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The Company Party

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You are cordially invited to the Greengrass Corporation's 45th Annual Halloween Party. October 29, 2005 at 7pm. We strongly encourage all employees to RSVP and attend. Costumes are mandatory.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the invitation that was currently following her around the bedroom. "Strongly encourage my arse," she muttered as she picked up the costume her boys had chosen. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, this is not funny! If you don't remove the tracking charm from that invitation this minute, I'm going to make sure you never pee standing up ever again!"

There was silence outside the bedroom door, which successfully ended the muffled laughter she'd heard previously.

"Hermione, you're the one who is insisting we go to the blasted party. I merely thought you'd not want to lose the invitation." Ron pushed the door open a little more to give her a wicked grin that had her rethinking her decision in no time. "We could always just stay here and have our own celebration."

"We've already discussed this and the answer is still no. You know this party is important to me. I really wish you'd both just grow up and stop acting like children for at least one night!" She sighed as she turned her back to the door.

It wasn't as if she actually wanted to go to the silly party. She hated events like this and preferred small gatherings with close friends to spending an evening with people who seemed to either kiss her arse because she was involved with the Harry Potter or resent her because she was a Muggleborn female working in one of the more lucrative research departments in the wizarding world. However, Gerald Greengrass was eccentric and his favorite holiday happened to be Halloween so that meant she had to make an appearance.

She'd gone to the Halloween party alone for the past two years, ever since she'd been hired by the elderly wizard to work on researching cures for various curses used during the War, but, this year, she wanted company to have to suffer through the evening with her. Harry and Ron had protested, of course. Neither of them liked Greengrass, a former Slytherin whose granddaughter was currently engaged to Seamus, and they hated public events as much as she did, if not more.

For the past week, they'd been doing everything in their power to convince her to forget the party, but she was being selfish this time and stubbornly refused to accept no for an answer. They'd eventually agreed under protest and with the restriction that they got to select her costume, but the costume they'd chosen was obviously another attempt to get her to stay home. It was practically indecent! Well, a lot of women probably wouldn't have any problems flaunting themselves in far less, but she wasn't one of them. She was relatively confident about her body, was involved in a triad relationship that was met with disgust, disapproval, or support depending on whom was around, and was actually quite daring when it came to experimenting and sex. That didn't mean she wanted to wear skimpy clothing or appear to be a common slag.

"We're sorry, Hermione," Harry said softly as he moved behind her. His hands slid down her arms before he pulled her back. "We've been acting like complete wankers for weeks, haven't we?"

"I was thinking prats but wankers will suffice." She leaned against him and closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have forced you both to go with me. It's my job and my responsibility to attend all these silly parties."

"Stop it," Ron scolded from in front of her. She opened her eyes and saw him seated on the end of the bed with an apologetic look on his face. He took her hands and put them over his heart. "We're part of you, Hermione. If you've got something to do, it's only fair you share that with us. Good and bad, remember? I'm sorry about the floating invitation. I thought it was funny, but I guess I was being an arse."

"Just a little," she admitted with a slight smile. She moved her hand up to stroke his jaw as she turned her head to kiss Harry's cheek. She was at a point where she was just tired of fighting with them and knew it wasn't worth it. "Seriously, boys, you don't have to go with me. I'll find an old robe in the wardrobe to wear as a costume, make a brief appearance, and then come home early."

"What? You don't like the costume we chose?" Harry asked incredulously. "It's going to look gorgeous on you, Hermione."

"Right, like Harry said," Ron agreed as he frowned at her. "You've got to wear it. It took us ages to find exactly what we were looking for."

"It's a corset!" She shook her head and moved away to pick up the scarlet piece of fabric. "Look at this. I can't go to a company party dressed like some cheap slag!"

"Did you look at the rest of the costume?" Ron glared as he reached into the bag and pulled out a beautiful silk shirt. "This is meant to be worn over it. You fasten the ties in front or some such girly nonsense."

