Mad Snorkacks and Englishmen

A/N: Well, okay then. Some of you still with me? Yeah? Alright, then, we've got the second part. I decided that instead of making this chappie half with the trio and then half with Luna at Hogwarts, I'd go whole hog with the trio stuff and take it through the fight. Wasn't going to touch it, at first, but then, I had to.



tommy Please, please excuse my thumbs. I totally, accidentally deleted your review and I was gutted that I had. Thank you so much for repeating it! I felt so bad, but I loved what you had to say.



I'm glad that some of you thought the trio getting busy with each other was a good idea. This is how I saw it: the camping in the woods and NOTHING happening was probably the least believable thing about DH. I realized that Ms. Rowling was confined by the audience she was writing for, but it amused me that she even went there. I mean, really? Three teenagers: confused, exhausted, hungry, bitter, and feeling a whooooole lotta tension, I'm sure, and they didn't look for relief with each other once? I mean, maybe it was weird when it was three of them, and we don't really know what Hermione and Ron got up to, but when Harry and Hermione were alone? Yeahhhhh. I didn't buy it, either. Two seventeen year old boys and one girl. I guess I just wasn't the type of kid to let an opportunity like that pass me by.



But you know what chapped my hide the most? The kids never even talked about anything. Oh, yeah, they discussed Voldemort and Horcruxes galore, but anything about their feelings, or their fears, or any kind of heart-to-heart? Nada. Somehow, I don't think Harry is that cold or that much of a robot, especially as his two friends had given up so much to come and help him. He never thought to ask them some personal questions? Whatever.



So, here's MY take on all that.











Chapter 22: Let’s Get Stone Pt. II





Hermione’s head was starting to feel fuzzy now. She presumed it was mostly the effects of the alcohol on a barely fed stomach speeding up the process; she hadn’t felt this loopy the last time she drank with Ron. However, there was something else going on that she couldn’t put her finger on, like a fourth presence in their space pressing them into these odd roles. She’d seen the boys change before but Harry was divesting himself of ALL his clothes this time right in front of her. The situation had become totally surreal. Then there was Ron to contend with, finally emptying his cup and moving to unzip his hoodie, all while he watched her as if she were a six course meal.





She felt like she just fell down the rabbit hole and all the proportions were wrong; either too narrow or too big for her liking. What was going on? Hermione was still clutching her cup like a lifeline as she watched Harry in slack surprise as he peeled off his socks and lay back on his cot completely nude. He looked awfully comfortable doing that, she querulously noted. When did he turn into such an exhibitionist?





“Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?” she muttered, not meaning to speak it aloud.





Harry looked at her quizzically, not even remotely ashamed of his body, which Hermione couldn’t help noticing was very well put together—sinewy and tanned and strong—with the beginnings of a lovely erection that seemed as proud and enthusiastic as the boy himself. The shocking black nest of his pubic hair and trail of fur up his belly was so at odds with how she still sometimes saw him as the little boy with glasses always in need of fixing who forever bore that faint look of surprise that anyone would be interested in him. Well, he’d certainly changed quite a lot since then and into a very good looking man, but this was not how she had intended to face up to the fact.





“Hermione, are you sure you’re alright with this?” Ron’s concern broke through the gauze in her head and she stared at him in deep thought, attempting to delineate an answer for him from the rampage of emotions battling her desire and common sense.





“I don’t think I want to take off my clothes; I don’t feel right doing that.” She frowned as she looked at Harry’s chest again, seeing the shiny gold locket lying flat like some sort of third nipple. The ‘S’ carved ornately into the front labeled him, Hermione decided, like Superman, or Sneak, or Sex Fiend. Perhaps she should have worn it, instead.





“Oh, well, that’s cool, ‘Mione. Whatever you want to do, you know. If you just want to watch then that’s fine, too,” Harry assured her, although he couldn’t mask all of his disappointment.





The three of them had moved their cots together a while back because it was easier to wake each other up when switching guard duty, but also because it had felt safer. The beds were now aligned closely, and the trio sat around with folded legs while they ate and drank. Now, Hermione's and Ron’s bodies were parallel across from each other, but Harry lay in the middle of them in the opposite direction.





“Well, maybe Hermione’s right, Harry, and we’re rushing this a bit. I don’t want any of us to re-re-regret anything that happenssslater,” Ron cautioned, having some difficulty with his speech.





Harry’s expression softened again into that sweet smile of his, so easy to fall for when Hermione saw it so rarely. It was disarming on such a handsome face and even Ron was not immune as his own lip tried to creep up wryly in recognition.





“I don’t want anyone to regret anything, either. But I don’t think we should feel embarrassed in front of each other, is all. Bloody hell, I’m randy all the time, I admit it. I can’t seem to do a lot about it at the moment other than relieve the tension. I know you both have frustrations, too, and sex is only part of it. But let’s just, you know, get it out in the open.” He grew serious suddenly.





“I mean, I really love you both, you know that, right?”





He stared at Ron imploringly, then swung his head to Hermione to gaze deep into her eyes. Her heart squeezed as her breath caught, but then she was putting the cup aside and pulling her lumpy sweater up and over her head before she could think about it anymore. She wore a stretchy camisole underneath and she shivered as the air hit her skin, even though it was mostly warm in their shelter. When Ron saw her ditch the first layer, he quickly threw off the hoodie and promptly discarded his long sleeved cotton shirt. In the fading light, she could still make out the smattering of copper freckles against his creamy skin stark against the dull backdrop of canvas behind him. There was a lot more muscle under there than she had previously realized for such a lanky figure. He was usually so modest that the idea of taking his shirt off in front of her seemed like a very big deal. This was a huge step for Ron, she acknowledged in her muddled thoughts.





