Pomp and Certain Circumstances

A/N - Okay, so it's been a mad long time since I updated ... I know ... But I wanted to make sure everything was just right for you in this chapter, my babies ...

Hold onto your hats ~ _ ^

Enjoy
~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~


Chapter Four – Circumstances Come to Pass

Harry and Hermione made it downstairs somewhere in the vicinity of a half hour later. By the time they had finished their shower, the water was stone cold, they could hear no more movement from upstairs, and Harry had whacked every major appendage on one of the shower fixtures in order to keep pace with Hermione’s seemingly endless shower acrobatics. He had no idea how or when she became so bendy.

Regardless of her flexibility, however, the two of them appeared in the kitchen a rather egregious amount of time later, faces shining and rosy and hair dripping down their backs. Much to each of their astonishment, Ron was already planted at the table, drinking a butterbeer and scanning the most recent issue of the Daily Prophet with a frown. Hermione noticed that Ron’s eyes scanned them both curiously for a moment, but he mentioned nothing of his confusion.

After a moment to recover, a wide grin spread across his freckled face as he got up from his chair. “Hermione!” he exclaimed clasping her in a large hug. Hermione smiled and hugged back, throwing a startled and mildly quizzical look over Ron’s shoulder to Harry, who grinned and shrugged.

“I’m so glad you’ve come to stay with us,” Hermione said, beaming at Ron and Harry in turn. “Let me make us a celebratory dinner in honor of your new home!”

Harry and Ron grinned at each other as Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her cable-knit sweater and removed her wand from her back pocket. She chided herself; stowing her wand there was a bad habit that she had, unfortunately, picked up from Harry. Contrary to Mad Eye’s constant remonstrances, however, she had yet to loose a buttock. And thank goodness to that; Harry seemed rather fond of them as they were.

The three of them talked easily over dinner. Harry figured inwardly that a good day’s hard work had loosened Ron’s juices enough that he was no longer constantly worrying about Harry’s intentions and aspirations (or Hermione’s for that matter) on bringing him to Grimmauld Place. Either that or he had heard them shagging in the shower and had decided that Harry was no longer a threat to his heterosexuality. Either suspicion was as amusing as the other. Hermione, surprising even herself, said little throughout dinner, content simply to listen to both Ron’s wild stories and demonstrations of daily life at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and Harry’s secretive tales of intrigue and the inside workings of the Ministry.

By the time the trio had moved out of the kitchen and into the small study where Hermione and Harry ritualistically spent most of their evenings, night had fallen on dusky London. With a quick flick of her wand and a light “Incendio,” Hermione lit a cheerful blaze within the grate and settled on the red leather couch with a draft of Hogwarts, a History that she was editing for revision to include the event the the final battle, some 18 months ago.

Ron had laughed uproariously upon noticing this fact. “Why bother, Hermione,” Ron said, as Harry began to chuckle in the background, “you’ll still be the only one who bothers to read the damned thing.”

Hermione scowled as she looked up from Chapter Thirty-Eight (“The Final Charge of The Dark Lord”), a pair of silver-framed reading glasses sliding down her nose. She sighed and perched them on top of her head. She could feel, spreading over her features, what Harry had long ago deemed ‘ The Hermione Face’ – a particularly uptight and self-righteous scowl (as Harry described it) that let the receiver know that they were most unfortunately thick – and responded, “Hush you, it’s quite an important tome to have in the library. Besides, not everyone in the wizarding world was there for it like we were.”

Harry and Ron grinned conspiratorially at each other. Ron had touched a nerve. After another moment of scowling back at the boys, Hermione joined their emerging laughter. She muttered a few insults towards Ron, readjusted her glasses and resumed her reading. Hermione completed this task with little success, however, as Harry and Ron had taken to practicing Harry’s Transfiguration spells on her book, resulting in the sudden realization that she was trying to read lines off a rather large cod fish … then a tea cozy … then a gold cauldron … then a gn… th… then a--

“Knock it off, yeah?” Hermione chided, but chuckled as Harry and Ron not-so-stealthily hid their wands behind their backs and whistled. She smiled with a light sigh. “I suppose you’re going to keep interrupting me until I put down my work?”

Harry smirked and Ron whooped with laughter. “That is the general plan,” Ron chortled. “Come on, Hermione, join in the fun.”