"Did you think we'd have you wear that where any pervy bloke could see?" Harry snorted as he pushed his glasses up. "We're jealous, remember? And Ron's entirely too possessive."

"I'm possessive?" Ron looked at Harry and laughed. "Bloody hell, mate. I think you'd make us wear collars with your name engraved on them if you thought you could get away with it without Hermione hexing your bollocks off and me making you tattoo our names on your arse in exchange."

"That isn't the point," Harry interrupted before Ron could continue. "The point is that this is a great costume we chose and you're going to wear it to your party. Don't force me to charm the wardrobe closed. You never know how my charms might work. I'd hate to banish the entire thing by mistake."

"You're good with charms," Hermione reminded him dryly. "And stop trying to threaten me! I already said you don't have to go so just leave me to dress in peace."

"We thank you for that, but you're still wearing this costume," Ron said firmly. He stood up and nodded at Harry.

She didn't even have time to protest before Harry unfastened her robe and pushed it down her shoulders. Hermione licked her lips when Ron looked at her, and she could feel her body react to the feel of Harry behind her and Ron in front of her. "If you think you can distract me," she warned huskily, slightly disappointed when Ron just grinned and carefully raised each breast to fit into the cups of the corset. Harry's blunt fingernails scraped her back as he fastened the ribbons tight. Her breasts nearly spilled out the top, and she looked down with wide eyes as the normally average size suddenly became buxom.

Hermione inhaled sharply when Ron's rough fingers trailed down her stomach, his knuckles brushed against curls still damp from the shower, and then his index fingers slowly slid down the inside of her legs to her feet. Blue eyes looked up at her as Harry's hands gripped her hips just tight enough for her to feel every finger against the bare skin beneath the edge of the corset. "Lift up, baby," Ron urged as he tapped her left foot.

Harry's hands continued to hold her as she raised her leg, kept her steady as Ron grinned and carefully put a stocking onto her foot. His fingers rolled the silk up her leg, past her calf, teased the back of her knee, and stopped when the dark black lace reached her upper thigh. Chapped lips touched her skin and caused her to shudder as wetness began to pool between her legs.

"You smell so good," Harry whispered against her neck as he rubbed her wet hair against her shoulders with his nose. "Vanilla and jasmine and sex."

"I'm not going to wear this costume," she protested weakly. She saw the amused smile on Ron's lips, heard Harry chuckle against her bare skin and she knew she was lying. Ron put the other stocking on for her; the black a shocking contrast against skin that barely held traces of a sun-kissed summer. Harry's palms weren't as rough as Ron's as they moved over the curves of her arse, and she could feel him hard against her lower back through the cotton of his trousers.

"Gorgeous," Ron said with a grin as he rocked back on his heels and looked up at her. She didn't even notice him hand Harry a slim piece of material until she felt Harry pull the garter belt around her waist and fasten it against her belly. Ron's fingers danced across the bare skin of her upper thighs as he secured the stockings.

She wondered whether he thought her thighs were too big like she did or that the soft swell of her stomach was more noticeable to them like it was to her when she looked in the mirror in the mornings. They thought she was beautiful, whispered words against sweat-slick skin, heated gazes of desire, worship of her as if she were their Goddess. No, they'd not noticed her tummy or the thighs or the hips that were becoming a bit too full. To them, she was perfect.

"Hold out your arm, Hermione." She obeyed Harry as she looked down at Ron and watched him move his face closer. Cool fabric touched hot skin as Harry slid the shirt onto her arm. Ron pulled back after he inhaled the scent of her, and she watched his tongue slide along his lips before his fingers ran through his shaggy ginger hair. Harry kissed her shoulderblade before fabric covered it. Ron stood and his hands joined Harry's as they tied the shirt.

It was too tight, as black as her stockings, the scarlet of the corset visible as buttons were fastened and two lengths of material were secured into a knot. Then it was Harry who asked her to raise one foot then the other. A skirt was pulled up and zipped from behind. She looked down and found herself dressed in a fashion popular more than a century ago, a very sexy version of that particular style.

