Alpha love to LadyKenz347, beta love to ravenslight, and many thanks to MidnightValkyrie for pre-reading this chap!

The heavy pulse of bass and desire combining almost overshadowed Hermione's common sense. She reached for her wand and wrapped her fingers around Draco's wrist, intending to Apparate when a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Hermione. Not here."

Embarrassment brought a flush to her cheeks. They were in a Muggle club; she couldn't Apparate. With a hand on her lower back, Harry carefully manoeuvred them through the crush of sweaty bodies and out the door, ducking into the alley behind the club—a suitable spot for using magic away from Muggle eyes.

Alcohol had slowed all three of their reflexes, and Harry fumbled with his wand for a moment with uncharacteristic clumsiness.

While he dug around, Hermione and Draco stood to the side just behind Harry, face to face and so close Hermione could reach out and touch the soft, slightly mussed fair hair falling down over his eyes. So she did, fingers slipping through the silky length, breath catching when his face was suddenly inches from her own, warm exhales falling against her lips. Eyes closing, she leaned up on her toes, sighing in satisfaction as Draco's mouth pressed to hers.

Cinching her closer, he wrapped his arm around her back, pressing her body to his. It was all too much—the flush from the alcohol, the frenzied passion in Draco's movements as he kissed her, the heat sparking in her belly as she clung to him.

"Aha!"

They broke apart, turning towards the noise. Harry stood there with a satisfied smile on his face, one hand proudly holding his wand aloft as if he'd completed some great feat.

It was adorable, reminding Hermione how fond she was of Tipsy Harry. He was always a little more affectionate, and dare she say, cuddly—after a glass or two.

"Shall we?" Harry lifted both arms, prompting Hermione and Draco to take his elbows on either side.

The last thing on Hermione's mind before the sickening pull of magical travel hit her was how delighted she was at the turn the night had taken.

Before she could blink, they'd reappeared in the sitting room of a swanky flat, probably downtown if the skyline outside the window was any indication.

Hermione had never been there before and didn't recognize it, but if she had to guess, the abundance of gothic, gloomy decor just screamed Draco, broody prat that he was.

Her head started to spin, the world growing fuzzy around the edges of her vision. Blindly sticking out a hand to steady herself, she found herself suddenly clutched against a hard chest, strong arms keeping her upright.

Eyes lifting, she stared up into Harry's face, raising up to pepper kisses over his chin. "Hello."

His hand cradled her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin. It was tender yet inflamed her at the same time; she wanted to kiss his lips sweetly and simultaneously wrap her legs around his hips and grind on him.

The sound of a thump and a muttered, "Fuck," pulled their attention back to Draco where he stood at the end of a long sofa, glaring down at his foot.

"This is your place, mate," Harry said with a grin. "How'd you manage to stub your toe? Forgot that sofas exist?"

"Sod off." The deflection was not as sharp as she was sure Draco had intended it to be, because as he said it, his eyes ran up and down Harry's frame, gaze darkening as it went.

She didn't blame him—there was just something about Harry Potter. In every way a foil to Malfoy's fair appearance, he was beautiful; dark and tall and delightfully muscled. A shiver ran through her as she thought about his brawny forearms. She had a thing for those forearms.

Then Draco was making his way over to the two of them, reaching around Hermione where she stood still in Harry's arms, palming Harry's jaw and bringing him in for a kiss. They moved with ease and familiarity, like their bodies were already well acquainted.

That was a new development. Hermione was only slightly surprised to find out that the ongoing joke of them bickering like an old married couple perhaps held more truth than she'd originally considered. She'd have to consider it again when she was less addled by liquor, but immediately a whole host of little moments paraded through her mind. A handful of minuscule things that seemed slightly off the trail from just friends.

The lingering touches, the heated stares, the heavily entendre-laden conversations.

Honestly, she was a little disappointed in herself for not catching on sooner. She'd like to think she was clever in every area, but really, she wasn't great with subtle hints.

The heat of them on at her front and back made her pulse pound harder, faster. With Harry's head angled back to kiss Malfoy, it left the tender skin just under his jaw exposed. She took advantage immediately, pressing her lips wherever she could reach, tongue darting out to taste the salt of his sweat on his skin.

It was unclear just exactly who it was that pulled a deep, rumbling groan out of Harry, but Hermione found she didn't mind. Both of them at once overwhelming his senses was a heady feeling.

As Harry pulled away, eyes on Malfoy's face like he wanted to eat him alive, the dizziness pulled at Hermione again, sudden nausea washing over her as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to will away the vertigo.

