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Saw You In A Dream

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Daydream Charms were little more than a scam. 

Hermione Granger could very well daydream on her own, thank you very much. Why the Weasleys thought they needed to capitalise on something that was totally normal and natural, she had no idea. 

And yet…

She couldn’t quite walk away from the display. The little heart-shaped bottles, full of shimmery pink liquid and lined up in neat rows, called to her in the oddest way. Her own reflection was warped back at her, her face stretched across the surface like a strange, upside down version of herself. Is that who she might see if she took the potion? Someone like her, but not? Tracing her finger over the smooth glass, she considered it. Not for the first time, she wrestled with her self-control. 

Maybe this was exactly what she needed. 

George was incredibly evasive about what went into the potions, and who exactly brewed them. Hermione had no idea if they even had any kind of system for quality control, or if they were outsourced to a potions lab and made under a professional, controlled setting. Every time she asked, George only offered up a cheeky wink in place of useful information.

“You ready, Hermione?” Harry called from across the store, his own purchase bagged up and tucked away. He shot her an eager look, glancing outside—the meaning was clear. They needed to get back to the office before Malfoy threw an absolute fit about taking a long lunch. He had already been on a tear that morning, angry and annoyed with seemingly everyone in the department over who knew what. Perhaps he’d run out of hair pomade, or maybe his tea was made just a touch too hot for his delicate sensibilities. With Draco Malfoy, there was no telling. 

But instead of walking away, she let her instincts guide her. Plucking one of the bottles from the display, she pressed it between her palms and headed up to the front of the store to pay. 

At this point, anything is worth a try, she thought. 

All afternoon, the heart-shaped vial called to Hermione from the safe confines of her purse. Through her meetings, where Malfoy spat thinly veiled insults at the rest of the department. Past the jokes Harry offered to soothe over the rattled tempers. Beneath the pile of memos and paperwork and case briefings that blurred together. She thought about it constantly. 

By the end of day, she was practically itching with urgency.

Urgency to get home into the safe, quiet confines of her flat. Urgency to crack open the wax seal on the bottle and see what awaited her on the other side of the potion sitting in her purse. Urgency to know if there was a solution, waiting just out of reach.

Now that she had the Daydream Charm in her possession, it was like something had been let loose inside of her. She had been sceptical, yes, but her logic had shifted. Surely they wouldn’t be in business if the Weasley’s were selling subpar products, and the potions had to have some kind of merit or else they wouldn’t have been such a popular item for so many years. 

In all reality, it wasn’t the worst attempt she’d thought of to solve her little problem. It was less than a problem, really, and more of a general nuisance. 

Hermione Granger had, unfortunately, found herself in a bit of a sexual connundrum. As she got older, she found herself growing bored with her sex life. The tactics she’d always relied on seemed to fade away with every attempt. Old fantasies, erogenous zones, tried and true methods of getting herself off…nothing seemed exciting or interesting enough to capture, and keep, her attention. Each attempt only grew more difficult, and she needed to figure out why. 

What was missing? What did she need?

All things considered, she had a well-balanced life. Her work was fulfilling, and her friendships even more so. She got to see her loved ones on a daily basis, and even working with Malfoy wasn’t that intolerable. While she didn’t particularly like him, he at least wasn’t as big of a thorn in her side as he used to be when they were children. He could be a bit of a pompous arse, sure, but he had grown up to be incredibly fit, at the very least. There were worse things to have to look at while working every day.

It was fine. Everything was fine. And ultimately, that was the problem. She was bored, and nothing she could come up with on her own seemed to do the trick. 

When the clock hit four, she couldn’t wait any longer. Itchy, restless energy filled her limbs. Her chest was tight, her breathing short and shallow. Even her hands felt numb. With her fingers cold and her nerves tingling, she cast a locking charm on her office door and pulled the heart-shaped vial from her purse. 

This time, her reflection wasn’t so warped. She saw her face clearly mirrored on the glass as she stared down at it in her palms. Lips full and flushed, hair wild, eyes wide. 

And wanting. 

Hermione’s abdomen tightened in anticipation. There was no telling what she might see—what her daydream could be about—but that was part of the allure. It could be something as simple as a nice afternoon spent reading in the sun. 

Or, hopefully, it could hold the key to her deeper desires. The ones she couldn’t access on her own, or reach without the aid of an external force. 

A drop of apprehension tainted the bubbling excitement in her stomach. What if it was bad? What if it wasn’t something good at all, and the daydream ended up like some kind of nightmare? What if it wasn’t anything she wanted, and only turned out to be a potions-induced hallucination? 

There was no telling. And the spark of danger was enough to tip her over the edge. 

Hermione Granger was not, and never would be, afraid of the unknown. 

The potion tasted like raspberries against the slight sparkle of carbonation as she tipped it back, swallowing the entire bottle in two large gulps. 

Wiping the condensation from her lips, she placed the glass bottle in her rubbish bin before sitting back in her chair. 

She waited. And waited. And waited. 

Each second ticked by, stretching into minutes, until a new urgency began to claw in her chest. 

Was there something wrong? Why wasn’t the potion working?  

She’d always heard that potions like this made everything go slightly blurry, and some reported seeing a slightly pink tinge at the edges of their vision. Things were supposed to feel shimmery and light and free—like nothing mattered. Because it didn’t. Not in a daydream, at least. 

But nothing like that was happening. Everything was normal—it looked normal, it felt normal, it was normal. Frustration curled in her stomach. 

Hermione rested her head back and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. Perhaps that was the issue. She was so uptight that the potion was having problem taking—

A sharp knock on the door interrupted her planning, and she shot to attention. Panic tightened her chest, and she cleared her throat before answering. 

“Yes?” she called out. Could they hear her heart pounding? It surely felt like it was about to beat right out of her chest and fall onto her desk.

“Open the door, Granger.” Draco Malfoy’s sharp response cut through the empty space of her office easily. When the door rattled, her vision grew dim. Merlin. This wasn’t good. What did he want

“I–ahh—I’m sorry, Malfoy, I’m a touch swamped this afternoon.” 

Had she blocked off her calendar? Why hadn’t she blocked off her calendar?

To her surprise, it wasn’t Malfoy that answered. It was Harry. 

“Sorry, Hermione, but it’s urgent.” 

The concern in his voice had her sitting forward and spreading her fingers out across the memos on her desk. She felt normal, and the Daydream Charm clearly hadn’t kicked in. Maybe…maybe, if they were quick, she could address whatever they needed and get them on their way before the potion took hold. 

They stepped through just as soon as the lock clicked back into place, Malfoy leading the way and Harry following close behind. They were both dressed in their Auror uniforms, and side-by-side they couldn’t be more different. Like two opposite ends of the spectrum, they were everything that contrasted with each other. Dark where one was light, muscular to the other’s lean. Though it wasn’t the first time Hermione had seen them work together…it was the first time she’d truly noticed their differences. 

Malfoy’s uniform was a pristine reflection of their uniform code, the dark blue robes and matching trousers complementary to the stark white of his pressed shirts. His was buttoned all the way to his collar, but Harry’s was loose and slightly rumpled. His robes were slightly looser, not quite as tailored, but comfortable in place of professional. While Malfoy proudly displayed his badge on his shoulder piece, Hermione knew that Harry kept his tucked away in his back pocket. Each wore matching leather holsters for their wands; but where Malfoy preferred the shoulder holster, Harry kept his strapped to his inner arm. 

Two separate approaches to the same job. One regimented and controlled, the other impulsive and intuitive. Both successful in their own rights, but an unfamiliar wave of arousal settled in her abdomen and tightened her thighs at the observation. It was more than she’d felt in weeks. Months, even. 

Willing her voice to stay steady, she lifted her chin. “What is it?” 

“We need you,” Harry answered easily, and it did nothing to quell the heavy warmth between her legs. 

Hermione coughed. “Come again?” 

Malfoy’s grin sharpened, and he tossed down a dossier onto her desk. His grey eyes flicked between it and her face. “I would love to. Are you offering?”

Her office went silent with the stillness of her shock, and he continued.

“Not sure what we’re missing between the two of us, but we know there’s something. We thought it could be you.”  

That wasn’t any better. 

Not in the slightest. 

