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This was Harry’s fault.
If he hadn’t found the bottle of Firewhiskey hidden inside that hollow book at the bottom of the shelf, she wouldn’t be in this predicament:
Sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, wearing only an oversized maroon jumper, socks, and knickers, with Harry sitting across from her only in his boxers.
And Draco, miserable prick that he was, sitting on the couch, not deigning to play or even acknowledge them.
“You Gryffindors are a pathetic breed,” he had said when Harry had suggested Truth or Dare as a way to pass their night. “Drinking games are a poor, thinly veiled excuse for horny, desperate virgins to get action when they can’t even get their own mothers to kiss them.”
“Well then, Malfoy,” Hermione had smirked, “Did you want to go first?”
Malfoy’s face had twisted in derision, his slate-colored eyes flashing in anger. He’d snatched the bottle of liquor from her, stalked into the kitchen, and walked back with a tall glass that was very full of Firewhiskey.
“Not a chance in hell, Granger,” Draco sneered, thrusting the bottle back into her chest.
“Don’t be shy, Malfoy,” Hermione said coyly. “I know it’s been an awful long time since you’ve seen your mother. I’m sure you’re aching for a touch -”
“You would know all about aching for touches, wouldn’t you, Granger? Let’s see, how long since a man got desperate enough to lay a hand on you? Yes, I believe the last time was when you shook Flitwick’s hand at graduation ten years ago, but I swear afterwards I saw even him wipe his hand on his -”
“Fuck off, Malfoy, you wouldn’t know the first thing about -”
“Ahem.”
Hermione and Malfoy, red, livid faces mere inches from each other, slowly turned to regard Harry, who had been standing there, wide eyes ping-ponging back and forth between them as they had argued.
Harry started laughing.
“I know it’s standard procedure for you two to fight until I need to break it up with a Protego, but I would really like to let off some steam.” He ran a hand through his hair. “These dares aren’t going to do themselves.”
He tilted his head, his emerald eyes glowing, strangely knowingly, as he flicked from Hermione to Draco and back again.
“Alright,” Harry turned to the curly-haired witch. “Hermione, you’re in?”
“Of course,” she sniffed. “Because I’m not a self-important, cowardly -”
“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry sing-songed before turning to the blonde. “Malf-”
“Thought I made it clear, Potter, that I’m not a whinging, pathetic, prepubescent -”
“Got it.” Harry raised an eyebrow as Malfoy shot them one final glare.
Hermione expected him to stalk down the hall, slam the door to the only bedroom in this cabin.
Instead, Malfoy locked eyes with her, took a swig from his tall glass of Firewhiskey, and stalked over to the couch framing the fireplace, sitting down gracefully. He Accio’d a book from the shelf and began to read.
Strange.
“Looks like just you and me, Hermione,” Harry tucked a finger under her chin, turned her head to face him. “I don’t mind that at all,” he murmured, black hair falling over his twinkling eyes as he leaned forward conspiratorially. He took his finger back, leaving Hermione with a hot face and very confusing swoop in her belly.
Harry had been doing that a lot more lately. Flirting. And Hermione had found herself not only not hating it, but...Merlin, enjoying it immensely.
She was tempted to chalk it up to cabin fever, to the fact that the three of them had been sequestered in this tiny Ministry safehouse cabin in the middle of the Siberian mountains for almost four months. They were stuck here, under Ministry orders until given the all-clear.
However, if that had been the case, if it had been cabin fever, then wouldn’t she be feeling something for -
Gods, no, I’d rather die, she thought emphatically.
Besides, hadn’t this been building a while? The way Harry would place a light hand on her lower back anytime he had to get around her in the kitchen. When he stretched, his shirt would rise up a little, and she’d see a trail of dark hair start at the “v” of his hips, going down past his waistband.
So different from Malfoy, who she had once caught shirtless after a shower, with his peach fuzz on his toned stomach.
Not that she’d been looking.
Point was, they’d been stuck here for four bloody months with no idea how many more to go, and if Harry, handsome, lovely, mischievous Harry, was flirting with her, then by Godric she was flirting back.
She would never admit this to Malfoy, but the truth was...it had been a long time since she’d been touched.
And even more true and secret: it had never been very good.
Maybe that’s why she licked her lips at her best friend as he beckoned for her to come sit on the rug in front of the fire, two empty glasses in his hand.
Harry kept his eyes on her, sitting cross-legged on the rug, her following suit opposite him.
“So, rules.” Harry cleared his throat. “First.”
He pulled out his wand and swirled it above their heads. Golden sparks formed a luminous circle above them, then lowered, meeting their bodies, their skin absorbing the light.
Hermione felt a tiny glow of warmth all over, like someone had opened, then shut, a very hot oven door.
“What was that?” she asked Harry.
“That,” he smiled, “was the Provertio charm. Until Midnight, if either of us accepts a Truth or a Dare, we won’t be able to cheat or lie.”
Hermione gaped, horrified. “Harry - that’s - like an Imperius? ”
He shook his head hard. “No, no of course not. Like. You don’t have to answer your questions or take the dare. Course, if you don’t, you need to take a shot of Firewhiskey.” Harry smiled wryly. “But. If you do agree to answer the question. This charm guarantees you’ll tell the truth. Or that you won’t somehow wriggle out of the dare.”
Merlin.
Hermione blinked at him. “I’ll know what the questions are before I can accept?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Alright.” Hermione said, stomach tight with anticipation. What was she getting herself into?
There was a snort from the couch. Malfoy was watching them, one foot propped on the opposite knee, the book open on his lap. “This will be interesting, like watching two trolls try Arithmancy,” he sneered.
Hermione ignored him.
She gave Harry her most winning smile, and he gave her a crooked grin back. Merlin, had he always been this cute?
“I’ll go first,” Harry said, his voice low. “Truth or Dare?”
Hermione bit her lip, thinking. Harry’s gaze dropped to her mouth, letting it linger.
Better start easy.
“Truth.”
That was the easier one, right?
