Chapter 1: Damn, What's Wrong With Me?
Harry closed the door behind his two best friends and leaned his back against it. He stood there lost in thought for several long moments before allowing himself to slide down the smooth wood until he was seated on the floor, knees bent in front of him. He raked his hands through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles like it had done throughout his adolescence, and groaned in utter frustration.
Nothing for it – the throbbing bulge in his trousers wasn’t going away on its own anytime soon, not with the memory of a naked Hermione in the forefront of his mind. He could NOT see his next patient while sporting a raging erection. He had once believed he would finally outgrow pointless attractions when he and Ginny had fully reconciled after the war.
Harry tried talking himself out of it, but not one of the usual arguments worked.
I’m dating Ginny, and it’s not fair to her if I’m attracted to someone else. Hermione is my best friend’s wife, and it’s not fair to him for me to want her.
That one usually worked, but it wasn’t helping this time. Of course, Hermione had been naked this time.
Okay, I’m a Healer. Hermione is a patient and she was only in my office naked because it was necessary that she be that way for a prenatal exam. Nothing sexy about a prenatal exam. NOTHING! I just need to grow up and be professional about it! But, oh Merlin, she was wet! Wet for my touch – she clenched and climaxed while I stroked inside her!
Harry tried to force himself to focus his thoughts on Ginny as he unzipped his trousers and reached in to remove his straining cock. Red hair, creamy freckled skin. Yes, that was better, more appropriate. He began to stroke himself. No, this wasn’t quite working.
Harry leaned his head back against the door and shifted around a bit to more fully extract his testicles from the confines of his trousers and pants, feeling if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing right. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to help him relax as he ran a hand underneath his balls and began to massage them gently. He wrapped his other hand around the base of his prick and sighed contentedly on the upstroke, then winced at the sharp tapping sound on the door above his head.
"Healer Potter?" a timid female voice called. "Is everything okay, Sir? Are you ready for your next patient?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Give me a minute. I just need to finish up with my, erm, case notes."
Harry listened for the sound of footsteps receding down the hall before returning to the task at hand. Now where was I? Oh, right then – red hair, creamy freckled skin, long legs with Quidditch-toned thighs topped by ginger curls – surrounding a hard and eager cock. Fuck! Wait, that’s not right! Damn, what’s wrong with me? I am NOT thinking about Ron now!
But even as Harry berated himself for the image, his mind’s eye saw himself taking that hard and eager cock into his own wet and willing mouth, and he felt his balls tighten just before his own cock erupted in a shower of white spunk all over his hand, his trousers and the floor.
Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?
Harry awkwardly removed his wand from his right trouser pocket with this left hand and cast a cleaning charm over everything in the general area of his lap, then shrugged his shoulders to release a bit of the tension he still felt before telling his assistant he was ready for his next patient.
Ron stepped from the Floo into the living room of their modest flat and turned to take Hermione’s hand as she entered behind him. She really didn't need help, of course, but his Mum had always said you should make an extra effort toward gentlemanly behavior when a lady was expecting. And that, at the moment, was about as gentlemanly as he could get given the raging hard-on he’d been trying to ignore since about thirty seconds after he’d walked into the exam room and saw Hermione’s flushed face with Harry’s fingers buried inside her. Ron knew that look – whether intentionally or otherwise, Harry had just brought his wife to orgasm, and instead of hurt or jealousy, all Ron felt was turned on – very turned on.
Ron pulled Hermione toward himself and enveloped her in a gentle embrace, bending to give her a tender kiss. His strategical mind was frantically trying to work out a means of getting his wife into their bed and naked beneath him without seeming like a git for wanting to pounce on a pregnant woman. He soon found cunning would not be necessary because Hermione was already shoving her tongue into his mouth and backing him toward their bedroom.
"I think we should celebrate, don’t you?" she asked as she shucked off her blouse and pushed her skirt down over her still-slim hips. Her hands were on the button to the jeans he’d changed into after Quidditch practice before his mind could even formulate an answer, but he wasn’t complaining. A minute later, he was naked on top of the duvet and Hermione was straddling his calves, one hand planted on the mattress on either side of him, as her mouth lowered towards his crotch. There were no teasing licks or nibbles; she went straight for the head of his cock and swallowed him to the root. Bloody fuck!
Ron nearly lost it then from the sudden shock of sensation, but managed to control himself through sheer force of will – a skill he’d worked hard to master as Hermione’s skill at fellatio improved. He had to smile at the word - fellatio - and how silly it sounded, even in his thoughts. Hermione had been quite serious when she told him if he wanted her to continue doing it, he’d better learn the proper term for it because crude expressions like "blow job" were only tolerable when they were actually doing it.
Ron shifted himself up to rest on his elbows so he could watch Hermione sucking him, and as he did, his calf brushed against Hermione’s pubic hair. He couldn’t miss the wetness he felt there, and he knew some of it was because she had his cock in her mouth. But he also remembered the flush on her cheeks when she was with Harry not even a half hour earlier, and he realized that the spectacular feeling between his own legs at that moment was at least partially due to Harry having gotten his wife aroused in the first place. He’d also felt the bulge in Harry’s trousers when he hugged him, and he knew Harry well enough to know he was too honorable to get aroused by every witch who spread her legs in his office. Ron licked his lips and wondered how that bulge might have felt if it hadn’t been trapped behind so much cloth, and without even having time to warn her, Ron was flooding Hermione’s mouth.
Hermione swallowed several times quickly, clearly overwhelmed at the suddenness and the volume of Ron’s release, then she pushed herself up into a sitting position, a satisfied smirk on her face. She waited patiently until the dazed look on her husband’s face cleared a bit and he looked at her with penetrating blue eyes.
"Liked that, did you?" she asked rather cheekily. "Now it’s my turn" And with that, she flopped down on the bed beside him and stared at him rather expectantly.
Ron rolled over and gave her a scorching kiss to express just how much he’d liked it, probing her mouth with his tongue and tasting himself there. And somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, a thought simmered.
I wonder what Harry would taste like there?
Ron shook his head and tried to focus on the feel of Hermione’s tongue against his own and the weight of her breast in his palm.
I am NOT wondering what Harry’s spunk tastes like! Damn, what’s wrong with me?
Hermione responded to Ron’s kiss enthusiastically and wondered absently how it would feel to kiss Harry that way. She’d always found him attractive – well, at least since fifth year anyway. She accepted that she sometimes had inappropriate fantasies about her best friend. It was perfectly normal to think of Harry as a sexual being on occasion; he was a handsome war hero and probably every witch with a pulse had at least one fantasy involving Harry. Probably a fair few wizards did as well.
Nothing wrong with that, she told herself, as long as I don’t act on it. Of course, I DID come all over Harry’s hand not even an hour ago – in the middle of a pelvic exam no less – to confirm I’m healthy enough to carry his best friend’s baby to term. But THAT was Harry’s fault. He was hard. I thought he was when he first touched me, but I could feel it for certain when he brushed against me. And, oh Merlin, the feeling of Harry’s hard cock against the back of my naked thigh ...
"So did he?" Ron asked, looking a bit frustrated from his current position poised above his wife, cock just barely brushing her entrance as if waiting for something.
Hermione could only assume he’d been talking to her while she’d been lost in her thoughts. The last thing she consciously recalled was Ron leaning over her as they kissed. When did he move?
"I’m sorry, did who what?"
"Did Harry say it was okay for us to fuck?"
"Oh, you know what I mean, ‘Mione. Us having sex won’t hurt the baby, will it?"
Hermione seemed to calm a bit at the question.
"Oh, no. I didn’t even ask Harry that, but no one stops having sex just because of pregnancy unless it’s a high-risk pregnancy. It’ll be fine."
I can’t believe I got so lost thinking about Harry that I forgot I was in the middle of having sex with my husband! I must be losing my mind!
Hermione moaned with contentment as she felt Ron’s familiar girth slide into her and start to thrust. It had been a bit clumsy at first between them, but Ron was a quick learner, and now – sweet Merlin the man knew how to fuck!
I wonder how Harry would feel inside me? I can’t believe how good it felt for him to just touch me today, and when Ron came in and Harry didn’t even flinch – damn that was hot – having Ron watching as Harry touched me. I wonder how it would be having them both touching me? Or touching each other?
Hermione felt herself clenching hard around Ron’s cock as she came, biting her lip to keep from screaming out Harry’s name along with Ron’s.
Damn, what’s wrong with me?
Chapter 2: Distraction
It really was nothing short of miraculous that Harry didn’t splinch himself as he Apparated to the London flat he sometimes shared with Ginny. Rather than the required "destination, determination and deliberation," Harry felt his "three d’s" at the moment were more like distraction, depression and damnation.
He wasn’t sure how he’d finished the workday, and he couldn’t honestly say now that he recalled the specifics of a single case since Ron and Hermione left his office an hour earlier. He’d been lost in his thoughts, and still couldn’t believe he’d gotten hard from doing a routine prenatal pelvic exam, except that it wasn’t really routine at all. For one, he didn’t do them often, and for two, it was Hermione. She looked like every one of the occasional fantasies he’d had about her since the Yule Ball in fourth year. Of course, he had pointedly ignored those fantasies in the light of day out of respect for Ron’s crush on her.
Bollocks! Getting the damned erection was bad enough, but on top of that, he’d sat right there on his office floor and tossed off while fantasizing about having Ron’s cock halfway down his throat.
A noise from the next room startled Harry back into present reality and he drew his wand swiftly out of reflex. It was probably just Ginny, although she generally didn’t come over on Thursdays because that was the night she usually reserved to go out with Luna if the Cannons didn’t have a game.
Harry crept silently toward the kitchen and was relieved to see a shapely redhead arranging plates on the table around what smelled suspiciously like Molly Weasley still trying to fatten him up a bit. He stowed his wand back in his pocket and eased up behind Ginny, wrapping his arms around her waist and snuggling his face against her hair. He was relieved to see her there, whatever the reason. Maybe all he needed was a proper shagging to get his mind back where it belonged.
"Not going out tonight?" he asked casually.
"Well, Luna’s not feeling well, and Mum made dinner."
"I could tell."
"HARRY POTTER! I can cook, you know!" Ginny turned out of his grasp and stared at him, eyes flashing at the sting of the perceived insult.
"I didn’t mean it like that, Ginny, honest. But I knew you had practice today and it ran late."
"How do you know that?"
"Hermione was in the office today. Ron was coming with her, but she said practice had apparently run over. He finally showed up just before we were done." He reached for a piece of bread and Ginny smacked the back of his hand.
"Hermione? Is something wrong with her?"
"No, not at all," Harry hesitated, as he rubbed the back of his hand. He’d taken an oath of confidentiality just like Muggle doctors, but Ginny would know soon enough anyway. "They’re pregnant."
"PREGNANT? Really? Oh, that’s wonderful! But wait a minute – why was she in YOUR office for that?"
Bollocks, here it comes ...
"Harry, you specialize in Spell Damage. What did Ron do? Hex her pregnant? Or is there some other reason Hermione wanted to see you?"
"Of course, he didn’t hex her pregnant! And she wanted me to see her because I know her history from the war, and because both she and Ron trust me." He didn’t add "unlike some other people," but he was certainly thinking it at the moment. Ginny hadn’t been the jealous sort since they’d gotten back together at the end of the war, but here lately, ever since the Cannons’ last road trip when they lost to Bulgaria, she’d been different. Suspicious of every little thing, and Harry had certainly done nothing to earn that suspicion – well, unless Hermione’s office visit counted and Ginny was behaving strangely before that.
Ginny’s shoulders sagged, and she leaned toward Harry and brushed her lips softly against his.
"I’m sorry, that was an awful thing for me to say, but I’m not having the best week."
Harry pulled out a chair for her to sit down before taking another for himself.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really. Yes – well, damn – I dunno." Ginny sighed as she placed her napkin across her lap and began to serve herself from the bowls spread on the table. "It’s just work, sort of. I just have to sort it all out in my head. Whoever said Quidditch was just a game obviously never played professionally."
Harry laughed. "Umm, I believe that was Hermione." Ginny laughed with him, considerably improving the atmosphere in the room.
After dinner, Harry and Ginny took up their favorite spot on the sofa – he with his back in the corner and one leg across the length of the cushions, she seated between his legs with her back resting against his chest and her legs stretched out next to his. They watched some old film on the Muggle telly that had already started when they turned it on. Harry was having a hard time getting interested in the film, partly because it had already started when they tuned in, but mostly because the bloke in the film had a heavy accent that reminded him of Viktor Krum when he’d been at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, making his dialogue rather hard to follow.
Ginny seemed to be enjoying the film, even though neither of them knew what it was. For an old film, there seemed to be an awful lot of sexually suggestive stuff in it. Most of it involved the bloke with the heavy accent and Harry could tell that Ginny was getting aroused from watching. She began to breathe more deeply, which in turn seemed to draw more of Harry’s attention to her cleavage – a sight he’d always enjoyed. His mind drifted away from the screen and onto the softly rounded swell of Ginny’s breasts – creamy freckled skin with a tendril of red hair curling softly nearby. The combination had always given him a sense of contentment.
Ginny shifted a bit on the sofa, causing her bum to rub against Harry’s groin, which naturally caused his cock to stir in response. The sensation reminded him of his wank that afternoon, which brought to mind the swell of other softly rounded breasts, and the way Hermione’s nipples had hardened when exposed to the air. His prick twitched against Ginny’s bum, so she wiggled against him in answer.
Harry forced his mind away from Hermione’s nipples and back to creamy freckled skin. He pictured his tongue teasing a nipple surrounded by creamy freckled skin, watching it harden at his touch, and running his fingertips lightly across the flat muscled chest around it. Harry’s cock swelled to life, as his brain whispered accusingly ‘those are Ron’s nipples you’re thinking of licking!’
"I think someone wants to play."
"It’s okay, Gin. You can watch the rest of the film first."
Harry did not want to shag Ginny while his mind was still focused on her brother. That was just too weird! He stared resolutely at the telly and watched the rest of the film with Ginny.