The intoxicated girl lay back on her thin bed and let her head fall to the side to watch them as she lazily toed off her shoes. Her left hand caressed the side of her face and then languorously slid down her sternum, over her ample breast and trailed down her belly, finally coming to rest on her waistband. A contented sigh accompanied the stretch. Harry was right in that it felt good to let go of some of the tension out of her body. They had all been so wound up lately that she hadn’t noticed just how normal it had started to become in her daily stress, except for when her stiffened muscles ached as she tried to fall asleep. And all three of them had their problems sleeping these days; it was impossible to ever feel rested enough when your body knew you’d have to be up shortly. They were exhausted, they were usually hungry, and they had no direction other than a basic idea of what they might be looking for. Hermione’s brain was as wiped out as her body. Maybe…well, maybe it would be good to just feel for a little while and not over-analyze everything.





She heard some more rustling and clinking of a belt buckle as her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them halfway she could see Ron had slid his jeans all the way down past his knees. He had on a pair of grey boxers underneath, which she recognized since she had packed them for the boys after Mrs. Weasley had finished their laundry. It was hard not to miss the extreme tenting, however, as he moved. By the time he had kicked off his pants and lain back like her and Harry, she was becoming a mite concerned with just how extreme his erection seemed to be rising. Surely that was not….typical.





Harry's light moan drew her attention. She watched him stroke down his matted belly and fan out his fingers as they curled around his stiff member, pointing to the ceiling like a mast. In the quiet of the tent, they could all hear the sounds of the surf below their camp, the rush of waves coming in with the tide and then receding in a shimmery fade, lulling them into a blissful meditation. But Hermione was too aroused by now to fall asleep, although she was becoming more relaxed by the second. Seeing her best friend attend to his pleasure so close to her face was fascinating and she jumped a little when Ron’s croaky voice suddenly broke the silence.





“Er, Harry, you know you’re my best mate and all, and I, you know, love you, too, but, uh, just not like love love, if you get my drift. I’m not going to turn poofter for you, or anything,” he joked nervously.





“Oh, c’mon, Ron, you know you want to be my bitch. I saw the way you were checking out my arse.” Harry’s burr was sexy and inviting, but both boys burst into silly giggles a second later. Hermione smiled into the dark as she let her hand creep down her buttons and curve into the vee of her thighs. Her voice rang out so loudly she didn’t even realize it was hers at first.





“Everybody checks out your arse, Harry, it’s inevitable. It’s like your bum has got its own magnetic force dragging your eyeballs to it, or something. I guess Quidditch does have some perks.” Wow, she really was going to have to do something about keeping her inner monologue silent.





“Is that so? Sounds like that includes you, as well.” This time Ron didn’t hide his jealousy even a bit. Hermione rolled to the side to perch up on an elbow as she took in his expression. He was so easy to get worked up, she thought. They kind of did that to each other all the time, but this time she wanted to use it to better advantage.





“Maybe I like looking at boys’ arses, Ron. Does that bother you? You think I haven’t taken a good, in-depth study of your backside, young man?” She could almost hear his blush creep in her shaded view. She needed some light so she could see them better.





“I never would have guessed that about you, Hermione. What else should we know about you, luv?” That was Harry’s teasing voice again, and she could make out the sounds of his palm sliding up and down his knob more rhythmically now.





“Never you mind,” she retorted as she pulled up into a sitting position all of a sudden to grab one of the lamps. She didn’t want the intense brightness of a Lumos, but she wanted to see some more skin before they were fully enveloped by the night. Who knew when she would get an opportunity like this again? The boys both sat up to see what she was up to, but settled back once they saw her light the wick of their kerosene lamp and adjust it to a low setting. In the flickering flame, the brightness filled enough of the tent for her to see the boys’ skin gleam and their eyes blinked at the change, Harry’s glasses reflecting the orange hues. They were both a powerful sight, and she felt her anxiety erode while basking in their collective maleness. Ron’s hand had slipped into his shorts, she could see, and she wondered how much bravura she would need to ask him for a peek. Turned out, she didn’t need any at all; she just needed Harry to do it for her.





“Mate, you should take those off. Hermione told you she wanted to see you wank, and you’re only giving her half the show. Bugger, Ron, flaunt it if you’ve got it, yeah?”





Hermione was lying back down again and nervously unbuttoning the top two buttons of her pants as she listened. The comment made her skin prickle all down her arms and her heart thudded a little more loudly.





“Flaunt?” she echoed shyly.





Ron was staring hard at his upright feet as Harry shot him a glance and then smiled at her. “Er, yeah, Ron’s a bit of a hero in the boys’ locker room. He would most likely have a great career in porn if he ever felt so inclined.”





Ron eyed his friend suspiciously. “Porn? What the bleeding hell is that about?”





“You know, like the blueys Dean was telling you about. People make films where they have real live sex and the blokes are always packing major knobs while the birds have giant, fake tits. It’s all very garish and close up,” Harry explained.





“Merlin’s hairy arse, why on earth would I want to do that? Sounds mad.” Hermione mused that Ron was a very country boy at heart. She kind of loved him for it. But he still seemed uneasy about unveiling this monster cock, so she attempted to coax him with a bit of girlish coyness.





“Ron, I’m sure it’s quite gorgeous. Don’t feel self-conscious around me, I promise I won’t say anything rude.” The fact that she was trying to talk a boy out of his clothes felt very empowering for a moment.





But only for a moment. Then Ron hesitantly pushed his knickers down and her mouth dropped open.





Oh.





My.













God.





The power rush had been fleeting and now she was faced with a scary proposition. Hermione wondered how that thing would EVER fit without an intense amount of pain. That—that was just enormous, wasn’t it? While she hadn’t seen very many examples of penises except for illustrations in books, and then Harry’s, whatever Ron was jutting out from his body was cause for some worry to the inexperienced witch.







As soon as the material of his shorts had pulled free of the massive anchor below, the prick had sprung skywards and Ron had pulled the rosy skin back from the head as he stroked downwards like he was handling the underside of a Bubotuber. It looked almost as thick as it was long, she thought hysterically, just way bigger than was necessary. Hermione knew her eyes were bulging in her daze, and she had promised that she wouldn’t make him feel uncomfortable, so she did her best to shake herself back into a normal expression. She tried to tear her gaze away so she could look at him in the face when she heard Harry give a low whistle.