Harry made a show of thinking, tapping his chin. “Hmm...okay, got one. Did you sleep with Krum?”
“Harry,” Hermione gasped, scandalized.
“What?” Harry’s eyes glinted mischievously. “The point of the game is for us to...get to know each other better. Ask questions we’ve never asked each other.”
Hermione had to admit, something thrilled her about that. There was always some dirty little part of her that wondered these things. She’d spent most of her life with Harry, being his best friend.
But she remembered when they were on the run together, the nights when they laid in that quiet tent in separate beds. I wonder if he masturbates to me, she would think, and then immediately blush, ashamed. And there were other times, these morbid curiosities would pop up, like a bubble from the bottom of the Black Lake. They’d be sitting in the library, translating Runes, and Hermione would look over, see the raven ducktail his hair made on the nape of his neck. I wonder if anyone’s bit him right under there?
These past few months? Jesus Christ. The I wonders were getting out of hand. She had actually begun to occlude, because they were getting distracting, and to her absolute horror, sometimes, just sometimes, the thoughts would stray to -
“Draco,” Harry addressed the blonde. “You sure you don’t want to play? You seem awfully intrigued.”
Hermione looked up to see Draco swiftly return his gaze down to the book in his lap.
”Fuck off, Potter,” he growled.
Nope. No thoughts were straying anywhere.
All she wondered about was Harry, and now was her chance to give as good as she was going to get.
Because she knew Harry wasn’t going to go easy on her.
This was just the opening round.
“Alright.” Hermione said. “You’re right.” She reached out, poured herself a shot and tossed it back.
Harry’s face fell. “You’re not gonna answer?” he asked.
Hermione coughed and wiped her mouth. “Oh, I’m gonna answer alright. I just...I think I’m going to need that for what’s coming.”
Harry laughed, eyes dancing eagerly.
“To answer your question. Once.”
“That’s it?” Malfoy broke in.
Hermione and Harry jumped. Caught up in Harry, she kept forgetting he was there, and it made Hermione feel a little smug.
See, Malfoy, you’re not the most important thing here. But his question, the fact he was listening, threw her.
“What do you mean, ‘That’s it?’” Hermione frowned. “I answered the question.”
“It’s boring, is all,” Malfoy said, sounding, true to his word, very bored.
“That was perfect, Hermione.” Harry said shooting Malfoy a dirty look.
“It wasn’t very good, either,” Hermione blurted.
Oh Gods, she wasn’t even that tipsy yet.
Malfoy was giving her the most infuriating smirk, so she had to add, “Should have expected it, really. He was a Seeker, after all. Kinda used to hanging back, letting everyone else do all the work...not really a Beater if you know what I mean -”
“I’ll have you know, Granger -”
“Merlin, Hermione, watch the collateral damage -”
Both boys erupted into indignant protests, making Hermione giggle hard.
“Fine, I'll take it back,” Hermione said, looking at Harry. “Well,” she shot Draco a dirty look. “Mostly.”
Draco rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze back to the open book in his lap.
“Okay, Harry.” Hermione shot him a small smile. “Truth or Dare?”
Harry tilted his head as he gazed at her.
Gods, he was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Or maybe, it was just the first time he was letting her see this look. Like he wanted to tuck one of her curls behind her ear.
“Truth,” he finally said.
“What’s the most times you’ve ever made a girl orgasm in one night?”
Harry’s eyes bugged out, and Hermione heard a, “What the fuck, Granger?” from the corner.
Hermione kept smiling.
“Right.” Harry was blushing now, staring into the fire, running his hands through his already untidy hair, making it a beautiful, tousled mess.
He reached out, poured himself a shot, and took it. Before Hermione could voice her disappointment he blurted:
“Twice.” He looked down, glanced at Malfoy briefly, then back, clearly mortified.
“Only. Only twice.” He cleared his throat and met Hermione’s eyes. “It would be different now, though,” he said in a low, firm voice.
Oh Gods, why did that go straight to her cunt?
For some reason, her eyes flicked to Malfoy, and she found that he was watching her, steel eyes locked onto hers.
She looked down at her feet, biting her lip.
“Truth or Dare,” Harry asked.
“Dare,” she said.
“Take off your shorts,” Harry rasped.
Hermione’s jaw went slack, breath exiting her lungs in one surprised exhale. The look Harry was giving her was...Merlin, it was intense.
The fiery green of his eyes lit her up. She felt her tits pull tight, the feeling of a fist pull behind her navel, a trickle of moisture tease out her pussy lips.
She noticed that it was also very quiet in the couch corner.
Again, Hermione reached out, poured a shot, took it. Harry stared at her, his chest rising and falling slowly. She stood up, staring right back at Harry, and then she turned to look at Malfoy.
Draco was sitting perfectly still, the book closed on his lap, and he was watching her every move. Fuck you, Malfoy, she thought before locking onto his gaze and slowly sliding down her shorts, bending forward so that the neck of her jumper showed ample cleavage.
She heard Harry make a choking sound. Malfoy’s hands curled into fists, but otherwise, he was silent and still as a statue. Hermione looked down at Harry, who was definitely breathing harder now, his mouth open, his sage-green eyes wide through his glasses. Merlin he was cute. Again, how hadn’t she noticed before?
She sat back down, crossed her legs again, knowing that the fabric of her knickers were clinging wetly to her lips. Harry was a lot more distracted now, his eyes everywhere except where he obviously wanted them to be, between her legs.
It was perfect.
She leaned back on her arms, her palms flat against the floor. Hermione tossed her long, shiny curls behind her back. “Truth or Dare, Harry,” she said silkily.
“What? Oh - er - yes. Um. Dare.” He was so damned flustered. It was like catnip for her.
“Take your shirt off,” Hermione said softly. Harry froze, then bafflingly broke out into a sly grin.
“Gladly,” he said. He began to unbutton his shirt slowly, one by one, and Hermione found that no matter how many times she swallowed, her throat still felt dry. Her eyes followed each little patch of skin revealed, noticing that even from the little she could see, he was really fucking toned. When he finally slid off the shirt, tossing it to the side, Hermione found herself speechless and gaping.