A slow smile spread across her face. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this easy mischief in the last several months. “I have to have this done by Monday,” she said, looking down at the thick book with a dark look.

“Oh, all right,” Harry conceded.

“Giving up that easily?” Ron challenged him with a light jab to the ribs using the point of his wand. He then made a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word “whipped.”

Harry smirked and threw Hermione a sidelong glance. “She’s a right beast when she gets angry,” Harry whispered … loudly.

Hermione huffed at him and returned to her reading. As she read a particularly glowing report of Harry’s bravery in the current chapter, she caught snatches of their conversation, laughing lightly as Ron told more tales of the comings and goings at the burrow and swore loudly in his recitation of the numerous ways that Percy was a “arse-kissing, no-account, whingy little prick.”

“Harry,” Hermione said with a chuckle, “you’ll never believe this but apparently you … Ahem, what are the exact words … Ah yes, ‘at the beginning stages of the final battle, Potter – a paragon of fortitude – had been forming a plan for Voldemort’s downfall secretly for nearly two years but had simply not had the man-power or support that such a daring initiative of courage would require in order to—’”

“Stop, stop,” Harry called, his hands raised in an exaggerated warning pattern, “I can’t take any more stories of what a brave, beacon of hope I was! It’s such rubbish … I was sixteen, angry, terrified out of my bloody mind and hadnhe fhe foggiest idea what I was doing.”

“Because, of course,” Ron said with a strikingly serious face, “at the towering wisdom of age eighteen, you are now much calmer, cooler, and more collected in strategy and battle.”

Hermione let out a chuckle as he was struck with a particularly nasty Jelly Legs curse from Harry’s wand; the boys had now returned to zooming spells and hexes at each other from opposite ends of the room. Every now and then, Hermione ducked headhead to avoid a few spells that had gone astray of their target with a whoosh. It was quite some time after dinner, long after the rum-laced coffee Harry made had been drained from their cups, when Harry helped Ron off the floor after a particularly powerful Stunning Spell and Ron had made a comment that caused Hermione to accidentally slash a great green streak of ink across the manuscript in her lap in shock.

“I’ve never had sex before, you see,” Ron had said easily as he aimed a Disarming Spell at Harry and fired it. “That’s why I don’t know if I can go through with it …with the two of you, you know.”

Hermione muttered a quick erasing charm, slammed shut the manuscript and removed her glasses. Her eyes went quickly from Ron to Harry. The expression on his face told her quite clearly that he might have dropped his wand without the help of Ron’s spell.

With no response from either of the two others in the room, Ron merely seated himself on the desk, across from the couch Hermione was occupying. Harry bent to retrieve his wand and sank into the cushions beside her without a word. Ron chuckled inwardly at the identical expressions of bewilderment on their faces.

“I … well, I just,” he stammered, blushing crimson, “I don’t know what to do, and that’s the gist of it. I … well, I haven’t … and you… you two—”

“Watch,” Hermione interrupted without considering what she was saying.

“What?” Harry and Ron asked in unison.

“You should watch,” Hermione said, her voice growing more confident despite the blush painting her cheek and the nervous hitch in her chest. “Us. Erm … I mean, that is to say … wouldn’t you feel a little better about the whole process if you … well … knew how we … go about things?”

Harry looked at her skeptically, but Ron appeared to be considering this very carefully. “I dunno, Hermione,” he said slowly. “I mean, I do want to know how to … go about things. But, it seems like sort of … an intrusion; I guess … you know, like I’d be watching something too personal. I don’t want you to have to turn your personal life into some sort of show for me---”

Hermione laughed lightly, to which both boys glared at her with alarm. “Ron, if you chose to agree to what we asked, you’d be having sex with both of us.” Ron and Harry both winced at havinaving worded it so bluntly. “Isn’t that more personal than just looking?”

“Hermione,” Harry said, “don’t push him—”

“I’ll watch,” Ron said quickly, surprising all three of them.


*****


The three of them went about their daily lives for the next few days. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that when Ron had decided he was ready to ‘watch,’ he would approach them. So all three had been carrying on as if nothing had been said; but occasionally there were well-timed glances, quiet lulls in the conversation that led Hermione to think that Ron might be reconsidering the whole idea. In fact, on the morning of Ron’s fifth day at Grimmauld Place, the breakfast table was so quiet that the only noises were the sounds of each of their utensils scraping the bottom of their plates; Hermione was quite certain Ron had changed his mind.

