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The Thunderstorm

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Hermione bolted upright instantly.


Harry shook his head wearily and sat up, wondering what the hell had awakened him.


He groaned. Thunder storm. The shutter must have come loose in the wind, he thought as he dragged himself out from under the warm covers.

Ron shifted.


Hermione shivered, and then stopped. Harry! Must get to Harry.

Ever since the final battle with the Death Eaters, Harry had not dealt well with thunderstorms and other natural and manmade causes of loud, cracking noises. The lights from the thunder made it doubly worse.


Wow! Close one, he thought to himself. But then he brought himself up mentally. Hermione. She hated thunderstorms ever since seeing so many friends die in the final battle in bright lights and loud noises.

He wrenched open the bedroom door...
She flung open the door and entered...
The hallway...
She yelled.
He Yelled,


Ron rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders. He exhaled a small snore.

They ended up in a heap in the middle of the hallway. Harry caught himself on the stairwell railing before sliding down onto his arse on the slippery rug. Hermione had flung her arms around his chest just as they met in the dark and went down on top of him with an "Oompf!"

"Harry! Are you alright?"
"Are you okay?"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other and another loud BANG! and FLASH! illuminated the hall. He had landed in a modified runner's split with Hermione on top of his leg. His arm was around her waist. Both were breathing hard.

"Ow. You need to move, now," he panted frantically, rubbing his screaming, stretched thigh.

"Oh, gosh! I'm sorry! Is your leg okay? Did you pull anything?" she asked in a torrent of worried concern.

Ron exhaled.

"Nah, I'm fine, he said, rubbing his thigh and knee and straightening his bent leg out gingerly. He winced as the protesting muscles and tendons lengthened. "Good thing you passed on the pie tonight. That would've made a huge difference."

She looked agog at him, and then slapped his arm with a laugh. "And here I was all worried about you and your fear of thunderstorms."

"Me? I was worried about you. I know you don't like loud noises and bright lights in the dark."

Another terrific BANG! startled them; they clutched at each other.

"Scared, Potter?" she said with a slight smirk in her voice.

"Not when I’m with you I'm not," Harry replied simply.

Ron slept on.

His eyes were wide and so honest. Hermione felt herself being pulled into them, into him, as if he had lassoed her soul. The familiar flutters started deep within her belly and radiated out to all the cells that were touching him, causing them to tingle.

He bent his head down and touched his forehead to hers, a gesture so sweet, so uniquely Harry, that she could hardly breathe.

"I'm never afraid with you," he whispered.

She pulled back and kissed him on the cheek, allowing her lips to linger there for just a while before she ran her nose along the same spot.

"And I am always safe with you," she said softly.

He pulled her tighter to him. Suddenly, he stood up in one fluid motion and bent down to scoop her up under her knees. He grinned that lopsided, wide Harry-grin, the one that always made her nether regions flood with warmth, excitement, anticipation.

And Ron slept.

He kissed her. BANG! FLASH!CRASH!

His tongue ran along the slit of her lips, seeking admission. She granted it, parting them and pulling his tongue into her mouth with hers. He groaned as the softness enveloped him.

The wind picked up; it howled through the trees and slammed into their house. Another CRACK! of lightning lit the night.

Hermione hardly heard it for the rising wind in her ears, in her mind. Every fibre of her being was focused on a tongue, a delightfully soft pair of insistent lips, and a warm body that was crushed to hers. They were moving, but she did not know to where he propelled them both. He turned and kicked open a door.

Harry gently placed her on a bed and immediately covered her body with his. She spread her legs willingly, eagerly to accept his body, his erection, him.

"Hermione," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers down her spine and straight to her core. Oh, god. . .

"We're in Ron's bed."

She looked over into the peaceful, slack face of the third of their triangle. Not wanting to disturb him, she resisted the temptation to stroke his cheek.

"I'm sure he'd approve," she whispered as she reached down to stroke Harry through his pyjama bottoms.


He grinned wickedly and removed his bottoms; he rubbed his warm, solid cock against her dampening knickers. She groaned and shoved him back gently, raising her hips; he assisted.

Ron shifted.

Harry slid into her wet warmth fluidly, easily. Both exhaled contentedly at the contact.


Hermione reached over to take Ron's hand; it instinctively curled around hers.

Their hips moved minutely, rhythmically together, sliding in and out and against each other.


Harry's eyes were closed as he concentrated on feeling.

Ron rolled onto his back, never releasing Hermione's hand, his erection tenting the covers.

The rhythm of their lovemaking surrounded them, blocking out the furious storm just outside the window behind their heads. As the rain and wind pounded the house, their passion roared in their ears.

They worshipped each other with their lips, their tongues, finding the spots of joy as only practiced lovers know. They rode a rising crest of ecstasy.

Ron rolled onto his right side, closer to them than before, close enough for Hermione to wrap her fingers around his erection through the gap in his boxers. He moaned in his slumber.


As the connection of the three was completed, Harry began to weave a soft spell about them; Hermione's eyes flew open as the words, but said nothing. Harry's face was lit by the thunder outside, though he seemed to be lit from within...

She could not hear all the words, the storm rising in fury in her ears, but she caught “healing” and “joy” and “evermore.”


As he repeated his spell--his prayer—and with a trembling hand, he touched her head, and then Ron's, and then his own, covering his scar. Hermione felt a heavy weight, like a stone, like a smothering jacket rise up from her, leaving her lightheaded, free. She had not even realized it was there.

Ron sighed as if he had discovered great contentment in his dreams.


The torrent of joy began. It engulfed her senses, sending her spiraling into free flight. Harry's cry of release pushed her over the edge and together, they spilled over into delight of fervent liberation and onto the plain of peace.


Ron gave a muffled gasp, but did not awaken as his orgasm came. Hermione held onto him as he twitched and settled back into a deep rest. He sighed again.

Hermione crushed her lips to Harry's and they kissed deeply, unhurriedly for a very long time. Ron shifted closer to their heat and threw an arm around Harry's back.

"What's he going to think we he wakes up in the morning?" Hermione giggled into Harry's ear, when they broke the lengthy kiss.

"That he's one lucky bloke."

Harry rolled to Hermione's side, molding himself to her. Outside the thunder and lightning dissipated into low rumbles and the rain settled into a steady, light patter. Hermione sighed in deep, deep satisfaction, snuggling her cheek against Ron's shoulder.


A blazing ray of morning sun seared through Ron Weasley's eyelids. He grumbled and rolled over. It was then he realized the result of a very vivid dream.

Ew. Haven't done that for quite a while, he mused through the sleepy fog.

As he rolled he became aware of warmth and weight and the presence of another body, or two, in his bed.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew.