough to allow her to tilt her head so that she had a better view of Harry who was standing in front of her, undoing his trousers.
He shoved them down enough so that his hard length sprang out. This was how he had been for Draco, just minutes ago. The thought made her core clench and she wondered if she would be able to taste Draco on his skin still.
“Open your mouth ‘Mione,” murmured Harry, fisting his cock. She opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue for good measure.
Harry used one hand to guide his length into her mouth. It tasted much like other men she had been with, like skin and salt and something very male. There was nothing special about the physicality of it. But knowing it was Harry, knowing that Draco was holding her wrists, his face pressed into her neck, leaving a series of sharp nips followed by soothing kisses. That was electricity in her veins.
Draco’s hand in her hair guided her pace.
“This is how Harry likes it,” he whispered in her ear, “he likes you to start slow. Wiggle your tongue on the underside, yes, doll, just like that, good. He likes to be teased a little at first, but then once he gets sick of the teasing he’s fuck your throat until you think you can’t take it anymore.”
“Giving away my secrets Dray?” Harry asked, not quite breathless, but obviously verging on it.
“Just telling our little doll here what to expect. She wants to be good for us, so best give her all the information possible,” even though she couldn’t see him, she could hear the smile in Draco’s voice.
Harry said something in reply, but her brain had caught on Draco’s use of “our doll.” Theirs, the mere idea sent a thrill through her. But again, the voice in her head, the critical, skeptical little bird on her shoulder told her they didn’t mean it in the way she wanted. She was theirs, for the night. Nothing more. Banking on more would only hurt later.
Her thoughts were cut off by a combination of sensations. Draco pulled back on her hair, and Harry went so deep in her throat that she choked on his thick length.
“Stay here with us, pet,” said Harry, stoking a hand from the crown of her head to her cheek. His hips were thrusting into her, and he was hitting her limits. Her eyes began to water after a minute of the rough treatment, and she squeezed them shut to try to control her physical reactions. The tears that had gathered slipped down her cheeks, undoubtedly ruining the mascara she had put on that morning.
“I’m close,” muttered Harry out through gritted teeth, pulling out and circling his fingers around the base of his cock to stave off his impending orgasm.
“Do you hear that doll? He was about to come down that pretty little throat of yours. But that’s not where he’s going to come tonight is it?” Draco’s hand had let her wrists go and was petting her throat gently. He moved closer to her, rutting his erection against her arse a few times as he spoke to her.
“Get her on the bed,” Harry ordered.
Draco stood and in a surprising display of strength, lifted her up from the floor. Hermione squeaked in surprised and hurried to wrap her arms around his neck, afraid he might drop her. The blond chuckled at her start and placed her gently on the very large bed. She kicked off her shoes and tossed them to the floor.
Draco began stripping off his clothes methodically. Hermione watched as one new piece of pale skin after the other was revealed. He was muscular, but they were lean muscles, his broad shoulders and narrow hips making him look more like a dancer than a boxer.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Asked Harry softly, watching Draco as well. Love shined out of his eyes as he watched his boyfriend strip down. Harry had removed his clothes without her noticing. His build was that of a man who worked hard rather than worked out. His cock was still jutting out and proud as he made his way to sit next to her on the bed.
One of his hands went to absently stoke up and down her spine, a move he had done for years to calm her down when she got caught up in the worst of her spirals and anxieties. She remembered the touch from those months on the run, where they would sometimes huddle up in the same bed and hold each other against the fear and the loneliness.
Hermione swallowed thickly and made a noise of agreement in the back of her throat.
Draco finished divesting himself and he joined both of them on the mattress. He made his way to the top of the bed and took a position leaning against the headboard with his legs splayed.
“Our little doll is still dressed,” Draco remarked, catching Harry’s eye.
“So she is. We’ll have to fix that.” Harry reached for his wand and vanished her clothes with a practiced flick.
“What the fuck?!” Hermione screeched suddenly naked, hands going to cover her now bare breasts “I liked those clothes!”
Harry’s mouth twisted in an amused grin and Draco smirked at her, neither looking at all repentant.
“Don’t worry pet. We’ll buy you new ones,” Harry said. She was still frowning at him, arms crossed over her breasts as he herded her to the top of the bed so that she was sitting between Draco’s legs.
“How about we make it up to you?” Asked Draco as he pulled her so that she was leaning against him, her back to his chest. He gently uncrossed her arms, exposing her breasts to the cool air, making her nipples harden. She was suddenly hyper aware of the heat of his skin on hers, of all the places they touched.
“How about we make it up to you with orgasms?” Harry asked with a sweet smile that was undermined by the wicked promise in his eyes.
Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Two,” she said, drawing the word out. “Those were some of my nice knickers.”
“You heard the lady,” said Harry, kneeling in front of her. He looked over her body, eyes lingering on the marks around her neck and chest that he and Draco had left.
Draco used one hand to pluck at her nipples and the other went to hold the lips of her labia open to Harry’s keen gaze.
Hermione shifted, uncomfortable at being under such close scrutiny, not used to seeing someone stare as intently at her pussy as Harry was doing just now.
“No,” said Harry, sharply slapping the inside of one of her thighs. The sound more than the sensation made her jump.
“Was that okay?” Asked Draco, chin tucked into the crook of her neck, holding her close.
Hermione bobbed her head up and down fervently. It was more than okay. In the past she had done some light slap and tickle with other partners and discovered how much she enjoyed being spanked and tied down. She was eager to see how those past experiences would map on to whatever they were about to do here.
“How nice, that you’re bare for us.” Draco murmured, head tucked over her shoulder, giving him a perfect view of her cunt. She had used her regular depilatory spell that morning, as she did every morning. She was about to open her mouth to sass back at him that it wasn’t for them, but bit her lip to hold the comment back, the warmth on her inner thigh serving as warning against misbehaving again.
Harry kissed the red mark he had left on her thigh. He then moved his mouth to her center. He kissed each of Dracos fingers where they were holding her open to his gaze. She felt the edges of his lips graze her sex and tried to cant her hips to get more sensation. It didn’t work and earned her a slap on her other thigh for her trouble. She whimpered at the sensation and felt more than heard Draco chuckle at her plight.
“He’s not ready for you to come yet. He loves the build up. One day he’s going to tie you down and bring you so close to your peak again and again so that you’ll almost be able to taste it, only to deny you over and over. And then, when he thinks you’ve had enough he’ll finally let you come and it will be like a supernova behind your eyes.”
Draco sounded like he was speaking from experience and she clenched at the mental image. Draco’s pale limbs splayed and anchored to the bed—this bed—his lovely hair damp with sweat and his prick hard, red, and weeping.
“Yes,” said Harry, settling between her thighs, “that was fun, wasn’t it? And our pet certainly likes the sound of that.”
Hermione had something clever to say in rebuttal, she could swear she did, but it was lost and Harry dragged his tongue up her sex in a firm stoke and Draco pinched her nipple.
Harry’s mouth on her pussy made her try to arch closer into the contact, but his hands had gone to hold her hips down and Draco had banded an arm around her chest to limit her movement.
Harry’s tongue teased her, going from her opening to her clit, tracing a delicate path that hinted at pleasure. Draco kissed down her neck, muttering a mix of curses and praise into her skin. Every word his hot breath pressed into her throat felt like a brand on her skin.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably a few minutes she whined, high in her throat. She felt the hot air of Harry’s laugh against her. He circled her clit with his tongue with just the perfect amount of pressure and then she—
It was both like every other orgasm she had ever had before, but it was also more. Her whole body tingled and she felt her cunt convulse and her legs shake.
“Good girl,” Draco whispered against her neck and then kissed the crown of her head. “One more now, doll, just like this. Then Harry is going to fuck you with his cock and you’re going to choke on mine.”