“Damn, mate, that’s really…even more impressive. You’re going to make some witch very lucky, I should think,” he complimented with awe, “or at least bowlegged.”





“Harry, shut up.” Ron rolled his eyes up at the tent top as he concentrated on what he was doing while trying to appear nonchalant about what they were doing.





Hermione swallowed around the hollow ache in her throat. “Wow,” she murmured in a small voice, but that was about all she could get out. Then she almost leapt off the bed, shrieking as she felt warm fingers grip her ankle.





“Calm down, dear. I’m just trying to get you closer.” Harry was tugging at her leg now to get her on to his cot.





“Give me the locket first,” she demanded, almost angrily. She wasn’t letting Harry get funny with her with that bedeviled piece of gold hanging around his neck.





He looked at her oddly, but then took it off and handed it to her. The locket felt hot when she held it in her palm instead of grabbing it by the chain. She thought she could feel it pulse against the inside of her fist. Perhaps it would be better if none of them wore it right now, she considered, but then she felt silly that she was letting a bit of jewelry control the situation. It was imbued, not a sentient being; she needed to get some backbone. She slipped it over her head and let the metal slip down into her cleavage as she shifted onto the end of Harry’s bed. This put her even closer to Ron and having both boys breathing on her exposed flesh was dizzying. Their muskiness was pungent in the dampness of the campsite, but it was not displeasing, just very concentrated male. She put the back of her hand to her cheek to cool her face down.





“Would you prefer if we stopped this, Hermione?” Harry asked tenderly as he brushed his fingers along the bottom of her shin.





Hermione shivered but felt resolute. She was a woman now, wasn’t she? She was out here risking her life for the greater good, ready to fight unadulterated evil in the guise of a psychotic genius; surely she could handle watching her best friends toss one off. They always deferred to her, she reminded herself, and now she was in a position to learn something from them. It was time to take a deep breath and remember that these were the two people she cared about almost as much as her parents—-her poor parents that were tucked away safely in Australia with absolutely no idea who she was. The thought made her want to cry and she suddenly put both of her hands out to grab theirs. Ron appeared to take that as an objection.





“Yeah, I think this is too much, Harry. Let’s get dressed, alright?” Hermione shook her head and gave them a wistful smile.





“No, don’t worry; I was just thinking something sad for a moment. I feel good right now, really relaxed, I’m just a little nervous. Sorry if I’m not my usual bossy self, but I think I’m a little tipsy.”





The boys grinned at her. “I think we would have been a bit worried if you HAD been bossing us around in this,” cracked Harry. “I’d hate to have you tell me I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.”





Instead of laughing, though, Ron scooted into a sitting position and reached out to stroke back her hair with the hand she wasn’t squeezing tightly in hers. He looked deep into her face and then caressed her cheek, sliding his hand down to her chin. She shuddered hard again.





“Why were you feeling sad?” he wanted to know. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt silly again, but she couldn’t seem to do much about her emotions at the moment. The frazzled witch looked down to her lap and could see that both boys were still hard, their pricks bobbing slightly as they sat and held her.





“I was just thinking how my parents don’t know who I am right now. You’re both,” her voice hitched as she had to stop and take a deep breath again, “you’re my family now. I couldn’t bear it if anything ever broke us up.”





Immediately, they were cooing and shushing over her with reassurances that that would never happen. She imagined that the three of them might look rather amusing to a fourth party, someone walking in to see two naked boys sitting around consoling this girl in her clothes like it was an everyday occurrence. Hermione felt that the absurdity of the situation was the best example of how their relationships worked, however. With the daunting idea of sex removed from the equation, she realized that she felt completely at ease and at home with the pair. These were her best friends, after all, even if she was attracted to them and wanted to go out with one of them. She didn’t need to be scared, at all.





She let go of their hands and took hold of the bottom of her camisole, briskly bringing it over her head and dropping it to the side. When she told Harry to move back so she could lie down and remove her jeans, the two stared at each other first before watching her kick them off and stretch her body out along the side of Harry’s cot. It was a little cramped on there with two people, but she liked feeling the heat off of them warm up her skin. Harry lay back again and propped up his torso with his elbows so he could see his companions, scooting his body down lower so that his bent legs hung off the edge of the bed.





“I’m going to keep my bra and knickers on, if that’s okay,” she told them. Ron ran his eyes over her hungrily but persisted that her comfort was what mattered.





“You do whatever feels right, ‘Mione, like you said. It’s all good.” He smiled at her again and it was the sweetest Ron she’d seen in weeks. It was so wonderful to not be fighting with them or be angry at them for being stupid boys.





She knew her underthings weren’t terribly sexy, just your basic white bra and some stretchy lilac bikini pants, but she wasn’t going to worry about it anymore. Hermione let out a heavy sigh and just let her weight sink into the canvas. Her fingers ran lightly across her belly as she listened to the pounding of the ocean outside again. The cot next to them creaked and groaned as Ron shifted around to lie down, too. She let her left hand stretch across her to run over Harry’s thighs and he squirmed at her touch. She smiled knowing how ticklish he was.





Ron’s hand was brushing her hair back from her face again, his fingers running through the curly mass on top of her head. There was a constant humming of nervous energy tingling under her flesh, but she felt outwardly calm and moaned into Ron’s strokes. She closed her eyes and let the one hand on her belly delve a little lower into her knickers. The boys’ breathing grew heavier and Hermione let her exploring hand on Harry’s legs run up to lightly scrape the skin she knew was his scrotal sac at the base of his penis. It felt a little bumpy to her on the surface.





She didn’t want to leave Ron out, though, and so forced her eyes open again and turn to look at him. His gaze had never left hers and she felt a little thrill to see him watching her so intensely while she was rubbing Harry. He slowly let his hand follow the path that she had run earlier, sneaking along her neck and then descending to her chest. He tentatively traced the top rim of her bra cup with a finger and she let him keep going, her eyes conveying her need. He put a big hand over one breast and caressed it lightly, his touch feeling so sure, even while she heard his whispered Gods escape his lips.





