Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Night

Soft moans and crumpled sheets, hair grasped between fingers as lips traveled south. Bodies shook as minds blurred and vision contracted. Lust clouded over willing eyes as whimpers escaped parted lips. The night air seemed to cling around them, the suspense and horror that had once filled their dreams having been put away for the time being, this moment filled with tangled limbs and soft strokes.

Hermione was the first to scream, Ron having obviously found a very pleasurable spot with his tongue on her body, deep between her legs. Harry was busy stroking her uncovered breasts, slowly teasing the taut skin that surrounded her nipple. His mouth resting there, nipping slowly at the tip, meticulously licking the reddened flesh afterward.

Soon Hermione's hands found Harry's hair, her fingers tracing the wild tufts of ebony silk as Ron's tongue stole away all common thought, all common sense. She pulled Harry's lips to hers through a tug of his hair, kissing him softly, her tongue meeting his own in long, slow strokes.

Harry felt her muscles begin to tighten, his hands rippling over her body as Ron's mouth brought her to her peak. He rode her through the waves, Harry watching as her eyes never left his, penetrating them with an emotion that only seemed to show in these moments, deep within the mouth of night.

Ron slowly kissed back up across her stomach, slowly laving one nipple with his tongue before kissing her fiercely. Ron's hands then began to wander, tracing quiet circles on Harry's exposed thigh.

Hermione moaned as Harry kissed her neck gently, Ron's other hand beginning to drift downward on her body once more. Her breathing quickened as she began to feel the deep ache build within her once more, one that only Harry and Ron had seemed to fill lately, one that not even she could come to understand.

Ron straddled one of Hermione's legs, slowly tracing small circles terribly close to her core as his other hand drew closer and closer to Harry's length. He gripped him fully, Harry's breath hitching slightly, Hermione catching a small bite on his neck. She gasped loudly as Ron's fingers found her warmth, tracing maddening circles around and around until her head was practically spinning.

Ron's other hand expertly stroked Harry, grasping him firmly while pushing down and pulling up with just as much ferocity. He began to feel Harry jerk beneath him, and something rather unexpected creeping up his own thigh. Hermione's slender fingers had grasped between his own legs, pulling him softly. He moaned her name, a mere whisper across his lips,

Mione…

Whether it was in his own mind or whether he really said it no one would ever know. His stroke on Harry quickened, his moans growing rapidly with each thrust. Hermione's muscles already began to contract slowly, her back arching in such a way the made her breasts lift and peak.

Ron's mind went unconsciously foggy, the only thing apparent in his mind was the constant moans of his friends and that of his own, pleasure wracking through his body as Harry cried out, Hermione drawing out a long, throaty moan as they collapsed beside each other, Hermione's hand still pumping furiously in between Ron's legs.

Harry bent down in front of Ron, breathing hot on his tip before drawing it slowly into his mouth. Ron's eyes grew wide as Hermione tugged slightly on his skin, Harry's mouth enveloping him whole. His tongue dancing wicked circles around him, bringing him to climax almost at once.

Ron fell between his friends, welcoming their warmth as arms entangled themselves around each other softly, embracing the loneliness and the bitter resentments and taking it all back, letting it all go.

When mornings came each would dress quietly, Hermione kissing Ron softly before kissing Harry, slowly biting his bottom lip before drawing back to make the morning coffee. A chill filled the tent as the clasps broke wide at the tent opening, Ron rushing to close it as snowflakes rushed in, threatening to blow out the small furnace set up in the living area.

Harry wrapped a large blanket around himself, feeling the locket around his neck sting with pain before his mind pushed it away, only feeling Ron's arms slowly envelop his waist. He kissed his neck before leaving him, turning behind a large curtain to search for clothes to wear.

Harry's mind wandered as he sat upon a rather large pillow, looking from Ron's shadow to Hermione's slim form as she poured separate cups of coffee. He wondered what had turned them all to this, these wild passionate nights followed by lazy, contented mornings.

Maybe it was pure loneliness, a want just to be needed and held. Everyone felt alone in this War, feeling torn apart in every way imaginable. Hermione's parents having to go into hiding without their own knowledge. Harry sensed the sadness in her eyes when silence overcame the trio, a sweet sacrifice she had made for him. It made his heart ache even deeper.

Ron's constant worry had only subsided when the Nights started. He was always fidgeting with himself, his mind constantly working out every possible way his family already could have died, already could have left him without any word whatsoever. He loved them both too much to be able to bear the silence, the broken hearted nights filled with sobs and nightmares, and more importantly, nights spent apart.

It had first started one night when Hermione's cries were so deep and filled with pain that not even Harry could try to ignore them in exchange for a restless night's sleep. He watched as Ron rose from his bed, slowly making his way to Hermione's small palate on the floor, holding her carefully, afraid she might break. It wasn't until soft moans were produced later in their journey when Harry started to notice how suddenly alone he felt.

Hermione was the first to join him.

Her soft hands played across his chest, tangling themselves in his jet black hair, kissing him tenderly as Ron did as Harry had once, and watched quietly. It wasn't until Hermione's loud cries filled the air, that were now out of pure ecstasy did Ron join the two.

At first their hands strayed from each other, afraid to touch or caress another man. Hermione slowly brought them together, watching them share their first kiss, their first stroke, their first orgasm, and their first time alone together. She had taught them that love came in all shapes and forms, and loving someone so much to take their loneliness away in such a natural setting was nothing to be ashamed of.

Then it started happening more often, catching a quickie as they stopped for a break on a hike, Hermione hitching up her skirt as snow fell around them. Ron obliging to her unspoken need and going to her, pressing himself against her while his hands found her soft thighs, slowly bringing her to a screaming peak as Harry watched.

His heart pounding furiously against the heavy locket around his neck, his erection terribly uncomfortable as they set off on their journey again, Ron gently holding Hermione's small hand, Hermione's other hand gently caressing Harry's.

It was all a matter of love, a matter of quenching a fire set deep within each other, one that only they grew to sate, one that only true love could ever possibly end. But it never ended, and they continued. Filling the night air with deep moans, screaming names and throaty whimpers of desire. They grew to need these nights, probably more than they felt the need to save this Wizarding World of theirs, if only to cast out the loneliness, even if just for a while.

Then it came, the day Ron left. He had been wearing the locket for a day and half or so, the constant burn the seeped from his chest to his heart constantly murmuring to him. The night before having been another one filled with soiled sheets and loud moans.

But his temper and his worry had breached that of ecstasy and into that of pure unadulterated fear. Harry had no idea why he had become so mad at Ron, why his logical pleas and worries had finally gotten to him, or even the reason why he had let his best friend, his lover walk away from him and into the rain, watching as the girl who put her heart in her hand for the stubborn redheaded boy ran after him, only to come back with tears in her large brown eyes.

She did not come to him that night, nor did his warmth breach her cold heart as he lay next to her. She flinched at first, still mad at Harry for Ron's leaving. But she slowly relaxed into his arms, her breathing becoming more even until she fell into a restless sleep.

Harry awoke the next morning to sobs, loud cries that seemed to come from outside, he watched Hermione, tears dripping into the snow. Her pain enough to break his own heart, and the only thing worse than that was the fact that he could do nothing to help her…not even in the Night.

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Author's Note: This is seriously one of my favorite fics that I've done, the beginning of my sensual era. This was written right after I started reading Francesa Lia Block, who is now the basis for most of my writing today. Her works showed me that there are more ways than just one to look at the world, to find that eye and go with it. That's what I did. I revised this peice, and going back through it, I still can't believe how beautiful this turned out. Thank you all, the support is amazing.