Ron quickly and noiselessly cleaned his plate just before hitching his briefcase to his shoulder and preparing to floo to the Diagon Alley joke shop. He was on his way to the study fireplace when he called over his shoulder to Harry and Hermione, who were still sipping at their coffee.

“I think tonight’s a good night for a bit of a show, ” he called before they heard the roar of the flames die down.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other for a moment.

“Show indeed,” Harry mumbled. “Doesn’t know what he’s in for, poor man.”

Hermione grinned widely and decided that perhaps she should change her underthings to something prettier before she headed out to work. She wouldn’t have time to change before the show.


*****

Dinner was nearly as quiet an affair as breakfast had been. Ron had owled to both Harry and Hermione at work just after lunch to say that he would be getting dinner with the twins at the shop tonight, but that he would be “home in time for a decently good length show.” Hermione’s heart had been fluttering strangely all day; she had been so certain of herself about this whole affair. But now that it was here, she felt her pulse leaping and skipping madly and her stomach lurc wit with nervousness.

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, love?” Harry said after several minutes’ silence.

Hermione placed her hand lightly over his but drew it away quickly because she could see it tremble. She was at once grateful and annoyed that Harry knew her so well as to word her thoughts without needing a mention from her own mouth. “I think so,” she said quietly.

After a long bout of silence, Hermione continued. “Are you sure you don’t mind at all?”

“Mind what, love?” he asked easily.

Hermione had no idea how he was so bloody calm, considering that tonight could either strengthen everything or dash their 7 year friendship to pieces. “Well, you know,” she started, “if things … go as planned tonight, you may have to … you know, share me. Are you sure you don’t mind that at all?”

Harry thought very carefully before answering. “Well, I can’t say that it won’t be a bit strange.” When Hermione’s face fell, he continued, “But I kno know that you care for me. And because you do, I want to give you one of your fantasies.”

Hermione smiled weakly, and – because Harry saw that she was not entirely settled on the matter – he decided to see how far her humor would go. “And besides … Ron needs to get laid. And there’s nobody I know better at it than you.”

Hermione laughed appreciatively. “Because you have such a broad knowledge base, eh?”

Harry just smiled. A moment of tense silence passed. “Nervous?”

Hermione managed a nod.

Harry drew in a steadying breath. “Don’t be,” he said, much more secure than she felt. “It’s just Ron. And,” a smirk lit his face, “we’ve done this before.”

Hermione grinned back mischievously. “Entirely too many times for our own good, I sometimes think.”

“No such thing,” Harry replied cheekily and commenced eating with more rigor than before.

Hermione nodded. Harry was right; she would make this evening’s show a good one.


*****



Harry watched Hermione putter distractedly around the room for a few minutes. She had changed her outfit twice since they had finished dinner, and he had thoroughly enjoyed watching her paw through her drawers, trying on at least six different bras and four or five pairs of knickers before settling on a matched set of burgundy satin underthings that revealed more than they covered. They happened to be his favorite.

He could tell that she was getting unnerved that he was watching her so calmly as she pulled her green work robes back over her head, finally deciding that it would be better not to fuss over her outfit. When he had pointed out each detailed step of the fuss she had indeed made of said outfit, she ordered him out of the room for several minutes, leaving him to sit in the hall and chuckle as he listened to her put the finishing touches on her untouched look.

When he had snuck back into the room to find her brushing her unruly locks, Harry was struck afresh at the sight of her, as he always was. True, her hair was a bit too thick for her face, her nose and arms a bit too long … her hips and breasts a tad too small for the rest of her body, and her feet just a tad too big … but with all her mismatched features, a jumble of her mother and father, he decided that he could never find a more perfect woman … not if he designed one himself.

He gently removed the hairbrush frer her hands as she had started to yelp slightly when the knots snagged in her curls. This was a common routine with them. He lifted the thick wooden paddle from her hand and gently grasped a hold of the offending sections, stroking the brush through them until the strands ran smooth and bounced back to the amber spirals. Without a hesitation, he took up the red ribbon that lay on her vanity for this nightly routine and eased her hair into a loose tail at the back of her head. As he swept the hair away from her neck, he replaced it with his lips. The smell of her shampoo – a rich yet light aroma of almonds and nutmeg – was starting to madden his senses.