Pressure and anticipation filled the crevices of her chest, all of her internal organs fluttering and flipping like a synchronised flock of snidgets. 

“Oh—I don’t—” Hermione paused and glanced toward the clock, but didn’t dare touch the folder, “I’m not sure I can help this afternoon. If it’s a case file, I’ll take a look this weekend if you’d like.” 

“And what about the rest?” Malfoy proposed, seeming content not to leave until he was damn well kicked out. 

“You’re joking,” she replied with a laugh, though it felt as forced and strained as the breath in her lungs. It had to be a joke—Malfoy didn’t waltz into her office and drop unabashed innuendos like he wanted to fuck her, and definitely not while Harry was present. 

The man in question stepped forward, pushing his hair back. There was a slight amount of stubble on his jaw, but, if anything, he looked surprisingly more dishevelled in comparison to Malfoy’s carefully controlled exterior. Like he’d been running his hand through his hair over and over throughout the afternoon, it held a wild edge that called to her. 

“He has a point, Hermione.” Harry started. “You’ve been…tense lately. I think we could help.” 

“I’m not sure I follow.” Though she laughed, the words were hollow. Panic was filling her veins, but underneath it was something else entirely. 

It, suspiciously, felt like anticipation. 

Malfoy shot him a sharp look. At the same time, he pulled his wand from its holster and waved it toward the door, relocking it with a quick click. 

Hermione stood. “What are you doing?”

“Potter here thought you’d be easy to persuade,” Malfoy explained, stepping back when Hermione walked around to the front of her desk. “But I had an inkling you’d be… a touch more difficult.” 

Before she could latch on to her anger, Harry’s hand came to grip hers. He threaded his fingers through her own, and pulled her closer to his chest. She was powerless to fall forward several steps and into his embrace. 

“Do you trust me, Hermione?” he asked softly. Though they were adults now, she still trusted him just as much as she did when they were children. She always would. 

The scent of his cologne was familiar; slightly spicy and warm, and she sank against him with a deep exhale. 


It was the truth. Of course she did. She couldn’t be sure what they were asking of her, or what they expected, but she knew that Harry wouldn’t steer her wrong. As long as he was there, she was safe. 

Harry’s hand tightened against hers, but it was Malfoy’s presence as he approached from behind her that took Hermione’s attention. He pressed himself against her back, easily aligning his body against hers and forcing her forward another step until she was completely trapped. 

“What about me, Granger?” 

Malfoy’s low words stilled her completely, her breath caught. When his hand came to stroke up the length of her arm, dragging one long finger all the way up to her shoulder, she couldn’t stop the way she twitched in response. 

What about him? What about him? What about…Malfoy? 

The question cycled in her mind, no discernable answer rising to the surface. She couldn’t think clearly, not with the way heat was surrounding her body. Not with the heavy weight of Harry’s fingers intertwined with hers, his familiar touch pressed tightly against her palm. 

Not with Malfoy closing in on her, his finger playing with the seam of her blouse across her collarbone and his breath softly ruffling her hair. Not with the way his hips were pressing into her arse just so. Just close enough to make his intent more than obvious. 

Harry’s eyes were clear and focused on hers, patience smoothing his features. It gave her the courage to find the words, the clarity to finally summon enough coherent thought to see past the strange mix of lust and anxiety that was clouding her mind. 

“I don’t understand.... What are you asking?” 

Harry leaned close, resting his forehead against hers. “Let us take care of you, Hermione.”

Before she could question it any further, or even disentangle her hand from Harry’s to firmly pinch her own arm, a finger pressed against her jaw and turned her face to the side. Malfoy’s hand spanned her jaw as he leaned down to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers in a confident kiss. 

His lips coaxed hers with the assurance of a man who very obviously expected no resistance. He tilted her head the way he liked, sliding his mouth across hers and stroking her with his tongue when she parted her lips on a surprised inhale. 

With her head turned, she felt a second pair of lips against her exposed neck. Harry held her hair back from her shoulder, lightly trailing a path of kisses from the base of her neck up to her ear and down again. They were soft kisses, light and teasing almost, and only added to the growing number of differences between him and Malfoy. 

They were opposite men by nature, even in their approach to seduction, but it was clear they wanted the same thing. 


