The Hedgehog's Dilemma
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Chapter Ten: The Moon Cannot Be Stolen
Hermione blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. For a moment, she considered whether or not she wanted to move laundry to Fridays. On the other hand, it wasn't as though she could avoid this moment forever, no matter how much of a chicken-shit she apparently was.
"No," Harry said, for her. His eyes were focused on the two of them. "She does laundry on Saturdays."
"Not always—" she protested.
He cut her off. "Always."
Draco's grip on her tightened, and she found herself suddenly short of breath when she realised that he was definitely aroused. "What was he saying about threesome porn?" he whispered in her ear, and the sensation of his breath sent shivers down her spine.
Harry sat up, moving his mobile carefully from his pocket to the coffee table—out of the way. "She was asking me earlier how I imagined it would be... with all of us."
Humming softly, Draco traced his lips down the side of her neck. "Well, we all know how curious Granger is prone to being. And when Granger's curiosity has taken hold, we all know how impossible it is for her to focus on anything else until it's satisfied," he murmured against her skin. With his arms wrapped around her, he began to rock her back and forth.
The movement was hypnotic, dulling her various concerns until all she could think about was the sensation of his mouth on her skin.
As her eyelids grew heavy, Harry scooted forward to the edge of the sofa. His eyes flicked over her, trying to figure out where to best insert himself without breaking her trance-like state. Finally, he ran his fingertips up the outsides of her thighs, craning his head back to look at her face. When his fingers reached her hands hanging loosely at her sides, he gripped them gently, his smile soft and encouraging.
Draco rocked her forward a bit, and when her knees bumped against Harry's, she swallowed and slid them onto the sofa, straddling his lap.
It wasn't as weird as she would have thought it would be just a week ago. Somehow, looking into Harry's face made it seem more right. Draco seemed to intuitively understand this, always positioning himself at her back whenever they did anything as a trio. Sometimes, thinking about the level of planning that went into the Slytherin's movements made her head spin. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, just how intricately Draco calculated everything.
Once her knees were framing Harry's hips, Draco leant forward, gently urging Hermione to sit. Then, in one seamless movement, Draco's arms slid away from her and Harry's took their place.
Stricken with a sudden bout of shyness, she froze there, watching numbly as Draco's hands put her arms around Harry's neck. Once they were there, though, she came to an immediate conclusion that she had no idea what to do. There was some sort of mental block over the idea of acting sexy to Harry. She was interested in sex; she knew that. But when she realised she was meant to seduce him, her mind came to a complete and utter stop. She couldn't fathom how to go about seducing him.
Sensing that something was a little amiss, Harry bit back a smile, endlessly amused by the notion of Hermione being at a loss. His hand slid up her back, urging her flat against him.
Automatically, her lips sought his.
Harry's hands drifted back down to her waist, his fingers splaying over them as he slid her forward, his hips moving up to meet hers. She whimpered into his mouth on contact; it had been so long since anyone had been there besides herself. After rutting against him a few times, she picked up a rhythm, gasping for breath whenever she got the chance.
After a few minutes of snogging and dry-humping, though, she found herself wondering: Where's Draco?
Was it weird to look for him? Would it break the flow? Would it upset Harry?
Finding herself with no easy answers, she ended up just shoving the thought away from herself and focusing on Harry alone. At that point, she realised she was not satisfied with dry-humping, and reached down to cup him through his jeans.
His hips shot off the sofa and nearly dislodged her as he startled, clearly not expecting anything half so brazen out of his bookish friend. Hermione began to fumble with the clasps of his trousers, undoing them in rough, jerky movements. The kiss broke as she looked down, reaching into the opened front of his jeans to try and fish his dick out of his pants.
"Ah—Christ," Harry hissed. "Easy, Hermione, it's not going anywhere. Slow down."
"No," she said, decisively. Two years of celibacy. Two years. She was going to get bloody well laid tonight or die trying. She finally got through the fabric and closed on heated, hardened flesh, wrapping her hand around it securely as Harry stiffened, a whining noise squeezing out of his throat.
She tried to be a little more gentle as she pulled it out. It was paler than the rest of him but darker than she imagined Draco's was. Feeling a slight, morbid fascination—this was her best friend's penis—Hermione gripped it tightly, feeling the faint pulse of it through her fingers. Slowly, she swiped her thumb over the head, smearing pre-cum across it as Harry jerked and gasped.
"Fuck," he breathed, watching her hand with the same intensity that she was.