She mewled and was rewarded with two of Harry’s thick fingers dipping into her entrance and then around and over her clit. She tried to use her legs to draw him in closer, to make him do it again, but a sharp slap on her outer thigh stopped her efforts.
“I decide when you get to come, pet,” Harry said, eyes fixed on her folds in a way that made her want to shy away from such direct attention.
“Yes, yes Harry.” Hermione panted out. Draco rolled her nipples between his fingers at the same time as Harry slid two fingers inside her.
She choked out a gasp and threw her head back against Draco’s shoulder. She had never really liked being fingered all that much, but Harry’s fingers were providing a delicious stretch. That combined with Draco’s attention to her breast was really doing it for her.
Harry crooked his fingers in her, watching her face. She thought she knew what he was doing. She hadn’t ever had a lover who had found her g-spot, and she had tried herself, many times, all unsuccessful. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe provide a little direction, that rubbing her clit would get him much farther. But then he brushed over something inside her and she gasped, half out of shock, half out of pleasure.
Harry smirked and repeated the motion, pressing a little harder this time. Her jaw dropped open and she inhaled, shaky. Harry returned his mouth to her clit, sucking and pressing with his fingers at the same time. It was too soon, her rational brain exclaimed, normally she needed time between orgasms. But here, hot on the heels of her first was another. She cursed and babbled and came with a ragged groan, pulsing around Harry’s fingers.
In the next moment she was being manhandled to her hands and knees. They positioned her so that she could dip her chin and put Draco’s cock in her mouth. Her legs were spread enough to let Harry settle between them.
Harry smacked a hand on her arse and Hermione arched into the contact. “Put his cock in your mouth ‘Mione. You can't come again until he does.”
Hermione nodded eagerly and leaned down to lick Draco’s length. She could still feel her pussy fluttering with the aftershocks of her last orgasm and the heat of his hand on her bottom made her clench in anticipation.
Draco was thick and hot on her tongue. She licked down the prominent vein and was rewarded with a moan. Draco laced his hands in her wild hair, ponytail lost somehow in their activities.
Hermione pulled up enough to be able to speak. “Pull my hair Draco,” her voice was low and sultry, “please”
Draco smiled at her, and stoked his free hand down her cheek to cup her jaw, something tender in his gaze. “Alright Hermione.”
She leaned down to take him back into her mouth, a smile on her face. His hand tightened in her hair deliciously and the pain of it made the pleasure she was feeling sweeter. She was getting into a good rhythm when Harry pushed into her without warning. Both of his hands were holding on so tight to her hips that she was sure she would have bruises in the morning. She hoped she would.
Her moan vibrated around Draco’s cock and he hitched his hips so that he slid into her throat. She choked around him and he pulled back, giving her room to breathe.
‘He’s big isn’t he? I remember the first time he took me. The stretch around him was exquisite.” Draco’s dirty talk made her double her effort to get him off. If he was going to talk to her like that she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from coming, and she had no desire to disobey Harry’s direct order that Draco had to get off before she did.
Harry’s length in her was delicious. The drag of his cock against her walls felt decadent. He brought a hand off of her hip and pressed a finger against her back entrance and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to press into the pressure or shy away.
“Soon he’ll take you there too,” Draco’s eyes were on Harry pounding into her. “Or maybe I’ll take you there. I’ve never fucked a girl in the arse. Would you like that Hermione? To be my first?” He had something softer than a smirk, like he was joking, but with a tint of sincerity.
Hermione couldn’t answer with his cock in her mouth, so she settled on pushing down further on him, letting his cock go as deep as she could stand without choking and bringing her hand to caress his balls.
“Merlin, doll, warn a bloke,” Draco panted out.
She smiled around him, trying to keep her focus on his pleasure, doing her best to box the sensation that Harry was giving her into a box so that she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by it.
After a few minutes Draco was spluttering. “Close—fuck—I’m close,” he choked out.
“She’s such a good girl, our ‘Mione,” Harry cooed, stoking a hand down her back in a gesture that was supposed to be soothing, but that just raised goosebumps down her spine.
“Fuck—” Draco’s exclamation was followed by a twitch of his length and his spend hitting the back of her tongue. She pulled back enough to be able to swallow it down completely.
She pulled off of him completely and rested her head on her thigh. His hand gentled in her hair, and instead began stroking her forehead in a motion that was oddly comforting, given her position.
Harry changed his angle ever so slightly and she yelped as his cock found contact with the place inside of her that his fingers had only found earlier in the evening. She felt sweat trickle down her back. She was so close, if someone would just touch her clit she could—
Harry brought a hand around her body to stroke her clit. Her world narrowed to sensations. There was a noise and it took her a second to recognize that she was making it, something between a moan and a whine, loud and desperate. Her cunt clenched around Harry once, twice, and then over and over again and Harry began cursing with his completion as well.
Her knees went from under her and Harry and Draco guided her gently onto the bed. Harry rested on top of her, and the weight of him helped calm her frazzled nerves. Draco kept up the gentle petting to her hair. Harry was still hard inside of her as his chest rose and fell, evidence of his exertion. He gently pulled out and away from her and she whimpered at the lost contact. She felt the combination of her slick and his spend slip out from inside of her and she tried to clench down, to keep it all in.
Harry noticed the movement and exchanged a look with Draco that Hermione only caught part of. She wondered how long it took them to have that kind of silent communication.
“We owe you one more ‘Mione,” Harry said.
Hermione shook her head and turned her face into Draco’s thigh. “Sensitive. Please, I—” she wasn’t sure if she was begging for more or for him to stop.
“For us,” Draco said sweetly, meeting her eyes. She was sweating and was sure that her makeup must have been running down her face, but he was looking at her like she was ethereal, magical.
“Okay,” she said, her voice horse from her noises and how deep Draco’s cock had gone.
She hissed as Harry gently dragged his fingers down her slit. She tried to twitch her hips away from the sensation, but Harry had curled one hand possessively around her hip, his fingers indenting her flesh as he held her still. His ministrations were gentle as he crooked two fingers inside of her again and used his thumb to manipulate her clit. It took her no time at all before the sensation built low in her belly. Then warmth washed over her, making her toes curl and bite down on the pale skin of Draco’s inner thigh. She screamed her release and Draco yelped at the sharp pressure of her teeth.
She felt like she was floating, like she was boneless. She could do little else other than lay there and breathe deeply.
Both men pulled away and she felt cold at the loss. She heard them kiss and murmur something soft and loving to each other that wasn’t meant for her hearing. Her heart clenched. Of course, she thought, turning her face more firmly into the bedding. They were still them, and she was still herself.
Two washcloth wet with warm water gentled over her body, one wiping up the combined fluids that stained the bare skin of her thighs and between her legs. A hand tilted her face so that the other could clean the remnants of her makeup off her face and wipe sweat off her forehead.
She fell asleep to the soft stokes, hoping that she could escape before they woke up in the morning so she wouldn’t have to swallow her heart whole as they treated this like a fun one time experience, as if they hadn’t given her what she had dreamt of for years, only to take it away.
Notes:
I've been taking a lot of walks (alone, far from other people) in the park by my house to pass the time. It's nice out here, so it's been very pleasant. Flowers are in bloom and the sun is shining.
I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe out there.
~Ely
Chapter 8
Summary:
The trio talk
Notes:
A super huge thanks to geekiebeekie and weaverofdreams45 for such wonderful alphaing/betaing/reassurance! Seriously, wildly helpful.
Thank you also to every single person who reviewed/left kudos, I can't tell you how delighted I am to read every comment!
You can follow me/ask me things on Tumblr
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2009, 12 Grimmauld Place
Hermione woke as the sun was setting, casting a red-orange glow around the room.
She was alone. The large bed was cool and she didn’t see or hear either of them. The house was large enough so that they could be practically anywhere and she wouldn’t know.