Though she could hardly believe what was happening, instinct told her not to question it. Not when it meant potentially ruining the moment that was building. 

A small, selfish part of her revelled in their attentions. Savoured what it felt like to have two sets of hands on her body, roaming and stroking and petting across her skin. Pulling at her clothes with gentle tugs, peeling her blouse from her arms and following the lines of her bra. A hand spanned across her stomach before dipping lower and teasing the top edge of her knickers. It traced her hip before squeezing lightly, then continued back up to traverse the ridges of each rib. She felt the slow pull of the zip of her skirt before it dropped to pool around her ankles, and pleasure curled low in her stomach at the realisation that she was standing bare between two men.

She couldn’t tell which hand belonged to whom—but the more they touched her, the more she felt herself come alive. This was what she had been looking for. 

Harry’s kisses on her neck grew impatient, the soft press of his lips turning into sharp nips. He sucked at the skin on her collarbone and followed the sting with his tongue, marking her with light bruises that were sure to last for days. She threaded one hand through the hair at the back of his head and shivered at the rough feel of his beard scruff against her ear. 

Malfoy’s kiss only grew deeper in response. Not one to be outdone, he tilted her head back further and pulled at her lip with his teeth. There was a quick snap of fabric, and her bra joined the rest of her clothes on the floor. The hands that pulled it off quickly returned to her body, reaching around from her back to touch her with a sure grip.

The cool press of metal against her nipples told her exactly who it was. 

He toyed with her breasts, tracing light circles around each peak before rewarding her with a firm tweak. Her free hand reached up and around to grasp at his neck, burrowing her fingers beneath the edge of his crisp, pressed collar, and swallowed the growl of frustration at the way she was mussing his uniform. 

As if they hadn’t just stripped her completely in the middle of her office. 

Harry’s hands ventured lower, hooking his thumbs on the edge of her knickers to push them lower. Bit by bit, he slid them down her thighs and ran his fingers behind, smoothing the trail of goosebumps before returning to stroke across the thatch of curls between her legs.

There was a certain kind of urgency burning behind their movements, but it didn’t seem to stem from messy desperation. Everything was a touch too synchronised, the way their hands and mouths pushed and pulled at her body but never got in the other’s way. It was perfectly coordinated, and overwhelmed her until she felt the heat of her arousal burning through her veins and flushing against her skin. 

A deep ache had settled between her thighs, but Harry seemed content to take his time. Unlike Malfoy, who was kneading and plucking at her breasts until they were swollen and heavy. Where Malfoy touched her with clear desire, Harry explored her with reverence. 

Breaking away from the kiss, Hermione turned back to Harry, watching as he explored her body with delicate touches. He traced each curve of her hip, every dip of her stomach, following invisible lines down and around her thighs until she was shifting on her feet, desperate for more. 

Malfoy’s teeth on her neck brought her attention back to him. He chuckled when she shuddered at the sensation, and then did it again.

“Do you think she can be quiet enough? Or should we cast a muffliato?” 

Harry’s eyes glanced up at Malfoy’s question before darting to Hermione. His lips curled into a soft smile, and his look turned knowing. 

“You can be good, can’t you?” 

Heat bloomed in her chest and Hermione nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever been more sure of herself in her life. 

Malfoy wasn’t so easily convinced. One hand moved from her breast up to her throat and rested it there, effectively holding her in place. 

“Prove it.” 

Harry didn’t waste any more time with soft, exploratory touches. With one hand bracing her hips to hold her still, he gave her exactly what he’d been teasing at before. His fingers found her clit easily, and he circled the sensitive nub with several sure strokes. 

She caught the broken moan right before it surfaced, shock suffusing through her veins at the sudden burst of friction. She hadn’t realised just how wet she was until that moment, feeling the way Harry’s fingers slid through her folds with ease. Instead, it came out as a slight whine. 

Everything between her legs ached for more, and she couldn’t help but chase Harry’s fingers. When he teased her entrance, she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. 

“Please,” she whispered instead. “I’ll be good.” 

