Author's note: And here's where go from a "T" to an "M". Not gratuitous, but still pretty lemony-fresh. If that sort of thing bothers you, skip down to about half-way down the page. It's also a bit shorter than the others, but I wanted to keep the publishing momentum moving. Please enjoy!

Chapter 4: Closer Still

That evening, Harry had Kreacher move his clothes and a few other possessions into Hermione's place in Cheltenham for good. He knew that their arrangement was one of permanence, and as a family - a real family - was what he had wished for his entire life, he was more than eager to get started living in one.

Ron had to be a bit more circumspect, as he wasn't sure whether his rather conservative mother would appreciate her son 'shacking up' with his 'girlfriend.' And he certainly wasn't going to tell her about the arrangement with Harry, or this 'bond,' as they were calling their connection. While he knew it made sense, given everything that had gone on between the three of them, it was still quite difficult to explain. And while he was eighteen years old, past the age of majority, and certainly legally responsible for himself and his actions, he was quite sure his mother didn't see things that way.

Hermione, for her part, was over the moon with the situation. Now able to control the magic afforded her by her expanded Magical Core, she had never felt quite as at ease in her family home as she felt with Ron and Harry by her side. For years she had endured the quiet disappointment of her parents; whether it was about her grades (four times in her primary schooling she had brought home composition assignments that had received a B or B-), her dress, her lack of suitable friends, or, after First Year at Hogwarts, the amount of time she spent at home. Now there was none of that. She was Queen Regent of her castle, attended by two loving Princes.

In short order, however, one problem became very apparent. Every night she went to bed between two boys; two quite fit boys with lean, tautly muscular physiques, who, as it was summertime, slept in nothing but their shorts. She woke up every morning with her head rested on one rock-hard chest or another, staring at rippled stomachs whose lack of body fat defied belief. Occasionally she would find herself running her fingers across the contours of those stomachs as the boys slept, and she began to ache to touch them with her whole hand, to feel their muscles give and tighten as she rubbed her hands and face on them. She dared not touch herself to relieve this ache, as she feared waking her boys, but the tension building inside her was nearly unbearable.

One particularly warm, late May morning, Hermione woke snuggled next to Ron, and began to run her fingers across his chest. With nothing but a light sheet covering them, it soon became apparent that the sleeping Ron was enjoying this as much as she was, and this was where she broke. Gently, she peeled the sheet off of him, to find his erection had poked straight through the fly of his shorts. Without so much as a thought, she held it in her hand, and slowly brought her head down, taking him into her mouth. Ron's sleepy groans gave her more confidence, and she bobbed her head up and down his shaft with more abandon. When she felt Ron's fingers wind their way through her hair, she looked up, smiled at him, and placed a finger over his lips, nodding her head toward the still sleeping Harry, before getting back to the task at hand.

As she felt Ron's hips begin to buck, Hermione lifted her head off of him. She carefully slid his shorts off of his hips, tossing them to the floor. She removed her own nightshirt and knickers, and tossed them to the floor as well. With a feral grin, Hermione straddled the boy, guiding him inside her. She slowly rocked back and forth, sliding up and down his entire length. Ron placed his hands over her breasts and began to knead them, which she found distracting. Without breaking rhythm, Hermione grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head. Wandlessly, she bound them there with a soft Incarcerous. As Ron began to protest, she summoned her knickers off of the floor, slapped his face, and stuffed the pants into his mouth. The surprise in his eyes was evident, but the motion of his body underneath hers told her that he didn't mind the rough treatment one bit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw movement. Turning her head, she saw that Harry was awake, and if the motion of his hand was to be believed, he was thoroughly enjoying the show she and Ron were putting on. Eyes flashing, she looked at Harry sternly.

"Don't you dare finish that, Potter," she said. "You're next."

And so he was.

Hermione awoke first, tousle-headed and smiling, humming along to a song that was going through her head. She walked over towards the stove to put on a kettle, when she nearly jumped out of her skin as Globo appeared next to her.