Harry Potter was...hot.
Years of Quidditch had given him the classic Seeker’s build: lean and toned. Just enough definition so that if you ran a tongue over his body, you’d feel ridges and grooves, but not so much that it was...frightening.
Embarrassingly, she felt herself tucking her hands under her bum because she had an inexplicable urge to tug on that small thatch of dark hair that started just below his belly button. She wanted to follow it down, down, down past below the waistband and to his -
“Ahem.”
Hermione looked up to find Harry smirking at her, raven hair falling forward over one eye.
“Yes?” Hermione asked, a little more strident than she meant.
“I asked if you’d hand me the Firewhiskey bottle. I want it and you’re kind of - well - strangling it,” Harry laughed.
Hermione looked down. Oh. Yes, she supposed she was holding it. And gripping it. When had she grabbed it?
“You know what?” Harry shook his head and leaned forward. “Don’t worry, I'll just take it.”
He fell forward on his hands and knees and crawled towards her.
Hermione watched, slack-jawed, as he came right up to her, face inches from hers, smiled, and gently removed the bottle from her hand.
“I’ll give it back to you, I promise,” Harry murmured.
“Okay,” Hermione whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips.
Harry smirked at her and then sat back, pouring himself a shot.
“This is the most wretched display I’ve ever had the supreme misfortune to bear witness to,” Malfoy said scathingly, cutting in from the corner.
Hermione shook her head, the spell broken.
She turned to glare at the blonde. “No one asked you to stay, Malfoy. In fact, this would be infinitely more fun for Harry and I if you would leave.”
“I don’t know, Hermione,” Harry’s eyes were twinkling at her. “I kinda like having him here. He seems to rile you up in a way I can’t.”
“Harry James Potter, you take that back right now -”
“Potter, I would like to keep my dinner down, so if you could refrain from -”
“Never mind!” Harry said lightly. “Forget I said anything.” He turned to face Hermione, smiled wryly at her.
“Truth or Dare, ‘Mione.”
“Truth,” Hermione exhaled, trying to focus on Harry and only Harry.
“Okay,” Harry took a deep breath and leveled his eyes on hers. “Who is the one person who has given you the most orgasms in your life?”
Hermione felt searing heat bloom up her neck and to her cheeks. She didn’t dare look at that corner on the couch.
Staring at her hands, she answered.
“Me.”
“You?” Harry’s brow furrowed, confused.
“Yes. I - I’m the only one who’s ever been able to give me an orgasm.” Hermione raised her eyes to Harry’s, but couldn’t take it and dropped her gaze to her fingers. For some reason, she felt...ashamed.
“So...neither Viktor or...” Harry winced, “Ron..?”
“Nope. Um. Not even - not even,” Hermione’s eyes flicked up, “close.”
Harry’s eyes on her were intense. Burning.
Against all her better judgement, she looked up towards the couch.
Malfoy sat forward in his seat, the book cast aside long ago. His grey gaze was similar to Harry’s, and having seen the same burning twice in both men’s eyes, she was able to recognize the expression she saw: challenge. Determination.
Harry cleared his throat.
“Interesting,” he said, his voice husky. “Very interesting.”
“Is it?” Hermione asked, still writhing from embarrassment.
“Yes.” Harry said. “But we can discuss the topic at a later time. Until then,” he grinned at Hermione, “You have a question to ask me.”
“Truth or D-”
“Dare.” Harry said in a low, rough voice.
“Take off your pants,” Hermione whispered.
Never removing his eyes from Hermione’s, Harry rose up and slowly began to unbutton his trousers, taking his time sliding the zipper down, leaning down to push the pants to his ankles. When he stepped out of his pants and rose to his full height, Hermione gasped.
Merlin.
He was wearing black boxer-briefs, the silk material snug against muscled thighs and a curved, delicious-looking bum. His legs were covered in a thin, gentle layer of dark hair. And then finally she let herself look where her eyes were dying to go.
She choked when she saw the shape of him: long, thick, solid. She felt her blood running hot, and her heart rate began to hammer. His erection pressed up, angled towards his belly button.
He caught her staring and smirked.
“Truth or -”
“Truth,” Hermione wheezed, her pulse thrumming madly in her throat.
“Who was your best kiss?” Harry asked, finally sitting down.
Hermione groaned, put her head in her hands. Why did he keep asking these things? She was so sick of admitting this shit.
“None of them,” she croaked.
There was a derisive snort in the corner, and she could have sworn she heard Draco mutter something about “-real men-”, but she ignored it.
Harry was looking at her almost tenderly. “So you’re saying…”
“That none of them were any good,” Hermione admitted. “Viktor sort of did this...snake tongue thing.” She shuddered and Harry cringed. “And Ron...he um. He was very. Into himself. Like, kind of just did what he wanted. I never felt like he could feel me kissing back. So he was never...responding to me. Does that make sense?”
Harry’s gaze was heavy lidded as he said, “Perfectly.”
They fell quiet again, and so Hermione cleared her throat, about to ask the question -
“Truth.” Harry said, still watching her.
“So,” Hermione twisted her hair in her fingers. “What’s your ultimate fantasy?”
Harry cocked one eyebrow. “Sexual fantasy?”
Hermione felt her cheek’s burn. “Of course, sexual, Harry, don’t play dumb.”
“Sorry,” he laughed, “You’re just so beautiful when you blush.”
Hermione blushed harder.
Harry made a low sound in his throat, his eyes tracing the rising color in her cheeks. He leaned forward, took the bottle in his hands, poured a shot and drank.
Hermione blinked at him.
“You’re not going to answer?” she asked incredulously.
“Nope.” Harry said with a sly grin.
“Are you kidding, Harry Potter?” she growled. “I’ve answered every question!”
“I know!” Harry said. “I’m very glad! Now, Truth or Dare?”
Hermione scowled at him, then sighed.
“Truth.”
“Don’t kill me, Hermione.” Harry cocked his head and smiled mischievously. “Are you attracted to Draco?”
