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A gift fic for msmerlin

Hermione hadn’t the foggiest idea how she’d wound up in this situation, but… she wasn’t exactly complaining, was she? 

It was hard to complain around a cock in one’s mouth, anyway.

A rough hand tangled in her air, driving the apendenge in her mouth deeper as she moaned at the jolt of warmth that the rough twisting of her hair wrought. Her eyes watered as she swallowed around the length, and a guttural hiss of pleasure above her brought her gaze upward.

Sweat slicked abs met her gaze, and Hermione couldn’t help but admire the sharp cut of a Quidditch-developed body before her. Attached to those abs, though, was a sight that drove her excitement hotter, the forbidden nature of the interaction stoking the warmth in her belly.

Harry’s glasses fogged above her, and she was fascinated by the harsh slant of his brows as he watched her swallow him again and again. When his gaze locked on hers, she hollowed her cheeks further than his normal shallow thrusts elicited and a sharp gasp gusted out of his parted lips. 

“Fuck, ‘Mione.” His words were a prayer, an absolution, and she nearly keened around him at the sacrilege of thinking of religion while he was buried in the warmth of her mouth. “So fucking good.” 

Suddenly, warmth loomed behind her, a cool hand smoothing over the curve of her bum, and Hermione stilled in her ministrations as breath gusted over her spine. “So good for him, aren’t you, love? Look at how you make him come undone.” 

Hermione was helpless to look away, the praise washing over her in a rush of warmth that she hadn’t anticipated. She wanted him to continue, wanted the words to never stop, but practiced fingers running over the swell of her cheeks and parting her folds froze her in her tracks. Harry stuttered a dismayed groan, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to respond as two slow, deliberate fingers traced the edge of her clit.

When she thrust herself back into his touch, a chastising chuckle ghosted over her. “Ah, ah, ah, Granger. How many times have I told you that patience is a virtue?” With a desperate moan, Hermione resumed sucking Harry off, Harry’s muttered curse drowned out by the desperate gasp that Hermione huffed out around his cock because finally, finally one of the fingers tracing her clit blessedly pressed inside her and…

Merlin, Morgana, and all the blessed gods that were listening, this was the best bloody birthday gift she could have ever asked for, and she hadn’t even had to ask.

Gods bless Draco Malfoy for his uncanny ability to guess every single thing she’d ever wanted to try in the bedroom and then some. 

Her body was pulled in two directions, wanting to both continue driving Harry insane with her mouth while simultaneously push herself back onto Draco’s hand, the one driving her mad with his slow, steady pumps. His thumb slowly dragged over her sex, brushing her clit and sending jolts of electricity running through her, and she keened around Harry. Above her, Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he pulled her off of him suddenly.

Husky laughter met Harry’s harsh breathing, and Draco’s low voice filled the room as he continued working her up. “What’s the matter, Potter? A little hot under the collar?”

Harry nodded, glazed gaze watching Hermione as she pushed herself back against Draco’s hand. “You could say that.”

Suddenly, Draco’s hand wrapped around her waist, the other leaving her sex and pulling her upright on the bed as he settled behind her and tucked her against his naked body. His erection pressed against her back, and she roiled against it, a low whine leaving her throat as she sought to regain the friction she’d lost. “Do you see what you do to him, love?”

Across from her, Harry settled onto his haunches, fisting himself and stroking it lazily. She could see the saliva she’d coated him with glistening on his fist, a bead of pearlescent fluid leaking from the tip as he watched her with hooded eyes. 

Draco leaned forward, splaying her legs before him as he trailed wet, sucking kisses over her shoulder. “Look at how he watches you, love. Do you have any idea how long he’s wanted this, how badly he wants to touch you? To be buried inside you?”

The words drove straight to her core and Hermione squirmed, a breathless sigh escaping her when Draco finally resumed strumming her clit in barely-there touches. But the touch shot through her abdomen, heated the fire in her to a blazing inferno, and Hermione bit down on her lip to stop the cry that welled within her from escaping.