On one of the bedside tables she caught sight of a cup of tea that was under a stasis charm to keep it warm.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she hesitated for a moment. Harry had vanished her clothes. She had nothing to wear. She could just apparate home naked. No one would see her. It would allow her to escape. Save herself some embarrassment. She looked around for her wand while making her way to the side table, seriously considering it. She picked up the mug and noticed that there was a note tucked under it.
Come downstairs to the kitchen, we have your wand.
— H+D
Well there went her escape plan.
There was a checkered flannel robe hanging from a peg on the bathroom door. It must have been Harry’s, given it’s well loved status and the fact that it was hanging next to a velvet robe that had DLM embroidered on the pocket. Hermione grabbed the flannel robe and wrapped it around her. She rolled the sleeves up three times to be able to see her hands.
Hermione let out a deep sigh as her hand rested on the knob of the door out to the hall. She really had to do this, didn’t she? Make a graceful exit after a night of wild and kinky sex with her best friend and his boyfriend. Pretend she wasn’t so in love with both of them that it was breaking her heart every minute she wasn’t with them. What had been a casual fling for them had cemented their place in her heart, it would take her a very long time to get over either of them.
She squared her shoulders and tried to ready herself for battle. Light and airy, nothing world altering had happened. They had all just had a bit of fun. Just a bit of fun.
She made her way down to the kitchen, padding down the three flights of stairs it took her to get there.
The door was open, and in a mirror of their behavior this morning, Harry was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious. Draco was acting as sous chef. Her breath caught in her throat at the domesticity of it, how Draco and Harry would exchange loving words. How they had each other, their relationship, and their complete little life here—where there was no space for her.
She shut her eyes and made to turn away when she heard her name being called.
“Hermione?” Harry’s voice was warm and welcoming.
Hermione blinked hard to try to rid herself of the prick of tears she could feel. She swallowed down the thickness in her throat and threw a smile on her face. She hoped it looked sincere.
“Hello you two,” her voice was perhaps a touch higher than usual, but she was proud it didn’t break.
“Come sit, dinner is almost done.” Harry gestured towards the kitchen table.
She took a half a step back, crossing her arms in front of her. She could do this, this brief interlude where she retrieved her wand and said her good byes. She couldn’t deal with dinner. Not if she wanted to preserve any dignity at all.
“No,” Hermione meant to shake her head gently, but how sharply her hair whipped her face told her she was less gentle and more vehement.
She cleared her throat. “I mean, no thank you. I have to get home. I just need my wand. I have—I have—”
She stopped. She didn’t have anything. She had no work, they and Percy had conspired to ensure that. There was nothing, she didn’t even have a plant she could say needed watering.
Harry took a step towards her, hand out and palm up, brow furrowed and a cautious look in his eye. “‘Mione, come on, let us feed you.”
Draco was also coming towards her, half a step behind Harry. The blond’s hand went to his boyfriend's shoulder, and Hermione watched semi-mesmerized as his fingers curled into the fabric of the soft grey jumper Harry was wearing. She watched as the fabric dented under Draco’s fingertips. She watched as the fabric pulled taut as Draco pulled on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry looked back at Draco and their silent exchange went totally over her head, as her eyes were still secured to where Draco’s hand was holding on to Harry’s jumper. She wondered what it would feel like if that were her hand, would the knit of the fabric be rough against her palm? Would Draco’s hand be warm through the material? Would she be able to feel the bite of his fingernails if he was gripping her like that?
“‘Mione, pet, we want you to have dinner with us. Please.”
She looked up to meet Harry’s gaze. He was looking at her in an intense and worried way she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but that made something twist under her breast bone.
Draco walked towards her slowly, his hand out like an offering, palm up.
“Hermione,” Draco took another step towards her, and she was rooted to the spot. “We’re sorry, we’re so sorry if we did anything to upset you. We should have talked, we thought that—we’re so sorry if anything happened earlier today that you didn’t want, so so so—”
Hermione bit out a hollow laugh, and if anything both Draco and Harry looked more concerned.
Hermione brought a hand up to her neck to try to push her heart back down from her throat to her chest. “No, no, I wanted—I wanted it all.”
Draco looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Really? Okay. Good.”
He inched closer, close enough to touch her, but he hesitated, his hand hovering over her shoulder.
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Trying to center herself. It was obvious they weren’t going to let this go, that she was going to have to endure this dinner.
And probably a lengthy conversation that would end with her telling them that she was in love with them.
And them trying to break it to her gently that this had just been a bit of fun for them.
And that they had no desire for any sort of real relationship with her.
Fingers ghosted over her shoulder to settle on the side of her neck. His hand came to rest tentatively over her pulse point, fingers overlapping with hers.
“Please tell us what’s wrong Hermione. Please tell us how to make this better.”
Her inhale was jagged and her shoulders shook either with sobs or laughter, she wasn’t quite sure which one. She had thought she could come down here and be normal with them.
Like they hadn’t just flayed her alive and left her soft insides spilled all over their bedroom.
Like they hadn’t just given her exactly what she wanted and were now forcing her to come be with them while they told her none of it was real.
Hot tears made track down her cheeks, but she opened her eyes. If she was going to have her heart torn out, then by god she was going to do it herself.
“You’ve never called me Hermione before.”
Both of Draco’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. He took half a step closer to her and his hand on her neck reflexively tightened and then went loose again.
“You only called me Draco for the first time a few hours ago.”
“He thinks you hadn’t forgiven him.” Harry’s voice was low and much closer than she thought he was. She peeked over Draco’s shoulder and saw Harry hovering close to the two of them.
It was her time to be surprised and confused. “But—I did, so long ago.”
“You shouldn’t,” Draco’s voice was harsh, but his touch on her neck was soft, this thumb stoking the line of her jaw. “I’ve never even—I never gave you a proper apology. You shouldn’t forgive me. You should never forgive me.”
“That’s nonsense,” Hermione scoffed
“I’ve been telling him the same thing.” Harry had moved so that he was right up next to Draco. His hand went to her cheek and she leaned into the contact out of habit, and then stilled, angry at her body for betraying her.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry. I was terrible to you in school, I—fuck—I said I wished you were dead! And then Merlin, the war. And you were tortured and I just stood there. And I—”
Hermione’s hand left her throat and went to Draco’s face, her movement mirroring Harry’s from just a minute ago. She cupped Draco’s cheek and his eyes fluttered shut under her touch. The sharp line of his jaw rested in the center of her palm and she felt her racing heart calm down.
“You were a child. We were all children. What Bellatrix did was not your fault. I forgive you. I forgave you so long ago.”
Draco turned his face to press a kiss into the center of her palm. His hand dropped from her neck and instead went to grasp her arm, the one where the word Bellatrix had carved into her arm had never really faded. It wasn’t red and angry anymore, but the silvery skin was raised, and sometimes would still twinge late at night.
He brought her forearm up to his face and leaned down to kiss her scar. Something electric shot up her spine and her breath caught in her throat. It was tender and vulnerable and it made her feel like she was stripped bare.
She felt him whisper his apologies against her skin and cupped the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his hair.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured.
Draco lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes were wet and he looked at her with absolute anguish in his face.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just. If you’re upset because it was me. I’ll go, I’ll go—”
“No, no, no. It’s not, it’s not you,” her voice broke and she swallowed against her heartbeat in her throat, “it’s me, it’s me, it’s me.”
Her face felt flushed and she felt her heartbeat all over her body, even the tips of her fingers tingled.
“Then what is it Hermione?” Harry’s voice was gentle and encouraging. She met his eyes but had to look away from the sincerity and kindness there.
She needed space. If she was going to do this, she needed to not have their hands on her, burning into her skin. She took a step back, and immediately Harry and Draco let their hands drop.
They both followed her lead and retreated as well. It left her a path clear to run, but it also left her a path to the kitchen table. It was tempting to just stand in the doorway, but it was even more tempting to run. She did neither. She rolled her neck and took the few dreaded steps to sit at the kitchen table.
