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Hermione Granger and the Day Ron Weasley Called her a Slut

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It’s not necessarily that Harry had thought that Ron and Hermione would be together forever. They weren’t exactly well-matched in intellect, interests, or temperament. However, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to try to stop them from colliding; they’d been undeniably drawn to one another since first year. So yeah, it isn’t a surprise when things do come to an end, but he’d kinda assumed their relationship would last a bit longer than 5 months.

In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious that an attention-seeking hothead like Ron would be unable to hold onto someone like Hermione for very long. He used underhanded tactics to get his way with her, such as needling, whining, and when all else failed, insulting her. It wasn’t so much that Ron’s persuasive skills were so great; Hermione just liked to see him happy and so let him have his way more frequently than was wise. When the distractions eventually began to affect Hermione’s marks, she of course began to push back.

Ron did not take that well, to say the least. They began to argue almost daily. Harry, who had foolishly assumed that this would be a peaceful year with drastically less drama, tried in vain to stay the hell out of it. And then, Ron decides to dump Hermione. He confides in Harry that this is actually part of a master plan to get Hermione to ‘fix her act’.

“Show her what she’d be missing, you know?” he’d explained.

Harry had tried very hard to convince Ron that the last thing that would convince Hermione to give him what he wants is to bail on her, again, but Ron was unmoved. Said Hermione would soon come crawling back.

 

The week following their split had seen Hermione looking healthier, freer, and lighter than she’d been in years. Ron, in absolute denial, claimed that she was faking it. Harry couldn’t help but feel torn. He was of course loyal to Ron, but his other best friend hadn’t looked this happy and self-assured since that time in 5th year when she’d received Outstandings on all of her O.W.L.s. She’s even started socializing more, having made friends in other Houses who appreciate a good study sesh just as much as she does.

When she and Harry sit together at meals – which is now only half of the time, because it appears they’d decided to split Harry 50/50 without even asking him – she smiles more, laughs more, and takes much greater pleasure in poking fun at Harry than ever before.

Still, things don’t seem to be quite resolved between Ron and Hermione, so he’s hardly surprised when, in mid-October, they begin to row in the Eighth Year common room. From what Harry can gather from Ron’s yelling, he’d taken issue with the fact that Hermione had been studying with Anthony Goldstein and Blaise Zabini in the library quite a lot lately.

To be honest, Harry had also found Hermione’s determined mingling with the Slytherins to be odd, but he knew better than to actually confront her about it. Besides, he isn’t exactly one to talk, is he?

“Frankly, I don’t see how it’s any of your concern with whom I spend my time.” It’s clear that Hermione is trying to sound casual, but she misses the mark. “You’re the one who ended things between us,” she adds reasonably.

Ron, quite red in the face, responds nastily, “Yeah, and you’re unlikely to get me back, slagging around with the Slytherins like this!”

Several gasps sound throughout the very crowded room, and Harry finds that he has jumped up from his seat by the fire. “Over the line, Ron,” he says tightly. He wonders wildly if he’s going to have to punch one of his best friends in the face.

“Oh, such a slag, am I?” Hermione yells back dangerously. “I suppose you would confuse studying with sex, considering what little experience you have with either act!”

Ron’s expression looks exactly as if he has been hit in the face. His jaw hangs open uselessly, and before he can gather his words to say anything in response, Hermione spins around to face Zabini, who is standing just behind her.

Whatever Zabini sees in Hermione’s expression seems to shock him, and the words she mutters seem to bowl him right over. He stumbles back a step and nods, handsome face utterly dumbfounded. Suddenly, Hermione is flinging herself at him, pushing his shoulders into the stone wall behind him and snogging him soundly.

A loud whistle rings through the room, and someone starts clapping. Ron stands there, gobsmacked and spluttering incoherently, but it barely registers in Harry’s mind.

Harry’s primary focus is on not reacting too obviously to Hermione’s utter brazenness, not to mention her skill. Handsome, slick, flirtatious Zabini can do little but respond to the onslaught, muffled moans slipping out as he holds onto her waist for dear life. Hermione then proceeds to reach around and grab two handfuls of Zabini’s arse, wrenching a high-pitched squeak from the boy.