“Do you know what he said when I asked him if he wanted to do this?” Draco purred in her ear, and she shook her head, beyond words, beyond comprehending anything other than the lust that shone deep in Harry’s eyes, the primal, encompassing hunger that threatened to consume them both if he unleashed it. With a nip at her earlobe, he continued, “He thought I was joking, that I would dangle you before him like some sick trophy. But when I managed to convince him… you should have seen his face when he saw you.” 

She had, and the look that flashed in his gaze made her squirm again. Draco had trussed her to the bed, clad in his favourite deep purple lingerie set that made her feel like she could rule the world, and had slipped out of the room to “retrieve something important for their evening.”

She’d thought it was a toy, something new to try out on their list of kinks to explore, but she’d heard Harry’s voice protesting down the hall, telling Malfoy he was a git for teasing him with this. When he’d walked through the room and made eye contact, his jaw had fallen slack, the cardigan he’d carried loosely in his hands dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

The carnal smile that had lit his lips when he realized that she was all laid out for the both of them had nearly been her undoing.

That same smile lilted his lips now as he watched her before him, studied the way her hips jerked with each flick of Draco’s thumb. Her breath hitched in her throat when Harry reached forward and, with a quick look at Draco for permission, captured her bud between his fingers and squeezed slightly. 

Draco’s voice was a whisper in her ear, “Come for him.” 

The cord within her snapped, a high-pitched whine accompanying the wave of her orgasm as she came hard to Malfoy’s whispered praise and Harry’s self-satisfied smirk. 

When she finally came back down for the high, her throat was scratchy from her desperate cries. Malfoy still rested behind her, but Harry had settled back on his haunches, watching the way Draco smoothed his hands over her body and cupped her breasts. Hermione watched the way he tracked Draco’s movements, his bright pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, and she roiled against Draco again, earning a hiss as she pressed against his erection.

“So eager to go again, pet?” His baritone rumbled against her chest, his hands plucking at her nipples. “Gods, he wants you so badly.” Harry’s gaze was laser-focused on her, and Hermione widened her legs in a wanton display, trying to entice him closer. When Draco’s lips captured her earlobe once more, she gasped. “What do you think about…” His tongue laved the shell of her ear, the sharp cool of it juxtaposed with the heat coursing through her body. “...having Potter inside you?”

Her heart seized at the comment. Having Harry… ?

Her mind raced, struggling to reconcile the fierce desire coursing through her in a voracious fever for the man before her with the bespectacled boy she’d grown to love in her youth. She couldn’t call it a sibling love because, let’s be honest, she’d grown to appreciate the smooth planes of his muscles as he’d advanced further into Quidditch and adulthood. That dance in the tent though…

That had changed it all.

It’d changed her views of him from her childhood best friend to someone warm and caring and potentially a love interest. 

But then Draco had swooped in after the war, broken and damaged and her inherent desire to fix everything had collided with his fierce need to love, and they’d fallen into a whirlwind romance that still took her by surprise. And then he’d gone and rooted out the deepest, most forbidden desires of her heart and presented them to her on a silver platter.

And those desires were sitting before her, staring at her like the last glass of water for miles in a parched desert.

And damn her if she didn’t want to offer him a drink. 

With a halting voice, Hermione nodded, never breaking eye contact with Harry. “I— I want him.”

Draco’s low chuckle behind her vibrated through her again as he cupped her breasts and flicked over her nipples, calling them to attention. “Go get him then.” 

The permission in his tone, the understanding of her deepest desires gave Hermione pause and she broke her gaze from Harry’s and turned, winding an arm around Draco’s neck and into his hair as she leaned up and captured him in a heated kiss.

Draco was restrained, kissing her back and tightening his hold on her waist until she was sure she’d bruise. A strangled groan from Harry broke them apart too soon, and Draco leaned into her, breathing heavily and pressing his forehead into hers. “Go. It’s okay.”

Hermione was already moving as she nodding, turning away from Draco and crawling across the mattress on her knees toward Harry.

Harry was… she couldn’t find the words to describe him, whether because all rational thought had been stolen from her after the havoc they’d already wreaked on her body or because his searing gaze fixated her with a single-minded fervor that she was powerless to ignore. His green eyes traced her body, from her hair to her toes, pausing ardently on her swaying breasts as she crossed to him, and when she stopped before him, he let out a strangled gasp.