Harry’s hand, meanwhile, had clasped hers and curved her palm back around his testes while he went back to stroking his cock. He let his breaths become open mouthed groans as they filled up the silence of the tent but mixed with the night sounds from outside. In her hazy thoughts, she had to remind herself that someone was going to need to stay alert for watch very soon. She tried her best to tell them.





“Heyyyy. Don’t get too wiped out, someone’ll haveto-to guard camp.”





Ron’s hand was now squeezing her boob a little more forcefully, but he didn’t attempt to put his hand inside the material, just stayed within the parameters that she’d set. Harry sat up and opened his legs so that one dropped off between the two cots. He was getting more insistent with his knob as his hand moved faster; blinking at them as if he’d just remembered they were still there.





“I’ll go first watch. I think I’m going to need to come soon.”





He had noticed that Ron had Hermione’s tit in his hand and then inquisitively looked over at his mate’s staggering hard-on. When he spoke, it shocked Hermione enough to lean up and brush off Ron’s attentive breast massage, although her hand seemed glued to Harry’s balls.





“Can I touch it?”





Ron looked over, seemingly surprised that Harry was talking to him.





“Whaaa? Touch what?” he asked slightly panicked.





“I just want to see what it feels like, how different it is,” Harry cajoled. He had discreetly covered Hermione’s hand under his while he was guiding her up and down his shaft. She was on total autopilot following his lead while her brain shouted at her that she was touching a boy’s penis for the first time ever. She couldn’t even watch what she was doing, though, as all eyes seemed to be back on Ron’s tackle.





“Why do you want to do that? I—I don’t think that’s such a goo--good idea, Harry,” he stuttered. His head swiveled between them nervously, rattled by Harry’s interest.





Yet, Harry only grew agitated with the response. “For fuck sake, Ron, I just want to touch it; I’m not trying to screw you. You know, I’ve got a beautiful blonde angel with a perfect body willing to do whatever I tell her when I want sex, I don’t really feel the need to tap off my best mate. Get a grip, man.”





“That’s not what I meant,” Ron explained through gritted teeth. “I’m just a bit sensitive at the moment, you prat.”





“Oh, well, if you’re close, we’ll go really soft and slow, mate, no worries.”





“We?” Hermione squeaked out when she caught the word a moment before Harry had grabbed her other hand and was pulling it toward the sapling in front of her. Ron had a split second of looking horrified before they were both on him and then his expression smoothed into a blank stare, his eyes going sort of wonky.





“Yeah, come on, Hermione, time for a lesson. I’m sure you want to take good notes, but this is a practical, so pay attention. There will be a test, eventually.” Harry’s tone was dry as he teased her, but she didn’t even have time to retort. Her fingers were trying to wrap around the middle of Ron’s willy while she shifted her body to so that she was on her knees and slightly leaning over Harry. Her thumb was not close to touching her middle finger.





Since Harry had yet to relinquish his hold on her grip that was stroking his own penis, she now found both of her hands in possession of cock. She was afraid she might hyperventilate at the thought, but then she reminded herself to breathe and that she was with her friends. She should listen to Harry and consider this a good lesson in Male Anatomy 101. While her rhythm remained uninterrupted around Harry’s prick, she haltingly started to slide her hand up one side of Ron. Harry wrapped his hand around the other side, his fingers extending over hers. He encouraged her to start moving faster.





“Yeah, that’s it, don’t tease, you want to grip it firmly and get tough with it,” he instructed.





The surrealism of the moment just kept growing for her. “Ron might feel sensitive, but you still want him to feel what you’re doing. Watch, like this,” and his hand was sliding up gracefully as his thumb and fingers stroked over the exposed glans and descended in one smooth motion, making Ron visibly shudder as his body curled inward. Ron groaned deeply as he let them continue their work.





Hermione started to feel a little more confident as Harry guided her hand up and down but then he was speaking in explicit terminology as he explained the various bits to her, which she already knew. She noticed that even he was confused as to what to do with the foreskin, and she glanced over at his prick to compare the two boys for the first time. Strange information kept popping into her brain written on white shiny placards; her thoughts feeling so fractured and not always recognizable, but she opened her mouth to let her questions pour out uncensored.





“Are your relatives Jewish, Harry?” It seemed such a weird thing to ask, and she mentally cringed. Religion was never brought up among the trio, but that seemed the only logical conclusion to draw from his cut penis.





“What? What are you talking about, Hermione? They’re Protestant. You’re supposed to be looking here,” and he bent his head towards Ron’s very swollen and purplish-looking prick.





“Oh, sorry, I thought that was why you were circumcised,” she said sheepishly as she turned her concentration back to her hand job.





Harry looked slightly annoyed again, rolling his eyes as he muttered. “Yeah, I get it, I’m different. Blah blah, it’s not that big of a deal. Thank you for pointing it out, though.”





Hermione felt bad now for saying it, and so she attempted to make it up to the boy by stroking his penis just like he had shown her with Ron’s todger in hand. She was soon working them both simultaneously and the action returned that powerful feeling she’d had earlier; she reasoned that she wasn’t so much following orders as she was providing their pleasure. It was an intense awakening and she felt a little proud of herself for being open to this. Her mind was only committed to this moment, and all thoughts about tomorrow or the morning after had been banished. She got so into what she was doing that she started to sway a bit drunkenly between them. Harry let go of her hand and let her continue her ministrations while he held on to her bicep, effectively bracing her body while he encouraged and informed her.





Ron's raspy voice suddenly spoke into the stillness, spooking Hermione and Harry both. “Does she really do whatever you tell her?” he asked without intro, but they all knew who he was referring to.