The first movement was slow, a little hesitant. She squeezed, pulling upwards, and felt his hips leave the sofa again at the friction. Finally, Hermione raised her eyes back to his face, watching the way his lips parted with silent ecstasy as she pumped her fist over him.
Licking her lips and feeling her breath shorten a bit, she made a satisfied, throaty noise and leant forward to latch onto his neck, digging her teeth in and sucking up a mark.
"I knew it," came Draco's cultured voice, and she only jumped a little when she noticed that he was seated beside them, on the sofa. She'd scarcely noticed, being so focused on Harry. "You said she was all innocent. I knew it, though. I knew she'd be like this."
"Ron never—ahh—said anything!" Harry defended, barely able to string a coherent sentence together.
Hermione bit down on the soft tissue where his shoulder met his neck and felt grim satisfaction when Harry yelped. "I would have slit his throat in his sleep if he'd said anything to you," she said, flatly, reminding Harry of just what might happen if he started to feel a little gossipy, himself.
"Noted," Harry managed, sounding strangled.
She pumped him a few more times and then found herself frustrated with the lack of return stimulation. Releasing him, she stood, unbuttoning her own jeans. "Take your clothes off."
"Bossy," Draco murmured.
Hermione turned to snap at him, and then stopped short when she saw that his hand was on his crotch, stroking himself through the material of his own trousers. "I don't like waiting for men to figure things out," she finally huffed. "It takes forever, and I'm usually on a schedule." She shimmied out of her jeans and kicked them off, glancing at Harry as he quickly tried to divest himself of his own clothing in record time.
"And you talk too much. Do you know how long I've dreamed about shutting you up, Granger?" Draco asked, his voice heavy with promise. "You need a good mouthful."
"Oh, I doubt you've a mouthful," she snorted, tearing her shirt off.
His smirk formed slowly. His hand hadn't stopped moving rhythmically over himself. "I want you to remember that you said that to me."
Then he put his hand up, twirling his finger in the universal signal of turn around.
Her fingers were hooked in her knickers, not quite pulling them down. "What?"
Draco stood, moving to stand in front of her—and using his foot to shove the coffee table aside. She straightened up a bit, feeling strangely vulnerable in just her knickers, but no amount of spine-stiffening would put her within spitting distance of his towering height. As he stalked around her, she turned to remain facing him, a little suspicious of his actions.
When her back was to Harry, Draco stepped forward. His fingers traced up her arms, a light, teasing touch that made her break out in goosebumps.
Gently framing her neck with his hands, he used his thumbs to urge her chin up, leaning in to kiss her—the gesture so soft that at first she just stood there, trying to reconcile this with the Draco that she knew. After a few tense moments, she relaxed, opening her mouth for him. She was dimly aware of his hands moving around her back and undoing her bra with a little flick of his fingers. He eased the garment off of her with this strange sense of tenderness, so at odds with who he was as a person that she began to suspect this was all just some insane dream.
Draco hummed in his throat as he explored her bare chest with one hand, apparently satisfied with what he found there. The other hand guided her own hand back to her knickers.
Feeling strangely drunk, she pushed them down. Harry's hands took over when she couldn't reach any further, sliding them down her legs. As she stepped out of them, he ran his calloused hands back over the smooth skin of her legs, up to her arse.
Hermione took a surprised step back when Draco moved closer, forcing her towards the couch. Then another. The backs of her legs hit Harry's knees, again, but it wasn't until Harry curled his hand around her shin that she discerned what they were trying to get her to do. She lifted her leg, letting Harry guide it back onto the sofa. Then (a bit more awkwardly), the other one, until she was straddling his lap again—but facing Draco.
The blond bore forward, pressing her down. Harry's hand anchored her hip, helping to aim himself into her.
She sank down on him with a throaty sigh, feeling her legs tremble a bit as he stretched her. The moment seemed frozen in time, striking her with a vivid clarity: This was Harry. Her best friend for a decade and a half. It should have been weirder than it was, but it felt oddly right to be there, with him.
She should have been worried, but she trusted him. The realisation of that trust hit her like a train, and for a moment she just froze there, immobilised by it.
It didn't take long for the hand at her hip to sneak around the front, gently searching for—and finding—her clit. Jolting a bit at the contact, she moaned brokenly into Draco's mouth, her hips rolling slightly. She heard Harry swallow hard behind her, the hands at her hips trembling slightly with the sheer effort it took to remain still and let her adjust to him in her own time.