This—whatever this was—might change everything, Hermione realised, and she glanced over her shoulder at Draco for permission once more, but he’d reclined among the pillows, fisting himself much like Harry had and watched them with a molten gaze. The subtle lilting of his lips in that trademark smirk she’d grown accustomed to in the bedroom broke her hesitation, and Hermione leaned into Harry, sealing her mouth to his.

It was… it was different, but it was everything she hadn’t known she’d needed. Where Draco was all hard edges and force, Harry was yielding and soft, pillowing his lips against hers even as she nipped harshly at his lower lip. When she sucked it into her mouth and wound her hands into his hair, deepening the kiss, Harry groaned against her and tried to push her backwards, but…

Oh no, there’d be none of that. 

With a low chuckle, Hermione pushed Harry back, his protest was short lived as she straddled his hips, his cock cradling in the warmth of her folds. Hermione grinned above him, her hands clasping his and bringing them up to pin them above his head.

“Hermione, what—” Harry stared up at her, his glasses knocked askew, both confusion and desire swimming in his unfocused gaze as she reached beneath her and wrapped her hand around his length, rising up until it was positioned at her entrance. 

“Shh.” The word was drawn out into a long his as she sank down on him inch by inch until she rested against his thighs. She was stretched deliciously, the unfamiliar feeling of Harry pressing against her as she rocked against him, trying to acclimate to the sensation.

Below her, Harry panted heaving breaths, red spots springing to life on his cheeks as she undulated slowed above him. His hands clenched tightly where she held them above his hand, and she laced her fingers in his as he reciprocated her movement, his hips rising to meet hers in a sensual dance. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, the friction on her already overstimulated nipples shooting straight to her core.

Lost in the rhythm, Hermione released Harry’s hands, rising above him to slip him deeper within her. The adjusted position angled him against the spot inside her that drove her wild, and she felt the stirrings of another orgasm begin low in her groin, bubbling just behind her belly button.

Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she glanced over her shoulder. Draco still watched them, his hand having stilled on his cock and mouth slack as he watched where Harry disappeared inside Hermione, and slowly, Hermione’s hands rose to her breasts, kneading them and watching his gaze lift slowly to her hands. A wicked smile lilted her lips and she freed one breast, crooking a finger at him even as Harry’s pace quickened, driving a low moan from her throat. 

Draco’s approach was predatory, his gaze nearly black as he stalked towards them on the bed. When he stopped before her, eyeing between her and Harry, she reached out, snaring her hands around his neck and pulling him in to her.

It was almost too much, Draco above her and Harry driving into her from below, but Hermione couldn’t get enough, reaching between them to pull at his prick, the hard length of it hot within her palm.

Draco groaned into her mouth, and her toes nearly curled. This was…

It was everything, she thought.

And yet…

She wanted more, needed more. Hermione felt it in her bones, knew the truth of it as well as she knew herself, as well as she knew Draco and Harry and everything the wizarding world had been through. 

She needed them both .

With a breathless gasp, she broke the kiss, stilling her movement atop Harry and staring at Draco with wide eyes. She expected to see anger in his gaze, disappointment or rejection that she wanted—needed—them both, but instead, understanding shone there. 

He’d known , something she hadn’t even known herself and presented her this opportunity, unbeknownst to her—and likely to Harry—on her birthday. And now he knelt before her, hands cradling her jaw and eyes shining with love, giving her—giving them —the missing piece to their relationship.

Beneath her, Harry glanced warily between the two of them, his cheeks still tinged red and his prick pulsing within her. When Hermione glanced away from Draco and down at Harry, her heart soared. Draco’s featherlight touch on her back, though, drew her gaze back, and he spoke into the charged air around them. “Do you trust me?”

It was understood that the question was for both of them, and Hermione and Harry nodded in unison. With heated determination, Draco pulled Harry’s legs wider, primly crossing them until he knelt just behind Hermione at the apex of Harry’s thighs. His hands roamed over her bare stomach, sliding down the taut muscles until it rested over her sex. Hermione felt his chin rest on her shoulder, saw the tightening in Harry’s gaze, and then Draco’s hand traveled lower, lower until he encouraged her to slide up just enough for his fingertips to wrap around Harry’s cock.

