Never Again

**see part one for notes and disclaimers**

Section 5:

No gentleman would molest an unconscious woman, but Draco Malfoy was clearly no gentleman. When Hermione came to, it was to the sensation of his fingers playing connect-the-dots with her fading hives while he sucked contentedly on her breast.

[For someone with a male lover,] Hermione thought to herself, [he really does have a surprising breast fetish.]

“So, given that I shagged you into unconsciousness,” Draco began conversationally when he saw her eyes start to blink open, “I suppose the question ‘Was it good for you’ is a bit superfluous.”

Hermione snorted and tried to roll away from him, but he moved with her, ending up spooning behind her with his face nestled in her neck, and his hand still lazily stroking her body.

“It was good for me,” he confessed softly, snuggling a little closer to her. “I knew we’d be good together.”

And they *had* been good together. Really good. Better than she’d known it could be outside of her fantasies.

“And now that you’re awake again,” Draco continued, his voice growing more playful while his hand grew more adventurous, “we can be good again.” He rubbed up against her so that she could feel his growing erection, and in spite of herself, she wriggled back against him. “I want to hear you scream my name this time,” he whispered in a husky voice that gave her goosebumps, swinging a leg over her body so that he was straddling her before bending down to reclaim her mouth.

At least, that was the plan. It might have worked, too, if she hadn’t ducked to the side at the last minute, leaving Draco with a face full of pillow instead of her.

“No,” Hermione stated, hoping that her voice sounded firmer to him than it did to herself.

“No?” Draco asked as he lifted his head and propped his weight up on an elbow. “No to what, precisely? Screaming my name? Because if you think I can’t get you to do that, then I’d be up to placing a little wager.” He grinned suggestively. “If I win, you and I will—”

“No ‘you and I’,” Hermione interrupted while battling back a heated blush. She didn’t want to think about what terms Draco would set, because if she did, it would just get her hopelessly turned on again, and then she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from giving in. She tugged the sheet around her body, wishing she could get him to cover up as well. His naked body was far too distracting. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

Draco’s seductive smirk fell into a scowl. “Not this again,” he grumbled. “So what is it, now, hmm?” he asked as he lowered his body on top of hers, holding himself up with an elbow on either side of her face, blocking her in. “What are you going to use to try to convince yourself that you don’t want this? What is it about me that’s so damn repulsive that you can’t just admit that we *work* like this, that it’s *right* and that it’s what we *both* want?”

“B-blaise—” Hermione stammered, trying to explain.

“I already told you that he’d be fine with this!” Draco growled.

“But *I’m* not fine with doing this behind his back!” Hermione yelled in response. “You’re his boyfriend, and he’s my friend! He took me in, gave me a place to live, and I just don’t feel right about screwing around with his lover behind his back!”

To her surprise, Draco grinned, and lowered his body further on top of hers, building up some lovely friction between their chests. “Ah, so you wouldn’t mind if we were ‘screwing around’ in front of his face?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and shut a few times, but words refused to come out.

“Are you speechless because you’re angry, or because the idea turns you on?”

Hermione’s mouth slammed shut with a snap and she glared pure death at Draco. Sadly, her wand was on the other side of the room, so it didn’t have any effect other than making him preen.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he gloated. “I could never make you *speechless* unless I was dead-on-balls right.” Smirking at her again, he lowered his mouth back to her flesh, this time attacking her nipple with smooth, cat-like licks. “Makes you hot, doesn’t it? You like the idea of being with both of us at once, don’t you? Two mouths licking you all over, four hands groping you from head to toe, two cocks,” he thrust his pelvis against hers, “filling you up and riding you so hard that you’ll feel echoes of it every time you move your legs for days after?”

Again, her silence (along with her deep scarlet blush) was all the answer Draco required. He didn’t know that he’d just detailed the very dream that had made her oversleep that morning, but he knew enough to know that the idea *definitely* turned her on.