Her knees gave out, no longer strong enough to hold her up. "Whoa." A pair of arms scooped her up, and then she was moving, but she didn't know where. When she'd been carefully placed on a sofa, she cracked her eyes open just a tad to see Harry looking down at her, concern etched into his features.

"Draco."

"Right. On it."

The sound of footsteps slowly faded, bringing Hermione's attention back to the wizard in front of her whose gentle fingers pushed back the hair sticking to her forehead.

"You've had a bit too much to drink, sweetheart."

"No, I haven't." She tried very hard to properly enunciate, but the words still came out slurred.

From the kitchen came a soft thud, and then Draco's face swam into her vision next to Harry's. He uncorked a vial, sliding a hand beneath her head to lift it enough that she could drink. When the glass touched her lips, she swallowed around a thick throat and dry mouth. Carefully repositioning her head on the cushions once more, Hermione let her eyes fall closed, a strange fuzzy sensation coming over her.

By the time she opened her eyes again a minute later, the dizziness had gone, and she could move her head without shooting pain. Looking around, she found herself in what she assumed was Draco's bedroom, lying on a small sofa at the foot of a grand bed.

"What did you give me?" Being fed strange potions was not high on Hermione's list of favourite activities, but she knew she could trust Harry with her life; he'd never let her come to harm. Malfoy was still an unknown entity, and the trust there was tenuous at best. She enjoyed his company, she really did, but it would take time for them to build on their foundation of companionship.

Harry spoke first. "I asked Draco to get you a potion to sober you up. Feeling better?" He cupped her cheek in his hand, thumb brushing tenderly back and forth over her skin. The two of them seemed far less affected by the imbibing they had done than Hermione. She didn't drink often, though, and they were bigger than her, their systems likely able to handle more before they got sloppy drunk. She envied them that. Hermione never could quite hold her liquor.

"Much. Thank you. Next time tell me what I'm about to drink before I drink it, yes?"

"Shite. You're right. Sorry."

"I'll forgive you this time since you're standing there looking so scrumptious."

Still a little warm and pleasantly gooey from the lingering effects of her drinks, Hermione stretched languidly on the sofa, the hem of her shirt riding up to expose a strip of her belly above the waistband of her jeans.

A little thrill and a sense of satisfaction hummed through her when both men's gazes went straight to the exposed skin. Stretching further, she let the fabric ride even higher, pleased when it seemed to prompt them into action.

"Stand up." Just a hint of a smirk touched Harry's mouth.

His voice in her ears was like molasses, slow and sweet. He could ask her to do the chicken dance in that voice and she'd still be turned on.

Rising from the couch, Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a little unsure now that things were officially going down. Yes, this was her best prediction for how the night would go, but now that it was here, it seemed too good to be true, and the little nagging voice started in her head.

Harry stepped closer, fingers hooking in her belt loops to tug her to him, grounding her in the moment. Then he was kissing her, and his hands moved from her hips to her arse, using his grip to press her closer, moving in just the right way to grind the softness of her centre over the hardness of his.

The firm press of his mouth against hers set off a voracious hunger, starting in her belly and consuming every nerve as his hands slid up and under her blouse, calloused fingertips dragging over her skin. Catching the hem, Harry parted from her for a moment to pull her shirt off and over her head. He reached for her again, warm hands resting on her hips to turn her to face Draco.

One of Harry's broad hands rested on her stomach, thumb brushing back and forth and driving her crazy. She stared at the ground trying to slow her breathing, but the effort was counteracted by Harry's touch when his other hand cupped her jaw, lifting her gaze up.

Draco was nearly bare-chested before them, sinewy muscles flexing as he pulled his undershirt over his head, trousers hanging off trim hips. Gods, he was pretty. Resplendent, even, according to Wednesday's spotlight in her Word-A-Day calendar.

"Better close that mouth, Granger, before someone finds a use for it."

She grinned even as a blush crawled up her chest, willing the bravado she'd felt at the club to come back to her as she smiled widely, hunger apparent and teeth bared in a way she hoped made her look more like a fierce lion than an angry kitten.

"Do you want that, Hermione? You want to make him feel good?" The question Harry whispered against her neck was an easy one.

Oh yes, she did. Words were beyond her at that point, a nod the only response she could give as she stared at Draco, never breaking his gaze. Harry's hands left her stomach, slipping behind her to undo the clasp of her bra and let it fall to the floor.

"Fuck." Suddenly, Draco's gaze no longer met her eyes, and a shiver trembled through her as she stood there letting him look.