He could feel her smile as she breathed a light, “Thank you, love.”

This was the scene that greeted Ron as he stood in the doorway to their bedroom.

He was struck with the tradition of it all; it seemed almost as if they weren’t really eighteen year-olds living with someone for the first time. It was so easy and warmly familiar that he had to remind himself that these were his friends, people he grew up with that were barely more than children. And yet they moved and reacted to each other so fluidly, almost as if they were one person split into two bodies. Was there really room for him? He had a fleeting notion of turning from the door and heading downstairs, perhaps even avoiding a mention of intruding upon their sexual lives at all.

As he had started to turn to go, a floorboard squeaked beneath him and Hermione turned to the doorway in search of the source of the sound. He reddened in the cheeks, embarrassed at getting ‘caught’ in flight, and took a tentative step inside the door.

“Erm,” he stammered, searching for something to say.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Hermione spoke. “When did you get home?”

Ron was amazed at how calm and steady she was as she reached out a hand and plucked apart the fastening of his outer robes without being asked. He felt as if Harry might hear the loud hammering of his heart against his ribcage from across the room. But no, he was smiling as Hermione ushered him into their shared bedroom without giving him a chance to clam up and turn away. She pulled a chair up near the side of the big master bed, urging Ron to sit once she had divested him of all but the threadbare jeans and T-shirt he wore beneath his work robes.

Once Ron was seated, however, she seemed at a loss of what to do next and looked to Harry. He took a deep, steadying breath and kicked off his shoes at the bedside. He made a slight move towards Hermione, who moved in return before jerking away, her face lit with a sudden thought.

“Would you like us to … you know,” she started, biting her lip as she thought of how to word the question, “acknowledge your presence? Or sort of … go on and ignore you?”

Ron felt his cheeks redden again, a flush creeping up from his chest and across his throat. “Um, don’t pay me any attention. I’ll just … watch. For now.”

Hermione nodded nervously and once again, looked to Harry. Scooting himself up to prop his back against the headboard, Harry opened his legs in a wide V and motioned for Hermione to sit between them. She lay with her back against his chest, her arms rest on his propped knees, his hands companionably under hers and across her stomach. Ron got the distinct impression that this was a ritual as well. They seemed completely at ease as thelkedlked of their day, telling stories, laughing at the other’s anecdotes. And all the while, Ron was surprised that they did nothing other than lay in each other’s arms.

After nearly fifteen minutes of this easy storytelling (which Ron had a feeling was as much to relax themselves as him), Ron noticed the first movement the pair had made. Harry’s fingers had begun tracing slow, lazy circles across the tops of Hermione’s thighs. Without a hitch in her current story of the new decimal system at the library, Hermione moved up further agaihis his chest, allowing Harry’s hands to cover a lower patch of her thigh.

As she talked and he commented lightly, Harry pulled gently at the fabric of her robes, inching up so that they gradually revealed more and more of her long, pale legs. When he had dragged them up just high enough so that Ron could see her deep-purplish knickers and a teasing glint of her bare stomach, Harry’s hands stopped their motion along her robes and dipped between her legs. Ron unknowingly shifted in his chair as hechedched Harry’s fingers disappear beneath the thin satin.

Hermione’s words crashed to a near standstill. Ron was astonished that she had not gasped or cried out; while they did not stop coming, her sentences were slow, labored and blurred, as he watched Harry’s fingers move beneath the thin burgundy covering. Ron felt his face grow hot as Hermione hooked an arm over her head and around Harry’s neck, pushing her legs apart further to allow Harry a bit more space.

Eventually her speech quit all together, but Ron barely noticed. He was entranced by the dance of Harry’s fingertips that he could not quite see beneath Hermione’s knickers and the tiny squeaking sounds she made as he stroked. Ron’s heart started pounding recklessly in his chest as Harry’s other hand came up to unfasten the buttons at the neck of Hermione’s robes. He felt himscouncounting silently – one … two … three … - as each released in turn, and gave him a new glimpse of her pale flesh.

Ron dimly noticed Harry mutter a charm that put out the overhead light in the room. Candles leapt to life at another whispered set of words. Hermione was pushing her back against Harry’s chest now, undulating with the movements of Harry’s hands. At last, the final button of her robes came to and the material fluttered open. Her hands left Harry’s knees only briefly as she shrugged out of the garment and returned her body to his careful ministrations.