"If you'd been my wench, I'd have never left the pirate ship," Ron declared with a lusty smile.

"Beautiful," Harry said as he moved to stand beside Ron.

She didn't know if she wanted to hex them for arousing her to this point only to actually dress her or to remove the ridiculous costume and shag them until they forgot their names or to refuse to let them know they'd affected her this much. She finally decided on the last because, really, it wouldn't do at all for them to understand they had that much power over her.

"I trust that there are appropriate shoes to match?" she asked in a voice that was far too husky to pretend she wasn't wet and aching. She could see their erections against their trousers and she knew all she had to do was surrender and forget the party to have them inside her. Instead, she gave them her most stubborn look and frowned when they exchanged a look and laughed.

"Are you sure you don't want us to go with you, Hermione?" Harry studied her closely as Ron knelt in front of her with the boots they'd bought to match the costume.

"No, it's fine," she told him somewhat sincerely. The sooner she went, the sooner she could get home and repay them for teasing her, after all. "I'll make an appearance and leave early."

"You know, I think I love this skirt," Ron declared as he teased the fabric in the middle that fell just above her knees. He moved his head closer and stuck out his tongue as his head disappeared beneath the skirt to take one lazy lick of her wetness. When he pulled back, he grinned. "No knickers for you tonight, baby. Wicked wenches who're wet and ready don't get knickers from their Pirate kings."

Harry muttered, "I can't believe you managed to say that without messing up. Wicked wenches who're wet? Say that three times fast, mate."

"What can I say? I'm just that good," Ron said with a wink as he stood again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored their childish bickering as she walked back into the loo. She brushed her hair, glad that it was nearly dry, and left it down. The costume was far sexier than she would normally ever wear, but it wasn't quite as revealing as she'd originally thought. When she walked back into the bedroom, she arched a brow and gave them a suspicious look. They'd been whispering and were now looking at her with innocent smiles. "What are you two plotting?"

"Plotting? Us?" Harry repeated in a shocked tone. "Hermione, really, you need to work on this paranoia of yours. You're too young to be so suspicious."

"We were just talking about how we'd entertain ourselves while you were gone," Ron said with a sheepish smile as he walked to her. He gave her a slow kiss. "Sure you won't stay home, baby?"

"I can't," she reminded him before she kissed Harry. "You two try to stay out of mischief while I'm gone."

She picked up her invitation from the floor where it had fallen after Ron ended the charm on her way to the sitting room. A handful of floo powder and a last look at her boys left her wishing she could just forget the party. "I'll be home soon," she told them before she stepped into the floo.



"That's really nice, Harvey," Hermione replied to the Director of Operations. "However, do you think you could possibly look at my face as you speak? After all, I don't stare at your crotch when I'm speaking, do I?"

The man flushed and his gaze moved from the breasts he'd been ogling for the past ten minutes to stare at her in shock. "Really, Miss Granger! The nerve."

"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking," she said dryly. She didn't back down or flinch as he turned red and suddenly had a need for more punch. The party was awful. Half the night, she'd felt eyes on her, a feeling that she did not find at all pleasant. She was going to kill her boys when she got home. It was their bloody fault she was wearing this costume.

She was about to find Gerald to make her excuses to leave when she felt warm breath on her neck. Fingers ghosted over shoulder as she stood in shock that someone had the audacity to touch her in such an intimate way. "You're a spirited wench, aren't you, my dear? I do love to break the feisty ones."

"Ron?" She turned around suddenly but found herself staring a couple of employees from finance who weren't paying any attention to her at all.

After deciding she'd imagined the voice and touch, she went to get more punch and to look for her boss. She was halfway to the table when a hand grabbed her wrist. Warm fingers rubbed the sensitive skin before drawing circles on her palm. Her gaze discovered a very familiar man wearing the costume of a pirate and a black mask around bright green eyes. "Harry? What are you..."