It felt a bit like she had walked to the executioner's block, and as they sat across from her she could feel the blade hanging over her.
Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, fingers folded over each other to stop them from shaking.
“Please, Hermione,” Harry’s voice was desperate and she could see his white knuckled grip on the edge of the table. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you...please tell us what’s wrong so we can fix it.”
Her lips curled in a bitter smile, and she cleared her throat, in the hope that she actually might be able to form words. This sort of courage was what got her through the war. And though this was by no means life and death, she was pretty sure this would be the end of her friendship with both of them.
The silence lingered.
“I don’t use your first name. I don’t call you Draco.”
Hermione watched as Harry and Draco exchanged a glance, and again it struck her how much they must know each other to be able to communicate like that.
“I know,” Draco’s voice was hoarse.
“I needed...I needed distance. I thought that by not using your first name, that I could maintain that distance. And you always called me Granger. I thought that if you kept being Malfoy and not Draco, that I could keep my—” her voice choked off and she swallowed hard. “I thought that I could keep my feelings...platonic”
She couldn’t look at either of them. Her eyes were focused somewhere above their heads, but her peripheral vision caught a wince pass over Harry’s face.
“Is it—was it—I mean...it was me, wasn’t it? I made you uncomfortable then?” Harry’s voice was thick and Hermione’s eyes went to him and her hand darted out and gripped his where he held onto the table. She had spent most of her life now comforting Harry, a habit so deeply ingrained was hard to break.
“No, nothing like that. I promise. I—” a mirthless laugh slipped past her lips. “It was the same with you Harry. I’ve avoided...involvement because what I felt for you was too much.”
Her eyes were firmly focused on the grain of the wood on the table. It was the same table that order meetings had been held at.
Harry let go of the edge of the table and flipped his hand over so that he could grip Hermione’s hand in his.
“Too much?”
Hermione kept her gaze on the gouge from Fred and George’s enthusiasm with floating knives when they set the table more than a decade ago.
“Yes, yeah. Too much.” She nodded jerkily.
Silence pressed in on her from all sides. Her eyes stayed cast downwards. How was it that she could facedown a boardroom of angry, important, influential people without so much as batting an eye, but she couldn’t even look at her oldest friend.
The extended silence was like the blade of the executioner’s axe touching the back of her neck in a practice swing.
Draco inhaled to say something and she readied herself for the blow. She tried to pull in on herself and pull her hand away from Harry, but he wouldn’t let her go. She settled for hunching her shoulders and tilting her head further down.
“You think...you think that you feel too much for us, for both of us, so you’ve been trying to keep your distance?”
Why was he dragging this out? She didn’t think Draco would be quite this cruel about it.
She nodded, silently.
“Do you—oh my god, Hermione—do you think that we don’t have feelings for you?” Harry’s voice broke at the end and her hand tightened involuntarily in his.
Her head shot up. How dare they play with her like this when they had made themselves perfectly clear.
She felt a blush burn on her cheeks and yanked her hand away from Harry’s.
“I know you have feelings for me. You made those feelings perfectly clear. Last year when I was living here you warned me off. And now you’ve decided I’m perfectly fine for a good fuck, but that I’m not, I’ll never be—” She cut herself off and stood abruptly.
“I need my wand and I need to leave now.” She was vibrating with anger. How could they treat her like this?
Harry made a distressed noise, and followed her lead, standing as well. Draco was sitting stock still, eyes round and focused on Hermione.
Harry put his hand on her elbow and she pulled away again.
“Do not touch me,” she hissed, “you do not get to touch me after all of this, you do not—” a sob caught her by surprise. She took two stumbling steps back and hit a wall.
Harry didn’t advance on her again. He held both hands out palm up, a placating gesture, like he was approaching a frightened wild animal. She bit back a manic giggle, thinking that she probably looked feral in that moment: shoulders hunched, eyes red rimmed, her hair a tangled mess, and her hands curled so hard into fists she could feel the marks left by her fingernails in her palms.
“Hermione, I’m sorry, we’re sorry,” Harry’s tone was soft, “we’re just confused. Did you think we didn’t want you?”
Her shoulders sagged. Her anger fleeing her body as quickly as it had come on. She was so tired.
“No,” she sighed, “after this morning I knew you wanted me. But you don’t want me the way that I want you. Want the both of you.” The words were sour in her mouth.
“Hermione, we want you. We want to be with you for real. We want you to be with us like we’re with each other.”
Her breath caught in her throat and her field of vision narrowed to a point, She could only focus on Harry’s face. Sincere, with hints of the boy he once was. She flicked her gaze to Draco who had bit down so hard on his lower lip she was surprised he wasn’t bleeding.
“What?” Hermione croaked out. In that moment nothing felt real and she thought that she was floating through something unreal.
Draco stood and made his way so that he was half a step behind Harry, not close enough to corner in on her, but close enough so that if she wanted to, she could touch him.
“We want to be with you. We want to spend time with you. We want to date you. We want you to be ours. We want to be yours.”
Draco reached into his pocket and took out her wand, holding it out, a peace offering.
“We want you. But obviously we haven’t been clear in our intentions,” Harry shot him a look and Draco rolled his eyes, “but we want a relationship with you.”
Her wand was dangling from Draco’s fingers, but all she could do was stare open mouthed at his face.
It felt like she was flying. It felt like she was falling.
Her heart was beating double time and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together—certain she was shaking apart.
It was too much. What felt like a lifetime of loving Harry and a few very painful years of having feelings towards Draco was twisting around her. How could she have been so wrong? What if they were wrong? What if she was mishearing? Misunderstanding?
She blinked hard a few times and tried to take in deep breaths.
Hermione wasn’t sure how long she stood there, holding herself, but when she opened her eyes both men were still standing in front of her, eyes soft and desperate, both with hands outstretched, reaching for her.
“I—you—” she broke off and took another deep breath, trying again. “You want to be in a relationship with me...a real relationship?”
“Yes, yes, yes Hermione, we really want that,” Harry’s voice was adamant and behind him she watched as Draco bobbed his head in a firm nod.
“Why did you never say anything? I thought—I thought you didn’t want me like that.”
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it look even more haphazard than it was before.
“I—we thought we did.” His look was earnest and pleading.
“No, you most definitely did not. I would have remembered if either one of you had at any point told me that you wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with me. It would have been a red letter day. I would certainly have marked it in my calendar.”
Harry’s eyes cut to Draco, and she noticed streaks of color appear high on the blond’s cheeks.
“We thought—”
“Well we thought that when you stayed with us you’d take our physical affection in front of you as an invitation” Draco interrupted.
Hermione scoffed and her eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry, but, what?”
Harry rolled his eyes at what was obviously an old argument between the two of them.
“I told him that you didn’t get it after you left so suddenly, but the prince of subtlety thought that his message had been perfectly communicated and you weren’t receptive.”
Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like “Gryffindors.”
Hermione uncrossed her arms and leaned forward enough to grab her wand from where Draco held it out.
She was proud her hand didn’t shake, though she did see a slight tremor in his.
Having her wand made her feel more in control. She stuck it in the pocket of the flannel robe and took a tentative step away from the wall, toward both men who were still there offering her their hands.
“That night. When you two started. I—I thought that you were...warning me off?”
“No. Merlin. No.” Harry’s voice was vehement.
“Why did you think that?” Draco’s expression was pained, mouth downturned and eyes desperate.
Hermione looked down and smoothed the cloth of the robe over her leg, focusing on the pattern of the fabric rather than the stricken looks on both men’s faces
“Well,” her tongue curled around the word, wondering how to phrase it. “When I was staying with you, when you were kissing, and looked possessive, and then didn’t say anything...I thought that was your way of telling me to back off”
“No doll. We were. Merlin. We thought, okay, I thought that you would join in. It was supposed to be an invitation.” The words rushed out of Draco’s mouth like he was desperate to get them all out, desperate to be understood.