When the film ended, Harry stretched and yawned, and mumbled a few words about being knackered, even though it was still fairly early.
"Are you staying the night?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me already?" Ginny turned to look at Harry, Weasley temper clearly evident in her glare.
"Of course I’m not, Ginny. I just want to get some sleep."
"Oh. Well. I guess I’ll go on back to the Burrow. No point having a row with Mum for sleeping over if all you want to do is sleep anyway." She leaned in and gave Harry a quick kiss and then stood to Disapparate.
"Wait, Ginny!" Harry said frantically. He needed to make amends, but more than that, he needed someone to erase the images of Ron and Hermione from his mind. "Come to bed with me, at least for a little while."
"I don’t think you really want me there tonight for some reason, Harry."
Ok. I deserved that. I guess I’ll have to coax her. But do I really want her in my bed tonight?
Harry stood up and pulled Ginny against his body, kissing her more thoroughly than either of the two quick pecks they’d shared that night. His tongue plundered her mouth and his hands wandered down toward her bum, squeezing the fleshy mounds playfully and pulling her harder against himself. He wasn’t hard any more, but started to show a faint interest as she ground herself against him.
Harry tugged Ginny’s shirt loose from the waistband of her jeans and ran one hand up across her bare back, pausing at the catch to her bra, which he deftly unfastened. He ran the other hand under the front of her shirt and palmed a breast, earning a soft moan from the redhead in his arms as he teased the nipple with his thumb.
"OK, I’ll stay – for awhile."
Harry knew Ginny was a bit cheesed at him when they went to bed, but she’d sounded like she was enjoying herself, at least at first. They’d taken turns undressing each other, and Harry had noticed Ginny seemed a bit distracted, but it was still good. Ginny always had a great body, what with all the Quidditch practice. Of course, her breasts weren’t actually as full and soft as Hermione’s.
Harry just loved the taut muscles in Ginny’s arms and legs, and all that creamy skin sprinkled with freckles. He smiled, thinking of how it reminded him of Ron, although he had more freckles on his upper body since he could play Quidditch without his shirt. And Ron was just as fit as Ginny – he would be, since they both played for the Cannons.
Oh Shit! I’m thinking about Ron again when I’m supposed to be concentrating on his sister. How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I? Ron’s not into blokes anway. He’s married. He got Hermione knocked up! Besides, I’m not into blokes either. I got rock hard playing with Hermione’s twat today. Shit! I did NOT just have that thought! I was not playing with her twat. I was conducting a professional medical examination. It wasn’t anything personal between us. It was just work. Strictly business.
Harry knew, no matter how much he tried to argue with himself, he’d been hard just from looking at Hermione that afternoon, and had gotten harder when he touched her. He knew he was hard now just from thinking about it. He was doomed.
Harry tried to focus on Ginny and forget about Ron and Hermione. He kept telling himself it was Ginny who just crawled into his bed and was snuggling against his naked body. Ginny who was kissing him, even though she seemed like she might be as distracted as him. He hoped she didn’t know that as he raked his fingers through her long red locks he was actually wondering if they’d get tangled in Hermione’s wild brown curls.
He forcibly drug his thoughts away from Hermione and concentrated on kissing his way down from Ginny’s throat to the swell of her breasts. He loved the way her breasts felt in the palms of his hands, even if they weren’t as soft as Hermione’s. They were smaller, and more firm; she just had a more athletic build about her, and he’d always liked it. He liked how her nipples pebbled when he licked them, kind of like Hermione’s had done today when she pulled away the sheet, revealing herself completely. Damn, I’m not thinking of Hermione’s nipples now!
Harry inched his way down Ginny’s body, kissing across her ribs and belly as he admired the expanse of creamy skin dotted by soft reddish brown freckles. Her belly was flat and toned, but more narrow at the waist than her brother’s. Don’t go there, Harry, keep going. Right.
Harry moved down more and nudged Ginny’s thighs apart, realizing as he rubbed himself against the bed that he was only half hard. He found that a bit odd, but he told himself it was because he’d had that good wank in the afternoon. Yeah, right. The one where I came all over my trousers thinking about having Ron’s cock in my mouth.
Harry willed himself to think about Ginny. He pushed her thighs further apart and trailed his fingers through her soft red curls, teasing her until she started making those breathy little noises he liked so much. Absently, he wondered if Ron’s pubes were soft too. He knew they were red because he’d seen Ron naked loads of times, in the showers after Quidditch and in the dorms at school. Of course, he’d never seen Ron naked when he was hard. There had been nothing sexual about it. Though it might’ve been nice.
FUCK! I did not just have that thought!
Harry tried to listen to the soft, breathy little noises Ginny was making and concentrate on pressing a finger into her folds. Ginny wasn’t wet at all, and she was always wet by the time they got to this point. Hell, Hermione was wet at this point today, and we hadn’t even been kissing! Harry mentally scolded himself, telling himself that little bit of information wasn’t important right now anyway.
Ginny wasn’t wet because, well – Harry didn’t know why. He didn’t think she was THAT cheesed off at him. Surely he’d have felt it if she’d been trying to Legillimize him; Ginny wasn’t that good at it in the first place, and Harry nearly always Occluded now, so he was sure he would have noticed. Damn, I hope I didn’t call her Hermione sometime tonight, or worse, call her Ron.
Okay, so Ginny wasn’t wet. He could fix that. He eased himself a bit farther down the bed and began to probe Ginny’s pussy with his tongue. She whimpered a little from the contact, so he was encouraged that it felt good to her. She moaned softly when he sucked her clit into his mouth and began to massage it with his tongue. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair and he was encouraged. Ginny was enjoying what he was doing, and she would be wet enough soon.
Harry made another swipe through Ginny’s folds with his tongue before pushing it into her, and was quite surprised that she was still utterly dry, like she wasn’t turned on or aroused the least little bit. Well, she’d certainly seemed aroused during the film.
Okay, I need to try harder. Bugger! This is more work than it’s worth.
Harry tried to make his tongue as wet as he could and he licked Ginny thoroughly, all through her folds and around her clit and as much as he could push his tongue inside her, but dry as she was, it just didn’t seem to be working well. She was making all the right noises – Mmms and Ahhhs and breathy little moans – but after awhile, Harry’s tongue was getting tired and Ginny’s little noises sounded forced to his annoyed ears.
He rolled onto the bed beside her and tried to force a pleasant expression onto his face.
"Get me wet for you, love."
"Hmph!" she huffed as she sat up. "Get you hard for me’s more like!"
Harry looked down at the limp penis resting in his dark pubic hair and he blushed. He hadn’t blushed in front of Ginny since the second night they were naked together. After that, he just didn’t care about the nudity any more. He wasn’t sure what was worse – knowing that he could still be soft after licking Ginny’s pussy, or discovering that he hadn’t even realized his cock wasn’t the least bit interested in what he was doing. This was bad.
"Come on, Ginny, all it needs is a bit of encouragement!"
Harry really shouldn’t have been so confident. It had never taken so long for him to get hard, and even when he was, it wasn’t that penetrating kind of hard that’s necessary for good sex. It was more like the hard that’s left over right after a bloke has blown his load and his prick is still rigid, but kind of bendy. But Ginny tried anyway. She managed to get Harry’s cock good and wet, and he thought it still might work.
He reversed their positions and rested most of his weight on his knees. He leaned over Ginny, supporting himself on his left arm so he could use his right hand to guide himself into her. She’d left enough spit on his cock that he managed to slide it into her, and he was hard enough he didn’t completely embarrass himself trying to thrust against her, but she still wasn’t wet at all. After just a few strokes, their skin was beginning to stick together and it just got downright uncomfortable for both of them.
Harry finally couldn’t stand it any longer. He felt like Ginny was rubbing him raw, and he figured she felt the same way, even though she wasn’t saying anything. It was like her mind had gone off somewhere else and left her body behind. He pushed himself up and pulled out of her, and he wasn’t actually sure Ginny even noticed. That’s really good for the old male ego, that is.
Harry got the lube out of the bedside table that he kept there for those nights when the Cannons were on the road or when Ginny just didn’t come over for some reason – the nights it was just him with his right hand for company.
He took the top off and scooped his fingers into the jar, then slathered the silky gel all over his cock, finally feeling like he was getting properly hard. He tossed the jar aside without even bothering to replace the lid and sheathed himself back inside Ginny’s body. There was lots of friction, but eventually some of the lube worked itself into Ginny’s passage enough that it got more pleasant.
The trouble was, it never got really good. Ginny still hadn’t come by the time Harry thought his arms would fall off, and he was sweating all over her by then. Of course, Harry still hadn’t come either – hadn’t even been close – and he could tell he was going limp again. But hell – he was exhausted!
And suddenly, without any warning, Ginny just pushed at his chest.
"Harry, it’s okay. It’s getting late and I really need to go home. You’d said you were sleepy anyway."
She crawled out from under him and dressed, and then she was gone. She’d Disapparated without a care for the fact that she was flushed and sweaty, and without even giving him a kiss goodnight.
Harry had no fucking idea what had gone wrong. He had just experienced what was probably the worst sexual encounter of his life and had no idea how it happened. If Ginny had been wet and wanting it, and it was just him not being able to stay hard, he’d have said it was guilt over Ron and Hermione, but Ginny hadn’t really been in the moment either, so it wasn’t all Harry’s fault – was it?
He got out of bed and walked naked to the loo. He needed a shower. He was sweaty and his muscles ached from the effort of trying to make love to a woman he hadn’t been the least bit interested in tonight. He climbed into the shower and turned on the taps, letting the hot water wash down over him.
I’m just tired, that’s all it is. I can’t have lost interest in Ginny. Sex with her is the best sex I’ve ever had! Well, okay, it’s the only sex I’ve ever had unless you count my right hand, but still, I love her. Of course I want her. She loves me. And she loves Quidditch. And she’s got all that gorgeous red hair and that creamy skin covered in freckles.
Harry had loved Quidditch when he was at Hogwarts, and he’d never felt more like he belonged in the magical world than when he was on a broom. It was good to have someone he could share that with. Sometimes he wondered if he should have played professionally, but after the war, he just didn’t want to do anything that would add to his fame. He’d thought about becoming an Auror as well, but in the end, he thought it would be good to save lives for a change instead of having to take them in battle.
Harry still played Quidditch. There was always a game at the Burrow on Sunday afternoons before Molly’s big family feeds, and in summer it was especially good because everyone played in just shorts – well, Ginny wore a top of course, but Harry and the rest of the Weasleys could go without shirts. Harry could lose himself taking in all the red hair and creamy skin dusted in freckles. All the Weasleys were like that. Sometimes it was hard for him to concentrate on catching the Snitch – but he always did. He particularly loved to watch Ron fly – the way his thighs gripped his broomstick, and the way sweat dripped off the ends of his ginger hair and slid slowly across his pecs.
Harry gasped as he realized his erection was pulsing in his hand as he stroked himself.
Fuck! Where was that when Ginny was still here? When did I start wanking? Oh fuck, I’m thinking about Ron again. And wanking. What the bloody fuck am I going to do?
But even as Harry stroked his cock and tried to picture the woman he was supposed to love – had even considered asking to be his wife – the images in his mind were of Ron and Hermione. He imagined it was Ron’s cock in his hand instead of his own, or Hermione’s tongue teasing his nipples instead of his own calloused fingers, and he spattered his release on the shower wall with an ache in his heart.
Chapter 3: How Do Muggles Stand This?
"Ron, Ron – wake up," Hermione pleaded as she shook her husband. "RON!"
"Huh? Whuddizit?" Ron’s voice was still thick and slurred from being so deeply asleep, in spite of all that thrashing he’d been doing.
"You were having a nightmare, luv. Do you want to talk about it?"
Ron thought for a few moments about what he’d been dreaming, and suddenly his eyes grew round in alarm.
"Did I say anything?"
"No, nothing really – you were screaming ‘No’ like you were afraid of something or maybe trying to prevent something. That’s it really, but you were practically shoving me out of the bed. That’s what woke me."
"Oh, right then. Sorry about that." Ron paused and chewed his lip. "I’m just gonna go have a glass of milk. You go back to sleep."
Ron pulled on his slippers and the jumper he’d carelessly tossed onto the floor as he’d gotten into bed, then he stumbled toward the kitchen. He poured himself a big glass of milk and went to sit in front of the big fireplace. He hadn’t brought his wand from the bedroom, so he tossed another log onto the dying embers and nudged them to life with the poker before collapsing onto the squashy sofa.
He’d been dreaming of hiding in the forest with Harry and Hermione, and how he’d left them there. He'd dreamed of how he had struggled for weeks to find his way back to them, and then of the near-paralyzing fear when he’d seen Harry dive into the freezing water. Maybe that was why he’d been screaming in his sleep. He had been terrified of losing Harry, of not being able to save him from the icy lake that night. It seemed so long ago now.
But then he remembered what happened after he’d pulled Harry from the water, the minuscule image rising up from the Horcrux, giving life to his insecurities and fears about Harry and Hermione – how he was so afraid Hermione would want Harry more than she wanted him, and he had to stop it – stop it before Harry saw.
Losing Hermione to Harry wasn’t Ron’s only fear. He was afraid of losing Harry to Hermione as well, of not being the thing Harry would miss most any more. So he’d lashed out and the Horcrux was destroyed, and Ron was left to carry his secret alone. It wasn’t only Hermione he wanted when he was alone in his bed at night.
He’d hidden it well, sometimes so well that he could forget it was there, simmering just beneath the surface and waiting to strike. Seeing Harry and Hermione together that afternoon had brought it all back to him, but somehow now, he was no longer jealous. Now he wanted them together, all of them – Harry, Hermione and himself.
That was how the world made sense to him. They complimented one another. They completed one another. Together, they were whole.
Ron finished his milk and settled more comfortably into the corner of the sofa. He was awake now, and he didn’t really want to go back to bed and disturb Hermione. She needed her rest. He smiled at the knowledge he was going to be a daddy.