“S-s-stop distracting me,” she stammered, whimpering slightly as he kept rocking his hips against her. “And stop teasing me! I-I won’t, I *won’t* sleep with you again until I’ve had a chance to talk to Blaise. Rules or not, it isn’t fair to just . . .”

“Shag? Screw? Fuck? Hump?” Draco was obviously in favor of the last option as he continued rubbing himself against her.

“*Cheat* like this, without making sure it’s all right with him. Just because the two of you discussed it hypothetically doesn’t mean he’d be okay with it really happening.”

“Hmm? Yes, dear,” Draco replied distractedly, using his legs to spread her thighs further apart as he deepened the thrusting of his hips against hers, making a low satisfied sound somewhere between a purr and a growl at the increased friction.

“No!” Hermione hissed, trying and failing to close her widely-spread legs. “God, are you a dog or a man? I said *no sex* until I’ve talked to Blaise, and nothing you say or do will change my mind!”

“Nothing?” Draco teased, nuzzling his face against that sensitive spot on her neck and flicking at it with his tongue.

“N-n-no,” Hermione answered, trying to sound firm and commanding. “Nothing.”

“Hmm, what about if I do this?”

Hermione braced herself for an attack on her senses. Maybe he’d lick that spot on her neck again. Maybe he’d go for her nipple. Maybe he’d slide his cock inside her and hope it would feel so good that she wouldn’t have the willpower to tell him to pull it back out. The last thing she expected was for him to pull back . . . but that’s exactly what he did. Levering his body off of hers enough to allow him to turn, he twisted around to face the bedroom door.

“Well lover, since it seems the fun can’t continue until you join us, why don’t you stop playing with yourself, and start playing with our girl, instead?”

Years of being friends with Harry and Ron, not to mention all too much time in the Gryffindor dorms, or the Burrow, or the Order headquarters around Fred and George had left Hermione pretty impervious to shock. Explosions didn’t faze her. Loud bangs or blasts barely made her blink. Blood, gore, bad language, bat-bogey hexes, and Ron’s spectacularly disastrous efforts to cook had no more effect on her than to make her whip out her wand, take care of all the damage, and deliver a blistering lecture to whoever had caused it. Nothing ever seemed to catch her truly off-guard. Well, nothing until she caught sight of Blaise Zabini standing naked in doorway, with his cock fully erect and pointed right at her.

It was a few seconds before she remembered to breathe. Putting aside the whole shock factor of powerful-wizard-watching-her-screw-his-boyfriend, there was also the fact that he looked absolutely *amazing* naked. Watching his body while he and Draco fooled around had always made her a bit breathless, and she’d never before gotten such a perfect, uninterrupted full-frontal view. Merlin, he was gorgeous. He shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes. Ever.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Draco whispered in her ear. “And he feels even better than he looks.”

“And how about her, Malfoy?” Blaise drawled. “How does she feel?”

“Fucking amazing,” Draco smirked. “Now get your arse over here, so you can find out for yourself.”

“Gladly.”

Blaise practically *slithered* across the floor in a movement much too smooth and predatory to be called walking, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over every exposed inch of her body. Hermione blushed bright red and snapped out of her daze.

“Stop!” she cried out. “Halt. Cease. Desist.” Her desperately confused eyes shifted back and forth from Draco to Blaise and back to Draco again. “*Explain.*”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What is there to explain? We want you, you want us. The only problem Blaise has with it is that he’s not inside you yet. Come to think of it, I’m having the same problem. So can we concentrate on those problems for now?”

Blaise had reached the bed by now, and had seated himself on the edge. Taking hold of her hand, he raised it to his lips for a soft kiss, before lowering it to rest on top of his erection. In spite of herself, Hermione couldn’t help stroking it softly, her breath catching slightly when it twitched with apparent pleasure at her touch. After a moment, her logical brain caught back up with her, and she pulled her hand away.

“I need to understand,” she stated as firmly as she could.

“Understand what?” Blaise asked, pushing aside the tangled sheets to make room for him to lie down next to Hermione.

“Understand how this happened! I need to understand why, out of the blue, the two of you woke up this morning and decided you liked me.”

“It didn’t happen this morning; we’ve liked you for a while,” Blaise insisted as he settled his body alongside hers. “I invited you to come and live with me. That wasn’t enough of a clue?”

“Terry was living here before me, and you didn’t like him.”

“True, but we needed him,” Draco interjected.

“Needed him?” Hermione asked. “For what? And could you stop that?” she asked, turning back to face Blaise who had been tracing ancient runes with the tip of his finger up and down her leg.

“Draco has a head start,” Blaise explained. “I need to catch up.”

There was something wrong with that logic, but Hermione couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Her mind was too busy trying to think logically and process the pleasure of Blaise’s touch at the same time.

“What did you need Terry for?” she asked again.

“He and Patil gossiped like a pair of mother hens,” Blaise answered. “We probably know more about who’s sleeping with whom and who’s fighting with whom, and who’s up to something scandalous with whom in your little group of misfits than you know yourself. Most of it was extraordinarily distasteful—”

“I could have lived a long and happy life without hearing about the time Potter and his she-weasel got caught going at it in a public fountain,” Draco muttered.

“—but it kept us updated on what you were up to. Didn’t you wonder how I knew enough about Tom to have you invite him to join us that time when we met for tea after you two moved in together? You certainly kept mentions of him to a minimum in your owl posts.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t like him,” Hermione replied weakly, remembering the one, disastrous time she had brought Tom with her to tea with Blaise. Blaise had had Draco with him, and the two of them had spent the entire time verbally eviscerating Tom in a light, ‘just joking, so you’re a cad if you take offense’ kind of way. Hermione had spent the entire time red in the face from a combination of fury at the pair of Slytherins for attacking her lover in that way and . . . well . . . carefully suppressed but still unavoidable amusement at how *well* they did it.

“We got along fine,” Blaise insisted breezily. “He showed what an uptight ass he was, and we showed how utterly unworthy he was of you. It was a delightful tea. I’d have been willing to have him over for tea every week for such an opportunity. Maybe if he’d agreed to come more than just the once, you could have figured out how wrong he was for you sooner. Draco had a lovely fantasy around that time of the two of you coming over for tea, Tom making an idiot of himself as usual, you telling him the two of you were over, and then the three of us celebrating by gathering up all the jams and spreads from what was left of the tea, and licking them off of you, one by one.”

“Mmm, I loved that fantasy,” Draco purred, scooting his body closer to hers and starting to nuzzle her closest breast while his hand reached out to fondle the other one.

“Stop that!” Hermione snapped, slapping away his hand. “I told you I needed explanations first!”

“You’re letting him play,” Draco pouted, nodding over to where Blaise was still studiously tracing designs up and down her leg. “Best not start showing favoritism now, darling. It’ll only cause problems later. Besides, I’m just teasing a *little*. You’re a big girl; surely it takes more than a little teasing to distract you.”

Hermione knew he was trying to manipulate her with that challenge, but . . . well . . . he *did* have a point. Neither he nor Blaise were doing anything all *that* distracting. Their touches were very light and gentle, almost more exploratory than seductive, as if they were content just to learn her from head to toe. Simply because it felt really *really* nice was no reason for her to lose her head over it.

“We might have overplayed our hand just a *tiny* bit at that tea, though,” Blaise admitted, returning to the previous topic of conversation. “You barely mentioned Tom at all to me before that, but you *never* mentioned him after it.”

“I could tell you didn’t like him,” Hermione retorted. “Why bring up what was obviously a touchy subject?”

“Of course we didn’t like him,” Draco snorted. “He had you, which meant that *we* couldn’t have you. It was very frustrating. The only thing he ever did right was his timing. We were actually upset when Boot decided to move out, thinking we’d lost our best source of gossip on what you were up to, but he’d only been gone for two weeks when we got that post from you asking if you could move in.”

“Manna from heaven,” Blaise stated, squeezing her calf muscle affectionately. He had moved from tracing letters and symbols on her legs to giving her legs a gentle massage, easing away the strain of the frenzied sex she’d had with Draco, earlier. “We didn’t even have to scheme or plan or plot or do anything at all, and we still got you exactly where we wanted you.”

“*Almost* where we wanted you,” Draco interrupted. “I wanted to invite you to our bed right away, but Blaise here was too squeamish.”

“Not squeamish,” Blaise argued. “Just cautious. It’s not every girl who’d be up for a threesome. I knew you got turned on by watching the two of us, but that was no guarantee that you’d be willing to join in. Maybe boy-on-boy always turned you on, and it didn’t have anything to do with us, at all. That was the whole reason we made rule seven. We’d be fools not to latch on to any chance to have you, any way we could. Even though we both wanted you, it was still better for you to be with just one of us than to be with anyone else.”

Hermione couldn’t help but be rather flattered by the bit about rule seven, but her smile froze as all the rest of Blaise’s words kicked in. He’d said that he knew she got turned on by watching them. That meant that he knew about her habit of spying on them. And if he knew that it turned her on, then that meant that he knew that after watching them, she’d . . . she’d . . .

Letting out a cry of supreme humiliation, Hermione flipped her body over, burying her face in the pillow.

“Well, that’s not fair,” Draco frowned, running a hand over the smooth skin of her back and pouting at her posterior’s utter lack of breasts. “Blaise can still reach his toys, but you’ve taken mine away.”

Pushing her hair out of the way, he lowered his face to the pillow next to hers, with his lips as close as they could get to her ear. “What is it, Granger?” he asked softly, continuing to stroke her back as soothingly as he could. “What did he say that got you so upset? You knew that both of us wanted you, that we wanted the three of us to be together, so that can’t be the problem.”

“Mfhew,” she mumbled, her words muffled by the pillow.

Draco looked over at Blaise to see if he had understood what she said, but he just shook his head. “Care to repeat that in English, love? I don’t speak Gobbledegook.

She lifted her face away from the pillow, but kept her eyes down, refusing to make any contact with either of them. “You knew,” she repeated softly. “You knew I was watching you and . . . and *wanting* you, all that time.”

“Of course we knew you watched us,” Draco answered, not seeing where the problem was. “Why else would I let Blaise bend me over that hellishly uncomfortable sofa in that awful, drafty library when we had a perfectly warm, comfortable bed upstairs?”

“Because you’re an exhibitionist?” Hermione snapped, finally looking up at him.

“Well, *yeah*,” Draco admitted, “but just for the shock value. The only one I *wanted* watching us was you. As if I’d want Potter checking out my arse!” Draco shuddered at the mere thought of it. “You think it’s an accident that he’s with a girl who has six brothers?”

“That’s not the point!” Hermione retorted then paused for a moment as his final sentence processed. “And eww.” She shook off the thought of Harry in some sort of menage-a-half-dozen and returned to the topic at hand. “You knew I was watching, and you knew how it made me react, which means you must have watched me while I . . . and . . . and you had no right!”

“It’s not as if we watched you all the time,” Draco argued. “Most of the time, you remembered to lock your door.” He grinned over at Blaise. “Remember that contest we used to have over which of us could come up with something to do or say that would get her turned on enough to forget her locking charms?” Blaise grinned back in spite of himself, but soon returned his focus to Hermione.

“And to be fair, love, you *did* watch us first,” he added.

“If you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t have started shagging in plain sight!” Hermione retorted, as sharply as she could.

“We didn’t want privacy,” Blaise replied, slipping a hand under her chin and turning her face so that she’d have to look at him. “We just wanted you.”

“But why?” Hermione asked, her voice sounding almost pleading. “I just don’t understand *why* you would want me; either of you, much less both of you.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that we want you?” Blaise countered.

“Because you’re *you*. *Both* of you! You’re both so . . . I can’t even describe it! You’re everything. I didn’t know what it was *like* to want someone until I started wanting both of you. And ever since then, all the things I’ve done, all the stupid choices I made, all the ways I’ve screwed up have been because I was grasping for whatever I could get since I couldn’t believe, could never *ever* believe that I’d ever get a chance of having what I wanted.”