Hermione pulls away just as suddenly, eyes slightly glazed. She turns to shoot a hateful glare at Ron, silently daring him to call her a slut again.

Even Ron should be able to see that this would be a good time to stay quiet, but it seems he can’t help himself. “Well that’s just disgusting,” he spits.

“Well?” Hermione is looking at Ron but seems to be addressing the room at large. “Would any other Slytherins like a go?”

Blaise, still leaning against the wall and not even attempting to disguise the telling bulge in his trousers, raises his hand. Other hands go up around the room, including two Slytherin 7th year boys and Pansy bloody Parkinson. Seamus’s hand is also in the air, despite not being a Slytherin at all. Even Malfoy, perched in an armchair on the other side of the fire, looks like he’d very much like a ‘go’ with Hermione.

Hermione, though, looks at Parkinson and gives her the dirtiest smirk Harry’s ever seen. Parkinson, incredibly, blushes a bright pink and hops out of her seat. She turns and struts toward her room, shooting Malfoy a look of wide-eyed incredulity as Hermione follows her. Once they’re gone and Parkinson’s door has slammed shut behind them, the entire common room bursts into chatter about the scene.

Harry can hardly hear any of it over the buzzing in his ears. He vaguely notices Ron storming from the room, but mostly he’s thinking he should probably sit down before anyone notices his reaction to seeing Hermione behave that way.

A low whistle sounds from nearby, and though he knows he’ll regret it, Harry turns to look at Malfoy. “Who knew Granger had it in her?”

Harry wants to speak up, but he’s speechless. He hadn’t known she had it in her, but he’s not about to go around agreeing with Malfoy, so he says nothing.

Malfoy’s eyes drop to the front of Harry’s trousers, where he knows his semi is at least partially visible. He knows he should try to hide it, but for some reason, he doesn’t mind Malfoy knowing he’s aroused. Quite likes it, even.

He may have been intentionally showing Malfoy the imprint of his erection at every opportunity since school started, but since no one’s called him out on it, it’s hard to stop.

“If she keeps this up, I may end up fancying her before the term is over,” Malfoy says, dragging his eyes up to meet Harry’s again.

Harry is, again, forced to choose between agreeing with Malfoy and staying silent. He stays silent. Harry gathers his things and heads up stairs and down the hall to his room. He’s fervently hoping he’ll be able to get in a good wank before his roommate comes up, but alas, Malfoy has followed him here.

 

--

 

It’s fine that they’re roommates, really. They just don’t talk, for the most part. Initially, they’d each spent as much time away from their shared room as possible, but once they’d figured out that neither of them particularly wanted to maintain their legendary animosity, they’d managed to just… coexist. And then, they’d begun to coexist in the Common Room. And then they’d begun to coexist in the Great Hall from time to time. They’d even coexisted in the library once or twice, one or the other of them sitting down at the same table and silently studying nearby, but not quite together. It’s totally not weird at all, aside from the fact that Harry’s dick seems more alert and active than ever before. Also, he keeps getting the urge to show it to Malfoy, for some reason.

Sometimes, when he’s behind the curtains of his bed with his privacy charms up, he pictures himself doing just that. He imagines walking up to Malfoy while he’s sitting at his desk in their shared room and just… sticking his cock in Malfoy’ face. He pictures Malfoy pretending not to notice, pictures tugging Malfoy’s chin down and slipping into his mouth. Fantasy Malfoy still acts as though nothing weird is happening, pretending to read his Charms book even with his mouth full of Harry’s prick. Sometimes in his fantasy, he accidentally gets come on Malfoy’s homework, and Malfoy’s ensuing outrage tips Harry right over the edge.

That’s perfectly normal, though… right?

 

--

 

Now, Harry climbs onto his bed, letting his books fall to the floor. Maybe he can make Malfoy go away with the power of his mind? He sits and stares, silently demanding that Malfoy fuck off.

Malfoy is, in fact, gathering up his things for a shower. Instead of hurrying off into the en-suite as usual, though, he begins undoing the cuffs of his shirt while standing right there in the room.

Normally, when one of them is changing in the room, the other turns away out of courtesy. But, what with the state of Harry’s cock (fully hard) and mind (full of images of sassy Hermione and the well-shaped Pansy Parkinson rolling around partially naked, moaning and grinding), well, turning away doesn’t even occur to him.