Ron closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander, at first thinking about impending fatherhood and wondering if it would be a girl or a boy. He wondered whether the baby would have ginger hair and freckles, or if it would look more like Hermione. But thinking about Hermione brought him back to seeing her in Harry’s office, her face flushed from her orgasm, and he wondered if Harry realized the effect he’d had on her.
The effect Hermione had on Harry was obvious – it was impossible to miss Harry’s cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. Ron thought again about how much that had excited him, about how he’d wondered what it would feel like to have Harry’s naked cock pressed against him and how Harry’s come would taste on Hermione’s tongue.
What if the afternoon had played out differently? Ron knew Harry was much too good a man, and too good a friend, to take advantage of the situation, but just for tonight, he could pretend otherwise, right?
Ron imagined himself walking into Harry’s office, the situation much as it had been that afternoon. Hermione lay on the table completely nude, but she was bucking softly against Harry’s hand as he felt inside her, his thumb deftly stroking her clit and causing her to clench and come around his fingers.
"Harry, you can’t leave me like this," Hermione begged in Ron’s imagination, as he reached into his pajamas to grasp his hungry cock.
Ron started to stroke himself as he envisioned the bulge in Harry’s trousers, and imagined Harry’s ragged reply.
"Hermione, I want you, but I can’t. Ron’s my best friend. I’m a Healer and you’re my patient."
"But Harry, I need you!" Hermione gasped as she sat up to pull Harry into a deep, wet kiss.
Ron recognized the dialog in his mind was lame, but his cock didn’t care. He visualized himself reaching around Harry from behind to unfasten his trousers and push them down as he whispered in his friend’s ear.
"Take her, Harry. I want you to."
He pictured himself wrapping his hand around Harry’s erection, and he stroked himself with the same rhythm he pretended he was using on Harry before guiding his friend’s prick to his wife’s entrance. Ron would use his hand to slide the tip of Harry’s penis through Hermione’s folds, lubricating the head with her wetness before lining him up just right to slide into her.
"Ron, no, I can’t," Harry would say weakly – clearly wanting to, but not believing it was truly okay.
And Ron would grab Hermione’s thighs and thrust himself against Harry’s bum, impaling his wife on his best friend’s cock, the three of them moaning together. He’d continue to thrust against Harry’s bum a few times to insure they kept going, then he’d turn them loose long enough to rid himself of his denims and boxers.
He wanted to imagine Hermione sucking him first, but the position in this particular fantasy didn’t lend itself well to that. This was a fantasy after all, so Ron decided it was fine to move along to the main event. He pictured himself picking up the lube that was conveniently laying on the counter and slathering it all over his aching prick, pausing a moment in real life to spit on his hand for lubrication. And then he imagined himself trailing his fingers along Harry’s cleft and pausing to tease his entrance.
"Spread your legs for me, Harry," he’d whisper softly in his friend’s ear. And Harry would almost moan, "Oh God, Ron, yes . . ." as he toed off a shoe so he could kick one leg free of his trousers.
Ron would spread the lube over Harry’s hole, then ease a slicked finger inside his friend, slowly sliding it in and out in time with Harry’s strokes into Hermione. As he felt Harry’s muscles relax, he’d add a second finger and scissor them gently, stretching and preparing. When he felt Harry press back against his hand, he’d know Harry was ready.
Ron tightened his grip on his cock and slowed his hand as he imagined himself lining the tip up with Harry’s pucker and pressing himself inside his friend for the first time, gently easing through the tight ring of muscle, willing himself to go slowly so that Harry could adjust to his size. He had no wish to cause Harry any discomfort, only pleasure, and he was sure the intrusion must be uncomfortable at first.
Harry would lean forward onto Hermione and will himself to relax and accept the new sensation of being filled by Ron. When he did, he’d push back against Ron and beg, "More."
Ron would respond by thrusting slowly into Harry, sliding his cock in and out of his friend’s hole, slowly at first so they could work out the right rhythm as Harry’s cock thrust in and out of Hermione. In real life, Ron was beginning to pant almost breathlessly, and to thrust his cock more forcefully through his fist. Ron imagined how tight Harry’s passage would be around him, and how much of a turn-on it would be to watch Harry fucking his wife. Before he even realized what he was about, Ron was shooting his release all over his hand and his jumper and his pajamas.
As Ron’s heart rate and breathing slowly began to return to somewhere near normal, he remembered he left his wand in the bedroom.
Bugger, what a mess! How do Muggles stand this without being able to do the cleaning charm?
Chapter 4: Merlin, Help Me
Harry paced nervously in his office, alternately dreading and eagerly awaiting his last appointment of the day. He cursed himself silently for the "eagerly awaiting" part. It was wrong of him as a Healer to be looking forward to a prenatal appointment with a patient because of the sexual thrill he knew he’d get from it. Even more importantly, it was wrong of him as a friend to be looking forward to getting that thrill from his best mate’s wife, who also happened to be his other best friend.
His thoughts kept running over the past month – from Hermione’s first visit and how he’d wanked shamefully afterward on the floor of his office, to how dismally he’d performed that night with Ginny and how strained their relationship had seemed since that night. He didn’t know whether he hated himself more for getting aroused by Hermione, knowing she was carrying Ron’s child, or for getting off while fantasizing about Ron. Either way, he was a sick fuck and he knew it. He should tell Ron and Hermione to find a new Healer, one who specialized in babies and not spell damage. The trouble was, he knew the reason Hermione wanted to see him was because of Harry’s special training with spell damage and the injuries she’d sustained during the war. She’d put everything on the line to help him – they both had – and there was no way he could turn them away now.
He thought about Ginny, and how unfair he was being to her, even if she didn’t actually know it. Their attempt at having sex the night following Hermione’s first appointment had been dismal. No, that was an understatement – it had been pathetic, a complete disaster, and clearly it had been all his fault. His mind had been on all the naughty things he’d like to do to Hermione, and more surprisingly, to Ron, rather than on Ginny. Yes, he’d passed it off at the time as her being less than completely interested herself – but he was sure that somehow, it was still his fault.
The situation had not improved since then. She’d slept over only three times, partly because she’d been away with the Cannons for a road trip, but mostly because the atmosphere between them was no longer comfortable and relaxed. When she didn’t offer to stay the night after coming over for dinner and a film, he didn’t encourage her. When she did stay, Harry had to pretend the redhead going down on him was Ron in order to get properly erect. He felt like a complete bastard when he realized he was thinking that Ron was bound to be able to suck him off better than Ginny had recently. Either she was losing her touch, or he was more doomed than he was willing to admit.
When Harry slid his cock into Ginny’s depths, he imagined himself fucking his best mate’s wife, and he hated himself for it. Ginny didn’t respond to him the way she always had, and he knew it was because he wasn’t truly giving her his full attention. He only hoped Ginny wouldn't notice his distraction before he was able to get a grip on his out of control libido and put it in check.
Harry was so lost in his miserable thoughts that he drew his wand and nearly hexed his startled assistant when she opened the door to tell him that the Weasleys were waiting to see him. Harry took a deep breath and swallowed hard before asking her to show them in. He didn’t know whether he was glad Ron was with Hermione, or if that just made the situation worse, but he hated that he was suddenly reluctant to be alone with his two best friends.
Ron knew he’d almost given himself away when Harry asked Hermione to pull up her shirt a little so he could measure her belly. Harry had explained that as Hermione’s pregnancy progressed, the measurements would help him to more accurately assess gestational age and determine if the baby’s growth was progressing normally. Hermione hung on every word, but Ron was so distracted with other thoughts that he barely paid attention.
"Doesn’t she need to get undressed so you can do a – you know," he floundered, gesturing toward his own crotch in indication of a pelvic exam, "like you did before?"
Harry looked puzzled for a second, then laughed.
"Oh, no. Unless there are problems along the way, and I don’t expect that there will be, I won’t need to do that again until really near the end of her pregnancy. I may need to do it then to check the baby’s position and to see if Hermione’s cervix is starting to thin."
He thought about Ron’s question, and his reaction to Harry's answer. Harry could understand if Ron thought a pelvic exam was part of every visit and was just reminding Harry to do it, but Ron looked as if his hopes had been dashed when Harry said it wouldn’t be necessary again for several months. Relief or disinterest, Harry could understand, but Harry was nearly certain the expression on Ron’s face had been disappointment. But why? Ron was the jealous sort. He couldn’t possibly like watching Harry touch his wife, could he?
No, Harry knew he was the only one perverted enough to get off on something like that; to want to be with both of them at once. He tried to blame it on his Muggle upbringing with relatives who loathed the site of him. He tried to tell himself he was just starved for affection, having been deprived of it for so long as a child. But in his heart, Harry knew that wasn’t it. He knew Ron and Hermione both loved him without question in a way much deeper than the Dursleys would have if they’d been a loving family to him. No, it was lustful love he was craving from his best friends, and that just wasn’t on. He knew he had to find a way to put his inappropriate desires behind him, because he would never risk losing their friendship.
But as guilty as she felt about her vivid imagination, she couldn’t shut off the images that kept playing in her mind. The idea of being with Harry – not just her with Harry, but the three of them together – turned her on. She tried to tell herself it was just the overload of hormones from being pregnant, but an annoying little voice in her head kept reminding her that she’d had thoughts like that before, even before she and Ron had actually become a couple. Hermione really wanted to slap her little voice.
In spite of her own private fantasies, she didn't want to hurt Ron by letting him see that she had feelings for Harry beyond the love of friendship. Still, she could not sit back and let Ron get mad at Harry for doing his job. Clearly, Ron was carrying a grudge about where Harry’s fingers had been when he arrived at their first appointment.
"Doesn’t she need to get undressed so you can do a – you know," she mimicked. "Harry was just doing a routine pelvic exam at that first appointment. A Muggle doctor would have done the same thing, or any other Healer if I’d gone to someone else. Are you just mad that it was Harry?"
Ron sputtered, clearly taken aback by her question. "I – I bwuh, uhh – I wasn’t mad at Harry! I was, umm, I was ..."
"So were you mad at me because I wanted Harry to handle my prenatal care?"
"No, Hermione! I wasn’t mad at anyone."
"Then what was all that about today in Harry’s office?" Hermione’s voice held that tone, much like Molly’s. It told Ron quite clearly that he better have a solid answer and it had better be the truth.
"I was ..." Ron hesitated, not wanting to say the words aloud because then they would be real and he could no longer pretend he wasn’t attracted to Harry himself. He hung his head and wouldn’t look at Hermione as he spoke.
"I was disappointed he wasn’t doing it today because it – because – because it turned me on last time to see the two of you together. I liked seeing him touching you, and seeing – how wet you were from it."
The look of stunned shock on Hermione’s face would have been priceless, but Ron was much too busy staring at his trainers to see it.
"Oh!" she said. And for once, Hermione Granger Weasley was at a loss for words.
The couple Flooed home and when they reached their flat, each went about doing their own things and avoided the subject – and each other – until bed time.
Harry had spent a fair bit of time in the past month thinking about what it was that he really wanted. He’d always known Ron and Hermione were the two most important people in his life, but he was slowly accepting that they were also the two people he wanted in his bed.
He wasn’t surprised really, when he worked it out. Nothing in his life had ever been normal or easy. Why should his sex life be any different? Normal people found one partner and were happy. A bloke was supposed to fancy girls, not other blokes, and certainly not his best mate’s wife. So it was only logical that he’d fancy two people instead of the usual one, and that those two people would be the ones most off limits to him.
Harry was surprised, however, when he began to accept that Ginny was really just a substitute for Ron. Maybe that was all she’d ever been. He didn’t actually start to fancy her until after she’d taken up Quidditch, which was about the same time that Ron had started snogging Lavender Brown all over the school. In retrospect, Harry realized he probably wouldn’t have gone for Ginny then if he hadn’t known that Ron really fancied Hermione in spite of his dalliance with Lavender. He wondered if he’d gone after Hermione then, while Ron was seeing Lavender, would it be his baby she was carrying now?
Harry knew he should break things off with Ginny. Even though he would never act on his feelings towards his best friends, it wasn’t fair to Ginny to sleep with her while he was thinking of her brother and sister-in-law. He knew he could never marry Ginny like everyone expected. Funny, but Harry thought he might be more afraid of Molly’s reaction to a breakup than to Ginny’s. After all, the woman had treated him like her own son since he was twelve. He didn’t want to disappoint her.
Harry jumped at the sound of the owl pecking on his window, but briskly crossed the room to let it in when he recognized it as Ginny’s. He pulled the parchment from his leg and reached for an owl treat, but the owl soared out the window without waiting for the treat or a reply. He wondered if he’d done something to offend the bird.
Don’t expect me tonight. A friend is visiting from a rival team and we’ve decided to have a slumber party of sorts. Will stop by your office before the Cannons leave for our next road trip tomorrow afternoon. I really need to talk to you about something.
~ Gin ~
Well, that settled that. Harry wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or frustrated. He was glad he wouldn’t have to spend the evening pretending an interest in Ginny that he no longer felt, but frustrated at the knowledge that Ron and Hermione were sure to haunt his dreams that night. He wondered what it was that Ginny had on her mind. He hoped she wasn’t planning to start hinting again about getting married.
‘Because it turned me on to see the two of you together.’
Ron’s words rang in Hermione’s ears and her heart pounded in her chest. Just the thought of that gave her a tingly feeling between her legs. She could imagine herself doing more with Harry, kissing him or him having his mouth on her, or perhaps even taking him in her mouth as Ron watched. She could almost feel the temperature in the room rise as she pictured Ron stroking himself as she ran her tongue up the length of Harry’s cock.
Did she dare confess to Ron that being touched by Harry turned her on as well? She almost had to admit to that much if Ron had noticed how wet she was from Harry’s touch. But would Ron be utterly revolted if she confessed that she thought of him and Harry together as well, that she longed to see them touching each other?