“Oh, yeah,” said Harry in a low, lascivious exhale. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up to hear it. As focused as she was, she slid her gaze to stare at the rapturous expression on her friend’s face while he proceeded to illuminate them in the various ways.





“She’s so gorgeous when she gives herself up to me; it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Even when I cum on her face, she looks like I just gave her the best gift in the world.”





Hermione frowned distastefully at the image, but she didn’t have a chance to voice her displeasure before Harry was regaling them again in his hushed, worshipful tone, all while he massaged Ron’s bollocks and cock.





“The first few times it felt kind of embarrassing to make her do those things, but, man, she just dove right in every time. Like, every single time, no matter what, she jumped for me and gave me just what I wanted. I can’t tell you how mind-blowing that is. She’s so perfect for me; her cunt molds around my hand and my cock like it's meant to be there. Oh, god, those breathy, baby moans she gives me….”





It seemed as if Harry had forgotten his two mates were there as his eyes closed dreamily, tipping his head back while his hand crept up over Hermione’s shoulder. His grip was tight around the back of her neck, and he started to thrust into her fist with some insistence as his own hand pumped more furiously on Ron, even bumping her curved fingers into a faster pace. She tried to keep up, but her arms were starting to ache and she felt like she needed a break to tend to her own needs. Something about the desire in Harry’s voice was putting her in a heightened state and suddenly the notion of having an orgasm in front of the pair was not so far-fetched or nerve-wracking.





Ron’s deep croak interrupted again and he sounded like he was getting very close to his climax, his breathing labored and loud as he rushed his demand.





“Tell us how you fuck her. I don’t want to hear about the tying up and the spanking tosh; I just want the good stuff, yeah.”





Hermione couldn’t handle it any more, and she had to pull her hand off Ron’s thickness. Her arm was reeling from the pain developing from her fingers all the way up to her shoulder. She shook it out a few times to get some feeling back in certain places, and she was ready to pull away from Harry, too, but he had that steely clamp on her, moving her hand faster than she could have managed on her own. She just watched helplessly as if it were a detached limb that she had no control over but she settled into a lotus position, nonetheless, while she absorbed what he was saying.





“She’s always so wet for me, and her tight little box feels like a glove on my prick. And when I fuck her from behind, she’s even tighter and it’s so bloody intense I want to scream. I want to go so deep and sometimes I think she’s limitless for me, there seems no end to her. I can feel the head of my knob hitting something, but I want to break through it and keep going and it’s like she’s waiting for me to do it.” His speech was faster now, and he hurried through his script like he was propelled by some unforeseen magic.





Something suddenly registered in her affected mind.





“From behind? Do you mean anal sex? Is that what you were both doing when I saw you?” Harry only nodded, his eyes still shut.





“Merlin, Harry, you do it up her bum?” Ron sounded both queasy and excited at the idea. “Isn’t that a bit nasty?”





“It’s fucking glorious. Don’t knock it till you try it, mate. Wait till you put your tongue up there.” He droned on judiciously as if he had no particular need to convince his friend, but knew well enough that they'd discover he was right on their own. Hermione was a bit shocked by the image he painted. That was something that had never occurred to her. She had never felt that anal sex was something she could ever be interested in, but Harry made it sound very enticing.





Ron moaned deep again. “Oh, mate, you are so fearless. I can’t believe you put your tongue up her shitter. That sounds so wrong but...strangely hot.” His voice was getting tight, and he was starting to thrust a bit into Harry's efficient fist.





Hermione moved her freed up hand back to her belly and let it hover over the waistband of her panties. She could feel the crotch of her knickers soaked through by now. She tried to be covert in guiding her hand under the cotton to travel to her pubic hair before slipping below to her slick folds, but when she looked back up, she caught Ron staring at the center of her opened legs. The whine escaped her lips before she was aware of it, and Ron blinked lazily while still staring at her twat. Then Harry did something that threw her for a loop.





He grabbed her ankle again and dragged her leg over his lap, making her let go of him for a moment so he could prop her leg on his belly then re-affix her grip back to his turgid erection. Her legs were now wide open for the boys and their mingled aroma was making her even more intoxicated than the booze. Ron was heartily moaning and rutting into his friend’s hand as it flew over his engorged broom handle, with one arm bent above his head and the back of his wrist laying flat against his forehead, the other holding on to Hermione’s shin for dear life as he watched her wank.





A flushed Hermione thought about how her usual masturbation episodes played out, and it had certainly never been this exciting. She would often spend forever trying to diddle her clitoris furiously as she begged her body for relief, but she rarely, if ever, let her fingers dip inside of her. Now, however, she was so turned on, it was as if she could feel her cunt open wide, ready and eager for what they had to offer, and her fingers went exploring before her reasonable mind could protest. She was floating in a sandstorm as the heat from Harry’s prick burned her like a brand, the friction so intense that she thought he might combust, but she was singing in every nerve as she felt their gaze watching her pleasure herself.





“Merlin! Let me see, ‘Mione, let me see you fuck yourself,” Ron groaned as Harry got him closer to the edge.





Part of her wanted to do it, wanted to pull down her panties and let them see the entire orgasm play out in her flowering sex, but she held back like it was her last bit of sanity to cling to. Her two fingers were moving quickly inside her, though, and she was whining as loudly as her companions. Her eyes were mostly shut tight, but then she would remember to force them open so she could watch them, too. She had just blinked them open again when she saw Harry move his head towards Ron, who was still completely focused on her. Ron closed his eyes right before he swooned into his release. But before his semen could spout like a fountain, Hermione stared dumbfounded as Harry put his mouth over the head of Ron’s cock and sucked as his gob filled with the hot ejaculate. Hermione made a low guttural sound she would never have believed could come out of her throat but then she was totally lost in her own climax, as stars popped into her vision and she vaguely became aware of something warm dropping onto the skin of her hand still feebly bobbing on Harry’s member.





The three of them were making quite a chorus as their combined releases shook them out of their stupor. Yet when they had a chance to recover, Ron suddenly realized that it was Harry drinking down his issue and shouted out in alarm, pushing him forcefully enough to knock Harry off the cot and fall in the gap between.