Cuffs undone, Malfoy unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders. He’s still slim, but it’s clear to Harry from the glimpses he’s caught that Malfoy is steadily putting on muscle. Harry is still shamelessly eyeing his back when Malfoy turns around and looks right at him.

It’s taking every ounce of Harry’s self-control not to stroke himself through his trousers, and Malfoy is not exactly helping his efforts. He smirks lazily as he unbuckles and removes his belt. Malfoy unbuttons his trousers and boldly turns around, giving Harry a full view of his arse through his royal blue boxer briefs as he bends down to fully remove said trousers. He stands, shooting Harry a burning look over his shoulder, and then repeats the same process with his pants.

Harry, presented with an unimpeded view of Malfoy’s furled little arsehole, forgets his resolve and his hand flies to his cock. “Jesus fuck, Malfoy,” he grits out, giving himself a stroke. He doesn’t know what’s going on, has no idea what he’s about to do

And that’s the moment when the door to their room bursts open. Hermione stands there, cheeks flushed, eyes comically wide. When Malfoy stands up, gloriously naked and more than half-hard, her jaw drops.

“Close the door, will you, Granger?” Malfoy asks, sounding for all the world as though he’s fully dressed and completely composed.

Hermione woodenly does as asked, eyes still greedily drinking in every bit of Malfoy’s pale skin.

Malfoy picks up his shower things and saunters into the en-suite, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione distractedly approaches Harry’s bed and flops down near the foot of it, gusting a sigh that sounds a bit like a whimper.

Harry, who has not yet managed to stop touching his cock, squeaks out an embarrassed, “Hermione!”

She ignores the admonishment, staring unseeingly at the canopy of Harry’s bed. “Is this what it’s like in here every day?” she asks.

 

She and Ron had avoided visiting Harry and Malfoy’s room for the first month of term, but after their breakup, Hermione had decided that avoiding Ron was much more important to her. She’d stormed in unannounced, much like today, and interrupted Harry and Malfoy’s determinedly silent coexistence by glaring at Malfoy and stating, “I’d like an apology!”

Malfoy, against all odds, had apologized on the spot. He’d actually seemed quite genuine, listing his wrongdoings and offering reparations rather than excuses. After he’d gone on for quite some time, Hermione had interrupted him to say, “I accept your apology, and will accept changed behavior in lieu of reparations.” Since then, Hermione’s seemed more comfortable in the room than either one of them.

 

“No,” Harry croaks now, still devastatingly aroused. He’s wondering if it’d ruin their friendship if he took out his cock and wanked with her lying right there. The idea alone should weird him out, but his prick twitches excitedly at the thought.

“He’s rather fit these days, isn’t he?” Hermione asks, sighing again and squirming a little. “Did you see his cock?”

“Hermione!” Harry squeaks again. This dirty mouth is rather unlike Hermione, and he’s trying not to be obvious about how much he likes it.

“No, I suppose you were too busy checking out his arse and touching yourself,” she says thoughtfully.

Harry just grunts, squeezing his cock at the memory of Malfoy’s hole being on display for him.

“Hmmm,” Hermione hums, kicking off her shoes and drawing her socked feet up on to the bed, knees bent. Her plaid skirt slides up, revealing much more of her smooth brown legs than Harry is accustomed to seeing.

“Hermione,” he groans, loud and long, seemingly unable to say anything else. He doesn’t do this, doesn’t let himself look at her like this. But it’s impossible to avoid right now, because she knows Harry is turned on, and she’s lying on his bed. Her breathing is uneven, and the points of her nipples are clearly visible through her blouse, bra conspicuously missing. Did Pansy Parkinson remove it? Harry groans again, thinking about Parkinson laying kisses over Hermione’s bare breasts, sucking a dark nipple into her mouth, making Hermione moan…

Just like she is right now. Oh, sweet Merlin, her hand has disappeared under her skirt and a couple more buttons of her top are undone. Her arm moves subtly, and although he can’t see from this angle, he’s certain she’s rubbing her clit through her knickers. She moans again, hips jerking, and Harry can’t.