“You always are,” Harry said before rewarding her with a kiss. While he continued to play with her clit, experimenting with different patterns and pressures, Hermione couldn’t focus on the feel of Malfoy shifting behind her. Everything was coiling heavy and low in her abdomen, pleasure from Harry’s touch and the sound of his soft praise, combined with Malfoy’s rougher attentions, was overtaking every single sense in her body. 

And it’s exactly what she needed. 

It wasn’t until another hand came to rest on her hip—opposite of the one Harry still held—that she felt it. 

Malfoy’s cock, nudging her entrance, before pushing in slowly. 

Her slight moan was muffled by Harry’s kiss, and she couldn’t help but brace herself against him. His tongue traced her lower lip before dipping between them while her fingers curled into a fist against his robes, holding on as the pleasure increased throughout her body. 

Malfoy fucked her with shallow strokes, wetting himself with each thrust, and pushed in deeper and deeper. The stretch of his cock only soothed some of the ache, because everything else was only stoking it tighter.

She was standing naked in her office with Draco Malfoy’s cock between her thighs and Harry’s hands and mouth on her body. 

Malfoy groaned at the feel of her inner muscles fluttering around him and squeezed at her hip so hard she could feel the bite of metal from his rings. 

“Merlin— fuck—” he cursed when she did it again. “Get on with it, Potter. I’m not sure how long I can last if she keeps doing that.” 

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, and he pulled back to look into her eyes. It was a struggle to keep them open, each shock of pleasure between her legs making her body feel limp and heavy. 

“This is it, isn’t it?” he asked her softly. “This is what you needed.” 

Her agreement was little more than another broken moan, but she managed a shaky nod. 

“All you had to do was ask.” Pausing, Harry brought his free hand up to her face to gently stroke her cheek. In comparison to his sure touches between her legs, she gave in to the urge to let her eyes flutter closed. Her head dropped back onto Malfoy’s chest, but Harry didn’t stop talking. “That’s it, Hermione. It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Malfoy’s strokes lengthened, growing deeper, and the hand around her neck pressed into her collarbone. Every press of his hips against her arse, every slap of skin, had more and more moans shaking free from her chest. She knew she was getting louder, but when Harry’s fingers increased the speed on her clit to match, she couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“I thought you said you could be good?” Malfoy taunted, but he didn’t slow. Her eyes drifted open, finding him looking down at her, but a breathless smile painted his features. “I don’t think you’ve ever been a good girl in your life, Granger.” 

“Ahh–” She couldn’t help but clench down on him again, the muscles in her core rippling with the way her body responded to his words. 

“Look at her,” Harry said, lowering his head down to her neck to kiss at her collarbone. “She’s perfect. She’s trying so hard.” 

“She feels bloody perfect,” Malfoy said with a low laugh. When her legs started to shake, trembling against the pleasure, his speed increased. “Gods, you love this, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” she said on an exhale. “Yes–yes–yes–”

Hermione couldn’t help but chant the words in time with each steady thrust, each measured stroke. Her hands grappled at Harry’s chest, feeling lower until she found his belt. With clumsy fingers she managed to loosen the buckle and unbutton his trousers, and wasted no time wrapping her hand around his length. She felt his abdomen clench when her fingers encircled his cock, but she didn’t have the focus for the same soft touches that he’d teased her with. But before she could begin stroking, he briefly pulled his fingers from between her legs. 

“Here,” he directed her, using the wetness that had gathered on his hand to stroke himself a few times. He allowed her to take control again, thrusting lightly into her fist, before replacing his fingers against her clit. “Like this.” 

Feeling his cock, sticky with her own arousal, was enough that Hermione’s knees almost buckled. Though it wasn’t much, the knowledge that she was on both of them? That both of their bodies would wear the evidence of her arousal just as much as she did for them?

It was enough to send her spinning closer to orgasm. She tried her hardest to focus, to be the good girl that she knew they needed her to be, and timed the stroke of her fist to each thrust of Malfoy’s hips. Together they worked against each other, breathless moans and muffled groans mixing together until she couldn’t tell where she stopped and they began. 

“You have no idea how long we’ve wanted this,” Harry told her, pausing when her hand tightened around him. 

“Tell her.” Malfoy’s hips ground against hers like he was trying to drive home his point. “Tell her how you think about her all bloody day. How it’s all you can think about, Potter. Tell her that the only reason I’m the one fucking her right now is because you didn’t think she’d go through with this.” 