“Harry! What the bloody hell, mate!! I told you I’m not a poofter!”





Harry, for his part, looked equally stunned as he swallowed the last of Ron’s spunk. His eyes glazed over and he looked as if he was coming out of a trance, besotted with his warm drink. He sat back up on the cot before reaching for Hermione’s splattered hand. Her mouth hung open as he licked his own cum off her skin. It was starting to formulate in her mind that perhaps her friend had a serious problem.





But she got over her shock, letting the afterglow warm her up as she spoke to Harry softly.





“Harry, are you there? Harry? Can you hear me?” Maybe it was something about the way he and Luna carried on with each other, she theorized; he was becoming addicted to extremes that his body had built up a tolerance for. She didn’t know how else to explain his fascination.





His body slumped sluggishly, and he peered at them as if he had just woken up. “Sorry, don’t know why I did that,” he mumbled.





“You don’t know? Fuckin’ hell, you need to learn you can’t just do whatever you feel like. I’m not Luna.” Ron still sounded aggressive, but was calming down as he chastised his friend.





“Yeah, okay, I said I was sorry. I just wondered….,” but he gave up trying to rationalize it. His glasses glinted again in the light of the lamp and it was hard to determine his emotional state.





“I suppose I should get out there,” he mumbled again and in a slow crawl he got his clothes back together and started to dress. Ron angrily tugged up his shorts but left it at that, so Hermione chose not to move towards her own pile of clothes.





When Harry was ready to head outside, he looked back at them once and offered another quiet sorry before disappearing out of the flaps holding onto his wand. Hermione looked over to Ron to see what he would do next. She suddenly felt very sleepy.





“Can I see your hand for a second?” he asked her strangely, and Hermione was still so sated and relaxed she went ahead and complied without thinking what he would need it for, yet understanding intuitively that he was asking for the one covered in her juices.





She could see her fingers were still sticky in the light. Ron held them up to his nose and inhaled, and Hermione felt her nethers flutter again. When he looked at her fully, he asked her the question that she was sort of expecting but was still startled to hear it requested aloud.





“Do you mind if I lick them?” She numbly shook her head. When she felt his tongue slide across her wet skin, she felt a bloom in her chest and wondered how it would feel to have his tongue in her mouth.





As if Ron had heard her, he finished lapping her clean and then his head moved towards hers. She knew he was coming in for a kiss and she seemed stunned by the idea, but wanting it to happen all the same. When his lips touched hers, she finally snapped out of her daze and came alive under his mouth. Her arms snaked around the boy’s neck as he pulled her closer, and they slowly explored each other’s mouth with lingering slides of their tongues. Ron’s mouth was hot and she could taste a bit of the firewhiskey on his tongue mixed in with a tanginess she identified as hers. It was a glorious finish, she thought, to a powerful experience.





When she finally pulled away from him, she decided it would be best to put some distance between them before things could go any further. She’d had all she could handle for the night. She reached down to grab her jeans and started sliding them on, tugging them over her hips and buttoning them as she smiled back at Ron, letting him know silently that she was happy with how far they had gone but that was it for the night. He nodded his head in understanding and then started to put his own clothes back on; if for no other reason than it was still bloody cold out. She got into her own cot so that Harry’s empty one between them was like a barrier of sorts. She smiled at him again in a dreamy fashion and let the effect of what they'd done continue to buzz through her body. Ron studied her as she slipped away into sleep.







__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________









The next day had been a difficult morning for Ron. He didn’t really know how he was supposed to feel about last night. On the one hand, he had gotten to see Hermione do something amazing and he was still awestruck by the memory of it. He’d even had a chance to finally kiss her and that had been wonderful, especially since he had tasted her, too. Yet, he had no idea what to do about all of that nonsense with Harry. What had his mate been thinking? You didn’t just say how’s your father to a friend’s knob like that, you just didn’t. It was a major faux pas in mutual wanking, he expected. He wasn’t even sure how he felt about Harry tossing him off like that, the way he knew exactly how Ron liked it and had made all the right moves. It was distracting, that. Ron thought he should have preferred Hermione to be doing it, but her touch hadn’t been as good, had it? even if it had been her first attempt and all. Oh, Merlin, just the thought was making him blush again and he thought he might be sick.





Now here they were for breakfast with nothing but a piece of leftover wilted toast to get them through until lunchtime, while Harry and Hermione chatted on like everything was juuuuuuuuuuuuust so normal. It was putting him in a foul mood again and he felt like throwing a wobbly right now just to see what they would do. Probably stare at him like he was the one with the problem. Well, he wasn’t the sex freak in the tent, he grumbled to himself. How could they act like that after Hermione had her hands on his tallywhacker. She’d given him a hand-job, for Merlin’s sake, and they were going to discuss their next location like it hadn’t been any big thing. Why was he the only one feeling out of sorts?





He knew he’d been hard to take lately, being a total arse about everything they did, but he couldn’t help it, and after a while he couldn’t really bring himself to care much what they thought. He was fucking hungry and miserable, what did they expect? Perhaps that was why he had been so keen to let Harry lay down the groundwork for a group wank. He needed the diversion. Even getting pissed had been a nice break, although he had been a bit miffed that Harry had been hoarding it all this time and only thought to bring out the liquor when they were at their lowest point. There was probably a reason for that, Ron suspected. He’d obviously been working up to a wafty crank with the two of them, the bloody bugger. He could see it all now in his mind; Harry planning the whole dodgy escapade before getting them wrecked and easily manipulated. You have to watch out for that one, he decided. Harry was sneaky like a fox.