Harry trailed a line of kisses across her jaw and down her throat as one hand came up to play gently across the thin material of her bra. He used a fingertip to trace the deep plunge of it, smirking gently at the throaty “Mmm” that this motion received. His fingers drew back to tease her nipple to a hard point as he took her earlobe in his mouth.

“Harry,” she murmured. Her voice felt like a velvet glove stroking at Ron’s ears, causing his skin to prickle delightfully.

He heard his own breathing as if it were a roar when Hermione’s hands came up to release the front clasp of her brassiere, allowing it to drop to the sides of her chest and baring her pale breasts to the candlelight. Ron felt his pulse leap. She was rising up now, drawing away from Harry’s hands and moving so that she was kneeling over him. Hermione pushed away her robes and bra, allowing them to fall to the flush in a hush of material. She smiled as she placed a kiss on Harry’s lips, and then trailed them down the round of his jaw to the line of his throat, all the while her nimble fingers released the clasps of his robes.

Harry raised just enough to push the robes away, laying underneath her once again in just his boxer shorts and a white tank top. He sat up slightly and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Ron’s gasp was lost in a pleasurable moan that escaped Hermione’s lips. Her fingers were weaving through Harry’s unkempt locks as he licked and suck at each of her breasts in turn. She drew him up to kneel opposite her and took his lips in a passionate kiss.

Ron shifted again, inclining his head to a better angle to watch as Hermione tugged the hem of Harry’s tank top up and over his head, quickly pressing her bare chest against Harry’s. Harry’s hands were not steady as they coiled around her and Ron could nearly see the tension in their bodies as they clasped at each other, their hands hungrily searching each other’s bodies as he could see their tongues delving into the depths of their mouths.

A wild thumping echoed in Ron’s chest. He could feel his own body leaping in response; all of his instincts were telling him to either run from the room or to open himself up to the mad kisses and touching as well, but his mind could not force him up from the chair. He was happily doomed to watch Harry and Hermione feast upon each other’s bodies.

Ron noticed with a slight surprise that they had twisted so that now they were laying horizontally across the bed, Hermione’s hair spilling over the edge so that it very nearly tickled at his feet from where he sat. In spite of his manners and sensibilities, Ron felt himself leaning forward, eager for more to view as he watched Harry divest the two of them of any remaining scraps of clothing.

Ron heard a moan escape his throat as Harry plunged into Hermione’s body. She was writhing beneath Harry and Ron could nearly feel the tight way that her heels coiled round and pressed at Harry’s bum. She was tipping her head back now, dangling practically in Ron’s lap as Harry buried his face in her neck and thrust into her.

But something like clarity crossed her face as her eyes, upside down, locked with Ron’s. He jumped back just a tad as he realized that she was gazing at him intently.

“Harry,” she spoke hoarsely.

Oh god, Ron thought with a shock of panic.

“Harry, stop a moment,” she was saying, her hands pulling back at his shoulders.

With what Ron was sure was quite a Herculean amount of restraint, Harry stilled his movements within her and raised his head to look up at her. Following her gaze, Harry then looked up to Ron, who was flushed and breathing nearly as heavily as he had been. Hermione’s gaze trailed to Ron’s lap and then to Harry’s eyes. Ron puzzled at the expression he now saw on Hermione’s face.

“We can’t just leave him like that, can we?”

Ron felt his heart drop into his stomach as he realized that Hermione’s features were melting into a mischievous smirk as Harry rolled away from her and the two of them perched on the edge of the bed, Hermione’s bare legs between Ron’s knees. He slid his chair away from her as he noticed her knees touching him.

When Hermione got it into her head to be mischievous, bad things always had a way of happening to Ron.

Ron couldn’t help thinking, however, that as Hermione’s hand slid across his leg and down to the bulge in his lap that he had been trying to deny the existence of, that perhaps this playfulness would yield results that were slightly less horrible than usual. He closed his eyes momentarily as her fingers squeezed just a tiny bit before releasing. Perhaps, not horrible at all.

“I suppose we can’t leave him like that after all,” Harry said thoughtfully, a hand at his chin. His speech brought Ron swiftly out of the slight trance he’d been under at Hermione’s touch.

“What shall we do, Harry?” Hermione asked, her grin deepening.