Hermione’s moan echoed through the room at the heat that flared within Harry’s gaze and she arched her back, breasts pushing outward as though an invisible force bent her back, a marionnette that both of them played.

And then the hand was gone, and both Hermione and Harry were gasping for breath. Draco’s voice was gravelly, a sign of his thinly-held restraint when he spoke. “Hermione, lean forward.” 

The authority in his tone brooked no room for argument, and she didn’t hesitate to flatten herself against Harry’s chest, didn’t complain when their lips crashed together and Harry’s tongue swept into her mouth in a frantic, searching kiss. And when Hermione felt the cool touch of lubricant coating her arse, she didn’t contain the shudder of anticipation that roiled through her.

No one spoke, their breathing all laboured as the bed shifted and suddenly Draco was at her entrance, slowly, teasingly, brushing against her arse and then…

Then he shifted and her vision tunneled to Harry’s face and the starry-eyed expression he wore.

Everything was tight. It was so tight and there was so much pressure and she thought she might come undone before Draco was even seated fully inside her, but gods, she couldn’t even bring herself to care because it just felt so bloody good.

And then Draco bottomed out within her and Hermione couldn’t be sure, but she thought that was her voice praising every last deity and great witch and wizard she could think of because she’d never imagined that sex could feel so gods-blasted good.

And Draco hadn’t even begun to move.

Distantly, she was aware of hands. Hands everywhere, caressing her breasts and her stomach, and words were tumbling between both Harry and Draco and she couldn’t stand the suspension anymore.

With a breathy gasp, Hermione lifted herself incrementally, earning a groan from both Draco and Harry, and then everything sped into action.

In a frenzy, Harry drew her forward, capturing her lips in yet another heated kiss as Draco withdrew and slipped back into her. After a moment, Harry released her lips on a groan, and he, too, began to move.

It was an endless onslaught; where Draco retreated, Harry moved forward. What had begun slowly and tentatively became feral, all lips and nails and murmured curses and praises and they both drove into her. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed in the room, and Hermione could feel their magic intertwining around them, encircling them in something so rare, so wondrous—but the push and pull, the sensual motion of both men worshipping her body drove her higher and higher until she shattered with a nearly hysterical cry.

And still they continued, pushing her orgasm until she was nearly incoherent between them. And finally, with a strangled groan of his own, Harry thrust upwards once more and emptied deep within her. At some point, their hands had come to rest on her hips, fingertips entwining together, and Harry’s squeeze on Draco’s hand must have been the signal he needed because the other man followed him over the edge with a satisfied hiss of her name as he collapsed onto her back. 

As Hermione caught her breath, her brain struggled to process this revelation. And what if Harry…

Fingers under her chin tipped her gaze up, and she found herself lost in the soft green eyes of her best friend, of this newly acknowledged attraction bubbling between them. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? It was…

“We’ll figure this out.” Harry’s voice was soft, but the words held conviction, and he smiled up at her. “We always do.” 

Slowly, Draco slipped out of her and Harry followed suit, her noise of protest met with quiet chuckles of their own. When she settled between them and quiet descended over them, Harry spoke again. “So… does anyone want to explain what that was?” 

Hermione gnawed her lip, but she didn’t speak. She had a suspicion, but—

“We’re a triad.” It was quiet, but Draco’s words were sure. “I’ve suspected for a while, but—”

“Now we know.” Hermione swallowed and looked at both men.

Inexplicably, Harry shook with laughter beside her. “I don’t give a bloody fuck what the name of it is as long as we can do that again.” He cut his eyes at Draco. “Though this might be a bit strange…” 

Draco huffed a laugh. “No kidding, Potter. I wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of first, but…” He gestured to their twined hands on Hermione’s stomach.

Harry huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Well, fuck me.”

“That’s the plan.” It was a dry comment, the words barely passing her lips before a snarky smile curled Draco’s lips as Hermione barked out a surprised laugh.

And the tension between them broke, Draco settling up on one elbow to begin an explanation that took most of the night.

Mostly because there was a lot to discuss, logistics to work out...

And partly because they got lost in one another… again, and again, and again.