When they had moved further down the coast, Ron bitched about being near the chill coming off the channel again, but they united against him and talked him down. Of course they would, they finished each other’s bloody sentences, didn’t they? It was always the two of them making all the plans and decisions, telling him what to do, where to go. He’d had enough of it. It didn’t even matter that the pair of them argued, because then he would worry where all that heat was coming between them. It was supposed to be HIM and Hermione who did the bickering, his mind insisted, that was their thing and then Harry would always intervene to play peacemaker. Always. Now, however, it was just the Wonder Twins' constant debating and yammering back and forth as they worked out all the solutions. Well, they still hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the bloody locket, they still hadn’t figured out where to find the rest of the Horcruxes, and they still hadn’t come up with a better way to get food! They weren’t nearly as smart as they thought, he decided smugly.





Then there had been the little things. Like, just how many times was Harry going to put his hand on Hermione today? By Ron’s count, he was up to twenty or twenty-five pats or strokes on her arms, her back, or one time, her hip and it was only the bloody afternoon. That was awfully intimate of him and Ron didn’t like it one bit. Harry had a girlfriend; it wasn’t fair that he should be getting so familiar with his friend like that while Ron sat like a bump on a log for all they noticed. And what of the way Hermione kept looking at Harry like he was a big stack of books, her eyes going all misty and half-lidded with her intensity. Was she thinking about his body or just his prick? Harry was more compact and wiry than him, maybe Hermione liked that better, Ron thought while he watched them. Oh my gods, did she just openly flirt with him? He listened to them carefully, observing their body language like a hawk while he played with his Deluminator.





“Hermione, do you want to try your luck with the fishing for tonight’s dinner?”



Click



“Oh, I don’t suspect I’ll do as good a job as you, Harry.”



Click



What the? They were so pushing it. Hermione might as well throw herself at Harry’s feet right now and beg him to knob her wicked if she was going to act that brazenly. He never took her for a tart. She did kiss amazingly, he granted, so perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as she proclaimed. No, she was a virgin, his reasonable self insisted. Maybe she wanted Harry to be the one to take it, now. Ron shook his head, feeling like his brain was going to explode any minute if these thoughts didn’t stop their infernal march. Asick feeling in his stomach pervaded the rest of his body. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hermione bend over in front of Harry like she was offering her arse to him. Harry, who liked to suck on other people’s knobs and fuck his loony girlfriend up the bum or lick up his own cum. It didn’t matter that Harry was not even looking at her while she did it, as he got his wand and a burlap satchel together to head out to the water; Ron knew he was somehow sensing her invitation. Then Harry looked straight at him.





“Do you want to come help me, Ron? Maybe we can get bigger game if it’s two of us out there.”





Click Ron didn’t think that was such a good plan to leave Hermione by herself.





“Naw, you go on ahead. I’ll help Hermione with….whatever she’s doing.”





Click Hermione gave him an odd look like he was daft or something. Harry shrugged and then left the tent. Now Ron could find out just what the hell she was thinking.





“Harry was right, Ron, the two of you together would most likely garner a better catch. You complained about dinner last night but you’re not doing anything to help the problem, are you?” she chastened him. “And can you please stop clicking that thing, it’s driving me mad.”





“Well, I figured he’d want the alone time to wank again,” he retorted rudely. Hermione flashed him a shocked look but then glanced down at his opened shirtfront. It was his turn to wear the dreaded piece of crap and Harry had dumped it on him the minute the hands on his fancy pocket watch turned to the 3 and 12.





“That’s not necessary, you know. I think he’s doing much better lately, ever since…you know, Luna and everything.” Hermione jerked the clothes she’d washed into her hands roughly as she folded them back into their bags.





“Please tell me you’re joking.”





Whenever he’d spoken to her alone before to criticize Harry, they’d both agreed that their mutual friend might be having some issues and did not seem to be in possession of a well-thought out plan. Hermione had sided with Ron then, but now here she was defending Harry again. It was enough to send him round the twist. And how could she sum up what they did last night with a simple “and everything”?





“Ron, you really need to start being proactive and not let yourself fall into these moods. It’s not helping. Maybe you should start thinking positively for a change and go find something you can do that’s going to get us the answers we need.”





So, that was it, then? This was his problem, is how she saw it, just like he expected. What a load of waffle. He gave her a nasty smirk and struck for the jugular.





“Well, I thought it was proactive of me to get your hand on my stick last night, but I guess that’s not for the greater good of Harry, now is it, so it mustn’t matter.”





Before the girl could even recover from her shock, Ron had stormed out of the tent and went for a long walk to clear his head.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







Later, when he was back at camp and they’d overheard the Goblins with Dean and Ted Tonks, Ron had been just as thrilled to hear the familiar voices from home as they were. For a split second, he had been almost happy. Then they’d started talking about his family and Ron immediately turned heartsick. When the three of them listened in on the Extendable Ears about Ginny being caught with Luna and Neville trying to lift the sword of Gryffindor, he’d had a crazy moment of pride before his terror snuck in. That could have been very bad for his sister. He looked over to watch Harry’s face and see if there was any sort of worry over his former girlfriend or if he only cared about Luna. But he couldn’t tell a thing because the boy’s face was stone cold.





After they’d stopped eavesdropping, Harry and Hermione were jumping up and down like this was all cause for celebration. Were they both nutters now? He couldn’t understand why it was such a great thing that his sister and her friends were serving a major detention in the Forbidden Forest. It was dangerous in there. You’d think that Harry would at least be concerned about Luna, but he was downright optimistic. Who cared if the sword at Hogwarts was a fake, where the hell where they going to find the real one? When he brought this up, neither of them seemed particularly pleased to hear it, but someone needed to think realistically, and it might as well be him.





“It’s just one more thing we need to go hunting for without having a bloody rat’s arse on how to find it. Do you have any ideas on that, Harry, because from what Hermione and I can tell, you don’t know your arse from your elbow out here,” he bellowed.





“What the fuck is your problem, Ron? I told you before, everything Dumbledore showed me, I’ve already shared with you. I don’t have any new revelations that I’ve been hiding from you that I’m going to suddenly spring on you any day now.”