Ron looked to Harry for help, trying not to remember that his friend was naked, and was merely rewarded with another grin. “Well, I suppose it would only be friendly to give him a kiss, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled and looked back to Ron who sat, nonplussed by the whole situation.

“Did you two have those corny lines cooked up?” Ron found himself saying in an attempt to draw his mind away from the fact that his eyes were straying just as frequently across Harry’s body as Hermione’s curves.

“Nope,” Harry responded with a winning smile. “Thought those up all on the fly. Should I be proud?”

“Your pick-ups need work, mate,” Ron replied.

“They worked just fine for me,” Hermione responded easily before pressing her lips to Ron’s.

He was caught so unaware by the suddenness of it that he nearly leaned back away from her to break the kiss, but found himself relax against her. He could feel her laugh against his lips as he struggled to find a ‘proper’ place to put his hands on her body. He did break away from her lips to gasp when she grasped one of his hands and placed it on her breast.

He made to pull away, but found he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight when Hermione whispered near his ear, “Sure you still just want to watch, Ron?”

His pulse kicked swiftly and he felt himself flushed as his voice squeaked out, “No, I think I’ve had enough watching.”

“Good,” Hermione returned, leaning away from him. “As long as you’re done watching, I’d like to see you join in.”

Ron opened his mouth, but only a squeak came out at first. He flushed as Harry laughed.

“Evil little shrew, isn’t she?”

Ron grinned weakly and cleared his throat. He could barely think overly the roaring at his ears. “What did you have in mind?” he inquired of Hermione, who had now seated herself, cross-legged, at the foot of the bed across from Ron.

“I think I’d like to see you kiss Harry,” she said with a smile.

Ron was certain his heart had stopped all together.


*****

“Pardon?”

“Kiss Harry,” she repeated. “That was a part of the original offer: tojoin us.”

“But,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely between his lips and hers. “But I …”

Hermione skimmed across her breast and smirked. “Join us, Ron. Us.” The movement of her finger punctuated each word. “Both of us. Don’t you want to join us?”

Before he could answer, Harry cut in. “Don’t tease him, Hermione, that’s not fair. He isn’t used to this. Go easy.”

With a swift turn of his head, Ron cast a deliberately long look up and down Harry’s body, forcing himself not to blush or look away. “Perhaps we better give her what she wants, mate,” Ron replied directly to Harry, “she can be awfully bossy if you let her.”

Harry smiled and Ron felt slightly less nervous. “I told you, an evil little shrew, and nothing less.”

“Oh get on with it,” Hermione said playfully.

Ron’s heart skipped within his chest as Harry repositioned himself in between his knees, occupying the spot that Hermione had vacated. Now that he was so close, Ron could see that Harry looked tense and unsure of himself as well. Twice Harry started to raise his hand to Ron but stopped, uncertain of which way to proceed.

“Go on,” Hermione prompted gently. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Harry looked to her and smiled; he took a breath before placing a hand at Ron’s cheek. Ron surprised himself as he leaned into both the hand and the distance between his face and Harry’s.

Ron’s lips were so different from Hermione’s. That was Harry’s first coherent thought. Larger, longer, but somehow less full. His kiss was rougher than Hermione’s and yet, more naïve. Harry’s pulse kicked strangely when he felt Ron’s tongue swipe out at his bottom lip. He felt it leap even more oddly when he opened his mouth in response.

As he scooted to the edge of the bed and leaned closer to Ron, Harry was more acutely aware that he was naked and Ron was fully clothed. Ron’s jeans brushed roughly against his thighs as Ron moved closer to him. The feel of the steadying hand that he placed against Harry’s chest was an odd sensation, contrasting completely with the gentle, hesitant swirl of Ron’s tongue in his mouth. Harry felt the flush rise to his cheeks; his head swam with arousal as Ron’s hand dropped carelessly from his chest to his upper thigh.

Reeling, Ron pulled away from Harry’s lips. Without stopping to consider whether it was the right thing to do, he placed his lips gently under the line of Harry’s jaw and sucked there just a moment until he heard Harry’s breath skip in and out of him in pleasant shock. Then he sat back and gazed at Hermione.

Her face was flushed as she watched them, but Ron noticed that the hand that hand been stroking her nipple lightly in teasing was now playing against her skin more definitely. She grinned at him and felt his blood warm curiously.

“Lovely,” she said in a voice that was nearly a purr.