Hermione looked up, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, annoyed.
“How was that supposed to be an invitation?”
Draco shrugged helplessly and Harry took half a step closer to her.
“Can we, can we sit down and talk?” Harry asked, eyes searching her face.
Hermione still felt like she was in shock, but she tried to clear her head, tried to reason with the joy she felt blossoming in her chest. She cleared her throat to try to recenter herself, a small smile beginning on her face. “Yes, I think we should. Only, can we talk somewhere more comfortable? The sitting room?”
Both Harry and Draco nodded.
Hermione pressed her lips together and reached out to both men, discovering the small pain that had been nestled under breast bone had been replaced with something that felt like hope.
As soon as she touched his hand, Harry pulled her in for a hug. Her head went to his chest and she felt his heartbeat racing. Behind her she felt more than saw Draco approach, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind.
She felt warm and safe in the welcome cage of their arms.
Instead of walking to the sitting room she felt the squeeze of disapparition, and suddenly they were in the sitting room. They had all kept their feet, unlike the last time they apparated, and Draco guided them to the comfortable chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.
With a flick of his wand he lit the fire and she chose an armchair that faced a loveseat.
The hug had been nice, comfortable, comforting. But she wanted space to process, because what they had told her meant that she had been wrong, so, so wrong, for more than a year now.
She folded her hands in her lap and watched as Harry and Draco sat down across from her, both leaning towards her.
“So,” Hermione started, trying to set a mental agenda and approach this rationally, “it seems like there has been a breakdown in communication.”
Draco snorted inelegantly. “Yes, that does seem to be the case.”
She pressed her lips together and sent him a small playful scowl. She was trying to remain reasonable and suppress her emotions about this, but the small bubble of hope in her chest had ballooned and she felt like she could float.
“I was under the impression, prior to this morning, that neither of you wanted me.”
“No, no, no, we both wanted you,” Harry broke in, eyes intent on her face.
“Since when?”
Draco and Harry exchanged a look.
“Since you hit me, in third year,” offered Draco, with a self deprecating twist to his mouth.
Hermione was unable to stop her jaw from dropping.
Harry’s hand went to the back of his neck. “Yeah, about the same for me. Probably when you saved Sirius in third year.”
“But—but you never—neither of you ever—” she spluttered.
“I couldn’t,” said Draco, looking at the fire. “I couldn’t first because of my family, then because of the war, then because I was sure you hated me.”
Harry’s hand went from his neck to caress Draco’s shoulder, comforting the other man.
“I thought, well at first it was Victor, and then it was Ron, and then you were off in the muggle world and working so hard, and I thought that all you ever saw me as was a brother. So I tried to ignore it, for the sake of our friendship,” said Harry.
“It was third year for me too,” she met Harry’s eyes and gave him a small smile. “But Harry, you never said anything, and I didn’t want to put that on you. You had spent your whole life shouldering other people’s burdens, I didn’t want you shouldering mine too.”
Her gaze shifted to Draco, who had looked up from the fire.
“It was a few years for me with you. I always thought you were striking, handsome. But it wasn’t until I spent time with you that I really wanted you. But by then you were with Harry, and I thought that was it. I thought that was it with both of you. And I was just going to be the best friend I could be to both of you, but try to keep my—” her voice broke but she forced herself to continue, “To try to keep my feelings to myself, to let you both be happy together and to try to keep my heart at least semi-intact.”
She ran the back of her hand under her eyes, wiping away the tears that had started running down her face.
Both men were looking at her with something covetous and desperate.
“We want to be totally clear with you, Hermione,” said Harry as he leaned forward, his hands folded as if in prayer and his elbows on his knees, “this is something we’ve talked about. We want you here, we want you to be in this relationship. We want you to live here with us, wake up with us every morning. We want to take you out on dates. You and Draco can go to those fancy museums both of you love. I want to take you out on a picnic and lay out on the grass and watch as the stars come out. We want to be your escorts to every fancy gala and fundraiser you hate going to. We want you to be our girlfriend. And then one day our fiancee, our wife, the mother of our children.”
“If you want. Only if you want.” Draco’s voice was intense and his eyes were hungry and fixed on her.
Hermione was nodding before Draco had finished his sentence.
“I want, I want, I want,” she breathed out.
Both of them had their bodies angled towards her, reaching. She stood up and took the few steps towards the men.
They both extended their hands towards her and she took what was offered.
Notes:
I can't tell you how grateful I am for all the support and love! Writing this fic is a true delight.
Comments are adored!
Stay safe!
~Ely
Chapter 9
Summary:
Six months later the trio have another discussion
Notes:
You can follow me/ask me questions on tumblr (seriously I have a lot of free time and an open ask box lmao.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
December 2009, The Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Voting Chamber
Hermione did her best to contain her outward display of nerves to the clenching and unclenching of her fist inside the pocket of her robes.
The financial regulatory reforms she had championed were up for a vote in the Wizengamot.
She had planned on spending the day in her office, but her pacing had made all the employees nervous. She had even snapped at an intern who had mixed up the basic difference between a long and a short, so Percy had sent her off to the Ministry where both her boyfriends were voting in favor of the new bill.
She had decided her nerves couldn’t take being in the room where it happened; so that left her standing outside the doors that would bring the members out of the voting chamber once they finished.
Well, at least they had told her they were voting in favor of it. She had insisted that they make their vote on their own conscience and that they not be swayed by their relationship, only by the merits of the legislation itself.
Both men had rolled their eyes at her good-naturedly and assured her that her very detailed presentation and graphs had done enough convincing on their own.
The bang of a gavel echoed through the empty hall, announcing the close of voting.The member exit opened and witches and wizards in Wizengamot dress robes streamed out of the door.
Her shoulders straightened, and she sought out the silver blond and messy black hair of her men.
She saw them after a second. They were caught up in their own conversation, heads close together, oblivious to the rest of the world. They were beautiful, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of them.
These men were hers, after years of shoving all of her feelings in a little box and trying and failing to guard her heart, she could finally think about them without the tinge of guilt that had once called her chest home.
As if they felt her eyes on them, both men looked up and straight at her. A warm smile curled the corners of Harry’s mouth, and Draco’s shoulder relaxed slightly.
Navigating the crowd, both men came to stand in front of her. They were tall enough that she had to look up to meet both their gazes. She reached out, her hands outstretched for their comforting touch. Both men grabbed her hands. In the six months the trio had been dating Hermione had discovered that while being touched by them could arouse and make her burn, it could also be comforting. Their bodies felt like home.
“So?” She asked, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
“Well—” Harry started, a mischievous look on his face.
“Don’t torture the woman,” Draco cut in, rolling his eyes. “The bill passed, congratulations.”
Her grip on both men tightened, and her grin was so wide it hurt.
“And did they—were there any amendments?”
“Only one,” said Harry, his teasing smile turning soft.
“Oh no, did they take out the veil piercing language? Because I told Ogden how important—” Hermione was frowning and looking around for the Wizengamot member who she could just throttle with her bare hands, how dare he—
“No,” Draco reassured her, interrupting her wrath, “the only thing that changed was the name.”
Hermione refocused on the two men, brow still creased in a frown.
“The name? I thought that S.P.O.T.I. was a good name for the bill? Strengthening Protections, Oversight, and Transparency in Investments?”
Harry grimaced and Draco rolled his eyes, this was an argument they had multiple times, but like with S.P.E.W., Hermione would not have the good name of her acronym besmirched.
“Pet,” Harry said in a low voice, a playful smile on his face, “no one wanted to call the bill ‘spotty’, so we all agreed to a new name. The Granger Financial Bill.”
Hermione’s eyes rounded, and her mouth dropped open to a small O of surprise.
“It wasn’t even us who suggested it,” said Draco, drawing Hermione closer to him.