Hermione recoiled.
“You can’t be serious, Harry?”
“I asked,” Harry said slowly, his eyes earnest on Hermione’s, “are you attracted to Draco?”
Without meaning to, her eyes flicked over to Malfoy.
He was a perfect statue of nonchalance. Sitting there, chin in his hand, his face schooled to impassivity. But his knuckles were white from gripping, and his eyes were molten metal, watching her every move.
She stared at him a beat, then picked up the Firewhiskey and took two shots.
“So, I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ to answering the question -”
“That’s a hell no, Harry. Definitely not answering that one.”
“You know,” Harry leaned forward, as if he had a delicious secret, “That’s kind of an answer in its -”
Hermione stood up. “Where’s my wand? Harry I’m going to jinx you, where’s my -”
Harry stood up, laughing, and put soothing hands on Hermione’s shoulders.
“I,” he said gently, “was definitely just kidding.”
Hermione could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage and felt the uptick in her breathing. Harry’s hands were still on her shoulder, and instead of removing them, he pulled her a little closer.
This near to him, she could feel the heat radiate off of his bare torso. She could see the long lashes framing his brilliant green eyes, could see the exact depth of the dip from his pectoral to his sternum, could smell his cologne.
“Truth or Dare,” she said in a low, rough voice, raising her eyes to his.
“Dare,” he murmured, his lids falling heavy, his eyes straying more and more to her lips.
“I dare you,” she whispered, “To give me my first. Good. Kiss.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and his pupils grew, swallowing the green of his eyes.
With trembling fingers, he raised his hand to cup Hermione’s cheek, his thumb smoothing over her bottom lip.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said huskily, before leaning in.
When Harry’s lips touched Hermione’s, she gave a small gasp.
They were warm, soft and full, and moved slowly, sensually over hers. Slowly, he opened his mouth to hers, tracing a warm, tender tongue over her bottom lip. He was gentle, so gentle, and she felt herself sink into the kiss. His hands were caressing her face, her cheek, her eyelids.
However.
There was a part of her that wanted him to grab her ass, to bite her.
This was good, great even, the way he was moving his mouth against hers, but she was so worked up, watching him stare at her in nothing but his boxers, Malfoy watching in the corner -
“Oh, fucking move over, Potter,” Malfoy growled.
Harry was pulled off Hermione, and suddenly, Malfoy was towering over her, his grey eyes flashing thunderously.
“This is a kiss, Granger.”
And then he swooped in, fisting his hands in her hair, crushing her lips to his.
He moaned desperately against her mouth, like he was a starving man tasting honey, and she moaned back, and couldn’t help the ravenous thought, Finally, that careened through her head.
Hermione threw her arms around Draco’s neck as he buried his tongue in her mouth, inviting her to give as good as she was getting.
Groaning, she sunk her tongue into his mouth in return, and they moved against each other, his hands everywhere, roaming from her hair, down over her jumper to her lower back.
When he reached her knickers-only ass, he broke away and bit her neck.
“Fuck, Granger, this fucking ass,” he groaned against her neck. He grabbed it roughly, kneading the soft flesh, and Hermione moaned.
“Fuck yes, Malfoy,” she gasped against his ear, and Malfoy growled, running his hands up to the hem of her jumper.
He leaned back from her neck just long enough to rip off her top, leaving her standing in a black bra and knickers.
Malfoy stood back, his hot eyes licking a searing path up and down her body.
“Better than I always imagined,” he said in a voice like gravel before grabbing her, crashing their lips together again.
Hermione writhed against him, sucking on his lips, fisting her hands in his hair and pulling hard at the roots. Malfoy snarled into her mouth, walking her back swiftly until they slammed into the wall, him pressing insistently against her.
“Fuck, Malfoy, you’re hard as a fucking pole,” Hermione gasped, her head thudding back against the wood as Malfoy kissed the top of her breasts.
“You feel this, Granger?” Draco said in a rough voice. He ground his erection into her, his hands on her hips, pulling her against him. “You fucking did this.”
And then he was up at her lips, kissing her again, palming her breasts, his thumb sliding under the fabric of her bra to flick her nipple. Malfoy broke away, biting and sucking at her neck.
“You-” he sucked at the front of her throat, “Have been driving me-” his hands went down to her hips and he pressed her against his cock, “-crazy. Fucking crazy, Granger.”
Hermione responded the only way she could: taking his bottom lip in his mouth, sucking violently, then biting hard.
Gods, he must have loved that, he picked her up, pressed her against the wall and started grinding against her in tight little thrusts.
“Draco,” she gasped, as she undulated her hips against him.
Malfoy froze.
Hermione opened her eyes, lifted her head to look at him, breaths still heaving.
Malfoy was staring at her, eyes wide with horror.
“Malfoy,” Hermione frowned at him, still panting, “What’s - what’s wrong?”
Draco, as if struck, dropped Hermione and stepped back. He ran his hands through his hair, eyes wild, pupils blown.
He cleared his throat once. Then again.
“So that,” Draco husked, voice lower an octave, “That’s - how it’s done, Potter.”
Right. Harry.
She looked over to see Harry standing to the side, palming his own erection.
“That,” Harry said in a rough voice, “Was...quite a performance. Please don’t stop on my accord.” He groaned as he squeezed himself. “I was enjoying it.”
Draco’s chest was heaving as he glared at Harry, color high on his cheeks.
“Why did you stop?” Hermione asked Malfoy in a quiet voice. She hated the needy edge to her question.
Malfoy avoided her gaze, staring uncomfortably at the floor.
“I finished proving my point,” he said dully.
Hermione felt a searing combination of hurt and fury.
“Proving your point?” she set her jaw. “That’s all you were doing, just proving your point?”
Malfoy lifted his gaze to her’s, his eyes cold, face impassive.
“Sorry to disappoint, Granger.” He said coolly.
“Oh, I’m not disappointed at all, in fact, this hits my expectations pretty exactly. You’re just a cowardly little snake lying to himself -”
“We’re done here,” Malfoy seethed, his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl. He turned on his heel and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door.