Ron’s heart dropped away again. He knew that look. That tone of voice. She was about to drop a bomb on them.

Hermione pushed gently past Harry to stand behind Ron’s chair. He started to crane his neck to watch her, but she merely wrapped her arms around his shoulders and flattened her palms against his chest. He could feel her breasts pressing against the back of his head as she leaned to move her hands down his chest and across his stomach. His breath was coming in pants and he nearly whimpered when she removed her hands and moved to one side of him.

Light brushes of her fingertips skimmed up Ron’s arm as she knelt next to his chair and her hand moved smoothly – entirely to smoothly for his own comfort – back to the prominent swelling that was now barely contained within his well-worn jeans.

“Dear, dear,” she said with a deviant smirk to Harry and then back to Ron’s face. She chuckled, low and throaty, as his face was nearly at panic level. Her hand squeezed. “That can’t be comfortable at all. We should do something about that. Harry?” Hermione turned to look at her lover and nearly burst with laughter at the twin to Ron’s expression on his face. “Harry, shouldn’t we do something about this? Shouldn’t we help Ron?”

“Hermione, we talked about this,” Harry said in warning. He seemed to know something was coming but Ron couldn’t guess what. “We talked about not pushing him too far when he’s never ---”

She smiled innocently, a face that Harry knew to be trouble. “It was your idea,” she said. “I know you want to. You told me you did.”

“Hermione---” he said, a little more sharply. Ron was even more confused when he saw the flicker of embarrassment light Harry’s face as he spoke.

“Hermione?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

She answered by releasing the button at the waist of Ron’s jeans. “I know you are aroused, Ron,” Hermione said and placed her lips just below Ron’s navel.

He jerked in shock and let his breath out in a slow hiss as she lowered the zipper. He lifted his hips out of instinct and Hermione pushed his jeans down around his ankles, pulled them off. She ran her hands back up his legs, splitting them around Ron’s erection and pressing them into his stomach so that the material of his undershorts tented and pushed his erection to sit across the back of her hands. He groaned as she laid her lips on the cloth covering the shaft of his penis.
’m j’m just not the only one in the room who wants to help you with that,” she murmured into his skin, causing a pleasant tingle all throughout his lower body.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He couldn’t think; his head was swimming. Her hands were brushing lightly over his erection.

“Harry told me he wanted to try helping you too.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked again, stupidly. His hand seemed to fist in her hair of its own accord as she rose up on her knees between his. Hermione leaned to his stomach and swiped the flat of her tongue just above the waistband of his boxers and looked up pointedly at Ron. And he suddenly understood.

With slight panic, Ron looked to Harry, who flushed in embarrassment and turned his head. “Hermione, I told you---”

“No, it’s all right, mate,” Ron heard himself say. Then, with more clarity and confidence, Ron said, “I want you to.”

Harry looked back to Ron as Hermione rose and moved out of the way. She placed herself back at the foot of the bed and lounged. As Harry knelt between Ron’s knees, he looked up into his friend’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Ron looked down at his friend. Harry looked terrified and he knew he was as well. But he had to know. He had to feel this. He had to see …

Instead of answering, Ron reached down and hefted his T-shirt up over his head and let it drop to the floor. Then he nodded slowly. Harry’s hands were shaking as they came up to Ron’s shorts; he trembled as Ron lifted his hips, allowing him to pull them away. The first touch of Harry’s lips against Ron’s stomach had him trembling as well.

Harry was practically shaking with suppressed fear and desire. He couldn’t reason out why he had wanted to do this, he only knew that he did. And Ron had said he wanted it too, so there was nothing left for Harry but to work up the courage to do it. Harry shook slightly when Ron moaned as Harry wrapped a hand tentatively around Ron’s penis.

His friend was breathing in fits and starts as Harry ran his thumb gently across his erection. Harry wasn’t entirely sure that Ron was certain this was a good idea. He was sitting rigidly, as if he were afraid he might have to run from Harry at some point. Figuring that he had better take advantage of the situation while it was in front of him, Harry leaned in and took the shaft of Ron’s penis into his mouth.

Harry could just barely hear the dull roar of Ron’s moan over the rushing in his ears. Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember the feel, the motion of Hermione’s lips and tongue when she pleasured him, trying to repeat the action on Ron. He could feel his friend relax into his touch as Harry started to move his mouth more smoothly across his erection. He was becoming surer of himself with every stroke as Ron melted into the chair.