His finger moved against her lips to keep her from talking. "You must have mistaken me for someone else, wench. You should be careful about talking to strangers, my pretty. I may have to keep you."

She licked her lips as his fingers continued to tease her palm and wrist, and she searched the room for a flash of red hair. When she looked back at Harry, he was gone, blended into the crowd. Now fully aware that they were there somewhere, she stayed alert as she walked to the refill her glass of punch. She felt him behind her, smelled the familiar scent of spice and citrus, and then his body pressed closer. The table was hard against her thighs as he rubbed against her as if leaning to pick up something from the table.

"Do you feel them watching you, wench? Do you know the thoughts they have about pushing you against the wall and fucking you until you're squeezing their cock off? Such a wicked little thing, aren't you? Teasing them and ignoring their desire, nipples hard and cunt wet, aching for someone brave enough to give you what you need." His voice was a low purr against her ear and she gasped when she felt his hand against her belly. He pulled her back hard and shifted down so she could feel his erection against her arse.

Then he was gone. She was left with her palms against the table and her body flushed with desire. She gulped down half a glass of cold punch and had to resist the urge to remove her shirt and fan herself.

"Are you okay, dear?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she stammered as she gave Edith a reassuring smile. "I just got a bit, uh, flushed from dancing."

"Oh, I understand. Your young man is quite striking," Edith said with a wink and nudge of her elbow. "You'd better go find him."

"I think I'll do that," she said as her face turned bright red at getting caught having dirty thoughts by her boss's secretary. Hermione stepped away from the table and focused on finding those evil men she'd stupidly fallen in love with years ago.

"You shouldn't glower like that, wench," Harry said as his hand traced the smooth column of her neck. He pulled her into his arms and twirled them onto the dance floor as his fingers continued to touch the most sensitive areas of her neck and shoulders. His finger traced her lips and he groaned when she parted them so she could lick. "Wicked little girl."

"I'm not the one playing silly games," she protested before his lips met hers in a soft kiss. She whimpered as she moved against him. Before she could deepen the kiss, he walked away. She wanted to stomp her foot and yell in frustration but rough hands suddenly grabbed her wrists and spun her. Ron pulled her against him, his hands gripped her arse, and he made no pretense of concealing his arousal.

"Are you ready yet, wench?" he asked as blue eyes seemed to burn behind his mask. His hand moved between them and she bit her lip when he pulled her skirt high enough for his hand to cup her wet cunt. One long finger brushed against her wet lips and he chuckled. "Not quite yet. I want you dripping for us, my sweet."

"You both sound bloody ridiculous trying to talk like cinema pirates," she scolded him even as her hands held onto his broad shoulders and she parted her legs for him even more. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips as he removed his hand and began to dance. Her mouth opened as he traced her lips and she tasted herself and Ron and wanted more.

"God, Hermione," he whispered before he kissed her hard and rough, his tongue inside her mouth as he pulled her as close as possible.

"No!" she growled softly as he stepped away.

"Not quite yet. Soon."

And then he was gone into the crowd and she was left on the dance floor. Before she could follow, Gerald Greengrass cornered her for a dance. Thankfully, he didn't spare a second glance at her chest beyond telling her he was glad to see her embracing the Halloween spirit and that she had a nice bosom. Hearing her boss compliment her on her breasts was definitely one thing she had hoped to never experience so she was pleased when the song ended and she could hunt the brats she called lovers.

She found them in a corner and her breath caught as she watched Ron press Harry against the wall and attack his mouth. Fingers gripped hair, bodies rocked against one another, and she felt her heart race as they parted and looked right at her. Ron winked before he walked away. She felt Harry's hand on hers and went to him willingly. The wall was behind her back and his hand was beneath her skirt before she had a chance to breathe. "Oh, Harry."