Eyes following his movements, Hermione watched as Draco undid the fly of his trousers, fingers pulling down the zip at an achingly slow pace. She reached up to bat his hands away and do it herself, but Harry caught her gently by the shoulders, speaking into her ear. "Wait."

So she did, hands folded primly in front of her as she waited for what felt like five hundred years for Draco to undo his damn trousers. Harry's hands on her never slowed, sliding up and down her neck and shoulders, gathering her curls to one side so he could trail his mouth over the bared skin. Her head fell back, a soft sigh leaving her lips at the touch.

The distraction was nice, and when she opened her eyes once more, Draco was before her, trousers and pants undone and pulled down just enough for him to free his cock. With gentle pressure on her shoulders, Harry guided her to kneel.

She stayed still for just a moment, taking in his body and committing it to memory. He was slimmer than Harry, a little less bulky, and taller, pale skin stretched over lean muscle. When he got close enough to touch, she slid her hands over the outside of his thighs, one landing on his hip and the other wrapping around his length, resting back on her heels as her fingers softly stroked him.

With measured movements, she explored him, relishing in his heavy breaths and the powerful effect she had over him even from her knees.

When she leaned forward, mouth just barely kissing his tip, the wizard behind her carefully wound the fingers of one hand in her hair, not so tightly it hurt, but just firm enough to control her movement.

It was strange, Harry's hand in her hair guiding her as she used her mouth on another man. Odd but not unpleasant. When Draco grunted at the swipe of her tongue, it filled her with the same feeling as the filthy words falling from Harry's lips.

"Fuck, you're perfect. Sweet little mouth so willing. Look what you're doing to him, Hermione."

When she didn't respond, the fingers in her hair tightened just enough to sting her scalp and gain her attention.

"Look at him."

Pulling back at Harry's behest, Hermione looked up, gaze running quickly over the muscles in his abdomen all the way up to his face, contorted in nearly-there pleasure.

It was overwhelming, having such a strong attraction to two people at once. If just this—her on her knees in front of Draco while Harry told her what to do—was winding her up this much, she could only imagine how the rest would feel.

She wanted to taste him again, so she did, doing her best to push him higher, determined to make him come.

Right at that moment—when his muscles tensed and his breath caught—Harry pulled her back and off him. She couldn't help the whine that escaped her as he did. Draco was more composed than she was, though he set his jaw tight as he reached down to adjust himself. When they both glared at Harry, he grinned and said, "Trust me. It'll be sweeter for the wait."

When he'd kicked off his shoes and the last of his clothes, Draco's hands urged her up, catching her by the waist and lifting her to wrap her legs around his hips as he walked to the bed. Peeking over his shoulder, Hermione saw Harry toeing off his boots and shucking off his trousers.

When his knees met the mattress, Draco leaned forward, letting her fall back onto the bed before crawling up over her.

"Hi."

They were nose to nose, and she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. It filled her with unexpected happiness to know that he'd had reason to smile in the last few years. A little levity in the lives of those touched by the war had been long overdue.

Arms lifting to twine around his neck, Hermione smiled up at him. "Hi."

His head dipped to kiss her, slow and languid, warming her from the inside out like the firewhisky she'd had earlier in the night. Breaking the circle of her arms, he trailed his mouth to her chin, moving down her neck and over her chest, leaving wet kisses along her skin. When he reached her belly, his nimble fingers undid the button on her jeans, pulling back and encouraging her to raise her hips so he could slide them down her legs along with her knickers.

The bed shifted under Harry's weight when he joined them on the mattress, moving to sit with his back against the headboard. When Draco freed her legs and tossed the jeans to the floor, Harry tucked his hands under Hermione's arms, tugging her up to recline with her back to his chest.

As Draco made his slow ascent up her body, Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging his head up and saying, "Draco. Move faster." He chuckled at her impatience but did as she asked, fingers dancing up her thighs to part her folds, dipping into her centre before taking the moisture there and dragging it up, over the needy bundle of nerves begging for attention.

The world turned soft and hazy as Harry brought his hands to her breasts, kneading them in his hands, fingers pinching and pulling at her nipples. It was all too much at once, too good, and in minutes she was lost in the competent attention of their fingers and mouths against her, crying out as she hit her peak and melted against Harry, every muscle in her body relaxing.

Draco's blond head lifted from between her legs, a smug smirk on his face as he swiped his thumb across his bottom lip. "Good?"

She feigned nonchalance. "Passable." At his sharply arched brow, she sighed and said, "Your head is big enough already."

By the time she'd spoken the last word, Draco was already shifting over her, one hand bracing himself on the bed near Harry's hip, the other lining himself up with her entrance. "Just my head, mmm?"