He just can’t. He yanks his trousers open, pulling out his cock in record time. He really hopes he hasn’t somehow misread the situation, and that Hermione will still be his friend after this, but he has to come. He has to.

“Do you ever think about it?” She asks breathily. She looks over at him touching himself and gasps. “I’m guessing yes, then,” she says, laughing a little, hand still moving beneath her skirt.

Probably. But, just to be certain, he grits out, “Think about. What?” He drags his foreskin over the head of his cock, making it quite slippery with precome.

“Malfoy’s cock, of course.”

Oh, that. “Yeah, definitely,” he gushes, thinking about it now and fisting his prick enthusiastically. His eyes squeeze shut briefly, and when he opens them, Hermione is dragging a pair of red pants down her legs and tossing them at Harry. He catches them – of course he does – and before he can come up with a reason not to, he holds them up to his nose and inhales the scent of her sex. He groans loudly, suddenly harder than he’s ever been, smelling the sticky panties of his best friend while she touches herself in his bed.

Hermione is still saying things about Malfoy – how sexy he is, how fat his cock is, how she wants him to fill her up with it, how he’s probably in the shower right now doing exactly what they’re doing out here – and Harry topples right over the edge. He probably being quite loud about it, it’s just that he’s coming so bloody hard, milking his cock, and he can’t really hear much of anything.

When the world comes back into focus, he’s got Hermione’s pants in his left hand and come all over his shirt and tie. Hermione is lying in exactly the same spot, but she’s looking up at Malfoy. He’s emerged from the bathroom dripping wet, prick thick and pointed skyward. Malfoy, unlike Harry, can see exactly what Hermione is doing between her legs and is staring, transfixed.

She looks up at him, rather self-satisfied, and lifts her hand away from her cunt. “We were just talking about you,” she says, reaching up and unbuttoning her blouse the rest of the way.

“I heard,” Malfoy informs her roughly, cock jerking. He steps forward, eyes fastened between Hermione’s legs. The blazing desire in his eyes is hard to miss, and Harry’s spent cock gives a feeble twitch in response. Malfoy takes another few steps forward, only millimeters away from Hermione now. “Curious about how my ‘fat cock’ will feel inside, are we?” he asks, voice low and gravelly. Harry can’t decide if he enjoys Hermione’s filthy mouth more, or Malfoy’s, but his dick is now making every effort to rejoin the fun.

Hermione sighs. “Yeah. I want it,” she says with a slight pout, and apparently that’s all the permission Malfoy needs.

He takes another step forward and angles his cock down to presumably rub along her slit, and Hermione rolls her hips and moans loudly at the contact. Then it seems Malfoy is slipping right inside of her, just like that. Hermione’s mouth drops open and she gasps for breath. “You’re so wet,” Malfoy says, sounding a bit awed. He pulls his hips back and pushes forward, slowly picked up the pace. Hermione encourages him, with her words, her hands, her hips.

Abruptly, Malfoy pulls out and pushes Hermione further up the bed. He climbs on after her, kneeling between her spread legs and yanking her hips toward him again. Malfoy looks up, catches Harry’s eye, and says a little breathlessly, “Salazar, Potter, are you still dressed?” And then he pushes his cock right back into Hermione’s pussy. From this new angle, Harry is able to see just about everything.

It’s not that Harry want to do what Malfoy says, just that he thinks he’d probably be more comfortable in less clothing. It takes a while for him to get undressed, distracted as he is by Draco Malfoy giving his best friend a proper fucking right there in Harry’s bed, but eventually he manages. Hermione’s moans are near constant now, her tits bouncing enticingly with every thrust. She wraps her legs around Malfoy, who appears to be biting his lips in an effort to stay quiet, and reaches out for Harry.

“I’m here,” he says mindlessly, grasping her hand. “Godric, Hermione, you’re so bloody hot,” he babbles, struck suddenly by the fact that she chose to do this here, chose to include him.

“Harry, help me up,” she says, and Malfoy stops thrusting but keeps hold of her hips.