Hermione took a deep breath as Ron finally came into the room, naked and rubbing his still damp hair with a towel.
"We really have to talk," she began as he sat beside her on their bed.
"I know. I’m sorry. I know it’s messed up for me to think it’s hot to see you and Harry together. But it just was, and when I saw how wet you were, it just really got me going. You’re going to tell me that pregnant women are always wet or something, aren’t you?"
"No, Ron, you were right. I was wet because of Harry, so I should probably be apologizing to you. I mean, I hadn’t thought about him that way in a really long time, but I did think about it sometimes when we were in school. When you were seeing Lavender, and Harry and I were spending so much time together, it was easy to use thoughts of Harry as a distraction."
"Yeah, I’m sorry about that, too, Mione. I never did really fancy her, but I was just so jealous about you and Krum that I kind of took advantage of it when she threw herself at me."
"You know I never did anything with Viktor, right?"
"Yeah, I know – now. I mean, I guess you might have snogged him, but I know you didn’t do anything else with him."
"He kissed me once or twice, but it never felt right. But if just the idea of me and Viktor bothered you so much, how is it that seeing Harry touching me turned you on?"
"Well, umm – bloody hell – I dunno. Because it was Harry, I guess. But you’re telling me you thought it was hot too, right? Why? Do you want to sleep with him, Hermione?"
"Well, yeah, I did. Think it was hot, I mean. And I guess like you said, because it was Harry. And I don’t know if I want to sleep with him. I used to think I might, but then we got together and he started dating Ginny." Hermione paused there, hesitant to reveal too much more.
"So you didn’t really stop wanting it, you just gave the idea up as a bad job since it wasn’t practical anymore." Ron leaned in to kiss her so she could tell he wasn’t getting mad about the idea that she might fancy a go at Harry. Their tongues twined together in a leisurely dance and Ron snaked his hand up under the camisole top to Hermione’s pajamas so he could cup her breast.
"And would you now if you could?" he asked as his thumb teased a nipple.
"Ron!" Hermione sounded exasperated, even as she leaned into his tempting touch.
"I won’t get mad, Hermione. Not about Harry. I already told you I thought it was hot to see you together. He was hard, you know." His hand had moved around her body and was sliding down into her pajama bottoms.
"Umm, yeah," Hermione moaned softly, and Ron wasn’t entirely sure if that was an answer to his question, a comment on his observation about Harry or a reaction to his touch. "I noticed. But how did you know?"
"Well, I looked," Ron said as he squeezed Hermione’s hip before moving his hand toward her front. "Plus, it was kinda hard to miss when I hugged him and his cock was pressing into my thigh."
Hermione bit down on Ron’s shoulder, but not fast enough to stop the moan that escaped her lips.
"Oh, you like that idea, do you? Me knowing how hard Harry was for you?"
"Umm hmm," Hemione whimpered softly, knowing now was the time to force the words out, even though it was nearly impossible to think coherent thoughts while Ron stroked her clit. "But I really think it would be hot to see the two of you touching each other."
Hermione stared directly at Ron, daring him to react.
Ron’s fingers stilled on her clit and he just gaped at her. "But I – he – we’re not ..."
"Think about it, Ron," Hermione said as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and began to stroke it slowly. At her touch, Ron’s fingers began to move on Hermione again, gliding across her clit and slipping inside her.
"Think about when you walked into Harry’s office that first time and I was laying back on the table with Harry’s hands on me. You could’ve come up behind him so easily and slipped your arms around him to unfasten his trousers. Then you could have reached in and stroked him like I’m doing to you now."
Hermione hesitated, just for a second, when she felt Ron’s cock twitch in her hands at her words.
"You want Harry, too, don't you?"
Ron didn’t say a single word for nearly a full minute. It was all Hermione could do to hold her tongue, waiting for him to say something – anything.
Ron didn’t speak. He pushed her back onto the bed and grasped her pajama bottoms and practically ripped them from her body. Hearing Hermione narrate his secret fantasy was nearly driving him spare with need, and right now, he needed more. He gripped his cock at the base and teased the head through her folds, much like he’d imagined himself doing with Harry’s cock so many times in the past month.
"Umm, I wish that was Harry’s cock you were rubbing on me now," Hermione moaned softly, and Ron’s composure snapped at her words. He thrust roughly inside her, while at the same time grabbing her thighs and pulling her forcefully towards himself.
Hermione cried out in surprise, but she knew she was getting to him. God, he felt so good pounding into her – something she feared she might not feel again until after the baby came because Ron was usually so concerned with her "delicate condition."
"Think about it, Ron. If Harry were fucking me right now, you could come up here by the pillows and I could take you in my mouth while you watched Harry driving his cock inside me."
Ron thrust harder and pulled one of Hermione’s legs up so that it was pressed flat against his chest. He nibbled at the arch of the foot he held in one hand while using the thumb on his other hand to massage her clit. Hermione nearly swooned from the exquisite sensations Ron created, but she was determined not to miss any of this by passing out.
"When you started to get close, I’d stop sucking before you could come. You could pass me our massage oil so I could rub it all over your cock. Then you could move around behind Harry ..."
"Fuck, Hermione. I’m close now ..."
"You could pour some of the oil on your hand and rub between Harry’s cheeks, working your fingers into him and stretching him. I bet he’s never been fucked before. You'd be his first when you pushed your cock into him as he fucked me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Ron?"
Hermione could feel Ron’s body tense and stiffen all over as he continued to pound into her. He gripped her thighs so hard as he came that she was sure to have bruises.
"Damn it! Yes," he gasped. "Merlin, help me, Hermione, but yes, I would like it. I do want Harry, too."
Hermione drew a deep, satisfied breath. "Okay, so what are we going to do about it?"
Chapter 5: Everybody's Talking
Ginny stopped by St. Mungo's as promised the next morning to see Harry, but she was running much later than she'd planned because her "guest" was quite reluctant to get out of bed. She truly hadn't intended for things to go so far, at least not until after she'd talked to Harry, but her resolve hadn't lasted an hour. She tried to assuage her guilt by reminding herself how distant Harry had seemed the past several weeks, but truth be told, that was probably because of how bitchy she'd acted toward him when he really hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't Harry's fault that he was no longer the wizard she wanted in her bed.
Now she just had to tell Harry it was over.
Harry’s office probably wasn't the kindest place to break things off, but she chose it because she knew he couldn't lose his temper too badly while he was at work, and because his patient schedule wouldn't allow him to try to follow her and drag out what she knew was sure to be an unpleasant conversation. She had planned to allow herself enough time to try to end things on a positive note since it was a certainty Harry would remain a part of her life on some level with him being her brother's best mate, but her lie-in had cost her precious time, and she had to be in Tutshill in an hour to practice for their series against the Tornados. She approached the witch at the reception desk and asked if she might see Harry.
"I'm really sorry, Miss Weasley. Healer Potter said he was expecting you, but there was an emergency and he's treating a patient. He really can't leave right now. Could you wait a bit?"
"No, I really can't as I'm already running behind schedule. Would you just tell Harry I came by, and that I'll see him at Mum's on Sunday when I get back from my road trip?"
The witch nodded and Ginny made her way back to the lobby where she could take the Floo to the Cannon's Clubhouse. She still had to get her gear together so she'd be ready to take the Portkey to Tutshill with the rest of the team.
Ron rushed about the flat, hastily packing his bag for the trip to Tutshill. He cursed himself for not actually getting out of bed when Hermione woke him as she was leaving for the Ministry. He'd kissed her goodbye, and rolled over to sink back into the delicious dream he'd been having. Undoubtedly the dream was brought on the fantastic sex he'd had with Hermione the night before while she talked him through an imaginary scenario of the two of them being with Harry. The scenario was so much like the fantasies he'd been secretly entertaining for weeks that it was almost spooky, in a very erotic sort of way. Ron supposed it was the relief of having Hermione know how he felt about Harry – about the three of them together actually – and not hating him for it that allowed him to get the best rest he'd had in weeks.
Ron had been aching hard when he woke up the second time, random images from his dream still fresh in his mind. He'd grabbed the little bottle of massage oil that featured so prominently in Hermione's narrative the night before, and made his way to the loo to take a shower without even checking the time.
He allowed the hot spray of the water to rain down over him for only a few seconds before opening the bottle and drizzling oil generously all over his cock and balls. He hastily screwed the cap back on the bottle and tossed it on a shelf, then used both hands to work the oil all over his privates. Satisfied that his fingers and all the important parts were properly lubricated, he began to pump his shaft slowly with one hand as he caressed his balls with the other.
Ron's mind had focused on an image from his dream. Harry was naked, lying on his back with Hermione on top of him. She was naked as well, except for a lacy red garter belt and black silk stockings, and she was turned so that she was straddling Harry's face. Ron stood at the edge of the bed near Harry's head, giving him the perfect vantage point to watch as Hermione took Harry's length down her throat. Harry's tongue reached hungrily into Hermione's core, lapping at the wetness there.
Ron braced his feet against the outer edge of the tub as he leaned back against the opposite wall for support. He groaned as he swiped his thumb through the fluid that was already leaking from the tip of his cock, then brought his hand to his mouth to taste himself. He continued to stroke his cock while reaching back with his other hand to tease his entrance with a fingertip. The scene in his mind changed.
This time, Ron was on his back, his cock buried inside Hermione, who was laying with her back against his chest, her legs gaped wide apart and her feet planted flat on the bed. His legs were spread wide as well, and Harry was between them feasting on the juices that escaped Hermione's pussy and trickled down toward Ron's balls as she levered herself up and down on his shaft.
Ron kneaded Hermione's breasts with his large hands as he bucked up into her. Harry's tongue licked indiscriminately between the two of them, massaging Hermione's clit, then snaking a path through her folds and around the base of Ron's shaft as his length disappeared and reappeared from his wife's channel. Ron whimpered as he slipped a finger inside himself, imagining the feel of Harry's tongue swirling around his balls, then teasing at his puckered hole.
He worked a second finger inside himself and stroked his cock faster, rocking into his hand. Fire burned in his belly from the urgent need for release. He imagined the feel of Harry's tongue slipping inside him, and he shuddered as he sprayed thick white ropes of come onto the shower curtain.
Damn! He was going to be really late if he didn't hurry. That was the disadvantage of being a wizard. It was not like he could blame his tardiness on being stuck in traffic like a Muggle. Ron threw the last of his clothes into his duffle bag and Apparated to the Cannons Clubhouse, nearly landing on top of Ginny, who'd come out to the Apparition point to look for him.
"It's about bloody time, Ron! The Portkey is set to leave in five minutes!" Ginny said as she drug her brother inside.
The next evening, Ron staggered into the dark, empty changing rooms, depressed exhaustion taking its toll. He waved his wand and the torches illuminating the mens' side flared to life. Ron had gone to Tutshill believing the Cannons truly had a shot at beating the Tornadoes, and it had been a losing battle from the moment the match began. Losing was bad enough, but they'd gone down 220 to 0.
Of course, Ron blamed himself in part because he'd missed several saves he should have made, but in all honesty, it wouldn't have mattered if he'd blocked every single shot made by the Tornadoes' Chasers. Neither Ginny, nor either of the Cannons' other two Chasers had managed to get a single Quaffle past the Tornadoes' Keeper, and that was not a testament to how well the bloke played his position.
Ron had watched Ginny pretty closely after her first two missed attempts because neither of them were aimed well enough to have scored even if no one had been guarding the rings. Clearly her mind was not on the game, and he wondered what was bothering her. He'd made up his mind to talk to her after the game, but as soon as the Tornadoes' Seeker caught the Snitch and the game was declared over, Ginny had zoomed off the field and headed for the showers.
Ron was about to go after her when he realized he'd lost his wand. Tired as he was, he'd spent nearly half an hour walking the pitch looking for it. He'd just begun to peel off his gear when he first heard the noise. He froze, barely daring to breathe for several seconds, but when he heard nothing else, he continued to strip off his outer robes and protective padding until he was down to just his Quidditch pants. It was then he heard it again, a snuffling sound that appeared to be coming from the ladies' side of the changing rooms. Ron drew his wand out of his pocket and edged carefully in that direction, certain if anyone was there with valid reason, the torches would be lit.
As he approached, the snuffling sounds grew louder and began to sound more like soft whispers and giggles. He peered cautiously around the corner into the main room and thanks to the dim light spilling over from the mens' side of the room, he was able to see passably well. He found himself looking at the rather shapely backside of a naked woman and the extremely hairy legs of the naked man whose cock she was riding. Surmising they were no immediate threat to him, he slipped his wand back into his pocket, then stood watching them for several moments. He'd never actually seen anyone else having sex in person before, and the sight was rather stirring to say the least. Ron reached down to adjust the growing bulge in his pants.
He guessed the man was a player for the Tornadoes, given the well-developed muscles of his inner thighs. He was lying on his back on the bench in the center of the room, one foot planted on the floor on either side. Ron could see his muscles flex as he thrust up into the woman on top of him. Ron also had a pretty clear view of the man's balls when he thrust, and was able to see enough of his cock as it withdrew from the woman briefly on each stroke to guess why the woman was willing to risk being caught having sex somewhere that her privacy was not guaranteed. The man's equipment was impressive!
Ron assumed the woman was a team groupie. It happened all the time with Quidditch players, even to Ron. Most of the Cannons' fans had gotten the message loud and clear that while Ron was flattered, he was off the market, so he wasn't bothered too often any more. The man had likely invited this bird for a romp in the changing rooms after he'd noticed all the ladies on the teams had gone, thinking he could have a quickie without interruption.
The woman had very toned thighs from what Ron could see, and full, curvy hips with a narrow waist. Her hands rested on the man's chest for support as she slowly raised and lowered herself, and Ron cursed silently to himself because her arm obscured her breast from his view. Her head was leaned forward and her hair spilled over her left shoulder away from him, but in the shadowy light, he couldn't make out the color. The woman whispered something and the man laughed, causing the woman to throw her head back and laugh with him. It was then that he caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror.