“No, in fact it was that prat McMillan. The one trying to convince you to let him invest in your fund despite not meeting the financial requisites.”
Hermione harrumphed, but the corners of her lips were tilted up in a smile.
“Well, my services can’t be bought like that. If he had been less careless at the poker table, he might be in a better financial position.”
“Yes, but had he been less careless I wouldn’t have gotten to purchase you such a nice bracelet,” said Draco with a smirk.
Hermione felt herself flush as Draco wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, trapping the cool metal of her new bracelet against her skin. He had put it on her when she was sleeping last week, giving her no time to object to his extravagance. It was a tennis bracelet that had a mix of rubies, diamonds and emeralds.
Draco claimed that Harry had forced him to include the rubies, but she knew he had done it for the sentiment.
“Well, we should celebrate!” Said Harry, draping an arm around her shoulder.
Both men had become much more open and casual in their touches. She had thought she would get used to it, but the feeling of their skin on hers still made her heart flutter and her tongue tie.
She offered Harry a wide smile.
“Yes, Mr. Potter I believe it is. Percy told me not to come back until I was sure I wouldn’t bite off the head of another intern, and I’m still feeling a little feral.”
Draco’s grin was pure sex.
“Feral? Really?” The blond leaned down so he could whisper in her ear, one eye on the surrounding, making sure they weren’t overheard. “Would you like us to tame you? Make you into the pet that Harry always calls you?”
Hermione bit down on her lip to stop herself from making noise.
“I think the celebration should be at home. It should be a private celebration,” Harry said, voice raw with want.
“I fully agree Potter.”
Draco turned. He kept a hold of Hermione’s wrist and nearly dragged her through the crowd to the apparition point. Harry kept pace, their hands also tangled together.
They disapparated from the Ministry with a pop and landed in the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place, home for the three of them.
Hermione had moved in after being with Harry and Draco for three months. She would have moved in sooner, but she had been hesitant to give up her space until she realized that her entire wardrobe had migrated to their house. She was almost positive that someone, probably Draco, had facilitated that move, but she was more than happy to take it as a signal that it was time.
Harry swept her up, lifting her clean off the ground and depositing her on to the center of the bed. She landed with a protesting laugh at being manhandled. Toeing off her shoes she kicked them off the bed.
Both men were looking down at her with raw and ravenous expressions and she felt her whole body flush under their gaze.
“Both of you are wearing too many clothes,” Hermione declared in a much more sultry tone than she had expected.
She reclined on her elbows and watched them through heavy lids. She spread her legs as far open as her pencil skirt would allow. She wanted a show, and Draco and Harry were eager to appease her.
Draco grabbed Harry by the lapels of his robe and yanked him into a ferocious kiss. They were like a whirlwind of teeth and firm strokes, and watching them made Hermione rub her thighs together, desperate for some friction of her own.
Draco and Harry pulled off clothing one piece at a time, neither being careful. They kicked off shoes and Hermione briefly winced, imagining tripping over a shoe in the morning.
Hermione watched as Harry’s shirt lost at least three buttons and Draco’s zipper tore. When they were down to boxers Harry dragged Draco so that the blond man was sitting in his lap on the edge of the bed. Hermione’s eyes followed the path of Harry’s lips as they trailed down the porcelain curve of Draco’s neck, leaving bruises and bites that Hermione knew Draco would wear with pride the next day.
Watching the men together was bewitching and Hermione’s hand went unconsciously to her breasts, drawing fingers gently over the peaks of her nipples through the cotton of her shirt and lace of her bra. As Harry sucked a particularly vicious bruise above Draco’s pulse point, Hermione gave her nipples firm pinches and a soft mewl flew unbidden from her lips.
At the noise both men turned to watch her.
“Our pet likes the show,” murmured Harry against Draco’s neck.
“So she does. But it seems like she might be getting a little frustrated.”
Draco climbed with cat-like grace off of Harry’s lap and settled in the narrow space between Hermione’s legs. He started by pushing her skirt until it was bunched up around her waist, leaving her legs bare but for her white lacy knickers.
A long finger dragged down the gusset of her knickers, making Hermione shudder into his touch.
Draco’s mouth twisted in a smirk.
“I told you when you put these on this morning that I’d have them off of you before dinner. You said I was all talk. I’m not so sure, are you?” Draco’s tone was deadly and dangerous.
Hermione hitched her hips closer to his touch, desperate for more contact. Draco laughed softly at her, and continued to touch her softly through her knickers, enjoying the needy movement of her hips.
Harry made his way around the bed to settle behind Hermione. He pulled her up to lean on him and reached around to her front, flicking the buttons on her shirt open one at a time. Between each button Harry would scratch his dull nails over the newly revealed skin, leaving red marks on her chest and her nipples hard and aching.
Draco moved further down on the bed, so that his head was level with the apex of her thighs. He leaned down and ran his tongue against the lace of her knickers. The rough pull of teh fabric over her core made her groan. He smirked up at her, making eye contact as he pulled the fabric to the side. The lace and elastic cut slightly into the skin at the junction between her hip and her thigh, but after a second she didn’t notice it, because Draco was lapping hungrily at her core, paying special attention to her clit.
“Fuck—Draco—fuck that’s so good,” Hermione babbled.
She felt more than heard Harry laugh from behind her.
“You’re so eager, pet. I know you love it when Draco goes down on you. You love how his tongue fucks you pink little cunt. I can hear how wet you are.”
She blushed crimson, even after months in their bed, Harry’s crude, dirty talk had a way of making her breathless and embarrassed and so fucking turned on. He was never as eloquent as Draco was, but his mouth was absolutely filthy.
Hermione could only nod frantically in response, most of her brain power being consumed by Draco’s tongue at her center and Harry’s fingers drifting lazily over her breasts. And Harry was right, she could hear the wet, obscene noises coming from Draco’s ministrations. They made her even more turned on. Her breath hitched as Draco added his fingers, first dipping them in her entrance to gather some of her slick and then pressing them against her back entrance.
A whimper high in her throat burst from her lips and Draco pulled his mouth away to watch her face.
“What do you think doll? Do you think you can take us both at once?”
A fierce flare of yearning overtook Hermione.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Hermione’s voice was a broken plea.
They had been working up to this almost since they had begun sleeping together. Draco had taken her arse for the first time a few weeks into their relationship, but they had never both been in her at once. She had been ready for a while now, had almost begged for it, but they had held back. Apparently until now.
Harry nipped at her pulse with a smile on his face, pinching at her stiff peaks with both hands.
“She’s more than ready for us,” Harry said in a low growl.
Draco grinned up at him as he reached for his wand. One spell had her naked. She opened her mouth to protest the loss of yet another outfit when Draco cut her off.
“Just banished, not vanished, doll, don’t worry.”
She relaxed back into Harry’s grip and let Draco resume his task.
With a murmured spell, Hermione felt slick form around Draco’s fingers that were stretching and probing at her pucker. She did her best to relax into the contact, and was suitably distracted as Harry continued to pinch and then pet her nipples and Draco’s mouth suctioned over her clit.
She could feel herself building to release and she tilted her hips trying to get the best angle both for Draco’s fingers in her arse and for his mouth on her clit. He took the cue and circled his tongue on her clit with more pressure. Harry reached a broad hand down and grabbed a hold of Draco’s silky blond hair, holding his mouth against her.
“That’s right, come on his face, good girl,” Harry breathed out against her ear.
She came with a sharp cry, core spasming. She felt her pulse in her clit as she came down from her high and Draco pulled his mouth away with a few gentle licks.
Draco withdrew his fingers, and she made a soft noise of disappointment.
“Don’t worry pet, I’ll fill you up soon,” Draco said with a soft slap to her thigh.
She gave him what she hoped was a saucy smile, though she knew her face was red and her hair was a nest.
“Promises, promises,” she laughed.