Hermione stood there, chest heaving, desperately trying not to do something absolutely absurd like cry.
She started to sniff.
Harry immediately stepped up to her.
“Hey,” he said, cupping her cheek, his warm green eyes holding hers. “‘Mione, he didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, I don’t give a fuck if he did or didn’t, Harry,” Hermione hiccuped.
“Of course you don’t,” Harry murmured, his thumb wiping her wet cheeks.
“It was just - confusing is all. Not that - not that I care. He just got me all...I’m still so…” Hermione lifted her eyes to Harry’s, large, shining, pleading.
Harry’s gaze grew wide and hot as he hungrily took in Hermione, standing there in her knickers and her bra, one strap hanging off a shoulder, her full lips sucked swollen.
Slowly, he reached his hand to the black strip of fabric, hooked a finger underneath and slowly slid it up her shoulder. He looked up at her, his eyes darkening, eyelids shuttering. He brought his face closer to hers, his nose almost grazing her.
“Tell me to stop, Hermione.” Harry said huskily, as his hands started at her shoulders and slid slowly down.
Hermione’s heart was pounding, her breathing rapid. She felt her nipples bloom and harden. She was already so bloody soaked, but she now felt the emptiness between her thighs, her naked mouth longing to be covered.
“Tell me to stop,” Harry whispered again, his hands now at the dip of her naked waist.
Hermione grabbed his shoulders, pulled him backwards two steps until she was up against the wall again. She put her hand on top of his, flattened his palm against her stomach.
“No,” Hermione rasped. “You tell me to stop.”
Harry choked as she slid his hand down, slowly, down her stomach, down below her navel, and under the hem of her knickers.
“Fucking hell,” Harry gasped, as Hermione took his fingers and pressed them into the flood of her silken folds.
“Hermione,” he choked, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his forehead onto hers. “You’re so. Fucking. Wet,” he grated out before sliding two fingers into her tight channel.
“Harry, Gods,” Hermione gasped, bringing one leg up to wrap around his waist, giving him better access.
As Harry pumped in and out of her, he brought his lips against hers.
“Just so you know, I do know how to kiss,” he said against her lips. He crushed his lips against hers, devouring her, vastly different from the tender kiss they’d shared earlier.
He was a little more controlled than Draco, less sloppy, more precise. He was insistent, moving his tongue into the hot corners of her mouth, and moaning when Hermione sunk her tongue into his mouth in return.
Whereas Malfoy had kissed like a man who had minutes to live, Harry kissed like a man making all-night promises.
She couldn’t have chosen one over the other.
Harry fucked her with his fingers steadily, curling inside her, massaging deep and pressing that delicious, spongey section that made her thrust against him, ride his fingers.
“Hermione,” Harry whispered against her lips. “You fucking beautiful girl. If you knew how long I’ve - Gods.” She was clenching around him, half-teasing, half-desperate, and he dropped his lips to her chin, drawing his teeth across her skin. “I have had to wank at the most inappropriate times because of you.”
“Harry,” Hermione whined, riding his fingers. He was circling her clit, and she was so wet now, the room was filled with the slapping, squishing, splashing sound of Harry’s fingers moving in and out of her fast, hard, and insistent.
“I can’t - I can’t believe it.” She gasped. “I’m getting close -”
“I know,” Harry moaned, “Can feel it.”
And then his hands stilled.
“No,” Hermione cried, bouncing her hips up and down to continue fucking his fingers.
Harry grinned and pulled his fingers away.
“Harry Potter, I swear to Godric,” Hermione was feeling murderous.
“Shh, Hermione,” Harry kissed her softly. He brought his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking hard and greedily at her juices.
“Gods,” Harry gasped, palming himself with his other hand. “You taste like rain. Wanna drink you all up. Better than I dreamt.”
“Why,” Hermione whined, “Why won’t - both you and Draco stopped -”
“I’m not leaving you, Hermione.” Harry kissed her tenderly. “We just have to be patient. Tonight, I’m going to lie down on that couch, and you are going to lie down on top of me, and you are going to fall asleep with me sucking on your bottom lip. And come morning, I will have been able to cross off several fantasies of mine that I never thought I’d achieve.”
“But not your ultimate sexual fantasy?” Hermione asked wryly.
“Not yet.” Harry smiled enigmatically.
Harry grabbed a small blanket and pillow and pulled Hermione to lie down on top of him on the couch. He was still hard, which made Hermione squirm, and she slid her hand underneath his boxers to wrap a hand around him.
“Hermione,” Harry choked.
“Shhh,” Hermione whispered against his lips before kissing him soundly. “I wanna feel you.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as Hermione gathered the silky pre-come on top of his leaking cock and twisted her fist around his head.
“Oh shit, Hermione -”
“Tell me the inappropriate places I made you masturbate in.” Hermione said huskily against his neck, pumping steadily.
“Every night -” he panted, “Every night during our Horcrux hunt.” His words were stilted and jerky.
Hermione squeezed his cock and his hips flexed. “That’s not that weird. We were secluded and alone in the woods.” She licked a stripe up his neck. “Kind of familiar.”
“Library-” he choked. “You - you were reaching for a book on a high shelf. Your - your skirt lifted, I saw the back of your thighs, and I - Gods, it made me want to bury my cock in your - “ he choked on a groan as Hermione squeezed the head of his dick.
Fuck, that last confession made her wild. She had the sudden urge to lick the pre-come leaking out of his head.
Releasing his cock, she slid down his body.
“‘Mione - what - what are you?”
“Don’t you dare stop talking, Harry Potter,” Hermione ordered before pulling his long, red cock out of his boxers and plunging it down her throat.
“Fuck,” Harry shouted in a strangled voice, and there was no way Draco hadn’t heard that.
Good.
Hermione moaned around Harry’s cock. Gods it felt so good. The hot, thick, silk of it filling her mouth, filling her throat. She began to suck, swirl her tongue around his head as she brought a hand up to help pump.
“Fuck - Fuck - okay - Potions class.”
