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Draco fingered the delicate crystal dragon on his desk, sinking further into his massive chair with a bored sigh and lifting the figurine to peer through its clear perfection at the distorted images of his companions.

“You’ll get fingerprints all over it,” chided Hermione, barely looking at him, masses of curls obscuring her face as she leaned over the desk to sort more papers for Merlin knew what tedious purpose.

Draco set the figurine down, smoothing a thumb along the meticulously fashioned scales. “Guess I’ll have to put my fingerprints all over you instead,” he smirked, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her onto his lap, rump nestled satisfyingly against his groin.

“Draco!” She smacked at his hands, one of which had begun wandering north toward a silk blouse-clad breast, the other trailing south along her hip to dip below the form-fitting wool skirt and trace an expanse of impossibly soft thigh.

“Honestly, you two,” grumbled Harry from the window seat, light streaming in and glinting off the little crystal dragon, throwing prisms over the room. “I’ve got to get these reports done by tomorrow. At least Hermione has until next week to finish her work.”

“Don’t grouse just because I, unlike you, like to be prep-ah!” Hermione gasped when Draco’s fingers found their way to nipple and clit, massaging both in tight circles.

“Yeah, Potter, don’t grouse,” Draco echoed, voice muffled as he nibbled at Hermione’s neck. She smelled fresh, like Coriander and sunlight.

Harry glared, fingers tightening on his quill, and looked back down at his work, forcing a great, exasperated sigh. But Draco saw him shift his position, saw the blush that, even after these several months, still tinged his former rival’s cheeks every time things turned intimate. So ridiculous.

Actually, it was bloody hot.

Draco grinned. Hermione was squirming in his lap, but not rhythmically enough to relieve the pressure of his trapped and aching cock. And Potter was clearly waiting for an excuse to join them.

Withdrawing one hand from increasingly soaked knickers and sliding the other from breast to belly, Draco picked up the crystal dragon with slightly Granger-slick fingers and held it before her sweat-sheened face. A tiny rainbow flashed across her cheek as light from the window struck the figurine.

“You know, I’m not sure I was able to properly express my gratitude for this, love. And I don’t think even you or Potter anticipated how much this gift could be for all of us.” Hermione mewled and panted, her stomach trembling beneath Draco’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry sitting stock-still.

Bringing his knees under and inside Hermione’s, he spread her legs, easing the wool skirt up high on her thighs with the hand that had rested so hotly on her belly a moment before. He glanced at Harry, who was blatantly staring at Hermione’s satiny red knickers. Draco ran the same hand along the taut muscle of an inner thigh and, with two fingers, pulled the undergarment aside, exposing her bare and likely glistening pussy.

Hermione moaned and strained back against Draco fitfully, turning her head to bury her face in his neck, her springy curls soft and fragrant. While her breath puffed warmly against his skin, he was fairly certain Harry had stopped breathing altogether. Peering through Hermione’s hair as best he could, Draco met his other lover’s sparking green gaze, so intense his cock grew harder under its force.

Then, smiling devilishly, Draco brought the crystal dragon to Hermione’s slippery clit, watching as Harry’s eyes followed his hand’s every movement, its descent, the teasing circles he made against the bundle of nerves with the figurine’s head and reptilian tongue.

Hermione cried out, thrashing now, her fingernails digging into the arms of the chair. Every fevered buck ground into his erection, and he bit his lip, moaning quietly into her hair and lifting his hips. Eyes still on Harry, he slid the dragon down Hermione’s slit to her perfectly pink opening and began easing the figurine inside, feeling her velvety passage grip the crystal as two fingers joined it, slipping along the folded wings.

Practically convulsing, Hermione arched violently, mouth opened in a dramatic “O,” eyes wide. Draco chuckled, seeing the muscles in Harry’s jaw clench, his eyes darkening by the second. “Potter,” he purred. “I don’t think I can handle her by myself.”

And with that, Harry stumbled across the room, papers falling recklessly to the floor in his wake as he knelt between their legs. Hastily, he grabbed Draco’s hand at the wrist, causing him to drop the figurine, and replaced it with his mouth, groaning as he feasted, finally, on Hermione’s proffered sex.

“Harry! Oh, please!” Hermione keened, high-pitched and breathy, throwing her head back and thrusting her hips forward.

“I think he already is, love,” Draco smiled against her cheek before turning her head with his girl-scented hand to plunge his tongue into the hot depths of her mouth. He felt Harry take over holding her knickers and rushed to undo his trousers, pulling his cock free and bringing one of Hermione’s hands back to wrap around him. Immediately, she began stroking, breaking the kiss and moaning at whatever Harry was doing to her, his head of unruly dark hair obscuring the view, arms wrapped around both sets of thighs, fingers gripping tightly.

Whatever it was must have been Exceeding Expectations, for Hermione’s back suddenly bowed sharply, her hand curling fast around Draco’s shaft as she cried her orgasm out silently, then collapsed in a wreck of bliss against the blond.

Draco watched Harry lick his lips and stand, peering down at the satisfied witch on his lap, and the yet-to-be-satisfied state of the lap itself. As he reached for his own belt, his green gaze shifted to Hermione’s still-splayed thighs, where Draco could see a few small, fresh bruises.

“Hm,” he quirked an eyebrow. “I left fingerprints.”