“I'll show you promises,” said Harry with faux outrage.
Harry turned her so they were chest to chest. She felt his chest hair against her nipples and arched her back into the sensation. His erect cock was thick and hard against her and she wiggled, maneuvering her lower body so she could rub her clit against it. Harry’s fingers curled into her hips and he held her against him. His grip was so strong that she was sure it would leave bruises. She hoped it would.
Hermione turned her head slightly to watch as Draco looked down at the two of them, stroking his cock.
“Harry will fill up that sweet cunt of yours first.” Draco licked his lips, and Hermione’s eyes tracked the movement closely. “He’s going to make you come clenching around his fat cock and then I’m going to fuck your arse. You will come screaming around us, and then we’ll fill you up with our cum. You’re not going to be able to walk in the morning, and then we will take you again and again until all you remember are our names. How does that sound doll?”
Hermione took a shaky breath. “Good—great—yes.”
Draco gave her a surprisingly soft smile and pressed a kiss onto her shoulder blade.
“Good. Harry, would you please give this lovely lady your cock?”
“With pleasure,” Harry grunted.
He reached down between them and maneuvered his cock so that the head pressed up against her entrance. She squirmed against him, but was rewarded with a sharp slap on her arse, courtesy of Draco.
She was so wet it surprised her she wasn’t dripping. Harry’s cock rubbed against her clit once, and then again, before returning to the opening of her sex.
Harry thrust into her, making her gasp at the sensation. No matter how many times one of her men filled her it was still a marvel to her. The stretch was exquisite, and she moaned as Harry set up a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world.
She met him thrust for thrust, her pleasure simmering in her veins. He felt delectable inside of her, but he hadn’t found the angle that made her scream and beg. She shifted, and Harry adjusted, and then suddenly he was there. The first night they had been together when they had found her g-spot she thought it had been a fluke. But near daily sex with one or both men had taught her it was no accident, and she had become very familiar with that spot deep inside her.
His cock rubbing against her g-spot Hermione’s mouth went without her brain being aware of it. She was cursing and begging, only aware of the feeling of Harry’s body in hers, under hers.
Draco was on tall knees behind her, and he ran a hand down the length of her spine, then between the cheeks of her arse, and then down to her quim. His fingers lingered where she and Harry were joined, and the sensation made her clench.
Harry brought his hand between them to rub at her clit and suddenly she was there, falling off a cliff she hadn’t even realized she had ascended.
“What a beautiful doll,” murmured Draco, leaning over her. Harry had stilled, and was catching his breath, eyes watching as Draco lined himself up with her rosebud, still slick from his spell.
“Deep breath now,” Draco murmured as he pressed inside her.
He had been in her arse before, but as she relaxed into the pressure, she realized that this was entirely different.
She felt so full.
Her vision narrowed, and she was a live wire of sensation. She heard an animalistic groan and realized with surprise that it was coming from her.
“Fuck Dray,” Harry bit out, “I can feel you—”
Draco moaned and Harry’s hips gave a half thrust, settling his cock more firmly inside of her. Hermione let out a broken sob of pleasure.
Both men were whispering against her skin about how good, precious, lovely she was. Draco was raining open-mouthed kisses over her shoulder and Harry was leaving bruises on her neck that matched the ones he had left on Draco. There were hands stroking her flank and her back. But suddenly she needed more.
“Move,” she begged in a hoarse voice, “please.”
Draco was the first to move. One of his hands went to hold her hip, the other went to her hair, gathering it up in his fist, pulling tight enough so that the pain was sweet and made her gush.
Harry followed Draco’s tempo. The pace was languid, and the strokes were not deep. She let the sensation roll over her. She was hyper aware of all the places they touched, of the girth of both men inside of her, separated by very little in her body.
After a while the sensation had built, and she felt like she was on the verge of flying apart, although she had just come a few minutes before.
Draco reached around and applied her favorite kind of pressure to her clit, just to the side of it and a little rough, and suddenly she was there. She screamed and her vision went white. For a second she was nothing but a vessel for sensation. She forgot to breathe.
When she regained her senses, she felt her center still clutching at both men with the aftershocks of her orgasm, making them groan. Harry bit at her shoulder, and Draco cursed. They held themselves still, allowing her to ride out her wave before resuming their movements. This time they were a little less languid, a little more frantic, and Hermione melted between them, wanting them to use her body for their needs.
After a half dozen thrusts Draco stiffened behind her, yanking her hair a little harder. She felt him pulse inside her, a second later Harry followed him over the edge.
They stayed like that for a second, both inside of her, Draco heavy on her back and Harry sprawled underneath her.
“Why didn’t we do that before?” Hermione half complained. Draco withdrew from her body and shifted so he was next to them instead of on top of them. Hermione reached for Draco’s hand and laced their fingers together. He pulled her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.
“I have no idea,” said Harry from beneath her, “but we’re definitely doing it again.”
Hermione peeled herself off of Harry, a soft mew coming out of her mouth as his cock left her cunt. Despite feeling very empty, the feeling of their mingled fluids running out of her made her cunt throb with desire again.
She fell onto the bed between the men, face down, exhausted. Draco leaned over to retrieve his wand from where he dropped it. He cleaned up all three of them with a swish of his wrist, Hermione only pouting a little that he had removed their spend from her skin.
Harry laughed at her expression. “Don’t worry pet, we’ll fill you up again and again. You’ll be so full of us you’ll be dripping.”
Hermione met that proclamation with a ragged groan. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
Harry and Draco exchanged smirks over her prone form. They both adjusted, laying hands on her, stoking soothing circles into her skin. She relaxed into their touch, still feeling floaty and content.
“There’s one more thing we had planned for tonight, pet,” said Harry, grabbing his own wand.
Hermione watched him curiously as he summoned what was unmistakably a ring box. A jolt of something between anxiety and hope shot through her veins like electricity. It made her heart go to her throat.
The past six months had been magical, and both men had assured her of their love for her every step of the way. She had become confident not only in the relationship with the three of them, but also in her relationship individually with Draco and Harry.
The voice at the back of her head, the one that used to tell her that these men, who were surely the loves of her life, were off limits had nearly gone silent. But occasionally it would pop up to tell her not to get comfortable, that this was only temporary. When that would happen she would seek whichever man was closer and they would hold her or fuck her silly or both.
But this—if this was—
They had talked about the future, but it had always seemed a little abstract, a little far off—
She had begun to think that maybe, in a year—
Hermione sat up, her back rigid and her eyes wide. She watched unblinking as both Harry and Draco arranged themselves in more comfortable positions and the seconds it took them to move felt like eternities. Her eyes were glued to the small box, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“Hermione,” Draco started, a blush high on his cheeks, “we were wondering if you would consider doing us the great honor of agreeing to one day—”
Harry cut him off. “Draco, you’re taking too long. Hermione, will you marry us?”
Harry’s smile was hopeful, but she could see the anxiety pulling at the corner of his eyes, an expression mirrored in Draco’s face.
There was only one answer.
Notes:
I am so shocked and flattered at the love this fic has gotten. I can't tell you how delightful it has been to get all your reviews, to hear people react to this, and to tell this story.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart, really.
There is one more chapter (the epilogue), and then this will be done. It has been delightful and I've enjoyed every minute of it.
Please stay safe and take care of yourselves.
Comments are my love language
~Ely
Chapter 10: Epilogue
Summary:
Percy rats out Hermione again.
Notes:
We've come to the end friends!
Here is the epilogue!
You can follow me/ask me questions on tumblr
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 2014, Gringotts Bank
Hermione let her head drop to the surface of her desk. There was obviously an idiot working in her fund. Several, actually. In fact, she suspected that it might be everyone but her.
Right before she had meant to leave for the day she had caught a short position that one of her traders had authorized. It was ridiculously risky, and the compliance team should have flagged it, but they hadn’t. It meant that Hermione had to spend the evening on the phone with various other funds and brokers in the U.S. and then in Asia, trying to unwind the position and sell off her position, trying to at least break even.