It was Ginny!
It was very late that night when he finally fell asleep, and for once his sexual dreams were not the least bit pleasant. He kept seeing his sister having sex with countless men, sometimes two at once, and none of them were ever Harry. Harry sat silently in the corner watching as tears spilled down his cheeks and there was nothing Ron could do to help him.
Ron awoke the next morning more tired than when he'd fallen into bed, and he dressed almost mechanically so he could take the Portkey home. He was not looking forward to dinner at the Burrow because he'd have to sit across the table from Harry and Ginny and pretend everything was okay, when he wouldn't even have had time to discuss what he'd seen with his wife because the Cannons were practicing once they got back to their home pitch.
"Leave it, Gin. I just had something on my mind." Ron didn't want to get in a row with her right before they went home for dinner, and he didn't really think he should say anything until he'd talked it over with Hermione.
"I will not leave it!" Ginny railed. "Some of those shots bloody well hurt and I think you owe me a fucking apology at the least. I'd rather have an explanation."
"Fine! I saw you Ginny, and Harry is my best friend. How could you grind yourself all over some big hairy bloke like that?"
"Oh, umm ..." Ginny was a bit stunned. Ron's explanation was not anything she'd expected and she was not really prepared for the conversation. "Things haven't really been good between Harry and me for awhile now, Ron, and I was going to tell him before we left for the Tornadoes match. I intended to tell him before things went this far, honestly, but I just wasn't strong enough to wait. I'm going to tell him tonight, but please don't let on you saw me. That would only hurt Harry worse and he doesn't really need to know that."
"So this wasn't just some random bloke you picked up last night?"
"Clearly you didn't get a good look then."
"Okay, so who was he?"
"Maybe it's best if you don't know yet, Ron. At least then if Harry asks you later if you knew, you can sort of say you didn't without it being a complete lie. And I've already told him that we have to keep things a secret for awhile because I know Harry will always be around since he's your best friend. They get along okay now, and I'd like it to stay that way in case I ever start bringing him home for Sunday dinner."
Ron grilled her for quite some time about this new bloke, but Ginny wouldn't budge on telling him anything he couldn't guess from what he'd seen. She'd finally left him standing on the pitch and went in to get her shower, suggesting he do the same or their Mum would be yelling at them both for being late.
By the time dinner was over that night, it was clear to everyone at the table that something was wrong between Ron and Ginny. He'd barely touched his food and had glared daggers at his sister throughout the meal. Ginny glared right back at him, but she did manage to eat a modest portion and make polite conversation with the rest of the family. Ron looked like he was ready to hex someone when Ginny pushed her plate away and asked Harry if he fancied a walk in the garden.
He didn't really want to leave when Hermione finally insisted they go home that night. He wanted to be there in case Harry needed him after Ginny told him, or in case Ginny didn't tell him, because he wasn't going to let her continue to string his best mate along like she was doing. He'd stalled as long as possible, offering to help his mum clear the table and tidy the kitchen, then he'd challenged his dad to a game of Wizard's chess, losing spectacularly because his mind wasn't really on the game. Hermione had dozed off twice on the sofa before finally putting her foot down, and Ron followed her reluctantly into the Floo.
When they got back to their flat, Hermione had started to berate him for lingering so long at the Burrow, but Ron cut her off and blurted out what he knew. Hermione had understood his worry then about Harry and why he'd made excuses to hang around. They were still talking about how this turn of events would change things when they heard the whoosh of flame from the sitting room, and Harry's voice calling out.
"Ron? Hermione? Are you guys still up?"
Chapter 6: Accio Boxers
"We’re coming, mate," Ron said instantly, tugging Hermione down the hall with him. One look at Harry’s face made Ron want to hex his sister.
"She broke up with me," Harry said flatly as Ron and Hermione entered the room.
Even though a part of him felt a sense of relief, Harry felt more lost and alone than he had since he’d started Hogwarts. Ginny had come into his life at just the right time to fill the void he knew would come after Ron and Hermione admitted their feelings for one another and began to pursue a relationship as a couple. And now they were married and expecting a child, and where did that leave Harry? At the moment, he was feeling that a tense relationship with Ginny might still be preferable to no relationship, and now he didn’t even have that.
Ron opened his mouth as if to speak, but a nearly imperceptible nod of Hermione’s head told Ron not to let on he knew anything, so he changed tactics.
"I’ll fix us both a stiff drink. Hermione, do you want a pumpkin juice?" Hermione smiled at her husband, pleased that he’d remembered she couldn’t indulge in her present condition when his mind was clearly all on Harry at the moment.
"She said she’s found someone else, a bloody Quidditch player on a rival team. Said we don’t enjoy the same things anymore, and she thought she’d be happier with someone who shared her interests."
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly.
"I don’t really know. I mean, honestly, we haven’t really seemed to connect all that well the past few weeks, but I just assumed it was her schedule and my work keeping me a bit distracted. I didn’t know it was as bad as all this. I don’t want to be alone."
"Then you won’t. Stay here with us," Ron said as he passed Harry a firewhiskey. Hermione gaped at her husband.
"Ron, thanks, but I’ve got my own flat. I don’t need a place to stay. That’s not the kind of alone I meant anyway. I’ll be okay. I’ll get used to it."
The trio stayed up another hour talking, with Ron and Hermione doing their best to offer words of encouragement and support, and to let Harry know he was welcome there any time he felt lonely. Hermione had finally talked him into sleeping over in their spare bedroom by badgering him about the dangers of mixing alcohol with modes of magical travel, and everyone settled in for the night.
He eased across the hall and paused at the door to his friends’ bedroom, sure now that the source of the sound was inside. He told himself it was probably nothing, but it reminded him much too much of the sounds of Hermione being tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange at Malfoy Manor to just ignore it. He knew he would not go back to sleep until he was certain his friends were okay.
Harry approached their bedroom door and was relieved to see it was not shut securely. He pushed it gently, opening up a tiny crack through which he could peek inside, and his breath hitched. Ron and Hermione were definitely in there, and clearly, the moaning sound was coming from Hermione. She and Ron were both naked. Their was bed positioned so that it was parallel to the hallway, giving Harry had a perfect view from the side.
Hermione lay on her back, with her upper body supported by a sea of squashy pillows propped against the headboard. Her hands were grasping the sheets on either side of her body so tightly it was a miracle the fabric didn’t rip and her legs were splayed wide apart.
Ron was on his knees and elbows between Hermione’s legs, his fingers pulling her folds gently apart so he could lap at her center with his long tongue. Harry could see Ron’s cock, erect and dripping, and bobbing merrily between his legs as if begging to be touched. Harry longed to oblige. He didn’t even notice as he reached into his boxers for his own cock and began to slowly stroke himself. It never occurred to him to back away and give his friends their privacy.
Hermione moaned and rocked her pelvis against Ron’s face as he lapped at her juices, and when he closed his mouth around her clit and began to suck it softly, she swore. Hermione actually said "Oh fuck, Ron" and Harry thought it was probably the hottest thing he’d ever heard in his entire life. He bit his lip as he watched Ron slide two fingers inside his best friend and pump them in and out as he slurped at her sensitive bundle of nerves. Hermione abandoned the sheets and took one of her breasts in each hand and began to squeeze them and rub her thumbs across her nipples, teasing them into hard little nubs. Ron reached back with one hand and began pumping his cock.
Harry roughly shoved his boxers down and stepped out of them, desperate to be able to massage his balls as he wanked. They felt so full and heavy that they were almost painful, and he knew it was from watching the two people he was closer to than anyone else in the world.
All of a sudden, Hermione arched up off the bed and her thighs clamped tightly around Ron’s head. Harry knew she was coming. As her loud shrieks faded and she relaxed her grip on Ron, Harry heard Ron mumble something to her, but couldn’t get the words. Hermione apparently heard him just fine because Ron backed toward the end of the bed and Hermione flipped over onto her hands and knees, ever so briefly giving Harry a clear view of her glistening pussy as she repositioned.
Ron dipped his face between her legs once again and licked, all the way from her clit to her anus and swirled his tongue around her hole teasingly before raising himself up and positioning his cock to thrust into her pussy. After several minutes of slowly thrusting in and pulling out of her while Harry fought not to moan aloud, Ron began to speak softly to his wife.
"You know this would be the perfect position, don’t you, Mione?"
Hermione just moaned in somewhat of an agreeable fashion, as if she knew what he meant but was too caught up in the sensation of being fucked to form actual words.
Ron picked up a small vial laying on the duvet which Harry hadn’t noticed before and poured the contents onto Hermione’s bum, allowing it to trickle sensuously into the cleft of her arse. Ron massaged the shiny oil across Hermione’s hips and teased his thumb across her hole, and Harry felt his balls tighten. When Ron’s thumb slipped inside Hermione's arse, Harry’s orgasm splattered against their bedroom door, but he continued to stroke himself as if he hadn’t noticed.
"You know this would be the perfect position for Harry to be on his knees in front of you, don’t you Hermione? He could fuck your mouth while I’m fucking your cunt."
Harry’s gasp at Ron’s words was mercifully hidden by Hermione’s moaned, "Oh yes, Ron!"
Harry watched as Ron’s thumb pumped in and out of Hermione’s hole, the movement in perfect opposition to his cock pistoning in and out of her pussy.
"You’d like having your pretty little mouth wrapped around Harry’s cock, wouldn’t you, Mione?"
"Oh God, Ron, yes!"
"And if he came?"
"I wouldn’t spill a drop ..."
"But you’d let me taste, wouldn’t you, Mione? You’d kiss me with Harry’s come still in your mouth so we could savor it together."
Hermione pushed back against Ron hard. "Fuck, Ron – yes!"
"And when you came, I’d pull out. My cock would be coated in your orgasm, and I’d go to Harry."
"And he’d lean down and take your cock in his mouth, and suck my juices off of you."
"And you’d take what was left of the oil ..."
"...and I’d rub it into Harry’s arse, working my fingers into him and stretching him for you. Then, when I thought he was ready, I’d come around to kiss him and keep him relaxed ..."
"...while I moved behind him and teased his entrance with my prick."
At this, Ron withdrew from Hermione’s cunt and repositioned himself to gently press against her tight little pucker that was still slick from the oil he’d poured on her earlier.
"And I’d thrust my tongue into his mouth and stroke his back, helping him to relax, then as you felt him flower open for you, you’d start to thrust inside ..."
Hermione pressed back and Harry stifled a moan as the tip of Ron’s cock disappeared inside Hermione’s arse.
"... and Harry would whimper slightly, but I’d whisper soothing words to him and urge him to relax and let you fuck him. I’d tell him how good you feel fucking my arse."
Ron slowly pushed his full length into Hermione, and Harry realized he was painfully hard again. He began to stroke himself faster and wished he could sit down. He longed to slip a couple fingers inside himself to simulate the activity his friends were describing, even as a nagging little voice in his head finally told him he shouldn’t be watching or listening to his friends.
"And as he started to relax, you could scoot down underneath him, so that his cock just dipped into the wetness surrounding your pussy. The feeling would relax him enough I could thrust all the way inside, and when I pushed into him, I’d push his prick into you."
"Harder Ron," Hermione pleaded, and Ron reached around to rub her clit with his fingers as he fucked her arse. He pounded away, mentally alternating between the reality of fucking his wife and the fantasy of fucking his best friend, and when he was about to come, he withdrew swiftly and grasped his prick, pumping his release onto Hermione’s back as he moaned Harry’s name.
"Oh, fuck!" Harry moaned as he sprayed the bedroom door a second time, then he froze realizing he’d said the words aloud. He cast a quick cleaning charm on the door and darted back across the hall into his room, easing the door closed behind him.
"Did you hear something?" Ron asked, as he lay panting on the bed beside his wife. Hermione murmured she hadn’t as she drifted off to sleep. Ron waved his wand and cast a cleaning charm over the two of them, and was just about to get up and have a look around when he heard the faint squeak of the door across the hall and the very softly whispered, "Accio boxers."
Ron was grinning from ear to ear as he fell asleep.
Chapter 7: The Sting Of Guilt
To say that breakfast the following morning was a little awkward for Harry would be a tremendous understatement. Hermione had risen early and cooked, being a firm believer that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Ron was already seated at the table when Harry entered their cozy kitchen. He’d tried to thank them for the use of the guest room and leave, saying he had to get home and get ready for work, but Hermione would have none of it. She insisted he eat something first. Harry had reluctantly settled himself into the chair across from Ron and tried to avoid his friend’s eyes as he began to fill his plate with sausages and eggs.
Ron couldn’t help grinning, remembering what he’d heard the night before. Harry had been watching them have sex and, in all probability, he’d heard them talking each other through their mutual fantasies. Ron knew he should be embarrassed to face Harry, but something told him if Harry was there watching – watching without his boxers on – he must have been enjoying the conversation and the view. Somehow, that knowledge made Ron feel powerful, and just a little like taking the mickey out of Harry if he could.
Ron speared a fat sausage on his fork and brought it slowly toward his mouth, watching Harry’s reaction as he did so. Harry was sipping his coffee, trying to look casual, but it was clear his eyes were focused on the sausage. When it neared Ron’s mouth, Ron stuck out his tongue to lick just the tip, then moaned softly.
"Mmm, Hermione, you really should come have a taste of this."
Harry sucked a bit of coffee into his windpipe and coughed hard, making his eyes water.
Hermione rushed to the table in alarm, alternately patting Harry's back and rubbing it, all the while asking if he was okay. Harry coughed a bit more, struggling to regain his composure, then assured Hermione he was fine. He glanced at Ron and almost whimpered when he realized about half the length of the sausage had disappeared into Ron’s mouth. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as his cock began to stir, and he wondered if there was any way to make a graceful exit while he could still walk normally. At that moment, Ron bit down on the sausage and moaned appreciatively at the flavor, allowing his tongue to snake out of his mouth to catch an errant bit of the juice that was trickling from the corner. Harry rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, feeling his arousal throb sharply.