“Oh, but you hid the firewhiskey, din’t you? Waited until you thought it was appropriate to share with us. It’s not like you were worried about running out, either, ‘cause I know you put a refilling spell on it.” He felt self-righteous in this little victory. Harry couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes, he had his number.





“What the bloody hell are you on about? What does the firewhiskey have to do with anything?” Harry asked completely vexed by the boy’s attack.





“Oh, don’t think I don’t know what you planned, Harry. You’re a clever one, I’ll grant you that. Just not clever enough, though, are you? What’s the big plan now, Mr. Chosen One, who’s impressed everybody by not getting his arse thrown in Azkaban? Let me guess. We’re going to go….to another place that has no relation to Horcruxes. Is that it? Am I close?”





“Ronald!” Hermione suddenly shouted. “Stop this belligerence right now! You’re talking crazy. This is a good thing; we need to find that sword to get rid of the locket.”





“Oh, right, it’s not so good for Ginny, though, is it? Not so good for Neville, or Luna, either. I didn’t even see Harry so much as blink when they mentioned that.” He turned to his wild-haired friend in his disgust. “I thought you were so mad for the girl, Harry, what with all your true love and rot. She gets in trouble for you—and don’t even try to pretend that the girls didn’t do it for you, because you KNOW they did—but you’re not even breaking a sweat, are you, too busy jumping up and down ‘cause someone else saved your arse AGAIN.”





He knew he was cutting to the bone by saying that last part, but it all just spewed out like vomit now. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking, and he was burning in his indignation like he’d been swept up in Fiendfyre, wishing that he wasn’t here and that this shite wasn’t running out of his mouth.





Harry was livid. “Fuck you, Ron. Where do you get off playing the concerned brother when the only thing you’ve even cared about for the last month is your fucking belly! I told you that Ginny had gotten detention with the Carrows and you were all, but where’s my four course meal? My mum can make food appear out of thin air, my mum can make better eggs than this, my mum, my mum, my mum,” Harry mimicked nastily. He looked at Ron coldly and practically spit out his last remark. “Why don’t you just run back to Mummy then and let her take care of you!”





Ron’s voice was flat and deadly when he replied. “Maybe I will. At least I won’t have to worry about someone constantly wanking next to me while I try to get some bloody sleep or running off to fuck his girlfriend in the woods.”





Hermione tried to interject again, moaning at them to stop. Harry looked at her for a moment as if he’d just noticed her and then looked at Ron again, his eyes drawing to slits.





“Well, that’s great, Ron, but excuse me if I have a sex life while you can’t even get up enough nerve to ask the girl you’ve been crushing on for the last two years for a bloody kiss.”





Ron could no longer see straight, it was like looking through the flames of the sun as bright red burned in his corneas. His whole body was shaking as he stood up and towered over Harry threateningly. Threatening to do what, he wasn’t sure, but he surely wanted to punch the boy’s face in right now.





“WELL, AT LEAST I’M NOT A FUCKING COCKSUCKER!!”





Harry didn’t even flinch before he brought his fist across Ron’s cheek. The boy went down but then he was scrambling up and ready to leap on Ron in his fury. He punched Harry in the stomach as hard as he could and heard the satisfying oof! as all of Harry’s breath exited his lungs. Hermione was screaming.





“STOP IT! STOP! PROTEGO!!”





He stepped back sharply and then stumbled as he lost his footing, but he could see Harry on the other side of the shield staring daggers at him. How had this happened? Ron suddenly winced. What were they doing to each other? He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand feeling like this around them anymore; so vulnerable and weak and not knowing what was going to happen day-to-day. He needed to get away from them for a little bit. He just needed to fucking be able to breathe without having to think about either one of them for a bloody day. He felt split in two and neither part knew which way to proceed. There was only one way out of this madness.





“Go,” Harry said dully. He was looking at his friend like shit at the bottom of his shoe and Ron wanted to puke. “Get the fuck out.”





“Fine, I’m leaving, then. You can go camping all over bloody England and let me know when you’ve found something.” He went to grab his rucksack and the Deluminator and head for the exit, but then Harry’s voice stopped him again, cold as the Black Lake in January.





“Leave the locket.”





Ron glanced over at Hermione to see her standing with tears in her eyes and her hands held to her mouth and he wondered if she would go with him, would stand at his side again and show him that she really wanted to be with him, really wanted HIM.





“Well?” he asked her brusquely. She only stared back in confusion. “Are you going to come with me?”





When Hermione looked aghast at the suggestion, Ron had his answer already. She tried to speak, her whimper haltingly making her excuses.





“But Ron, I—I can’t, I need to—to finish this. I can’t leave Harry al—”





“Yeah, right, you made your choice. I get it,” and he couldn’t hide it, couldn’t hide the bitter disappointment. Did he really think she would choose him over Harry?





He had to get out of there and so he tore the chain from over his head and threw it at her, watching with detachment as it hit her chest and fell to the ground. She whimpered again and then she was calling for him in her wretched pleas, begging him to stay as he left through the flaps. He wasn’t two steps out of the tent when he turned on the spot, seeing the spot in his mind that he’d come across on his walk earlier. Ron would figure out where he was going when he was rational again.





When he cracked through the air at his destination, he fell to the ground immediately and threw up violently on the sand. The sobs came a minute later as he cried into his hands. He had fucked everything up. How could he have said those things? The cool breeze drifted up from the ocean as he stared over the cliff he was perched on. He would go back with his tail between his legs, he knew he would. Right now, he just wanted to feel numb.





And then he heard someone’s voice behind him.





“Well, lookey, here, lads, we’ve found us another one.”













Edit: So, after all that chatting about setting one day out of the week for updates, I go and post this two days later 'cause I didn't want you guys to wait too long, but noone knew to look for it! Silly me! Just going to point out, however, my email is posted on my profile page, so if you want me to alert you, just email me and I'll put you on the list so you don't have to do it publicly, yeah?

Okay, so next chapter, we're back at Hogwarts to see what the OTHER trio are up to. Would love to hear what you guys thought about this.