Hermione’s eyes shot open. Was it true? Was that—

Any theorising was cut short when Harry changed the pace of his fingers on her clit, switching from tight circles to quick swipes. 

“Oh, right there!” she cried out. Pleasure spiked through her cunt with every pass, and she felt herself toeing the edge. If he didn’t stop, she would come. 

“It’s the same for Malfoy too,” Harry told her, dropping his voice down low like he was sharing a secret with her. “Every time you sit next to him in our weekly meetings? He has to wait for you to leave the room first at the end because his cock gets hard from the smell of your perfume.” 

“And the way you suck on the end of your quills,” Malfoy added, effectively correcting him. “And those bloody skirts you like to wear—”

The list went on and on, but Hermione didn’t hear the rest. Blood was roaring in her ears, beating in her veins, throbbing just underneath the surface of her skin and against every nerve in her body. Knowing she was the focus of their attention and affections was enough—it was all she needed. 

She broke with a loud cry, her body stiffening as the coil of pleasure inside of her shattered. Malfoy’s hand snapped up to her mouth to keep her quiet, and she felt his deep groan against her back as he thrust through her orgasm. It sparked through her body, spreading like fire, until she was consumed completely. 

His hips sped up as Harry continued to stroke her, and together they worked her through every shudder, every aftershock, prolonging her orgasm until she was a shaking, twitching mess in their arms. 

When she came to, she realised that Harry’s hand was wrapped around hers, stroking his cock faster and harder than she had been on her own. His speed rivalled Malfoy’s, but it was clear that they were both competing again. Racing against each other to get off, to come, now that they had given Hermione her own pleasure first. 

Letting Harry guide her hand, she reached up to the back of Malfoy’s head, threading her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. Once anchored, she pulled tight, effectively mimicking the force of the hold he had on her mouth and hip. 

He reacted just as she expected, his eyes fluttering shut and his body twitching from the added sensation. His hips were growing erratic, his thrusts shortening until just the head of his cock was pushing through the sensitive walls of her entrance. Tensing the muscles in her core and thighs, she tightened for him, and he came with a deep groan. He stilled, his cock pulsing between her thighs as a rush of warmth flooded through her. 

Once recovered, Malfoy took several slow, deep breaths and removed his hand from her mouth to nudge her head down to watch. 

“Go on then, Granger. Look at what you’ve done to us.” 

Harry was chanting her name in time with the strokes of her hand, fucking her palm with shaky thrusts. His eyes were closed, dark lashes splayed out across his cheekbones, and released Malfoy’s hair to wrap her hand around Harry’s neck. His eyes fluttered open to find hers. Holding her gaze, he came with her name on his lips. 


Unable to look away, Hermione felt his orgasm in the twitch of his cock against her fingers and the warmth of his come as it painted her stomach and thighs. Harry stilled her hand, holding her fist tight around the head of his length, and shuddered through the shocks of pleasure. It slackened his features, his mouth dropping open just slightly and his brows furrowing, and between them… Hermione knew that’s where she needed to be. 

Spent and sated. 

But as she looked between the two men, all of the questions that she had buried deep suddenly came rushing to the surface. Chewing on her lip, she took a deep breath to—

A sharp knock jolted her into awareness, bringing Hermione back into reality like surfacing through water. Blinking towards the door, she realised several things at once. 

She was still sitting at her desk. 

Harry and Malfoy were nowhere to be found. 

Her fingers were digging into the leather arms of her desk chair, and she could feel the slick wetness that had gathered in her knickers, but the ache was still there. Untouched, it was clear from the strain in her muscles that she was sitting on the edge of orgasm. One touch from her own fingers and she was sure to fall apart. Her breathing was so rapid and deep that the buttons of her blouse were straining with every ragged pull into her lungs but…

None of it was real. 

Heart pounding, Hermione swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. 

“Miss Granger?” Her assistant called from outside the door. “Do you need anything before I leave for the evening?” 

Sitting in the middle of her desk in front of her was the empty heart-shaped bottle from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Neatly recorked, it hadn’t even made it to the rubbish bin like she’d thought. 

It was all just a daydream.