Pomp and Certain Circumstances

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, of course. I just make them do naughty, naughty things to each other.

A/N - Just a little tidbit to keep you guys coming (no pun intended ;p) back for more ... next chapter I promise ... long, hard and full of smut!!! WOOT!!!

Enjoy
~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~

Chapter Three – Circumstances being what they are …


Harry had just started to break a sweat as he hefted the last of Ron’s boxes through the doorway of 12 Grimmauld Place. With both Sirius and Voldemort gone, Harry had happily taken up residence there in June, after graduation. He no longer needed the “safety” of Privet Drive, and seeing as how Harry was the closest thing Sirius had possessed to kin, his godfather had deeded over the house to him (in case of any unforeseen incidents … which ended up happening) just after he returned to residency with the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry had lived there in reasonable convenience, and had managed a few months’ worth of Apparating to and from Hermione’s intern housing near the library. But the constant missing of each other got to be far too much for both of them, wanting to revel in their new love. So Harry had been joined at Grimmauld Place in the end of August by a blushing, giddy Hermione. Harry had worried at first that this may be moving just a shade too quickly … as they had just so recently started to live with loving each other. When he commented on this to Hermione, she had laughed riotously and managed, “Harry, I’ve had seven years to come to grips with loving you. That’s plenty of time to get used to the idea before living together.”

So they had lived in a contented peace for the last seven months in quiet bliss. They spent most evenings in front of the fireplace in the Black family library; Hermioas fas forever buried in a different dusty tome every evening, Harry holed up with her, practicing his Auror charms and defense work and avoiding the roar of the press. Occasionally they would read aloud to each other or she would help him with his defense techniques. After years at Hogwarts with one ‘adventure’ after another, Harry was content with the slow, leisurely pace of his home life.

But something was definitely missing.

Between Harry’s rigorous training for the Auror Qualifications and the sudden bursting success of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the trio – as it had once been – had fallen to pieces. The night before Harry’s conversation with Ron, as he and Hermione had lay in bed, Harry had reflected as Hermione remarked on this very subject. And then she had asked him the question that had brought them to their current state of affairs.

“Harry?” she had inquired, pressing her body, still damp with perspiration, against his bare side. “Harry, have you ever had any fantasies?”

He had looked down into her eager face and chuckled. “I can just tell you’re itching to tell me yours.”

“Well,” she had said, flushing crimson, “I just thought that … well, we are young and all … and perhaps we should … well … sow our wild oats while we’re … you know, daring in youth… and maybe—”

She stopped at Harry’s chuckling. “Spit it out, Hermione. I can tell you’re stalling.”

And when she blushingly confessed that she had fantasized about being with both Harry and Ron at the same time, he had smirkingly called her a “greedy minx” and they had laughed and made love again. Twice.

Throughout the night, however, it had pressed at the back of his mind until, at one a.m. and his fourth midnight snack, he had to admit that he, too, had wondered about this as well. He confessed to his bowl of cereal that he had indeed imagined them as a trio in every sense of the word. So, as Harry had always been the type to get up and act when faced with a realization, he supposed that the only thing to do was to speak to Ron. Which had brought them to their current state of affairs.

Harry jogged his mind back to the present as he set his box just inside the door of the third floor guest room. He gathered, now, that the idea of the “trio” was now buzzing just as animatedly around Ron’s head, as he had been throwing what he must have assumed were covert glances in Harry’s direction all day. Whenever Ron seemed to think Harry wasn’t looking, he would stare at him with his mouth open just a tad, as if he were expecting Harry to strip off his clothes and shag Ron right there without waiting for Hermione. Harry bandied back and forth between restraining giggles and frustrated annoyance at this all day.

They had worked in silence as they had hefted boxes, but now that everything was inside the house, Harry simply nodded to Ron and left him to take care of rearrangin his his own. “I think I’m going to go have a shower,” Harry announced to him, hoping to break that barrier of relative silence and tension that had been hovering over them for the last four hours.

“Er … all right mate, I’ll just start getting settled,” Ron replied a little brok.
.

Harry nodded again. “Hermione usually gets in around seven-ish, so I’ll probably start dinner as soon as I get out. If you want anything or need anything, call down, all right?”

Ron nodded silently, picked up his wand and turned back to the room. Harry heard the dull skids of furniture as he closed the door and headed downstairs to his own lavatory.


*****


Harry began pulling his robes over his head the instant he entered the master bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake, heading toward the bathroom. After nearly a year out of school, it still struck him as odd now and then to be wearing robes every day instead of the muggle clothing that Harry had always worn outside of school. He chuckled mildly and divested himself of his undershirt as he opened the door to the bathroom.

Once inside, Harry performed a little ‘ritual’ that he did now and then before taking a shower. Harry stood in front of the full-length mirror Hermione had installed and examined himself from every angle. Quite often, he marveled at what Hermione saw in him; in addition, Harry still felt the tugging need to search his body (for possibly the millionth time) for any lingering scars or marks from the final battle. The souvenirs of the fight had long since faded, but Harry’s mind always flew to them whenever he removed his clothing.