"Wassa matter, mate?" Ron asked.
"Umm, nothing," Harry lied. "Just a bit of a headache."
"Oh, well, then," grinned Ron. "Accio box – err, I mean, bottle of headache potion."
Harry raised his head to gape at Ron, who was staring resolutely back at him. It was in that moment that Harry knew he was busted. Ron had heard him the night before. Ron smirked at him, recognizing that Harry realized his slip of the tongue was intentional. The question now was what would each of them do with that knowledge?
Harry felt the flush stain his cheeks, but he knew Ron was challenging him. Should he apologize for spying on them? Should he be indignant about the fact they were talking about him while they were having sex? Oh, Hell! Did Hermione know he’d been there as well? No, she couldn’t know, or she wouldn’t have been so relaxed around him this morning.
Somehow Harry managed to choke down the rest of his breakfast around the lump in his throat and to thank Hermione for cooking. He thanked them both for the sympathetic ear and the place to stay for the night, and said he really had to go because he had a heavy patient schedule for the day. He threw a handful of Floo Powder into the grate and escaped into the green flames before either of them could really say much.
He stumbled out of the grate into his own living room and made a run for the loo, feeling as if he was about to be sick. Floo travel always made him feel a bit uneasy, but add that to the realization that he’d lost his girlfriend and probably ruined his relationship with his two best friends all in one night, and he wasn’t sure his breakfast was going to stay down. He sat on the edge of the tub and leaned forward, hoping to ease the churning in his gut.
The feeling did subside after a few moments, and Harry sat up, looking miserably at his reflection in the mirror. He was very glad at that moment he’d chosen a Muggle one for the loo, having tired of the magical one at the Burrow constantly telling him he needed to comb his hair.
Harry stripped off and stepped into the shower, hoping to wash his disappointment and embarrassment and guilt away. He wondered if he’d ever be able to face his friends again. Even if Hermione didn’t know at breakfast that he’d been watching them, he knew Ron would tell her. He might not mean to, but Hermione would get it out of him somehow. He wasn’t sure if he was more appalled at himself for watching them in the first place, or just upset that he was careless enough to get caught.
He mulled that over, taking some comfort in the knowledge that they were not completely blameless either. He thought about what he’d heard.
"The perfect position for Harry to be on his knees in front of you."
"He could fuck your mouth while I'm fucking your cunt."
"Your pretty little mouth wrapped around Harry's cock."
"You'd kiss me with Harry's come still in your mouth."
Harry wasn’t too surprised to feel his cock swell, and he began to stroke it as he wandlessly summoned his lube from the bedside table. He caught it in his free hand and poured some onto himself, sighing at the feeling. He supposed he’d better learn to enjoy this as it was likely all he’d be getting for awhile, what with Ginny seeing someone else. He certainly was in no fit state to go out on the prowl to find a new bird when he couldn’t get the images of his two best friends out of his head.
He stroked himself slowly and closed his eyes, remembering the shapely lines of Hermione’s body, flushed from her arousal, and the swell of her breasts as they heaved with every breath she’d taken the night before. He pictured the way Ron’s muscles flexed as he’d thrust into his wife, and smiled when he recalled the way Ron’s hip dimpled on every inward stroke. He imagined the feel of those muscles beneath his own fingers, and he reached back to slip an oiled finger into himself, pretending it was Ron’s body he was breaching for the first time.
Harry remembered the look on Hermione’s face as she climaxed, and thought about her words.
"He'd lean down and take your cock in his mouth, and suck my juices off of you."
"I'd rub the oil into Harry's arse, working my fingers into him and stretching him for you."
Harry slipped a second finger into himself and began to scissor them, wondering if he would stretch enough to accommodate a cock. Ron's cock.
"Harry would whimper slightly, but I'd whisper soothing words to him and urge him to relax and let you fuck him. I'd tell him how good you feel fucking my arse."
Harry whimpered loudly as he remembered Hermione’s words, and he knew he wanted more. A thought struck him, and he hoped she’d left it behind.
"Accio Ginny’s dildo," he thought as he slipped his fingers from his arse.
The summoned object flew into his hand and he stopped stroking his cock to apply oil to the phallic toy. He got on his knees in the tub and rested an elbow on the edge as he reached behind himself and rubbed the tip against his entrance. His heart hammered in his chest as he contemplated what he was about to do. He’d only ever used the toy on Ginny. She’d liked the feeling of being fucked while he manipulated her clit with his tongue. He wondered if he could do this, but he had to know how it would feel. He wanted Ron’s cock inside him, and he knew this was as close as he’d ever get. He pressed inward and winced at the burning sensation he felt immediately.
Okay, he was tense. That was understandable, of course. He’d never been breached there before, well, except by his own or Ginny’s fingers. She’d tried a few times to talk him into letting her use the toy on him, but he’d always resisted, knowing there was too great a risk of him thinking about Ron and calling out his name by mistake.
He began to stroke his cock again, willing himself to relax his muscles and accept the new intrusion. He thought about Ron’s words to Hermione.
"You could scoot down underneath him, so that his cock just dipped into the wetness surrounding your pussy, and the feeling would relax him enough I could thrust all the way inside."
Harry relaxed just enough for the tip of the toy to press past the tight ring of muscle and ease inside, a sting of pain, mixed with a zing of pleasure, but it was enough. He shot his release onto the floor of the tub and watched as it swirled in the water and disappeared down the drain.
Somehow removing the toy from his arse was not as pleasant as the entry. He bit his lip and grunted, then smiled bitterly when it occurred to him the sharp sting of extraction was a fitting match to the sting of guilt he still felt about what he’d done the night before.
Harry had avoided Ron and Hermione socially over the next month as much as he possibly could, seeing them only when other people would be around – a night at the Leaky Cauldron with a handful of students from their year at Howarts and Sunday dinners at the Burrow. He’d really been dreading Hermione’s next prenatal visit and even tried to work out if there was some way to reschedule, but he knew her medical care was more important that his own personal discomfort. It was just that he’d not been alone with them since realizing Ron knew he’d watched them having sex, and that Ron probably realized he’d wanked off while he watched them. Being with them both now, when he would have to have at least a little physical contact with Hermione, was going to be uncomfortable in more ways than one.
The evening before Hermione's appointment, dinner at the Burrow changed everything. Harry had been in the air with most of the Weasleys – he and the twins against Ron, Bill and Charlie – playing three-a-side Quidditch. Ginny showed up with a dark-haired bloke on her arm. Something about him looked oddly familiar, but from the air, Harry couldn’t place him. It wasn’t until Hermione threw her arms around the man and screeched "Viktor!" that he realized why.
Ron had already landed and was pulling Viktor away from his wife’s embrace with one arm, the other drawn back and ready to strike by the time Harry could catch him up. It took him and Ginny both to keep Ron from landing the punch he was aiming to give the Bulgarian Seeker.
"You’ve got some nerve showing your face here, you son of a bitch!" Ron shouted. "First you ask my girl to the Yule Ball, then you sleep with my best mate’s girl – with my sister – while they’re still dating!"
Harry did a bit of a double take at that. He’d assumed Ginny broke up with him before she started sleeping with Krum, but it didn’t matter really and it did explain a lot. The outcome was still the same. He tightened his grip on Ron’s arm and tried to calm his best mate.
"Let it go, Ron," Harry said. "Viktor did us both a favor. If things were really like they should have been between Ginny and me, Viktor couldn’t have gotten in the way. Just let him be."
By that time, the other Weasley brothers had landed and Harry handed Ron off to the twins and extended a hand to Viktor.
"No hard feelings, mate," Harry said.
Viktor glanced nervously toward Ron before taking Harry’s hand.
"Thank you. I vos vorried about seeing you again and if ve could still be friends."
As soon as the meal was finished, Ron and Hermione began trying to coax Harry into going out with them for a drink at the Leaky, but he kept insisting he was tired and just wanted to go home and watch a bit of telly. He really shouldn’t have been too surprised when he Flooed home, only to have the two of them tumble out of his fireplace just a few moments behind him.
Hermione started in immediately, trying to cheer Harry up about Ginny having moved on, saying that as much as she loved her sister-in-law, she thought Harry was destined for something different. Harry fought off her attempts to cheer him up until Ron finally took pity on him. Of course, it may have helped that Ron was on his third firewhiskey by that point.
"It’s not Ginny he’s avoiding, Hermione," Ron said bluntly. "It’s us. He saw us fucking that night he stayed over, and he heard what we said about being with him. He knows I know he saw us. He also knows I know that he was wanking while he watched us because he was watching with his boxers on the floor. Even I’m smart enough to work that one out."
Harry turned crimson, finally being confronted with the absolute truth of his situation. Hermione stood in the middle of the room, her mouth still open in mid-rant, but with no other words bubbling to the surface.
When no one else seemed able to say anything, Ron continued.
"So – I think it’s safe to say Harry might miss Ginny, but he seems to want to fuck us as much as we want to fuck him. Is that about right?" Ron looked pointedly at Harry.
Harry closed his eyes and started to turn, but Ron grabbed him in a crushing hug before he could Apparate away from them. Hermione found her voice then.
"Harry, I didn’t know you were watching us. Ronald didn’t tell me." She paused to glare at her husband. "But it IS true – what you heard about the two of us wanting to be with you. We’ve wanted it for quite awhile now, and we fantasize about it a lot."
Harry made a rather undignified noise and looked at his two friends, much like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Muggle vehicle.
Hermione advanced on him and stepped so close she was pressing against Ron’s arms where they encircled Harry.
"We want to make love with you, Harry. Both of us." To emphasize her point, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him softly on the mouth.
"Oh, fuck, that’s hot," Ron whispered against the shell of Harry’s ear.
Harry whimpered and tried to pull back, bumping his bum against the front of Ron’s trousers. The feel of Ron's erection was unmistakable, particularly when Ron ground it against Harry's arse.
"We want you Harry, we both do."
Chapter 8: Touch Me
Harry groaned as his cock began to harden in answer to the feel of Ron's rigid length pressed against him. He opened his mouth to offer an apology for his voyeuristic behavior or, at the very least, a protest that what Ron and Hermione were suggesting would never work, but no words would come. Ron seized the opportunity to turn Harry in his arms and claim his lips, sliding his tongue inside his mate's mouth for a taste while bending his own knees just enough to press their groins together.
"Oh, Sweet Merlin!" Hermione gasped, watching her husband and her best friend kiss for the first time. She wrapped her arms around Harry's waist from behind and began to fumble with the button and zip on his denims.
By the time the kiss ended, Hermione had opened not only Harry's jeans, but Ron's as well. Both men were red-faced from the scratch of the other man's stubble, and their lips were pink and swollen. The air was thick with sexual tension, and all three were nearly breathless.
Seconds ticked by and no one moved as each of them stared at the other two, silently begging for permission, hoping that what they were about to do between the three of them was okay.
Hermione broke the trance, reaching between her boys to pull them both free of their pants and aligning their shafts so that she could stroke them together. Harry hissed at the first delicate touch of Hermione's hand on his bare skin then he and Ron both moaned loudly when she bound their cocks together in the warm circle of her hands. Their hips automatically began to rock inward, thrusting against each other in perfect counterpoint to Hermione's gentle touch.
Ron grasped the hem of Harry's jumper and pulled it swiftly over his head, knocking his glasses askew. He mumbled a quick apology before practically ripping off his own jumper while Harry set his glasses to right. Ron leaned sideways to kiss his wife, then bent to flick his tongue across Harry's dusky nipple.
Harry threaded his fingers through Ron's gingery locks, massaging his scalp and holding him in place as he sucked at the taut little bud. His grip on Ron's hair tightened and Ron bit down on Harry's nipple when they felt the first tentative swipes of Hermione's tongue along their shafts.
Ron mumbled another 'sorry' and tried to ease the pain he'd caused by bathing Harry's nipple in soothing licks with the flat of his tongue. Harry responded with a strangled, 'no, s'good,' as he guided Ron's mouth to his other nipple. His cock oozed out a trickle of pearly fluid as proof of how much Harry approved of being bitten, and Hermione moaned her husband's name, enticing him to watch as she quickly lapped it up. Hermione stretched upward as far as she could go and Ron leant down to meet her, greedily sucking Harry's offering from her tongue.
"Oh, God!" Harry gasped at the sight of his two best friends sharing his seed. When Ron straightened up, Harry pulled him in for a kiss and swept his tongue into Ron's mouth, tasting himself there. Ron settled his hands on Harry's hips and Harry wrapped his arms around Ron's neck.
Hermione used their distraction to stand up and strip off her jeans, silently grateful that she was only just barely beginning to show. Harry had already seen her naked in his office, but she worried that a reminder of her pregnancy just now might spoil the moment. She unbuttoned her blouse but left it on, then settled herself comfortably in a nearby armchair to watch her boys.
Harry and Ron were still kissing, a hungry blur of lips and teeth and tongues that made Hermione feel just as flushed as if she were kissing them herself. At some point while she was ridding herself of excess clothing, their denims had slipped farther down their thighs, exposing them both to her gaze and she couldn't help noticing –
Harry has a really nice arse!
Ron had moved his hands down, firmly gripping one of Harry's cheeks in each palm, and they were rutting against one another as frantically as they were kissing. Hermione bit down on the index finger of her left hand as the fingers on her right hand slipped into her knickers and found her clit. She was practically dripping with her own need and she knew her boys couldn't last much longer at their current pace.
She draped one leg over the arm of the chair and tapped her fingers against her sensitive nub as she watched them. She was pushing herself closer and closer to the edge of release, but she was far from ready for the evening to end. She whimpered as she pinched a nipple and slid two fingers into herself and began to pump them in and out while massaging her clit with her thumb.
Harry pulled back from kissing Ron to look at Hermione when he heard her whimper.
"Oh, fuck," he growled. "That is so fucking hot!" He ground himself hard against Ron.
Ron licked his lips as he looked at Hermione, then he looked back at Harry.
"Just wait until you taste her, mate."