Hermione raised her head, releasing his cock with one final sucking pop. “During actual class?” Hermione asked in a rough voice.
Harry looked down at her, wild-eyed, sweaty, red-faced. “Yes,” he groaned. “The potion steam was so hot that day. You - your shirt was unbuttoned at the top, your sleeves rolled up. You leaned over and asked, ‘How thick is it?’ You were talking about the potion of course, but, fuck I already had half a hard-on, I could see that you were wearing a white lace bra, and when you asked me that, I had to go into the godsdamned ingredients closet and wank.”
Hermione was speechless. Why did that make her want to ride him? Gods, she wanted to ride him.
“Harry,” she moaned, climbing up onto his lap, straddling him.
“Oh Gods, Hermione, not yet, not yet.” Harry sat halfway up, on his elbows, staring with lust-glazed eyes at his hard cock pressed up against her knickers.
Hermione stared at him, sin in her voice. “All I have to do,” she whispered, “is slide these over just a few inches.” She dropped her fingers to the crotch of her knickers, hooked a finger to the cloth. “Just a few inches,” she said again, “and you’d slip right inside me.”
Harry’s cock jerked violently at that.
He pressed his fists to his eyes and groaned long, low, and hard.
“I think,” Harry whimpered, “I think you might actually kill me. Like actually kill me.”
“I don’t understand,” Hermione puffed, pressing her mound against his cock. “Just...just please fuck me, Harry, please.”
Growling, Harry sat up, grabbed her, and flipped them over in one swift move. He pinned her down, arms to the couch, his legs on her thighs so she couldn’t buck up into him.
“I promise,” he said raggedly, chest heaving. “I promise we will - it’ll - I’ll finally -” he groaned. “I just need you to wait. Just a little bit. It’ll be worth it. I promise. Be my good girl.”
Hermione was gasping, writhing, trying to rise her hips into him. But then she stilled.
“That's it,” Harry hummed in her ear, kissing her neck. “Just wait.” He kissed her again. “Good fucking girl, Hermione.”
The next day, when they woke up on the couch, Draco wasn’t in the kitchen like he usually would be. Hermione felt a pang, before burying it. Just like she buried all her Draco Malfoy pangs.
Instead, she drove straight onto Harry Potter. Who knew her best friend was so fucking delicious? She spent the day kissing him and kissing him, moving her hands over his muscles, finally grabbing that thatch of hair.
It was late in the afternoon, and her lips were swollen from sucking and kissing. She sighed and pressed her mouth to his belly button.
“This is strange,” Hermione said dazedly, drunk off Harry’s kisses and very little sleep.
“What is?” Harry asked in a low voice.
“Haven’t seen Draco yet today. Usually see him by ten a.m. at the latest. He likes his tea early.”
When she didn’t hear anything, she raised her eyes to look at Harry. He was smiling knowingly down at her, his eyes glittering.
“What?” she deadpanned.
“Nothing. Although I do find it interesting you’ve started calling him Draco. I think that’s what spooked him last night.”
“I haven’t - I’m not - it’s just...easier to say than ‘Malfoy.’” Hermione scowled at the floor.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “He’s in denial too.” He smiled at Hermione’s scoff.
“I can’t stand the man, Harry,” Hermione bristled suddenly. “There is nothing to read into.”
“Mmhmm. Yes, of course not, of course not.”
Harry flipped Hermione on her back, so that she was lying on top of him, front up, back pressed against his chest.
“Gods, I love your breasts,” Harry whispered into her ear, bringing his hands up to palm them through her bra.
Hermione arched up into him.
“You know who else loves your breasts?” Harry nibbled on Hermione’s earlobe.
“Seriously, Harry, why are you pushing this?”
“Because,” Harry stopped his caresses, stilled under her. “I know you, Hermione. You’re my best friend. And I hate to break the news to you, but you’re barmy about Malfoy.”
Like a hammer-to-knee reflex, she responded, “No I’m not.” But there was no heat to it, and it sounded whiny and childish in her ears.
They stayed silent a few beats before she sighed heavily.
“There’s no point in it, Harry.”
Harry slid his palms down to press warm and comforting on her stomach.
“Why so?” he asked good-naturedly.
“You’re joking, right? First of all, he hates me. Second of all, oh, I don’t know, he hates me?”
She paused, frowning.
“You’re sure he hates you?” Harry asked, leaving soft kisses against her neck. “He didn’t seem to hate you last night.”
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. “Ugh. Don’t mention that.”
“Why not?” Harry rumbled, sucking at a spot on her shoulder.
“Mm. Because - because it was...it was better than I’d always hoped. And - and he - Gods, yes there - he left,” Hermione was breathless, both from what Harry’s tongue was currently doing and the memory of what Malfoy’s did last night.
“So you have imagined it,” Harry smirked against her skin.
“Fucking yes, okay? Ever since sixth year, I’ve wanted to fuck that sneer off his face. And then we work together and then - and then these fucking four months -” Hermione cut off as Harry slid his hands down her knickers, finding her sopping.
“See,” Harry murmured while tracing lazy circles around her clit, “How hard was that to admit?”
“Excruciating,” Hermione moaned, canting her hips upward.
“Hermione,” Harry said, “I would wager he feels exactly the same way.”
“Gods, Harry, fucking touch me. And no, I’m sure he doesn’t,” Hermione moved her hips in an effort to get Harry’s fingers right where she needed him.
“No, I am sure he feels the same. Isn’t that right, Malfoy?”
Hermione’s eyes flew open.
There, standing in the kitchen doorway, was Malfoy, black T-shirt stretched against broad shoulders and tight muscles, his chest rising and falling slowly from heavy breaths. He stared at Hermione, eyes hot and inscrutable.
Her eyes flicked to the front of his trousers, and she could see the shape of him, long and thick and hard.
“Tell him to sit down,” Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear.
It took her two tries after clearing her throat, but she managed a very husky:
“Sit down, Malfoy.”
Draco, still staring down at her, walked to the corner of the living room, grabbed an armchair and dragged it to sit a few feet by the couch where her almost-naked body stretched out on top of Harry's.