It had taken hours, but she was finally done.
And tomorrow she would have someone’s head on her desk.
“I told you to let me do that,” Percy said from her doorway.
Leaving her head on her desk, Hermione flapped a hand at him dismissively.
“You don’t scare Pershing Square enough. They would only have bought a fifth of what we needed them to, and they would have hassled you about the price.”
Percy made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like an objection. Hermione lifted her head and gave him a skeptical look.
He sighed. “Fine, I guess you’re right. But also you should never have hired that foolish chit Ron recommended.”
“Yes, you were right about her,” Hermione said begrudgingly. It had been a hire based on Ron’s assertion that Fleur’s cousin was a wiz with numbers. It turned out that Fleur’s cousin was okay with numbers, but that was mostly related to Quidditch statistics, and that Ron was still easily swayed by part-Veela.
Percy had been against hiring her, but Hermione had wanted to give the young woman a chance. At the very least, she could use the other woman to woo clients. But it turned out that she didn’t know the first thing about hedge funds and that her charming skills revolved around aggressively debating Quidditch, which tended to not go over well with most clients.
“I’ll find her a position in another part of the bank.”
Percy leaned against the door and gave her a skeptical look over his glasses.
“A position in the bank? Really?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine, a position on some Quidditch team’s admin division. I have a number of players and coaches who owe me favors.”
She rubbed her temples to dispel the headache she could feel building behind her eyes.
“Isn’t it time for you to go home?” Percy asked, lips pursed in disapproval.
Hermione grimaced and ran her left hand over her face.
“I was going to but—” she was cut off by the roar of her personal office floo.
Draco was the first to step out, a toddler on his hip. The little boy had messy black hair and was sucking on his fist, large brown eyes blinking sleepily.
A second later Harry stepped out, holding the hand of a little blonde girl with ringlets. She was wearing footie pyjamas. Her curls were askew, her brown eyes were red-rimmed, and she was pouting unhappily. She had the look of a child who had just thrown a tantrum.
The little girl immediately detached from her father and ran over to Hermione, burying herself in the woman’s embrace.
“My lovelies, what’s this?” Hermione cooed, gathering up her daughter in her lap.
“Daddy and Papa said that you were at work and Leo and I wanted to come.” They girl’s voice came out slightly muffled from her place in Hermione’s arms.
Hermione ran a hand over the crown of the little girl’s head, smoothing down a stray curl, while looking up at her husbands. She arched an eyebrow, and both men looked away, guiltily.
“Well, we wanted to be sure you had dinner…” Harry trailed off, looking to Draco for support.
“And then Leo was being fussy and Lyra insisted.” Draco pressed his lips together, but Hermione could see a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
She let herself smile in return.
“I am very happy to see you all,” she said. “Now Lyra, go say hello to your Uncle Percy while I say hello to Daddy and Papa?”
The blonde tornado ran straight to Percy who caught her up in a hug, throwing her in the air, much to the little girl’s delight.
“How are you Lyra-bear? How is my favorite god-daughter?”
Lyra laughed and wrapped her small arms around Percy’s neck.
“You know my middle name isn’t Bear Uncle Percy! It’s Lily!”
Hermione stood from her desk, revealing the beginnings of a baby bump, a wide smile on her face. She met both her men half way. Harry gathered her up in his arms and gave her a scorching kiss that she could feel to the tips of her toes. She pulled back breathless in time to meet Draco’s lips and tongue, all raw hunger.
“Hello you two,” Hermione said in a sultry voice.
She would have said more, except at that moment her son began to fuss, making the noises she knew would lead up to a meltdown if she didn’t address them right then.
She plucked Leo from Draco’s arms and nuzzled against her son’s forehead.
“Now Leo James Potter, I know you weren’t about to cry,” Hermione said airily to her son.
Leo made a contented noise and grabbed at her with his spit-wet fist. She dodged slightly and Leo ended up with his chubby hand wrapped in her robes. She sighed internally. It was a notable day if she ever managed an entire day without spit, food, or something else ending up on her robe. Today would not be notable.
She kissed her son’s forehead again and turned back to her two husbands.
“Now, gentlemen, I believe you said something about dinner?”
Harry gave her a soft smile and Draco maneuvered so he was behind her, one hand on her hip, the other softly rubbing at her bump.
“Yes, Draco made your favorite, tonkotsu ramen.”
Hermione let out a groan, and both men laughed at her.
“Well,” she said, turning to Percy, “I need my daughter because we need to get home to my husband’s delicious cooking. And if I remember correctly, you arranged a date with Penelope that you’re about to be late for.”
Percy grinned at her, and gently set Lyra down back on her feet.
“You’re correct Hermione. Now go home. I don’t want to see you back here until Monday.”
Harry gave Percy a wave as he scooped up Lyra and made his way back to the floo. “Thanks for calling us Perce, we’ll see you at dinner next week, yeah?”
Hermione shot Percy a glare, but it was halfhearted. “Ratting me out again Percy?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, and her glare turned into a grin.
“Thank you Percy. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Draco stepped through the floo, followed by Lyra and Harry. Hermione, still carrying Leo, was the last one through, offering Percy a grin and a wave goodbye, happy to be going back home with her family.
Notes:
Writing this fic has been such an amazing experience. I am so happy so many people have enjoyed it, because I loved writing it. This is my favorite triad, and while this ended up being more romance-y than I had originally anticipated, it was still a delight to share it with you all.
Thank you for reading and sticking with it! I will definitely write more in this pairing in the future.
Comments are my love language.
Stay safe
~Ely
Pages Navigation
LilithShade on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Feb 2020 07:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2020 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Glittergrump on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Feb 2020 02:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2020 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
CPeach on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Feb 2020 02:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2020 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
DinosaurRawrsYou on Chapter 1 Sun 16 Feb 2020 07:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2020 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
happiness8000 on Chapter 1 Tue 18 Feb 2020 07:42PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2020 04:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Darknessdawns on Chapter 1 Tue 25 Feb 2020 10:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Mar 2020 06:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
Darknessdawns on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Mar 2020 07:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
Ladygreythethird on Chapter 1 Fri 28 Feb 2020 07:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Mar 2020 06:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
jaime (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 04 Mar 2020 04:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 15 Mar 2020 05:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
LaLuneMoonstone on Chapter 1 Sat 07 Mar 2020 07:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 15 Mar 2020 05:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
TravelsWithCharley on Chapter 1 Thu 12 Mar 2020 07:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Mar 2020 03:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
000_xMidnightShadowx_000 on Chapter 1 Sun 15 Mar 2020 07:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Mar 2020 03:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
SorceressSupreme on Chapter 1 Tue 24 Mar 2020 08:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 29 Mar 2020 03:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aneiria on Chapter 1 Sun 29 Mar 2020 12:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Apr 2020 07:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
wyxan on Chapter 1 Mon 30 Mar 2020 10:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Apr 2020 07:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
SeleneBlackburn on Chapter 1 Sun 05 Apr 2020 10:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sun 12 Apr 2020 04:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
NuclearNik on Chapter 1 Sun 12 Apr 2020 05:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Tue 21 Apr 2020 01:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
MotekElm on Chapter 1 Wed 29 Apr 2020 04:49AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Sat 02 May 2020 05:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
SumthinClever on Chapter 1 Sat 09 May 2020 02:48PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 09 May 2020 02:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Thu 21 May 2020 03:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
SumthinClever on Chapter 1 Thu 21 May 2020 04:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
mrsren on Chapter 1 Sun 10 May 2020 07:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Thu 21 May 2020 03:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
Koala (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 17 Jun 2020 02:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
Koala (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 17 Jun 2020 03:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissELY on Chapter 1 Wed 17 Jun 2020 04:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation