Seamus' Plan

There were sketches of her throughout the book. Seamus stared at each one, noticing every soft curve of lead on white paper. He knew Dean well and recognized the emotion behind each sketch. Each one left him even more angry, confused, and jealous.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean had sketches of a woman. Both he and Seamus liked women and had dated some in the past before their relationship had really started after they’d left Hogwarts. It was the fact that he had these sketches now, after they’d been involved for years, and hadn’t said anything. When Seamus had fancied a waitress at their favorite pub, he’d told Dean and they’d made a fun night of it, seducing the bird and leaving her very satisfied. His itch had been scratched and they’d moved on.

Why hadn’t Dean told him? And why did it have to be her of all people? He noticed that some of the sketches were older, quick glimpses of her studying or smiling that took Seamus back a good five years to those years at Hogwarts. Some, though, were more recent. Her hair was longer, there was a faint scar on her jaw, and she lacked the whimsical smile the earlier sketches had possessed. Now her full lips were curved into a wry smile that bespoke the years of war that had changed them all and the cynicism that she was left with after it had ended.

Seamus looked at each sketch a dozen times, lingering on the recent ones as his fingertips gently stroked the lead. Dean was an amazing artist and could have probably made a career of it but insisted he’d lose his passion for his craft if he made money doing it so he spent his days working for Gringotts in a tiny office without a view that he shared with Hermione and a few others. Seamus had been there often, stopping by for lunch or to pick up his lover after work. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed Dean’s interest in Hermione and had to wonder if it was reciprocated.

There was something appealing about her, he had to admit. Maybe it was just seeing her how Dean saw her, beautiful and strong yet fragile and damaged. She wasn’t that pretty, really, and Seamus still thought she was abrasive and far too opinionated for any one person. She was also far too serious and bossy for his personal taste. Dean fancied her, though, so there must be more to her than Seamus thought. Dean had good taste, after all.

He put away the sketches and started to think. Dean wanted her, even if he’d not mentioned it yet, so it was Seamus’ duty to get her for them. If the rumors of how close she had been with Potter and Weasley were true, well, it wouldn’t take that much since he and Dean were far more attractive than those two. He grinned slowly as the jealousy faded to something else, though he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was yet.

*******

Three weeks after he found the sketches, Seamus poured Hermione another glass of wine. He was blatantly attempting to get her pissed enough to approach the idea of her joining him and Dean, which he knew was causing Dean to look at him suspiciously. There had been quite a bit of those suspicious looks lately, since he’d begun his ‘Project Shag Hermione’ scheme, but Dean hadn’t said anything yet.

“You should let Dean sketch you some time,” he told her innocently before he sipped his own wine. His gaze moved over her, noticing the things he’d only begun to pay attention to recently, lingering on her full lips and round breasts and shapely hips.

“I don’t think so,” she replied with a grimace. “I hate photographs and a sketch would be just as bad.”

“Nonsense,” Seamus protested as he gave Dean a cheeky smirk. “You’d love to sketch her, wouldn’t you, Dean?”

Dean arched a brow and then glanced at Hermione. He smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Why not now?” Seamus suggested as he did a quick accio to give Dean his parchment, charcoals, and pencil. He stood up and lazily walked across the sitting room to stand by Hermione. “I’ll help you get ready.”

“Ready for what?” she asked suspiciously as she sipped her third or was it fourth glass of wine.

Seamus merely smiled as he knelt before her. He ran his fingers through her hair and told Dean, “Her hair is so soft. It’s thick and feels great against my fingers.”

“Seamus, don’t,” Dean warned softly in a voice that far huskier than just a few moments ago.

Hermione was staring down at him, her face flushed and her gaze intense in a way that made Seamus’ cock throb. He brushed his fingertips over her face, tracing her cheekbones and nose, brushing against the scar that only seemed to add to her unique beauty he’d never truly appreciated until Dean had opened his eyes to it.

“Her skin is so soft,” he muttered as he dragged his thumb over her lips. She parted them and her tongue licked his thumb, making him groan and shift as his body reacted to the unexpected sensation. Distantly, he heard the scratch scratch of lead against parchment and knew Dean was sketching.

“Am I ready now?” she asked in a teasing voice that did funny things to his bits. There was a mischievous smile on her lips and he wondered how much was the wine and how much was her enjoying being touched.

“How long has it been for you, love?” he asked curiously as he moved his hands along her jaw and down her throat until he reached the first button of her shirt. The fabric was loose but draped over her breasts in a way that left no doubt her nipples were hard.

“Too long,” she whispered as she leaned back in the chair and gave him a lazy smile full of promises. She reached up and put her hand over his before she unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. “You looked like you needed help.”