She stopped when she realized she was on the verge of tears, and took a few deep breaths to try to get herself under control. “You’re *you*,” she repeated, softly this time, her eyes staring into Blaise’s, and then turning to lock with Draco’s. “Both of you. You could have anyone you want. Why would you want me?”

Draco’s hands tangled in her hair, keeping her from turning away from him or looking down. “Because you’re you,” he answered with more sincerity than she’d ever seen him show before. “Because you’re you.” His lips locked onto hers, and Hermione wondered if she really *had* started crying, because she suddenly felt like she was drowning. The feeling got stronger when Blaise plastered himself against her back, twisting her long hair up in his fingers to give him room to cover her neck and shoulders with warm, wet kisses while he whispered in her ear, telling her how much he wanted her, how much they needed her, how happy they could make her, if she’d just let them . . . let them take care of her, let them have her, let them keep her, forever.

Draco kept her mouth far too busy for her to reply out loud, but Blaise got his answer when Hermione reached behind her to grab hold of his hand, squeeze it gently, and guide it around her body to rest on her inner thigh. He grinned and started squeezing it, redoubling his kisses and rubbing his renewed erection against the cleft of her arse.

“Tell us you want this,” Draco growled as he began trailing kisses down the line of her throat. “Tell us you want us.”

“Want you . . .” Hermione gasped breathlessly. “Want this. Want . . . oh *yes* . . . want all you can give me.”

“We can give you everything,” Blaise purred in her ear as his hand slid up from her thigh to her pussy. “Everything you need.” His fingers started rubbing against her, and he smirked in satisfaction when he felt her getting wetter with each stroke.

Draco, not surprisingly, had latched on to her breast, manipulating one with his mouth and the other with his hand, while the other hand slid down to toy with her cunt. While Blaise teased and fondled her clit, Draco’s finger circled her opening, stroking it until he could feel it contracting around him, trying to pull him in. He gave her what she wanted, sliding a long, dexterous finger inside and crooking it, rubbing it along her front wall until her gasp and shudder let him know he’d hit the right spot. Between Draco’s skilled finger and Blaise’s equally talented touch, Hermione didn’t take long to fall to pieces, screaming out a long string of obscenities while she struggled to hold on to consciousness. She’d be *damned* if she’d black out again when consciousness was currently so . . . satisfying.

The second she regained enough control to move her hands, they slid immediately in front and behind her to latch on to a pair of equally rigid cocks. The orgasm, which had mostly faded, resurged for a moment just at the sheer pleasure of holding and touching them the way she’d never dared hoped she’d be allowed. Arching her back to thrust her breast further into Draco’s face, she lay her head back against Blaise’s shoulder, capturing his mouth in a breathless kiss.

“Summon some lube,” she whispered when further threats, this time from lack of air, made her pull away from his lips. “Now.” She ground her hips back against his erection, guiding the very tip against her crack and wriggling slightly to work it between her cheeks.

“A-are you sure?” Blaise stammered, his voice breaking in a way it hadn’t since he was fourteen. “We don’t . . . we don’t have to.”

“Oh yes, we do,” she purred. “*I* have to. I need you. Lube. Now.”

Thankfully, it was a spell he knew well enough to perform wandless and aroused half out of his mind. Blaise summoned the lube from his bedroom, and opened it with shaking fingers. He was forced to close his eyes to keep from shooting his load when Hermione released his cock and used her free hand to partially spread her arse open for him.

One well-coated finger slid inside, penetrating her slowly. Too slowly. Hermione squirmed impatiently, causing her nipple momentarily pull itself out of Draco’s mouth.

“As fun as it is to watch her bounce, mate,” Draco called out over her shoulder. “I think she’ll ready to take a bit more.” Hermione nodded fervently in agreement, though she was panting too hard to speak for herself.