The moment he heard Ron's words, Harry's cock erupted, spurting a thick white stream between their bodies. Ron quickly wrapped his hand around both their shafts, using Harry's spunk as lubricant to wank himself to completion.
As soon as their breathing slowed enough to speak, Ron nudged Harry towards Hermione.
"Taste her, mate. She wants it."
Harry nearly had to force his gaze from where Hermione's fingers disappeared inside her to look at her face.
"Please, Harry..." she pleaded, lifting her hips to pull her knickers off. She tossed them aside and settled back into the chair, spreading her legs apart and using her fingers to hold her glistening folds open in invitation.
A quick glance back at Ron assured Harry it was really okay, and Harry was on his knees between Hermione's thighs in the space of a heartbeat. All three friends moaned when Harry's tongue made its first swipe across Hermione's most sensitive spot. Hermione moved her hands up to squeeze her breasts and Harry moved his into their place, slowly stroking her as he sucked her clit into his mouth and rolled it gently with his tongue.
Ron settled on his knees beside Harry to watch. After a few minutes, Harry pulled his face away and grinned at Ron.
"You were right," he said as he licked lips that were shining with her juices. "She tastes amazing!"
Harry slipped two fingers into Hermione's channel, once again marveling at her tightness, and resumed his feast on her little bud. Ron rolled onto his side and squirmed in between Harry and the chair so that he was staring directly at Harry's half-hard cock. He wondered briefly if he really had the nerve to do what he'd wanted to do for so long. He took a deep breath, and something about the musky scent of Harry's arousal gave him courage. He stretched open his mouth and sucked Harry's prick completely inside, wriggling his nose as Harry's pubes tickled against it.
"Oh, God – RON!" Harry moaned into Hermione's pussy, and she rose up to have a look. Although she couldn't actually see what Ron was doing, she quickly surmised from his position that he was attempting his first blow job. The idea of it made her tingle all over.
Unfortunately, Ron failed to consider how Harry's prick would react to being enveloped in the warm wetness of Ron's mouth when he bravely sucked him down to the root. He wasn't prepared as it quickly lengthened and filled to full hardness, poking into the back of his throat and nearly choking him. He sputtered and gagged and had to pull away to catch his breath and Hermione giggled.
"Shut up, 'Mione," Ron muttered. "I haven't read all the how to books the way you had the first time you went down on me."
Hermione huffed, and it was Harry's turn to laugh. He raised his mouth away from Hermione just long enough to look up at her and tease.
"You didn't really, did you?" When she blushed, Harry shook his head. "Don't answer that. I know you did."
Ron ended the discussion by dragging his tongue along Harry's length from base to tip before sucking him once again into his mouth. He was more careful this time, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking while he teased and tormented the head of Harry's cock with his tongue. He cautiously began to bob his head, taking more of Harry's shaft in on each pass while he focused on staying relaxed. Between the whimpers and moans Harry was making and the fact that he hadn't gagged again, Ron's confidence grew and before long he was able to take most of Harry's prick inside his mouth. He wrapped his free hand around his own erection and began to pull rather frantically.
Harry was having a difficult time concentrating on giving Hermione pleasure because Ron was obviously a fast learner. The feeling of having Ron's mouth wrapped around his shaft was beyond incredible and Harry was speeding quickly toward the point of no return. When he felt Hermione's channel grip his fingers tightly as he sucked at her clit, he knew he was lost. The first wave of her orgasm flooded around his fingers and spilled onto his tongue, causing him to spill down Ron's throat before he could even attempt a warning. Ron swallowed as quickly as he could, but some still dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He pulled twice more on his own shaft and spilled over his hand and onto the floor.
Ron pulled back to rest against the side of Hermione's chair and Harry leaned in to rest his face against Hermione's belly as the trio struggled to catch their breath. Hermione smiled at the look of contentment on Harry's face as she pushed his sweaty fringe out of his eyes. She reached for Ron's hand, knowing from his expression that this was right. The three of them belonged together this way. She was just about to say so when she felt the baby kick, right where Harry's head lay.
Harry was on his feet in a flash, stumbling slightly because his pants were still wrapped around his ankles.
"Bloody Hell!" he swore. "What the fuck have I done?"
Harry spun and Disapparated, leaving Ron and Hermione nearly naked in his living room.
Chapter 9: The Line Between Love and Lust
“What the hell?” asked a baffled Ron, twisting around to look up at his wife, where she still lay sprawled in the chair. Her legs were spread wide and her pubic hair glistened with a mixture of Harry’s saliva and her own come.
Hermione struggled to right herself from the awkward position.
“The baby kicked, Ron, and I think Harry must’ve felt it. We’ve got to find him.”
Ron cast a quick cleaning charm on himself and his wife, then easily pushed himself to his feet. He extended a hand to help Hermione out of the chair before wrapping his arms around her and tugging her against his chest for a distracting kiss. When Hermione pulled away, she had a thoughtful expression on her face and was dragging her tongue across her top lip.
“Mmm, you taste like Harry. Did you enjoy having his cock in your mouth, Ron? Did you like letting him flood your mouth with his spunk?”
Ron groaned as he felt his spent prick give an interested twitch at his wife’s naughty words.
“You know I did,” he replied, kissing her again.
Hermione lost herself in the taste of Harry on Ron’s tongue, then jerked away suddenly.
“Ron, we have got to find Harry! You know he’s off somewhere brooding about getting in the way of our growing family, and if we really want this to become a three-way relationship, we have to make him understand that biology isn’t the only way you make a family. God, Ron, we should have talked about all this before we seduced him, because I just know he’s ….”
Ron silenced her with another kiss before she could become too frantic.
“You’re right, Hermione, but we’re in Harry’s home and we have no idea where he’s gone. You have a pre-natal appointment with him first thing tomorrow and we can talk to him then when he can’t run from us.”
It took a bit more arguing to convince Hermione to let it go for the evening, but after an hour of hanging around at Harry’s flat waiting and worrying, she finally agreed to go home and get some rest.
Ron unrolled the parchment after carefully removing it from the owl’s leg and giving him a treat.
“Healer Potter needs to reschedule his appointment with you for today because he is feeling unwell. Could you please come on Monday of next week at half three?” Ron read aloud.
“Now what do we do? I can’t believe he’s canceling all his patients over this!”
“We look for him,” Hermione answered absently as she scribbled a note of thanks to the nurse and accepted the new appointment time. She gently tied the note to the owl’s leg and sent him off through the window after offering him a bit of water and another treat.
By the end of the week, Ron and Hermione both had to concede that Harry’s skill in evasion and concealment had increased phenomenally since the war because there didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere. They’d begun with what Hermione deemed a common sense approach to finding Harry. She’d written Harry a note and sent it off by owl, thinking perhaps Harry might find it easier to read than to talk. She practically begged him to come home to them, clearly stating all the reasons why a three-way relationship would work between them. Then she added a short narrative of all the naughty things she and Ron wanted to do with him in the hope that if his common sense didn’t bring him home, his libido might.
Hermione growled in frustration when the bird returned several hours later, looking utterly defeated with the parchment still secured untouched around its leg. She angrily stamped her foot, shoved her wand into the air and shouted, “Accio Harry Potter!” She had to duck quickly when the heavy framed photo of him that had been sitting on their mantle came zooming toward her head.
After casting “Reparo” on both the glass in the picture frame and the lamp the frame crashed into, Hermione had begun her daily check-ins with Harry’s nurse at St. Mungo’s. Each time she was told the nurse was still rescheduling appointments because Harry wasn’t feeling well.
Ron had spent his evenings checking Godric’s Hollow and Grimmauld Place. He had even checked to see if Harry might have rented a room at either The Leaky Cauldron or The Three Broomsticks, although Hermione wisely pointed out that if Harry were renting a room somewhere, it would more likely be in Muggle London and probably not under his own name.
Hermione had managed casual chats with enough of their friends to learn that none of them had seen Harry in the past several days, all without letting anyone know that he was missing. They’d staged impromptu visits with Molly, Hagrid and even Professor McGonagall, just to see if anyone mentioned having seen Harry, but all to no avail. On each occasion, their hopes had been dashed by that inevitable first question when the pair of them showed up: “Is Harry with you then?”
If the situation weren’t so frustrating, Hermione would have grinned at the realization that the entire Wizarding World already viewed the three friends as a trio, seeming surprised when any two of them were seen without the third, even knowing that she and Ron were married. How was it that the three of them never saw themselves that way until just recently?
By Saturday, Ron was about to go spare with worry. He wanted to go to the Ministry and ask for help from the Aurors, but Hermione convinced him to give it one more day before they made Harry front-page news again. So Ron set out to comb the shops and pubs in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade on the off chance Harry might just be aimlessly wandering about. Hermione was sorely disappointed that not only had Harry not turned up on his own, but none of her logical approaches to finding him had revealed so much as a single clue. She knew it was unlikely to help, but she took a still photograph of Harry and set out for Muggle London, determined to check as many hotels and pubs as she could manage to see if anyone had seen him in the past week.
She was just exiting the lobby of something like her tenth stop in Trafalgar Square when she spotted a man with messy dark hair crossing the street and moving away from her about halfway down the block. She ran to catch up, calling “Harry” rather loudly as she stepped off the curb.
Her heart soared with anticipation as the man began to turn, sunlight glinting off a lens of his glasses, then she felt the plummeting jolt of disappointment as she got a full view of his face and realized he wasn’t Harry – just before everything went black.
Robbie Fenwick had once been a patient of theirs; in fact, he’d bitten Hermione’s dad during one appointment. The poor man had required ten stitches to secure the wound. The only ID the emergency responders could find on the injured and unconscious woman was a badge that said “Hermione Weasley” under some odd logo with the letters “MoM”. No one recognized the sparkly logo, but Robbie knew he’d heard the name “Hermione” somewhere, and eventually he made the connection with his former dentists. He called them simply on the off chance there might be a connection.
“Is she going to be okay?” Ron demanded breathlessly as he charged into the waiting area, still wearing his grimy practice gear and tracking mud across the pristine floor with every step. “What about the baby?”
Mrs. Granger smiled weakly at her son-in-law.
“The doctors are still with her, Ron. We don’t know anything yet, other than she stepped off the curb in front of a bus. Thankfully it was slowing down for its next stop, but she was still knocked about ten feet, and they think she hit her head pretty hard when she landed. As far as we know, she’s still unconscious.”
Ron sat down hard in the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t move until Hermione’s doctor came out, nearly an hour later, to speak with the family. There wasn’t much news. The doctor said mother and baby were both stable and would be moved into a ward, but the mother was in a coma. At Ron’s blank look, Mr. Granger leaned over and quietly whispered to him that they were in no immediate danger of losing them, but Hermione was still unconscious and wouldn’t wake up.
When the doctor left, Ron told the Grangers he was taking her to St. Mungo’s. He almost said, “so Harry can sort her out,” but he stopped himself. It was too painful to think of how close he’d come to losing Hermione and the baby; he couldn’t think about the fact that they may’ve already lost Harry.
The Grangers were still trying to convince Ron it was a bad idea to move a coma patient when Molly and Arthur arrived. After quickly filling his parents in on all he knew about Hermione’s situation, he left them to debate the pros and cons of Muggle medicine versus Wizarding treatment with the Grangers and went in to see his wife.
Hermione looked like she was sleeping, and Ron could have almost felt some relief had it not been for the large, black bruise blooming on her right cheek and the angry red scrape across her chin. The lower part of her left arm was encased in something hard, and the fingers on her left hand looked a little swollen and had a bit of a bluish tint to them.
Ron looked around at the other beds within the ward. The one directly across from Hermione was empty, and the two at the other end of the room were occupied by women who also appeared to be sleeping. Ron wondered if they really were asleep, or if they were unconscious like Hermione. One was very old, and her head lolled to the side. Her mouth hung open and a bit of drool was suspended between the corner of her mouth and a rather large wet spot on her pillow. It was hard to guess an age for the other woman. There was bandaging wrapped around the top of her head and her face, which Ron sensed may have been pretty under other circumstances, was covered in cuts and bruises. Her bottom lip was terribly swollen, with a gash at the edge that had apparently dripped blood onto the sheet that covered her body. One leg was out from under the sheet, but it was wrapped in something like the hard casing that was on Hermione’s arm, only it extended from mid-thigh down to enlcose her entire foot apart from the toes. Her toes were blue and swollen like Hermione’s fingers. Ron wondered if she’d stepped out in front of a bus as well.
There were no chairs for visitors, so after another quick glance at the two women to insure they were still sleeping, Ron drew his wand and conjured one. He pulled the thin curtain to hide Hermione from view should her ward mates wake up, then took her uninjured hand in his and sat down.
Hours passed, with nothing to do but wait, except to move out of the way whenever a nurse would come in to check on Hermione. Ron stopped looking hopefully at them the fifth time one smiled at him sadly and shook her head “no.” He’d wandered out to the waiting room a couple times, to use the loo and to let his parents and Hermione’s know that nothing had changed, but apart from that, Ron just sat and watched Hermione sleep.
“There are Muggles in here, you daft sod!” Ron hissed.
Harry lunged forward to wrap Ron in a comforting hug, but Ron flinched away with a pained look on his face.
“Where the bloody hell have you been all week? We’ve looked everywhere! Hermione was in London looking for you when she walked out in front of that fucking bus!”
Harry winced at the icy tone in Ron’s voice, knowing he deserved the anger.
“Is she going to be okay, Ron? Is the baby okay?”
“How the hell should I know, Harry? You’re her Healer, or you were supposed to be until you let your bloody noble attitude get in the way of doing your job.”
Ron was practically yelling by then, so Harry cast a non-verbal silencing charm around them.
“We told you we loved you. We gave you our hearts and our bodies and showed you how fucking much we wanted you, and you fucking left us!”
Tears were streaming freely down Ron’s cheeks by then, and Harry’s heart was breaking. The guilt he’d felt over giving in to his desires with his friends was nothing compared to how he felt now.