"Yous be sitting now, Mistress Hermione," Globo said. "I can makes this quicker and better, and I is your elf."

Allowing that this was certainly the case, Hermione did as she was told, and thirty seconds later was rewarded with a pot of perfectly brewed tea. Globo paused after pouring the tea into a cup for her (all three of them grew used to black tea during their time in the forest, and by then prefered it that way), and smiled mischievously.

"Is different now, Mistress. Is better. Yous is seeing."

"Well I certainly hope you're not talking about the tea, Globo," she replied, dryly. "And I don't suppose you're going to let on what you are referring to, either, are you?"

Globo grinned and shook his head in response.

"Well then, I'll just have to be surprised. Meanwhile, would you mind putting on some breakfast? The boys are awake, and quite hungry."

Hermione reached for her tea, and paused for a moment, thinking about what she'd just said. She rationalized that she knew the boys would be hungry because of that morning's activities, and she must have heard them stirring. She took a sip, gently put the cup down, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, frowning. She looked up at Globo who was smiling gleefully.

"So, this is...?" she asked.

Globo nodded.

"And I knew this because...?"

Globo nodded again.

"And this happened because we...?"

Globo winked, and in a flash a full English breakfast was on the table, and he was gone.

As predicted, Ron and Harry walked downstairs a moment after that. Each kissed her on the cheek, and took their seats at the breakfast table, digging in immediately. A very hungry Hermione did likewise. After she had gotten a few bites into her, Hermione informed the boys of the latest developments.

"Well, it turns out our round of morning sex brought me a brand-new superpower," she sighed. "Now, while I can't exactly read your thoughts, I am now innately aware of where you are and what you're feeling, and no, Ron, we're not going back to bed just yet."

"Wait, you heard that?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione replied, "it's just that you're randier than a cat in heat, and your eyes are trying very hard to remove my t-shirt."

Ron smirked and lowered his head, blushing through his smile.

"We'd already sussed that out, actually," Harry said. "Looks like you're not the only one affected by this. I could tell you were at the kitchen table, and you went from sleepy and satisfied to resigned at one point." Ron nodded in agreement.

"Can you read each other's thoughts, then?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry replied. "Just yours. Although I'd've guessed that about Ron, too. Just on general principle."

"Hey now," Ron protested. "That's not - oh, actually, yeah. That's probably fair."

"Again, this isn't unpleasant, necessarily," Hermione said, smiling. "It's just a bit unexpected. And it will take some getting used to." Getting up from her seat and sitting on Ron's lap, she continued. "And knowing just how randy you are, Ron, well let's just call that a bonus."

Running her hands through Ron's hair, she kissed him passionately, as his fingernails ran up and down her back.

"Oh my," she said with a grin. "Harry likes to watch, does he?" Harry smiled and nodded, and Hermione crawled off of Ron's lap and onto his.

As Hermione was kissing Harry, Ron noticed an owl tapping on the glass patio door. He grabbed a bit of bacon, opened the door, and took the parchment from its talon.

"Hey," he said, and Hermione and Harry looked up mid-snog. "Looks like we've got a letter here." Harry and Hermione shrugged and got back to what they were doing. A moment or two later, Ron walked over to his canoodling friends and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "Really," he said, "you should take a look at this."

Hermione took the parchment from him and scanned it. "Oh, for goodness sakes," she said, clearly irritated. "This Ephraim fellow won't stop, will he? I'm to go to the Chamber of Magic at half three this afternoon, where Kingsley himself wants to see me and my wondrous Magical Core. Hopefully he'll at least be able to tell this Dr. Moreau in Unspeakable robes that I'm not some lab animal that he can just run in a cage to see how I'll do. Well, all that said, this is coming straight from Kingsley's office. We should probably go."

"But first...?" Ron asked, expectation pouring from his pleading eyes.

"Oh, I suppose we should have time for more of that. Come along, boys," Hermione answered with a self-satisfied smirk, grabbing both of her smiling boys' hands and leading them back upstairs to the bedroom.