Another finger entered her scissoring with the first to stretch her tight muscles, sliding in deeper when she squirmed against them some more, and joined before long by a third.

“Now . . . you,” Hermione panted. “Inside.”

Blaise looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with Draco. “You first,” Blaise whispered, and Draco nodded, sliding his hands under Hermione’s thighs, lifting her just enough so that he could lower her slowly onto his erection.

They both moaned as he seated him fully inside her, and in spite of her intention to stay still so Blaise could join them, Hermione couldn’t help raising and lowering herself a bit, ‘settling’ herself in place, and relishing the rich friction of his cock filling her again.

When she finally got herself under control, both hands slid back to hold her cheeks open. Gritting his teeth to steel his control, Blaise slid his fingers out of her and pushed his cock inside.

All three gasped, and both wizard firmly gripped Hermione’s hips, keeping her from moving around and severing the thin threads that remained of their self-control. Once they got a hold of themselves, their eyes met again over her shoulder, and time they wore matching ear-to-ear grins as they nodded at each other . . . and began to move.

Hips back, then forward, leaving her empty one moment, and then tightly, blissfully full of both of them the next. Back, then forward. Out, then in. Slow at first, then faster, and faster, and faster. Their bodies pinned her tightly between them, but as sweat began to cover the three bodies, slick skin on slick skin gave her enough lubrication to squirm and writhe and wriggle herself against both of them. She rode them as hard as the position allowed, whimpering and begging and cursing both of them as she squeezed every bit of pleasure she could out of the unbelievable fulfillment of her ultimate fantasy. There was only one element missing.

“Kiss,” she gasped, sliding one hand behind her and one hand in front of her to wrap around the back of their necks, pushing them toward each other. “Want to watch . . . you kiss, up close and . . . and close, with . . . both of you . . . inside me.”

Not needing any more encouragement, Blaise slammed his lips onto Draco’s and thrust his tongue inside. Draco kissed back just as fiercely, sliding one hand off of Hermione’s hip to grip the back of Blaise’s neck, his hand resting on top of Hermione’s.

Hermione, meanwhile, was basking in bliss so intense, she was surprised her brains weren’t leaking out of her ears. Watching them kiss, with both of them fucking her hard, with her face close enough to . . .

She leaned forward, wrapping her tongue around the place where their mouths were joined, while pulling her hand away from Draco’s neck and shoving it down between her legs to brush up against her clit.

That was all it took.

She screamed fit to wake the dead *two counties over* as her orgasm crashed into her hard enough to break the world apart. If Blaise and Draco hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she was sure she would have shattered completely.

Not surprisingly, she pulled them both over the edge with her, and they clung to each other, trembling from head to toe, for an eternity or so until they collapsed sideways to sprawl across the bed and try to remember how to breathe.

Hermione summed it up for all of them.

“Wow.” Twisting slightly, she lay on her back between her new lovers and blinked dazedly at the ceiling. “I didn’t know it could . . . it’s never been . . . I . . . wow.”

“Articulate . . . as always . . . Granger,” Draco managed to gasp out in reply. “Must say . . . quite a set . . . of lungs you’ve . . . got. ’tween Quidditch match ’n this . . . I’m ’mazed you’ve . . . got a voice left.”

Eyes going wide with shock, Hermione immediately sat bolt upright. “Quidditch match! Oh no!”

Draco groaned and rolled over to his side. “She s’not human,” he complained. “How can she have . . . energy, when my bones’ve been . . . transfigured into flobberworms?”

“I have to go!” Hermione squeaked. “The Weasleys; they’ve been waiting for me! I’m supposed to go celebrate Ron’s win with them!” She tried to climb over Blaise to get out of bed, but was stopped when a pair of arms, belonging to Blaise, locked themselves around her waist.

“They’re Weasleys; they’ll be celebrating for hours,” he told her as he lay her back down and tucked her against his chest. “It’s what they do. We have plenty of time for a nice nap before you go join them.”

“But I promised them I’d go join them as soon as I got changed.”