"Do you like this, Hermione? Do you like having my fingers teasing your cunt while anyone could look over and see?" he asked as he kissed his way down her neck. She didn't have to look to know his face was red. Ron could talk dirty without batting an eye while Harry tended to blush whenever he tried. She wasn't surprised when he laughed softly and muttered, "I'm pants at talking like that so just tell Ron I did if he asks, okay?"

There was no chance for her to reply because his fingers slid into her and all thought left her mind. He stroked her, teased her, his thumb pressed against her clit, and then he stopped. She clamped her legs together. "No, I won't let you stop!"

"It's not time," he told her quietly. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to slide into you right here and now. But we've got a plan, which should make you rather proud of us, so let my hand go, Hermione."

"This isn't fair," she whined as she relaxed her grip and his hand moved from beneath her skirt. She watched him lick his hand clean as a couple danced by. Her cheeks turned red at the realization they were standing not far from a huge crowd of people, her co-workers, and she'd been against a wall begging him to shag her.

This time, she was the one who walked away. She left the party and practically ran down the hall to the ladies' toilet. The room was empty when she stepped inside so she splashed cool water on her flushed face. God, what was she doing? She had never been one for public displays of affection. Holding hands and a kiss were the extent of actions she didn't mind someone witnessing and, even then, it had to just be a simple kiss. Tonight, she'd practically devoured Ron on the dance floor and acted like a wanton slag with Harry against a bloody wall!

"It's time."

She looked up and saw Ron behind her in the mirror. "Ron, we can't do this," she said firmly. He rolled his eyes, which made her scowl. She turned and glared at him. "Don't you roll your eyes at me!"

"Hermione, baby, shut up." Ron pushed her against the counter and moved a leather clad leg between hers. His hands lifted her and her legs wrapped around his thigh as he perched her arse on the edge of the counter.

She could feel the rough leather rubbing against her wet cunt and, God, it felt so good. Before she realized what she was doing, she moved against his leg seeking friction. Harry stood beside the door watching them intently, his hand inside his trousers as he stroked his cock, and his mask on the floor so he could put on his glasses to see them better.

"Such a dirty little girl," Ron whispered against her ear as she rocked back and forth on his thigh. She whimpered when he pressed harder, leather soon slick with her juices, and his hands were on breasts through the corset. The shirt was untied and she protested when he pushed it down her arms and left it around her wrists, keeping her hands on the counter behind her. He nibbled her neck as he tightened her shirt around her wrists. "Wanton wenches don't get to touch until I say. God, you've got such great tits, baby. They fit my hand as if they were made for it. Your nipples are perfect, and always so hard for us."

"Ron, stop teasing." She tried to get the shirt off her wrists but he'd tied it and she couldn't get free. He nuzzled her breasts as they spilled out of the top of the corset, her nipples hard as the material continued to lift them up from beneath as if presenting them to him for his enjoyment. Her head fell back when he sucked one into his mouth, his tongue licked as he sucked hard, teeth barely scraping in the way that always caused her to moan.

"So sensitive," he murmured against her breast before his mouth moved to the other one. When it, too, was dripping with saliva, he shoved his leg against her hard, his hands gripped her hips and he brought her down in a way that caused her to fall apart.

She came with a low cry as the leather slid against her. She was still gasping when he fell to his knees and shoved her skirt around her waist. His tongue was soon between the folds of her cunt, his nose brushed her clit as he lapped at her release. It wasn't until her body shuddered that he pulled back. His tongue licked his wet lips as he stood and unfastened his trousers. The leather was wet from her come and his cock was hard and ready.

"Fuck her, Harry," he demanded quietly as he watched and wanked.

Harry kissed her as he moved between her legs. He raised her arse to the counter, her hands still bound by her own shirt, and then he was inside her. "So wet. God, you're so wet," Harry muttered as he began to fuck her.

She moaned as he entered her deep, faster than normal for Harry, slightly rough. It felt so good.