Harry gets behind her and lifts her shoulders uncertainly. Once she’s halfway upright, she wraps her arms around Malfoy’s shoulders and hauls herself up the rest of the way. Malfoy spreads his knees a bit more, leaning back on his heels and giving Hermione an excellent angle to ride him. She rolls her hips sensuously, her moans much louder and more wanton now, and Harry just has to touch her. He inches closer and runs his fingers through her hair, down her neck and her shoulders. Malfoy has given up on staying quiet, and is moaning and clutching Hermione’s squirming hips for dear life. Harry reaches around and holds both her breasts in his hands, squeezing briefly. When he plays with her nipples, she gets even louder.

“You can. Pinch,” she pants, and when Harry obliges, her whole body tenses. Her voice is high, almost pained, as her orgasm washes over her. Malfoy takes control again and fucks her through it until she collapses back in Harry’s arms, shivering.

Harry lay back, letting her lie on him and petting her hair as she comes down. Malfoy watches, eyes molten silver as he slowly fists his cock. “Roll over,” he tells Hermione, and before Harry can tell him to fucking wait, she rolls and rises up on her hands and knees above Harry. She’s close enough to kiss, and he’s trying to remember why he shouldn’t, but then she’s leaning down and taking his mouth in a filthy kiss. She moans loudly, back arching when Malfoy starts fucking into her from behind. They keep kissing for a while, more tongue than anything else, until the force of Malfoy’s thrusts pushes her further up the bed. Suddenly, her tits are dancing in Harry’s face and he’s pulling on his cock again, sucking and kissing at them. Between Harry’s mouth and Malfoy’s prick, Hermione is moaning and growling and sounding very much like she’s headed towards another orgasm. Harry can’t think, is so turned on, fucking into the circle of his fist as he sees Malfoy’s hips speed up.

Malfoy slams into Hermione a few more times with a deep and continuous groan, coming deep inside her cunt. Harry’s eyes roll back into his head and his hand is frantic on his cock and, oh God, he feels some of Malfoy’s come drip out onto his hand and he’s going to-

Malfoy slaps Harry’s hand away from his own dick, and Harry screams at him, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. The urge to climax slowly recedes while Harry thinks about how very much he despises Draco bloody Malfoy, and then he jumps. Draco bloody Malfoy’s hand is on his cock, stroking it once and then aiming it up-

Harry’s eyes pop open and he looks just in time to see Hermione’s hips lower onto him, his cock being swallowed up by her dripping wet cunt. Dripping wet with - his eyes roll right back into his head and he blindly grasps Hermione’s hips, thrusting mindlessly up into her. She feels- she’s so- he’s never done this before, and he’s quite sure he won’t be lasting long at all. And then Hermione is getting louder, has started begging – “Oh Godric, Harry, please don’t stop, please, fuck me,” she’s saying, so he opens his eyes-

Sees her rubbing vigorous circles on her clit, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and then he feels her: clenching spasmodically around him, moans turning into an actual scream, her body shaking all over, and that’s it for Harry. He snaps his hips up once more, shooting his release inside Hermione… who was already full of Draco Malfoy’s come, holy God. His cock jerks again and again and he wonders if he’ll ever stop coming, and then he blacks out.

 

When Harry comes to, he’s relatively sure not much time has passed. He’s not alone in his bed, anyway. He feels sated, sluggish, and he turns his head to see…

Draco Malfoy eating their come out of Hermione’s swollen pussy while she twitches, whines and whimpers. Harry groans as his oversensitive cock gives a reflexive jerk at the sight. The both look over at the sound, and Hermione smiles at him the way she always does – like she’s happy to see her best friend – while Malfoy smirks. He takes another long lick and crawls over to Harry, messily kissing him. Harry can taste all three of them on Malfoys tongue, and his dick gives another determined twitch.

Malfoy pulls away and slinks out of bed. He raises a supercilious eyebrow at them and drawls, “You Gryffindors are utterly perverse.” Then he turns and wanders back into the bathroom, most certainly in need of another shower.

When Harry looks back at Hermione, her blouse is buttoned up and her skirt pulled down, and she’s adjusting her over the knee socks. She looks up at him and smiles brightly. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Harry.” She kisses his cheek and then crawls out of his bed.

“Anytime,” he says rather sincerely, eyeing the red knickers she leaves behind.

Ron is going to kill him.