“You took off the clothes you were wearing before,” Blaise argued, “and you haven’t put any other clothes on yet. So you’re still not changed. You haven’t broken your promise. You’ll join them as soon as you’re dressed,” Blaise promised. “But you’re not dressed yet.”

“That’s splitting hairs,” Hermione argued, but she sounded as if she was willing to be persuaded.

“You have lots of hairs,” Blaise replied sleepily, shifting her body up against his so he could nuzzle his face into the curve of her neck. “We can afford to split one or two of them.” Hermione snorted, but he could feel her resolve caving as she snuggled a little closer to him.

“Well, maybe I *could* wait just a little longer . . .”

“They’ll never know the difference,” Draco agreed. “We’ve all seen how insane Weasley celebrations can be.”

“Besides, you’ll be no good for celebrating until you’ve gotten some rest,” Blaise reminded her.

Blushing, Hermione had to admit to herself that her legs were unsteady to the point where she wasn’t sure she could stand at *all*, much less stand through a Weasley celebration.

“All right then,” she conceded, settling back against the pillows. “Just a little nap, and then I’ll go once I wake up . . . as long as Harry doesn’t wake me by flooing, like he did this morning,” she remembered with a grimace of distaste. “Woke me from the most delicious dream . . .”

Draco perked up a bit at that, and propped himself up on his elbow to lean closer to her. “And just what exactly did you dream?” he purred, tracing a finger over the love bite he’d left on her neck.

“Pretty much exactly what we just did,” Hermione answered, blushing fiercely.

“Hear that, Zabini?” Draco preened. “We’re a fantasy come true. And speaking of fantasies . . .” Draco’s eyes sparkled. “Now that you’re in this with us, you’re subject to our rules, you know,” he teased. “Rule one: All fantasies must be shared.”

Hermione shoved him playfully. “You’re just hoping that we’ll get to act out your fantasy of the tea spreads now.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he replied with a lecherous smirk, looking so adorable that Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, even as she threw a pillow at him.

“Best not give up your pillow so willingly,” Blaise warned her as he watched the pair of them, grinning. “He hogs them, you know.”

“How will we retaliate?” Hermione questioned, grinning back.

“Hmm, perhaps I’ll hog the girl?” Blaise suggested, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close while he used the other hand to tuck some blankets around the two of them.

“As if I’d let you get away with that,” Draco snorted, snagging an arm around Hermione’s waist and positioning her between them, cuddled between two strong bodies.

Blaise laughed. “Fine with me. I don’t mind sharing with you, as long as you understand that I, for my part, have no intention of ever letting go.”

“Makes two of us,” Draco mumbled, closing his eyes, but keeping his hand drifting up her torso until it closed over a breast.

“Fond of those, aren’t you?” Hermione snarked.

“Fond of all of you,” Draco replied through a yawn.

“This time yesterday, I wouldn’t have been able to say for sure that either of you really liked me at all,” Hermione sighed.

“Zabinis do not *like* anyone,” Blaise corrected, wrapping an arm across both of his lovers. “There’s the whole of the world that I manage to tolerate, and there’s the two of you. Who I love.”

“Love you, too,” Hermione whispered in a somewhat choked voice.

“Love you both,” Draco added, his slurred voice showing he was already half asleep. “Enough mushiness. Sleep now. Rest. Play with tea spreads when we wake up.”

“Play with *Weasleys* when we wake up,” Hermione corrected.

Draco’s eyes stayed closed, but he made a face at that reminder. “We’ll go with you,” he stated. “They hate us; they’ll let you go early to get rid of us.”

“Randy lot of tossers,” Blaise added. “Breed like rabbits. As if we’d throw our girl in with that lot without us there. Stuck with us you are, my love, whether you like it or not. It’s the three of us now, whether your aggravating little friends like it or not.”

Hermione smiled to herself as her eyes slipped closed. The three of them sounded absolutely perfect to her. Just before she drifted off to sleep, Hermione made a mental note to add one final item to her never-again list.

Rule twenty-nine: Never be alone again.


THE END