Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Author's Notes: Originally written for the 100Moods fanfiction challenge on livejournal.
Prompt: 061 -- Loved
Word Count: 1492
Hermione sat alone in the small flat near Godric's Hollow she shared with Harry and Ron; she was attempting to focus on the growing pile of ancient tomes and crumbling parchments scattered on the coffee table. They all pertained to the four founders, particularly Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor. They still hadn't identified all the Horcruxes, so she spent much of her days researching possible artifacts.
She yawned and squinted at a large, brittle parchments covered in particularly small, spidery, and elaborate handwriting. It had something to do with Ravenclaw's legacy to her family, which included a sapphire necklace that had been lost sometime in the mid 1400s. However, her eyes ached and she just couldn't focus.
A few moments later she heard the creak of the door opening and the familiar tromp of Harry and Ron's feet as they rushed inside. Grateful for both the distraction and that they were home, she carefully tucked the precious document away as her boys rushed into the warmth of the living room.
"It's bloody cold out there!" Ron yelped, plopping down on the couch and plunging his icy hands into her sweater.
"Ronald Weasley, get those popsicles off me!" Hermione commanded, squirming away from him and running into Harry's chest.
"Mm, you're nice and warm." Harry said, wrapping his arms around her.
The shift in their relationship had been sudden, but not entirely unexpected. They had all tried to date other people, with varying degrees of success, but something always seemed to be lacking. The other just didn't understand, they got jealous and unhappy and the three of them always had to contend with an unreasonable feeling of guilt that they were abandoning the other two.
So, they came together, and that was that. Had been for nearly a year and a half and they were happy.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Hermione asked as Harry and Ron began to thaw out. They'd gone to a very exclusive wizarding club whose members included the last direct descendant of Ravenclaw.
"Nah." Ron said with a yawn, leaning against her. "Bloke was all puffed up about being her descendant, but didn't actually seem to know anything about her."
"So no idea about any possible remaining heirlooms." Hermione said with a disappointing sigh. It was beyond frustrating. So much of the past was buried in layers of myth and legend, it was hard to find any solid facts to use as a starting off point.
"We'll figure it out." Harry said certainly. "You're the cleverest person we know, we've got faith in you."
"I hope so." Hermione said, idly twining her fingers in Ron's hair.
"You need to relax." Ron said nonchalantly, running his fingers along the inside of her thigh. Hermione shivered.
"Yes, you've been working way too hard." Harry agreed,, gently kissing the back of her neck.
"That's not fair." Hermione murmured as delicious shivers ghosted down her spine.
"C'mon." Ron got up and hauled Hermione to her feet. Harry followed suit.
The three of them slowly made their way down the hall, losing clothing as they went. Hermione's shirt, Harry's shoes, Ron's pants. They were all kicked or tossed aside to make way for inquisitive hands and mouths. By the time they actually managed to get to the bedroom, all that remained were underclothes. Ron scooped Hermione into his arms and tossed her into the pile of blankets on their bed.
Harry and Ron crawled onto the bed as well, kissed each other, and kissed her.
This was their life, and Hermione wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.
There was nothing quite like being between the two of them, moving and rocking in a powerful, almost primal rhythm. Hermione wrapped her long legs around Harry's hips and bent her arms behind her to encircle Ron's neck. Their mouths went between her breasts and along the ridges of her shoulder blades. Fingers dug into her waist and arms and neck and thighs. Hermione was the center, the balancing point they all revolved around.
It was almost too much sensation for her; Harry and Ron did it deliberately, on purpose, because they knew that it was what she craved. Hermione liked and needed to be driven to the very edge of control. She liked not being the perfect girl for a few moments, dancing on the razor sharp line where she felt like she would shatter into a thousand pieces.
The only thing that held her in them; their flushed skin, their gasping breath, their cocks.
She looked at them as they rode. Harry, his dark hair spiked with sweat that shone over the muscles of his taunt body. His eyes, the famous emerald orbs bled darker, deeper, and more beautiful in those moments. He threw his head back and seemed to truly be lost and unburdened for a few precious moments.
And Ron...he lost all the gangly awkwardness in bed. He was the tallest, the biggest, so Hermione and Harry both rested on his body, He seemed lithe; Hermione could feel the feathery brush of his hair on her back, the stubble of his cheek on her shoulder. He was strong.
And what was Hermione?
She came late to this odd relationship, just as she did to the friendship that spawned it. She was the one who walked into the boys' dormitories one morning to find Ron buried balls deep in Harry, both of them writhing. She made a place for herself. Hermione was the mediator. She was the rock, the one who kept them from destroying each other.
It was a thankless, never ending job. As much as Ron and Harry loved each other, as much as they desperately needed each other, as much as they couldn't live without each other, they couldn't seem to find the perfect compatible symbiosis that would have given them harmony. So Hermione mediated and thus made the two love her even more.
She was addicted to them, Hermione was very cognizant of that fact and she embraced it; even more than that, she fell headlong into the bottomless pool of the relationship. They knew everything there was to know about her, every scar and flaw on her skin and her mind. They had held her when she was breaking apart from pain and pleasure. They knew and saw and still called her magnificent as they writhed.
The rhythm increased in tempo to a much more frantic pace. They were very close, Hermione could feel it. Every muscle in their body seemed to contract in anticipation. Their breath came faster and harsher. Their fingers gripped harder into flesh until it bruised.
They usually peaked simultaneously; she didn't know how, all she knew was the incredible feeling of them bearing down on her from both sides to the point where she was certain she couldn't possible contain them.
Even faster, harder, and perfectly closer. The melded against her prone form, heated flesh against heated flesh, like they were trying to bond into a single person. Harry whimpered, gritting his teeth. Ron bit her shoulder and she relished the sting. Hermione tossed her head back and cried out, a cry echoed by both of her boys as they climaxed.
It was a moment that seemed to last forever, all three of them riding in tandem a wave of pure, blissful sensation. Ron and Harry both buried in her to the hilt, Hermione feeling as though her body had reached its limit. There was no end, no boundary. Just pure physical release and the overwhelming affirmation that they loved each other.
Slowly, reluctantly, they drifted back down to Earth. They were sweaty and sated, exhausted and content. Harry and Ron eased out of her and collapsed against the mussed pile of sheets and pillows. Hermione gently eased herself on top of them and lay cradled between their chests. She felt sore, but it was the bone deep, comforting soreness that she welcomed.
Now and Harry and Ron were gentle with her. They always felt a twinges of guilt when the saw their handiwork brought to life on her body in the faint bruises. It still surprised them that they could be so predatory, so animalistic. Hermione would laugh at them later and kiss the raised welts on their ski from her dragged fingernails. For the moment, she liked being pampered, just a little.
She lay with her head on Harry's chest, listening to the slowing thump-thump of his heart. Her thick, lovely hair fanned out on the pillows. Ron spooned up behind her, his arms held them both. Harry and Ron both thought of themselves as protectors. They both wanted to bear the burden of responsibility for keeping them safe.
Hermione loved them and did her part.
"You are amazing." Harry murmured to both of them, laying soft kisses on Hermione's shoulder and Ron's chin.
"Yeah." Ron echoed, sounding half asleep. "Love you."
Hermione smiled and closed her eyes.
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