With a satisfied smirk, Harry ran his fingertips over his chest, upper arms and stomach, noting with pleasure that his light, lissome muscles from Quidditch training were still with him after nearly a year of being out of regular training or play.

Harry moved to turn on the shower, allowing the bathroom to begin filling with steam, and then bent carefully to remove his boxer shorts. As he stepped out of them and turned to have one last good look at himself, the mirror whistled low and let out a cheeky, “Well, you must be very popular!” Harry flushed red, removed his glasses and quickly stepped into the shower.

After the long, arduous task of moving all of Ron’s belongings from the Burrow to Grimmauld Place, Harry welcomed the hot water thrumming against his back, soothing the muscles that were protesting the stress. They had been forced to do much of the moving by hand seeing as how, as a result of the war and final confrontation with Voldemort (nearly a year ago now), the normal aftershocks of even the simplest magic were more detectable to Muggles because of this heightened sensitivity. As a result, the magical world was grumbling and groaning its way through lying even lower than normal.

Harry turned to face the showerhead, allowing the hot spew of water to pound against his chest. Unbidden, the idea of being with both Ron and Hermione slippedk ink into his head. Unconsciously, Harry looked around – as if expecting to see someone – and then closed his eyes and let the mental images wash over him. He leaned his left shoulder against the wall of the shower, rested his head, and let the visions come. Harry figured there was no harm in indulging the growing response his body was having, aching to be addressed.

In front of his eyes, a dim room splayed out. Though Harry could not ‘see’ much, he could feel the presence of the other two people in the room. He watched as Hermione strode over to him, her nude body covered with the flickering shadows from the fire in the corner. She pressed her lips, hot and eager, to his own, and he could see his own arms curl around her. Hermione drew away suddenly and turned her face away from Harry as her hands continued to stroke his chest.
As Harry slipped further into his fantasy and allowed his hand to slide leisurely along his penis, his fingers gentle. He now saw Ron enter the dream room and Harry could feel himself blush as he imagined Ron’s body naked as well. Harry had only caught glimpses of Ron – changing his clothes or momentarily coming in or out of the bath at the Burrow – and he was not aware that the image had remained so clearly.

Ron’s pale skin gleamed in the light as well as he came close, placed a hand at Hermione’s waist as she turned to kiss him. Harry imagined the feel of Hermione’s hand lacing around his penis as the Dream Hermione’s other hand laced into Ron’s hair. He could see himself placing urgent kisses along her throat, neck and breasts as she bent backwards, arching into Ron’s kiss. As she released his head, she leaned forward and moved down to her knees to take Harry in her mouth. Harry began to slide his hand harder across his penis as he imagined the feel of her lips on his skin, the Dream Ron leaning forward minutely.

So wrapped in the dream was Harry that he was only mildly aware of the gust of cool air that billowed into the room, pushing away the steam. Harry was not aware of the shadowy figure moving within the room. Harry was not even aware that the body had nipped into the shower behind him, his body shielding the unknown person from the pounding of the spray.

Harry’s hand was moving rapidly now, his heart pounding as he imagined the Dream Ron leaning forward to take Harry’s lips with his own. Harry let out a little squeaking cry as the intruder to the bathroom wrapped two lithe arms around his middle and slide a firm grip around his erect penis.

“Hermione!” he squealed, shooting bolt upright and trying to wrench around to look at her.

“Gotcha,” he heard her voice whisper in a smug tone. He tried again to turn to look at her, but with the gentle pressure of her lips against his back and her arms around his middle (as well as her hands around his straining erection), he eased his efforts and enjoyed her touch.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he muttered unnecessarily, containing a few pleasured gasps as she quickened her strokes.

“Little wonder,” she chuckled back, her voice causing the skin of his back to tingle. With remarkably little effort, Hermione turned him to her and brought down his head for her lips to take his. Allowing his instincts to take over, Harry turned to brace her back against the wall, the water jetting against them as their tongues intertwined. Just as Harry had gripped his hand tight around her thigh, lifting it and bringing her stomach close to his warm flesh, he remembered with a shot what he had been doing just minutes beforehand.

He leapt away from her quickly. “Hermione, we … we can’t … I mean, what about … Ron’s right upstairs!”

Hermione smirked evilly and pulled Harry closer. “Oh, come on now. He doesn’t even know I’ve gotten home yet.” Harry looked unconvinced. “Harry, if he’s going to be living here, he’s going to get used to these things.”

Harry nodded slightly, conceding that point.

“Besides, he’ll never know,” she finished, with a devilish grin.

“True,” Harry said, smirking himself as he swiftly plunged into her body. “Very true.”

With that, he cranked up the shower, the jetting water covering Hermione’s giggles and muffled cries of encouragement.




A/N - Well ... how'd you like it?!?! I know many of you are chomping at the bit for the big smut ... but it's coming (no pun intended) soon enough. Hope that little smutlet revved your engines enough to have you come back next chapter!

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*Mwuah*
~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~