He sat.
“Tell him to get his cock out,” Harry whispered to Hermione again.
“Malfoy,” Hermione said, voice no longer wavering, “Get your cock out.”
Draco’s eyelids shuttered. He let out a harsh exhale, and, his steel-trap gaze never leaving Hermione’s, slowly unzipped himself, pulling out his cock.
Hermione gasped, unable to look away. He was so hard and Gods he was thick. Could she wrap her lips around that? The way Draco gripped himself, the way his length jutted out of his trousers, him fully clothed otherwise, made her moan, made her hips rise.
Draco watched the movement hotly, stroking himself in time with her thrust.
Harry finally plunged two fingers into Hermione’s cunt, no longer teasing, and Hermione couldn’t help the needy wail that erupted from her throat.
Draco watched Harry’s fingers, timing his pumping with the rhythm with which Harry plunged in and out of Hermione.
“I’m - oh gods - I’m getting close, Harry,” Hermione ground out, her eyes wide on Malfoy’s hands. Draco’s eyes shot to hers at those words, his cheeks pinking, his jaw setting.
Harry stopped.
As Hermione wailed in disappointment, Harry turned his lips to her ear.
“Not yet, Love. You’re being such a good fucking girl, so patient. Not yet. Soon,” he whispered.
Then he turned to Malfoy.
“Enough’s enough, Malfoy, fucking tell her.” Harry’s voice was harsh.
Draco’s pumping hand stilled. He dropped his eyes, remained silent.
“Fucking tell her, Malfoy -”
“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco snarled, turning to them. “If you have all the answers, why don’t you tell her? Tell her that I fucking want nothing more than for me to wake her up every day with my cock inside her. Why don’t you tell her that I fall asleep dreaming of her crawling into my bed, pinning me down and riding me until her cunt is a hot, wet, squeezing fist on my cock. That I want to suck her tits at all fucking times, even in public, that I want to just pull her shirt down right there and swirl my tongue around those nipples - ”
“Don’t tell me, Malfoy, tell her.”
Draco’s head fell forward into his hands. He dragged his fingers through his blonde hair, pulling in frustration.
When he lifted his head to look at Hermione, the lost, wild look in his eyes, the way his hair stood on end, made her womb clench.
“Goddamn it, Potter.” Draco muttered under his breath.
But he looked Hermione in the eyes, and the cold wall fell, and all she saw was a grey, churning, desperate sea.
“Granger,” he rasped. “Fucking...all I can think about...all I’ve been able to think about for years...is you coming on my cock.”
Hermione gasped, her whole body tightening at his words.
“What do you think, Hermione?” Harry breathed hotly against her ear. “You want the first cock you ever come on to be Malfoy’s?”
Draco swallowed hard, Hermione could see the jerk of his throat. His eyes widened, and the look he was giving her now, frightened, raw, vulnerable made her fucking melt.
“Please.” Hermione whispered.
Harry sat up, bringing Hermione with him as he made to stand.
Draco was only a foot or two in front of her, his hard cock in his hands again.
“Tell him to undress,” Harry whispered to Hermione.
“I can fucking hear you, Potter, I don’t need -” Malfoy growled, but ripped his shirt and trousers off rapidly all the same.
When he was sitting down again, Harry gently nudged Hermione forward.
Her breath picking up, she stood, her knees nearly touching Malfoy. Draco looked up at her, his hot, hungry gaze lighting on her collarbone, her breasts, and then her knickers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pulled them down.
“Merlin, Granger,” he whispered. “Beautiful.”
Hermione groaned then fell forward onto the chair, straddling him, her bare pussy pressing against his erection.
“Fuck,” they both cried, and Harry grabbed Hermione’s hips and positioned her above Draco’s cock.
Finally, finally she slid down onto him, gasping at the delicious stretch, the desperate filling she had needed.
“Granger,” Draco cried in a strangled voice, his hands flying to her hips, “It’s better than I fucking thought it could be. Gods, so hot, tight, wet -”
“Malfoy, fuck, you’re so deep, I feel like you’re up inside my chest.”
“Give me these,” Malfoy snarled, ripping her bra off and diving onto her tits, sucking greedily at her peaked nipples, licking ravenously at her areolas.
As Hermione rode Draco, Harry was behind her, kissing her everywhere: her shoulders, the back of her neck. She could feel the rhythmic brush of his knuckles against her lower back as he pumped himself. With his other hand, he reached around, palming the breast that Malfoy wasn’t greedily sucking.
“This,” Harry said roughly, “is my fantasy. Draco and I making you come over and over and over. That’s what we’re doing tonight.”
“Fuck, Potter, she likes when you talk to her, she’s getting tight -”
“I think she just likes your cock, Malfoy -”
“Of course she does -”
“Shut up, shut up, both of you, this is too good, oh Gods, I’m getting closer, finally, finally, finally -” Hermione wailed
Draco grabbed her hips, pulling her down hard to bottom out on his cock, and Hermione cried out, slamming down on him once - twice - and then:
“Fuck I’m coming -”
“Granger, holy shit I can feel you coming -”
“Yes, Hermione, yes, my beautiful girl,” Harry said, sucking hard on her neck as Hermione rode out her orgasm.
Hermione had never come that hard in her life.
She was boneless, draped against Draco, and she couldn’t help the kisses she began to press against his chest.
She heard Draco give a satisfied rumble.
“Better than I ever dreamed, Granger,” he murmured. “Can’t believe I got to be the first cock you come on.”
Hermione smiled against his chest, but then found herself being lifted by Draco.
“Your turn, Potter,” he said, and Hermione felt a deep thrill race through her.
Harry sat on the couch, his cock angry red and weeping.
Draco carried Hermione to him, then, Hermione facing the blonde, sat her down on Harry’s cock.
Harry and Hermione grated out moans in unison.
Harry’s head fell forward against Hermione’s back, his hands falling to her hips.
“Fuck, Harry, you feel so good,” Hermione mewled.