This was all his fault.
Hermione wouldn’t have been in London at all if she hadn’t been looking for him. If he’d hadn’t been such a pervert, spying on his friends while they had sex, they might never have told him about their three-way fantasy life. If he hadn’t been so weak that he gave in the moment Ron’s lips touched his, the three of them might never have crossed the line between love and lust. If he hadn’t been such a coward that he ran the moment the baby’s kick brought him back to the reality of their situation, Hermione wouldn’t be lying in a Muggle hospital bed, bruised and battered, while he watched his best mate sob his heart out.
Ron’s voice was quiet when he spoke, so softly Harry could barely make out the words.
“The doctor said they were in a stable and something about punctuation – a comma, or something like that. It didn’t make much sense to me.” He wiped the sleeve of his training uniform across his face, catching some of the tears, but the action only served to smear their muddy tracks even more.
Harry stared at Ron stupidly for a few seconds before working out what Ron was really telling him. A coma didn’t sound good, particularly for a pregnant woman. Harry was about to ask Ron’s permission to check Hermione over himself when the alarms on the monitoring equipment went off. Medical staff came rushing in and Harry and Ron were both shoved unceremoniously into the waiting room with the rest of the family.
Chapter 10: Comfort
By the time Ron and Harry had calmed the Grangers and Weasleys down, a nurse had stepped out of the ward to tell Ron they could go back in. The alarms had signaled an irregular heart rhythm on the mother, but it had righted itself in fairly short order and a check of vitals for both mother and baby indicated both remained stable.
That had been almost a week prior. Little had changed in that time, except that perhaps Ron had stopped being so angry with Harry because of the common bond they shared in worrying about Hermione and the baby. They hadn’t really talked about Harry’s disappearance, except that Harry apologized for running out the way he did. Nor had they really discussed the event leading up to it, other than Ron apologizing for the way he and Hermione had sort of ambushed Harry without finding out how he really felt about them. He and Hermione had talked about it at length after Harry left, and Ron knew she felt like the fault was more theirs than Harry’s. They had each other and should have known Harry would need time to see a relationship between the three of them as anything other than something that would mess up what they had as a couple, or worse, something they were doing for him out of pity. But enough of the tension between them was gone that once the Weasleys and Grangers went home each night, the boys could find some solace in just being together. Hermione was still unresponsive to any kind of stimulus, but the doctors still referred to her condition, and that of the baby, as stable.
The Grangers were still against the idea of moving their daughter, so Ron went along with them at first, since Harry was there constantly except when he had to be at work, and he was regularly casting diagnostic spells to make sure there was, in fact, no change for the worse.
When the change did come, it wasn’t for the better. On the morning of the sixth day, the alarms went off again, rousing Ron out of a deep sleep from his chair in the corner of the room. It was still early, and neither his parents nor the Grangers had returned from going home to sleep the evening prior. He looked around frantically for Harry and was on the verge of panic when the medical team rushed in and pushed him back into the hall, straight into Harry who was approaching the door with cups of steaming coffee in both hands and a bag of warm scones clenched between his teeth. Coffee sloshed over both of Harry’s wrists and he swore loudly.
Harry cast a discrete cooling charm over his burned wrists and listened intently as Ron explained what happened, which told Harry exactly nothing since Ron had been sleeping until the alarms sounded. Ron slumped onto a sofa in the waiting area and Harry paced, muttering to himself and swearing occasionally.
Finally he paused in front of his mate. “Ron, we’ve got to move her, just as soon as we possibly can.”
Harry was convinced that the best chance for both Hermione and the baby was to move them to St. Mungo’s and to involve a Healer who specialized in obstetrics, particularly troubled pregnancies. The problem was that persuading a Muggle hospital to transfer a comatose prenatal patient to a facility that didn’t exist as far as they were concerned would be difficult. Harry feared that dark magic might be unavoidable, surmising that at the very least, he would have to cast the Imperius curse on the Muggle hospital’s staff to facilitate a proper transfer, then follow that up with a few well-placed memory charms. Use of an Unforgiveable was still a life sentence to Azkaban, but Harry would risk his freedom if it would save Hermione’s life.
Ron was hesitant because he didn’t want to upset the Grangers, but when Hermione’s doctor came out and told them that although the baby still appeared fine, Hermione seemed to be getting weaker, Harry insisted. The Muggle doctor said Hermione’s blood pressure and heart rate were both dropping, and so far, they were unable to pinpoint any cause.
Harry made sure Ron would be okay until his parents arrived, then slipped out into the alley and sent his Patronus to Arthur to explain what had happened and ask that someone come stay with Ron as soon as they could manage. He then Apparated to the Ministry and headed directly for Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, prepared to do something he’d sworn never to do … he was going to take advantage of being a personal friend of the Minister, and play the Harry Potter card by promising to be the Ministry’s poster boy – or whatever they needed, in exchange for a team of Obliviators to help him get Hermione out of that damned Muggle hospital. If that didn’t work, he was going back to the hospital and start casting the Imperius curse.
After Kingsley expressed his concern for Hermione and the baby, he just laughed at Harry’s theatrics. Harry was pleasantly surprised to learn that St. Mungo’s had something of a mutual aid agreement in place with Queen Charlotte’s hospital for patients needing to transition between the Muggle and magical worlds, and all he actually had to do to arrange a transfer was to see the Chief of Obstetrics at the wizarding facility.
In less than an hour, Harry was on his way back to the waiting room at St. Thomas’ to accompany Hermione whilst she was transported to Queen Charlotte’s so she could then go via Floo to St. Mungo’s. A bit complicated, but better for Harry than a dank cell in Azkaban.
The transfers were slow and tedious, but once Hermione arrived at the magical hospital, Harry and his colleagues spent the next several hours assessing and treating the witch’s condition. Hermione’s broken wrist was easily healed, as were the broken ribs that the Muggle doctors had told Harry and Ron about later on the first night Hermione was in the hospital. They’d said the ribs would be best left alone to heal on their own, which proved challenging for Harry since it would have taken just a few waves of his wand to mend them. The real problem was going to be how to identify and address the cause of Hermione’s prolonged unconsciousness and general weakening, not to mention the drops in her blood pressure and heart rate.
When Harry finally came out of the examining room to talk to Ron and both sets of parents, he looked to Ron as if he’d aged ten years since that morning. Ron wrapped Harry in a hug and the two men clung to each other for several long moments before breaking apart so Harry could deliver the expected bad news.
“Something – we really don’t know what – appears to have damaged the baby’s magical core,” Harry began, focusing all his attention on Ron. “While that is never a good thing, if this were something that had occurred after the baby was born, the worst case scenario would be a child that had diminished magical ability or perhaps was even a Squib. In Hermione’s case, she is essentially the baby’s life support. Muggle babies get their nutrition from their mother through the umbilical cord. While that is still true for a magical baby, there is more to it. If the baby’s magic is diminished, it can begin to siphon off the mother’s magic to sustain its own.”
Harry paused to wipe a stray tear from his cheek and glance at the Weasleys and the Grangers, before settling his gaze back on his best friend. He was just about to speak when Ron interrupted him.
“So, are you saying the baby is going to turn Hermione into a Squib?”
Harry shook his head. “I wish it were that simple, mate. There might be a chance, if Hermione were at the end of her pregnancy, but this is only just over mid-way through the second trimester. At the rate the baby is draining Hermione of her magical energy, there is a strong probability she won’t survive the rest of her pregnancy.”
Harry paused as his voice broke, but he choked down a sob and continued. “We can take the baby by Cesarean Section – it’s a Muggle procedure, which, by wizarding standards will likely seem a bit barbaric, but it’s perfectly safe for Hermione thanks to the enhancements magic will offer us. There is a chance the baby might survive outside the womb, but it’s a very slim chance, even with the benefits of magic. If we take the baby, Hermione should survive, but we can’t say whether her magic will recover fully. It may always be somewhat diminished.”
Ron sat down hard on the coffee table he was nearest to, mouth open as if he wanted to speak, but no sound would come out. There was a loud sob, but Harry wasn’t sure if it came from Molly or Mrs. Granger. After that, stunned silence rang in the room for what seemed like an eternity.
When Ron finally spoke, the sound was hollow and unfamiliar. “So, you’re telling me that I have to choose between the life of my child and the life of my wife.”
Harry had never felt more wrecked in his entire life. His tears fell unrestrained as he wrapped his arms around Ron and they clung to one another for the second time in a matter of minutes.
It wasn’t easy, but Arthur and Molly finally convinced Ron to go home with Harry for a proper night’s sleep. He hadn’t left Hermione’s side since the whole ordeal began, except when the medical staff forced him out or when he’d walk out to the waiting area just long enough to update her parents or whoever from his family was there at the time. Arthur and Molly promised to remain at the hospital through the night, along with the Grangers, and assured their son they would send a message if there was any news at all.
Ron sat numbly at the little table in Harry’s kitchen and blankly stared at the wall while Harry threw together a fry-up for their dinner. A million jumbled thoughts churned in his head, each clamoring for attention. Hermione would tell him to forget about her and do what was best for their baby. The Grangers would tell him to save their daughter. His own parents would tell him to do what was in his heart because he was the one who would have to live with both the joys and the regrets that either choice was likely to bring. Ron didn’t know how it would be possible to even make a choice given the options he was offered. He wished it had been him stepping off that curb in London so no one would be faced with making difficult choices. He wished Harry had just stayed with them.
Ron looked up when Harry sat a plate in front of him. The food smelled delicious, but for once Ron had little appetite for it. Harry looked as sad as Ron felt, so Ron picked up his fork and shoveled food into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk. He didn’t know what to say.
After a long silence in which the only sounds were forks scraping against china, the gurgles of someone taking a drink and the clunk of a goblet being sat back down on the table, Harry finally spoke. “I know the odds are not in our favor, and I know we would find our answer a lot faster with Hermione doing the research, but we are going to find a way to make this work, Ron. You can’t make the choice you’ve been asked to make any more than I could.”
Ron nodded and forced half a smile, just to show Harry that he appreciated the effort to cheer him, but really he only had one choice. He couldn’t lose Hermione.
After dinner, Harry set the dishes washing in the sink and turned on the Muggle telly thinking the sound would fill what would otherwise be awkward silence. About an hour later, the boys went to bed – Harry in his room and Ron in the guest room across the hall.
It was past midnight when Harry heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming from that direction. He hesitated over whether or not to intervene – sometimes a bloke just needed to get something out of his system without his friends catching him at it and adding embarrassment to whatever else was bothering him. But this was a pretty serious something and Harry had been on the verge of tears most of the night himself, so he thought maybe it would be okay. Either he’d cheer Ron up a bit or they’d cry together. He didn’t even bother to dress when he crawled out of bed, padding across the hall in just his pants.
Ron looked up when Harry knocked softly at his door, even though it was still half open. No words passed, but Harry crossed quickly to the bed and sank down beside his friend. He let Ron fall into his open arms as his own tears began to fall once again, and he stroked Ron’s bare back in what he hoped was a soothing way. Not having been raised in a nurturing household, Harry figured he was pretty rubbish at this sort of thing, but it made him feel better to feel the steady rhythm of Ron’s breathing under his fingertips and Ron made no move to stop him.
Harry didn’t really know how long they cried, or when they laid down, but a wandless Tempus told him it was almost 3:00 am when he realized they had stretched out in Ron’s bed and were spooned together with Harry’s arm wrapped snugly around his best friend who’d just begun to snore. He couldn’t believe it was even possible to feel like the very foundation of his world had shattered, but yet feel so much like he was where he belonged at the same time. He tucked his nose into the ginger hair at the back of Ron’s neck and breathed deeply, realizing with an overwhelming sense of longing how much Ron smelled like home to him, and he took comfort in feeling his friend’s steady heartbeat under the palm of his hand.
Ron woke nearly four hours later feeling pleasantly rested for the first time in over a week and reached down to adjust his morning wood as he pressed back against the warm body wrapped so temptingly behind him. He let out a soft moan when he felt the press of Harry’s erection dig into his thigh, then an anguished groan when reality came crashing back to him.
The sound woke Harry, who tightened his grip on his friend while lifting up on his elbow to plant a soft kiss on Ron’s neck and whisper that Hermione and the baby would be fine, he was sure of it. Ron rolled in Harry’s arms and stared up into his emerald eyes, so full of love and longing without his glasses to hide them.
For what seemed like a small eternity, no one moved. They just held each other’s gaze as if there were a silent conversation unfolding between them, then someone moved – a mere twitch of a muscle forward – and they were kissing. Their lips touched, and parted. Harry rolled on top of Ron and his tongue swept into Ron’s hungry mouth. Ron moaned and thrust his hips up against Harry’s groin while shoving his hands beneath the waistband of Harry’s pants to get to his bare skin.
Harry groaned and thrust back, whimpering into Ron’s mouth as their cocks slid together with only the fabric of two pairs of boxers separating them. With some effort, he pulled back from the kiss just long enough to whisper the words to Banish the remaining fabric that separated them, then went back to kissing one of the two most important people in his life.
Their kisses became erratic, almost desperate, as they rutted together. Ron squeezed Harry’s cheeks and hissed at the delicious slide of flesh on flesh as he rolled them over, pinning Harry to the bed. He pushed up on one arm, making Harry lean up to follow Ron’s mouth with his own as the kiss broke, but when Ron reached between their sweaty stomachs to wrap his hand around both of their lengths, Harry fell back against the mattress and began to rock into Ron’s grip in earnest.
Ron thrust against Harry and jerked their pricks roughly until he could feel his own balls tighten and he hoped that Harry was close. When he didn’t think he could last another second, he abruptly let go and fell onto Harry, locking their mouths together as he continued to hump with abandon, letting out an almost pained wail as he spurted copious amounts of hot fluid that matted their pubic hair together because there was nowhere else it could go with them pressed so tightly together. Harry followed him over the edge mere seconds later, swearing and calling out Ron’s name and holding onto him for dear life.