Having some trouble focusing, Hermione stared vacantly as Draco pulled back from her just enough to whisper, "So, Granger. About that mouthful?"
Swallowing hard, Hermione reached blindly for the front of Draco's trousers as he straightened up, watching her with that mercurial gaze that simultaneously scared the shit out of her and made her want to shag him beyond senseless. She found herself unable to look away as she got the buttons undone and slid her palm in. She cursed herself a little when she realised that he almost certainly had the mouthful he'd promised. And he'd probably have fun watching her gag on it, too, and she'd never live that down.
Tired of waiting, Harry drove up into her, and she whimpered again as her eyes squeezed shut. It felt so good. Unreasonably good. Probably illegal.
Finally able to tear her eyes away from Draco, she opened them again to focus on what was in front of her. Her mouth began watering in sympathy of what she knew was coming as she pulled him out. Behind her, Harry had settled into a sort of slow, rolling rhythm, his fingers circling her clit with the kind of know-how he must have picked up while with Ginny; the redhead was almost definitely not the kind of girl to give brownie points for trying.
Licking her lips, Hermione leant forward, taking the head of Draco's cock into her mouth.
It was hard not to be a little uncertain of her own abilities. She found it difficult to believe that any woman would be able to give as good of a blowjob as someone in a homosexual relationship, and she didn't particularly want this to end with Draco thinking, Merlin, she's worse than Potter.
Given the circumstances, though, it was likely unavoidable.
Running her tongue around the head, she focused on exploring it, trying to figure out if there were any places that made him twitch or jerk or groan. But he did none of those things; no hints, no nudges in the right direction. And she was almost entirely certain he did that on purpose—because that was just the sort of shithead move Draco would pull. Giving up on that quest, she leant forward a bit more, grabbing at his hip and giving a slight tug.
He obliged her by stepping closer, and she felt her throat threaten to close up on her. Do not gag, she told herself, harshly. Draco would probably make the day a fucking holiday. Gagging Granger Day. The Day A Malfoy Cock Choked Know-It-All Granger Out.
Do not gag.
It had been a while since she'd had to remind herself to relax her throat for anything, and she sank down against his hips slowly, not wanting to trigger anything.
His hand landed on her head, not pressing forward or holding her back, but just enough to startle her. And she gagged. Hard.
Yanking back and enduring a short coughing fit, she wheezed, "You arse!" Harry had fallen still behind her, a hand smoothing up her back in concern as she coughed.
Draco snickered. "Well, after all, it's so small that I figured your big mouth would be able to handle it—"
"For fuck's sake, if you fucking bicker with her right now—!" Harry grit out, practically vibrating with the need to start pounding into her again.
Shooting Draco a watery glare, Hermione ground her teeth together, and yanked him forward by his hips, again. "Next time, I'll just bite you," she promised, and took him all the way in with one fell swoop, sucking so hard that she was a little worried she would bite him—by accident anyway. She felt a flicker of satisfaction when Draco's response ended up being a strangled gurgle, his body stiffening a bit.
Big mouth. Fucking prat.
Her new-found aggression seemed to do the trick in terms of shutting Draco up entirely. She wasn't sure if it was a good start to this, erm, relationship to be giving him such a spiteful blowjob. Given the noises he was making, though, she doubted he'd care, either way.
Harry's fingers picked up around her clit, again, drawing quick circles around her until she found herself moaning around Draco's cock, the combination of that and Harry rolling his hips into her at top speed bringing her very close, very quickly.
Hands fisting in her hair, Draco struggled to keep from openly driving forward into her mouth as she bobbed up and down. That little thing she did where she flicked her tongue over the tip was a genius move. He found himself vaguely wondering if she'd be able to teach Harry that. Not that Harry really needed much help in the oral sex category of things.
She came first.
As soon as it hit her, she stopped everything, letting her mouth fall from Draco's dick as her eyes screwed shut. Harry gripped her hips and pistoned into her, half-panting and half-moaning as he sought his own release.
"Fuck," she whispered, as his movements drew her own orgasm out, everything becoming too sensitive. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harry, fuck, please—"
He groaned, his hips finally stilling as he pulled her down snugly against him.
For a long moment, they just sat there, breathing.
"Well, that's nice," Draco drawled. "But." The fist in her hair tightened, pulling her back up again, the head of his erection slipping into her still-open mouth.
Still shuddering a bit, Hermione swallowed him down again. Her own orgasm made her move slower, the spite quickly draining out of her as she worked her mouth slowly up and down the length of him. Draco exhaled shakily but didn't seem to mind the change in pace, perfectly content to watch the mouth that had pissed him off so thoroughly since the age of eleven stretch around the girth of his cock.
Harry was slumped back against the couch, leaning slightly to the side to watch. He groaned in his throat. "If we go again, we're switching," he decided, still sounding short of breath.
"Fine by me," Draco breathed, eyes still trained on her. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes wide and brown and her lips so pink and engorged with taking him into her mouth over and over; he almost came then and there just from the sight of it.
Eyes still locked on his, she sank forward with excruciating slowness, until her nose met skin. He could feel her throat pressing down on the head of his cock.
Then, she fucking swallowed around him.
"Shit," he bit out, stiffening. It was a neat trick, although not one he'd have thought Granger, of all people, would know. Besides that, it made the throat sore as all hell, and somehow he'd always imagined she was the sort of person who wouldn't consent to anything that might be vaguely uncomfortable.
Then, he wasn't really thinking anything, because she was swallowing around him as he came, and his entire being became that one, singular, fantastic sensation.
When it was done, she jerked back from him and gasped for air, coughing a bit. "That took forever," she complained when she had her breath back. She leant back against Harry a bit, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Draco found his attention completely trained on her, engrossed by the subtle shift in her body language. One second, she was naked, her legs splayed and Harry still inside of her as she leant back against him. Her lips were puffy and she looked a little spent, utterly heedless of her nudity. Then, the spell seemed to lift, and he watched as her gaze came into sharper focus, her expression becoming more guarded and nervous as the moment passed. Shyly, she drew her hair over her shoulders to cover her breasts, her hands settling over her lap to hide herself from him as she slowly rose from where she was straddling Harry.
As if he hadn't just seen every last inch of her in glorious detail.
She really was strange. Two rosy spots of colour formed on her cheeks as she stood and grabbed her knickers, stumbling into them and yanking them over her hips. Harry looked amused, but not particularly surprised, by her sudden modesty.
Watching her go from innocent to wanton to innocent once more was utterly captivating. Given all that, Draco realised he probably couldn't begrudge the amount of times he knew Harry had thought about her while wanking in the shower. As utterly irritating as she was, there was something particularly alluring about her, an odd kind of frankness couched in naiveté that was hard to ignore.
Harry found his pants, and Draco looked down to see that he was still hanging out of his trousers. He tucked himself away and handed Harry his shirt.
For the next minute, they all dressed themselves in perfect silence, not quite sure how to handle what had just happened.
Just as it began to grow awkward, Harry spoke. "Well, I thought it was fun."
Hermione stared at him, her lips parted in surprise. Then she burst out laughing, collapsing against the sofa's arm, her hands covering her face. "Oh, my God," she managed to wheeze, once the worst of the mirth had passed. "Oh, I can't believe we did that. We were supposed to go out."
Silently, Draco thought that she couldn't have been that surprised by the turn of events. She'd shaved her legs, something he'd noticed she hadn't done when she'd gotten changed for brunch. Of course, Harry hadn't seemed to notice the difference. Draco doubted Harry would have noticed if her legs had literally been a matted carpet of hair.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I am definitely not upset about the change of plans," Harry huffed, chuckling.
Even Draco was stifling a smile—not a smirk, but a smile—as he listened to them, buttoning up his trousers and easing himself onto the sofa beside Harry.
Hermione's laughter finally died down. "You're an idiot," she said, fondly.
Harry reached for her, pulling her off the arm of the sofa and down beside him. "I think we should do it again," he said, slowly. "But in a real bed. You know, to make sure this wasn't some sort of sofa-related fluke."
"Oh, my God," she squealed, turning red again.
"We have to test it!" he insisted. "We have to prove it empirically."
Hermione had raised her hands over her face again but dropped them to stare at him. "That is not how you use that word, Harry Potter," she exclaimed, equal parts amused and embarrassed. "Also, we didn't use condoms or—what if I wasn't on birth control, you idiot? I could have gotten pregnant!"
"Hey, if I'm an idiot for forgetting, then so are you. Besides, we're clean. Who knows what you have."
Gasping in outrage, she shoved him, and he toppled into Draco.
Draco watched, bemused, as she clambered over top of him, wetting her finger with her mouth and trying to shove it in Harry's ear. He was pretty sure he was dating a pair of hyper puppies. "Merlin help me," he muttered, leaning away from them as they wrestled, shouting.