Draco got on his knees, eye level with Hermione’s breasts, and leaned forward to suck her nipples.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry grated out. “You left her so swollen and wet for me.”
“She’s incredible, Potter, nothing like it.”
“Like I needed you to tell me that, Malfoy.”
As Hermione rode Harry, the incredible, delicious drag of his cock in her snug walls lighting her on fire, she thought about saying something snarky about being talked about in third person like this.
But the truth was, she quite liked it. Quite liked two incredibly gorgeous men arguing with each other about how amazing she was.
“Fuck, Granger, could suck your tits all day,” Draco murmured against her breast.
“Gods, Hermione, you feel incredible, better than all my fantasies -”
“You too, Harry,” Hermione gasped, “It feels, you’re hitting that spot -”
“Fuck, you’re getting close, Hermione,” Harry pressed his forehead against the space between her shoulder blades, his hands moving her hips faster.
“What’s it feel like, Potter?” Draco rasped, sitting up higher to begin placing kisses on Hermione’s neck, her jaw, her cheeks.
“Fuck, Hermione, you’re starting to flutter around me. Can feel - can feel little spasms as your pussy grips my cock -” Harry breaks off into a groan.
“Gods, Harry,” Hermione whined, her legs starting to shake, starting to tremble.
“Merlin, Granger, you’re killing me,” Draco said, his breathing out of control, his pupils swallowing his eyes.
“Hermione - you’re getting tighter and tighter -”
“Yes,” Draco breathed, threading his hands through her hair, his black eyes wide on Hermione’s face as he watched every single movement she made.
“Shit, Harry - I’m gonna - I’m going to -”
Draco crushed his lips against hers, moaning loudly in her mouth, sucking her tongue as she screamed her orgasm against him, kissing sloppy, dizzy, ravenous kisses.
“Fuck Hermione, I can feel it, Gods, it’s like your pussy is sucking at me, fuck, fuck your cunt won’t stop squeezing -” Harry’s voice was strained as his hips surged up, fucking Hermione through her climax.
Hermione broke away from Draco’s mouth, gasping.
“Harry. I - I think I’m gonna come again. Draco, Draco, let me come on your cock, hurry .”
“Fuck, Granger -”
Hermione still on his cock, Harry turned sideways on the couch, and Draco threw himself down onto the cushions to face the pair.
“Get over here now, Granger,” he snarled.
Hermione lifted herself off of Harry, spinning around to face her best friend, then sank down onto Draco’s cock, causing them both to hiss in pleasure.
As she began to ride him, Harry dove between her legs, his tongue finding her clit as she rode Draco.
“Ungh, Gods,” was all Hermione managed as her head fell back onto Draco’s shoulder.
“You are such a good girl, Granger," Draco rasped in her ear. "Coming so beautifully with that gorgeous cunt of yours. Potter and I are going to make sure you never stop coming.” His hands went to her breasts, fingers playing with her stiff nipples.
“Hermione, you taste so good,” Harry said from below, his tongue lapping at her clit.
“Fuck, she’s gonna come, Potter.”
And Hermione broke apart hard around Draco’s cock, riding him feverishly and mindlessly.
Harry continued to swirl his tongue around her clit.
“Keep going, Potter,” Draco rasped, “She likes that. I think she’s going to come again.”
“I can’t do much more of this,” Hermione wailed.
“Yes you can, Granger, yes you can,” Draco said soothingly. “Potter,” he instructed. “Sit back on the couch.”
Harry did, sitting up facing Draco and Hermione, his back resting against the arm of the couch.
Draco laid Hermione so that she was laying back against Harry’s chest. She could feel the hard length of Harry’s cock pressed against her back, as she sat bracketed between his thighs.
Draco crawled up towards her on his knees. He leaned down to kiss her gently before slowly entering her.
Hermione could never have guessed something this delicious existed in the world. Draco in front of her, moving his cock slowly in and out of her, Harry’s delicious length pressed against her back as he kissed her shoulders...Hermione closed her eyes, overwhelmed.
“No,” Draco said in a rough voice. “Keep your eyes on me. Want you to watch me while I pour inside of you.”
Hermione obeyed with a moan.
“Granger,” he gasped. “You’re - you’re fucking beautiful . I - I never know what to do with myself when you’re in a room. I just - and Gods to know what it’s like for you to come on my cock now -”
Hermione moaned.
“He’s right, Hermione,” Harry whispered against her back. “You’re perfect.”
“Fuck - Granger - you’re getting tighter and hotter and wetter again - I’m not gonna make it.”
“Come, Draco,” Hermione gasped, chasing her climax. “I want you to come inside me.”
And that broke him.
Draco moaned loudly as his hips stuttered, and Hermione could feel him empty inside her, and the way she was flooded with his come, she was now coming, and coming hard .
Hermione barely had any time to recover when she was lifted up and slid down on Harry’s cock.
She didn’t know how, but with the way Harry was whispering to her, telling her all the beautiful things he had ever thought of her, and Draco above her, whispering the same things, kissing her neck, her lips, she was coming again, harder and harder each time, and Harry was emptying into her, their screams of pleasure a chorus echoing into the night.
Later, when everyone’s breathing had returned to normal, as they sat in a sweaty, naked pile, Hermione piped up.
“I have a suggestion,” she said.
“Of course you do,” Draco mumbled against her neck.
“I think -” Hermione said before leaning down to nip at his shoulder. “I think that when the Ministry owls us to let us know we’re free to leave...we should lose the letter. Say the owl never made it.”
Harry and Draco looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“She’s been spending too much time with you,” Harry said to Draco.
“What can I say?” Draco shrugged. “My Slytherin sensibilities are contagious.”
“Well, what do you think?” Hermione huffed.
“I think,” Draco purred, leaning down to mouth at her nipple, “That you still have many more orgasms until we are through with you tonight.”
“Yeah,” Harry huffed against her lips, “We can plan later, Hermione. Right now, you’re our main concern.”
“You know,” Hermione moaned, arching into their touch. “I don’t think I have a problem with that.”