He could hear Ron’s breath speed up, his muscles tighten as Harry continued. The taste of Ron’s skin – slightly tangy, but sweet – filled his mouth and the warm smell of sweat and sex was clogging his breath. Harry’s heart hammered in his throat so desperately that he would have sworn it was trying to leap out. He quickened his movements to take Ron into and out of his mouth and he felt a savaged pleasure as Ron’s fingers twined in his hair, tugging at him with every swish of his tongue.

And suddenly, Hermione’s hands were at his shoulders, pulling him back. Harry looked up to Ron, who was now splayed out across the length of the chair, looking as though he was trying fiercely not to shatter into a thousand pieces. Harry’s tongue shot out to swipe once more across the head of Ron’s penis. Ron moaned loudly.

“Now, Harry,” Hermione chortled, “Keep that up and the fun will finish too quickly.” Though her tone was playful, Harry could see in Hermione’s face that she was as desperate for satisfaction as the boys were.

“Hermione,” Ron called out roughly, his hand seeking out her breast as she stood next to his chair. His hand trailed down her stomach. “I can’t take it any more, Hermione, I’ve got to … I’ve got to—”

His voice died off roughly as Hermione tilted her thigh open and, grasping his wrist, thrust Ron’s hand between her legs. “Tell me what you want, Ron.”

He looked wildly between Hermione and Harry. “I want you … I want to be in you … and I want … I want …”

He trailed off as she moved to straddle his legs. Harry stood swiftly and watched as Hermione lowered herself far enough so that the tip of Ron’s erection stroked against the unbearably hot wetness at the meeting of her thighs. But she pulled back just short of allowing him to enter her.

“Tell me …”

“I want to be in you at the same time as Harry,” he choked out, gasping for breath as his mouth covered her nipple. She moaned out in pleasure and felt Harry move close to skim his hands deliciously across her skin. Hermione eased herself down and allowed Ron to push his penis just slightly into her body.

“Oh, god Hermione,” he muttered. To Harry’s surprise, Ron’s head snapped up and he reached a hand out, pulling Harry’s head down to meet his in a fevered kiss as Hermione sank down on Ron’s erection.

Harry tangled tongues brutally with Ron for a moment as Hermione pulsed, sliding along Ron’s penis and bringing pants and moans out of his as her fingernails bit into his shoulders. Ron’s hands kneaded hungrily at her waist, instinctively guiding the rocking sway of her hips as she brought him in and out of her body. He was entranced by the sway of her breasts as she hungrily rode him. Harry pressed feather light kisses across the expanse of her shoulders and grinned as she shivered in delight from the wet trail of the tip of his tongue down her spine.

“Ron,” she gasped through a haze of swift motions of her hips. “Ron slow down a minute … I want to … I want to turn around … Harry …”

Ron nodded and slowed his thrusts long enough for Hermione to turn and bend so she could take Harry’s unattended erectiono heo her mouth. Harry cried out in a sort of triumph when her lips wrapped around him, working keenly to include him.

Ron’s thrusts became so erratic within Hermione’s body that she placed her feet on the floor and stood, Ron rising behind her to grasp at her hips as he plunged. She threaded a hand between her legs and stroked at her clitoris as Harry gave one last thrust into her mouth and, shuddering, felt his climax erupt within him. He leaned over to take Ron’s mouth as Ron drove into Hermione and shook with his own peak.

After a moment of Harry’s hot kiss, Ron straightened again and thrust harder into Hermione as Harry’s penis fell from her lips. With a strangled cry, he felt her body clench around him and she shrieked out a loud, “Ron! Harry!”

With several gasping breaths, Ron felt his legs gel and collapse beneath him. He collapsed back into his chair as Hermione straightened and flopped next to where Harry had already sat back on the bed. Harry looked down quizzically as Hermione began to laugh against the bed sheets. She sat up, curled her legs under her and gazed at Ron.

“And you thought this wouldn’t be a good idea,” she chuckled, met soon after with Ron and Harry’s laughter.

*********************

A/N - Okay, so ... this is really about as far as I planned things in this fic. It doesn't really seem "Finished" to me though. So if you know of something you'd like to see, include it in your review and I'll see where we can go with this fic. Thanks babies!!!