"You like having him fuck you, don't you, baby?" Ron asked as he stroked his cock. "I bet you're so fucking wet because you know anyone could walk inside and catch us, see you being a wicked wench and hear you begging us to fuck you. Does Harry feel good inside you? So long and hard, making you whimper and moan. He's going to come soon, baby, and, after he does, I'm going to fuck you. Use his come to ease my entrance as I fuck you so hard you feel me for days."

"Fuck, Ron," Harry moaned as he shifted and sent his cock even deeper. "So filthy."

"Make her scream, Harry," Ron urged as he walked closer. Hermione couldn't see but she felt Harry stiffen and heard his low gasp so she knew Ron was fucking him with his fingers. It didn't take long before Harry spilled inside her, her name a soft whisper against her neck before he kissed her gently. She came when she felt rough fingers twist her clit, her body arched against Harry, and his hands held her back as Ron rubbed her clit.

"Ron, I can't," she protested as Harry pulled out and Ron moved between her obscenely spread legs. "I'm sore. Too much. God, it's too much."

"Shhh, baby," he said softly as his hand moved into her cunt. Her muscles were still clenching from her orgasm and she could feel the silk stockings sticking to her sweaty skin. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, her lips swollen, and the corset was barely up any longer despite the ties keeping it fastened.

When she felt his wet thumb press against her arse, she looked at Harry. He was sitting on the floor with his trousers unfastened and his spent cock resting against the zip. Ron removed his thumb and pressed two fingers into her. She tried to relax as he began to move them to get her ready for him. She kissed his sweaty face as his warm breath blew her hair off her neck. He slid inside her a few times, rocked back and forth until he was wet with her and Harry's come, and then he pulled out and pressed against her arse.

Ron raised her legs and put them over his shoulders, her arse slid to the edge of the cabinet, and she struggled against the shirt securing her arms behind her back. He seemed to sense her discomfort and ripped the shirt, her hands finally free. "Relax for me, baby," he told her softly as he leaned forward and began to press the head of his cock against her arse.

She gripped his shoulders tight, fingernails dug into his back, and she looked from him to Harry to the unlocked door with the sounds of the party right outside. "Fuck," she hissed as he slowly pushed inside her. She didn't particularly like it in her arse unless she was in the middle of them, much preferred them in her mouth or cunt, but Ron had such a fondness for her arse and was always very slow and careful with her that she usually indulged him his favored position. He never lasted long once he was inside her, thankfully, so it shouldn't be long that she'd be in this awkward position.

"So fucking tight," he murmured as he began to pull out and shove back inside. "Do you know how gorgeous you look tonight, baby? Ours, aren't you, Hermione? All ours. Always ours."

"Always yours," she whispered before she kissed him. She felt the mirror behind her head as he pushed her back and began to move faster. The sound of skin hitting skin and her soft moans soon filled the empty loo. She began to enjoy herself as she always did after the initial discomfort. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, the material of his shirt rubbing her nipples as he fucked her arse.

"Gonna come," he whimpered against her lips before he sunk deep. She felt his body tense before he shuddered and spilled inside her. He kept moving until he was spent and then pulled out with a soft noise that left come dripping from her arse to the floor below.

"You're such a mess, Hermione," Harry said as he crawled towards them. He smiled before he licked her from arse to clit. "I need to clean you up."

Ron laughed as he sat on the cabinet beside her and gently brushed hair away from her face. They both watched Harry lick and suck their come from her. "If you're too sore, he can stop."

"Mmm," she moaned softly. She was sore but, God, Harry was so good with his tongue that she didn't want him to stop. "We should stop, I guess. Someone might need to use the toilet soon, after all."

"Did you really think we'd risk one of your colleagues coming in to find us?" Ron shook his head. "Harry locked the door and put up a muffling charm when we came in to ravage you."

"And you know how good I am at charms," Harry spoke up and grinned, his lips and chin soaking wet before he was again licking and tasting.

Ron pulled her against him and brushed his fingers through her hair. "You know what, baby?"

"What?" Hermione asked breathlessly, not caring so long as Harry kept doing what he was doing.

"I think I could get used to these company parties."

The End