“Hermione, are you sure?” Trust Dean to be a fucking voice of reason when Seamus felt like he might very well just push her skirt up, rip her knickers, and fuck here into the bloody chair.

She looked at Dean and he heard his lover groan as he received the full impact of that ‘fuck me now’ smile. “I didn’t come over tonight expecting a drink and a game of chess, Dean. I might not be terribly experienced but Seamus isn’t subtle at all and I’d noticed, well, thought I noticed you watching me the past few months,” she explained with just a hint of insecurity that Seamus decided went perfectly well with her wicked grin in a way only she’d be able to pull off.

“He’s a bad boy,” Seamus murmured as he went back to unbuttoning her shirt. “Kept you all to himself and didn’t want to share. I should bind him to his chair and make him watch me shag you rotten, you think?”

“Bad boys do deserve to be punished,” she agreed as she licked her lips and looked from him to Dean.

“Try it,” Dean challenged in a low voice Seamus knew from experience meant he’d better not if he hoped to walk during the next week.

“Not this time. Maybe the next,” he relented as he fumbled with the final buttons and finally spread her shirt open. “Naughty girl, not wearing a bra. God, you’ve got great fucking tits. Think I might have to fuck them later. Push them together and slide my cock between them until I come all over them.”

“He talks too much,” Dean murmured when Hermione whimpered and seemed to breathe heavier at his words.

Seamus grinned before he leaned forward and licked one perfect rosy nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened bud as he moved his hands up her legs beneath her skirt. He felt Dean’s hands on his chest, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and then touching his bare chest as he knelt behind him.

“What’s she taste like?” Dean asked softly, always one to watch and listen. He rubbed his erection against Seamus’ arse as he reached forward and lightly moved his fingers over her leg.

“Can’t describe it,” Seamus told him when he let her nipple go. He looked up at her and saw that her eyes were wide and her face was flushed. “Beautiful.”

“Liar,” she accused softly as she shifted down in the chair until his hand touched the wet cotton of her knickers.

“Impatient minx,” he complimented as he rubbed his knuckles over the crotch of her knickers and pressed down just enough to make her gasp. “Should sketch her like this, baby. Her tits dripping with my spit, faced flushed, skirt around her waist, and knickers soaking wet. Why don’t you stand up and let her suck you? I’d like to watch you fuck that pretty mouth while I taste her.”

“Oh God,” she whispered as she watched Dean stand up and shed his trousers and shorts. Seamus watched Dean stroke his cock, noticing how hard he was already, and then he tugged off her knickers and leaned forward to lick her cunt as she began to suck Dean’s cock.

Long fingers caressed her cheek leaving behind smudges from his pencil and charcoals, and Seamus whined against her cunt as he watched them. She whimpered as he tongued her, rocking against his face when he pushed two fingers into her and nearly groaned from how bloody tight she was. When he nibbled on her clit, she came with a moan around Dean’s cock. Dean didn’t last much longer, pulling out of her and offering his cock to Seamus, who raised up and licked her come from his lips before he sucked his lover hard and fast, knowing exactly what he needed.

He swallowed when Dean came and wasted little time in unfastening his trousers and pushing them down to free his cock. He pulled her out of the chair, sliding her down right onto his cock and he began to fuck her bent up against the base of the chair, her legs over his shoulders as he kissed her, her tongue stroking his as she tasted herself and Dean.

It was too fucking tight. Her cunt clenched around him and squeezed every time he pulled out and then Dean’s fingers were on his arse and he whined as he began to thrust deeper, not caring that he was probably bruising her with the force of his actions. Dean licked his cheek and Seamus released her mouth to kiss Dean as he sunk deep, spilling inside her as she shuddered beneath him.

Afterward, when they were lying on the bed and she had come on her breasts and his arse was sore, he couldn’t help grinning smugly at how well his plan had gone. She was sleeping, the poor thing obviously tired and probably rather sore from his and Dean’s attentions, and he looked at Dean, who was sketching them from the end of the bed.

“How about that then?” he asked with a sated smile.

“Hmm,” Dean murmured as the pencil moved rapidly, dark eyes looking up every now and then before he refocused.

“You could thank me, you know?” he said with a bit of a pout. “You’ve wanted her for awhile and I got her for us.”

“Did you really think I just happened to forget to put the sketchbook away?” Dean asked with a slight smirk. “I knew you’d be far more open to the suggestion if it was your idea.”

“Sneaky git,” Seamus accused as he kicked Dean’s leg. He was too well fucked to do more than smile, though. He glanced at her and then back at Dean. “Think we can keep her?”

Dean looked up and met his gaze, a slow smile crossing his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I think we can arrange that.”

The End