Her laughter melted into a moan as he pushed into her, breath rushing out of her at the stretch. Her head fell back, lolling against Harry's shoulder. Draco took advantage of the position, surging up to devour Harry's mouth even as he continued to move his hips, starting to thrust in and out of Hermione at a steady pace.

When they broke apart, Harry lowered his mouth to her ear, voice a little gravelly as he spoke to her. "Look at you two. Fucking perfect."

Following the rhythm Draco set, Hermione moved her hips in time with his, her hand slipping down over her stomach to rub over her clit. Draco groaned as the motion made her tighten around him, picking up speed and sliding in out and out of her a little less gracefully, just rough enough to make her pulse quicken under her skin.

Minutes passed, but it could have been hours for how poorly she was attuned to the passage of time. Harry's grip on her tightened, hand sliding down to the dip in her waist and his exhales heaving faster against her neck as she felt him grind against her sweat-slicked back. Harry grunted, swearing under his breath as he came, and it pushed her over the edge.

"I— I'm—" Her sentence fell into unintelligible words as her pleasure crested, washing over her like a tidal wave. Hips stuttering, Draco followed, collapsing atop her.

They just laid there for a minute, letting their breaths even out, coming down from their mutual highs.

The serene moment was broken by Draco's shaking shoulders as he laughed, shifting to lie on his back next to them and look up at Harry. "That quick, huh?"

"We're going there? Okay. I'd like to see how long you'd last with Hermione rubbing up against you, making those sounds while I fuck her."

Lips curling into a grin, Draco said, "Point taken."

After a few quickly-spoken spells, they all burrowed beneath the luxuriously soft sheets on the ridiculously large bed, everyone clean with nary a shower between them. She would never get over her wonder at the convenience of magic, no matter how long she'd been in the wizarding world.

Warmth surrounding her on either side, Hermione fought sleep, mind cataloguing the night, trying to commit it to memory so she could analyze it later. A sense of contentment and safety like she'd never felt before washed over her, sinking into her bones. She wanted to remember it, to be able to pull the memory out later and feel it all again.

Through the endless nights she'd been alone in her bed, daydreaming about what could be if they all just let go, the fantasies were nothing when compared to the real thing.

Her yearning to never forget how she felt in that moment was the last thought floating through her mind just before she descended into unconsciousness.

Mid-morning sunlight filtered in through a gap in the heavy black curtains shrouding the window, angling in just right to land on Hermione's face and seep through her eyelids, bringing her awake.

Fumbling around in the dark for her wand, Hermione sat up, relieved when her fingers bumped the smooth surface, closing around the wood. With a whispered word, she forced the curtains apart to reveal her surroundings, wincing when the bright light sent pain shooting through her skull.

To her right was an end table, a note written in neat script sitting upon its surface.

Granger,

I trust you slept well between my thousand thread count sheets. A little luxury is nice sometimes, wouldn't you say?

She rolled her eyes. Even through a note, she could see the smug smirk on his face.

Potter and I were called in. Midgeon is around if you need anything—and please don't try something valiant like giving her your knickers to free her; she's paid handsomely and always takes her breaks.

Besides the oversized shirt she was wearing, her knickers were the only piece of clothing she could see in the room. They dangled precariously from a knob on the dresser as if they'd been tossed aside in haste, and she huffed out a laugh at the notion she'd give them to a house-elf.

Still, Draco probably wasn't wrong in anticipating she might do that. But she'd grown up a bit, and as she got older, she'd made a concerted effort to consider the personal wants and needs of whatever group she was deciding to take up for. In the past, she'd done what she thought was best, never considering that the beings she was trying to help might want something different.

Sliding out from beneath the decadent comforter, she summoned her knickers, tossing a cleaning charm at them before pulling them up her legs. It wouldn't do to wander around half-nude.

As she walked to the kitchen, the delightfully large bookshelf along the far wall caught her eye. Taking a detour, she padded up to it, fingers running gently over the varied spines. Most were hardcovers, but there were a few paperbacks she recognized, like Nineteen Eighty-Four.

It was a little surprising to see an abundance of Muggle literature in the home of Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps they had more in common than she'd thought. It might be nice to discuss things like books with someone. She loved Harry, truly, but he'd never been much for books and didn't see the appeal. Pull out a book about Quidditch, though, and then it was a different story.

"Hello, missy."

The squeaky voice somewhere behind her startled Hermione, and she dropped the book she'd been carefully sliding off the shelf. It landed with a thud. Throwing up her hand, she stopped the little elf from charging across the room to pick up the book for her.

"Thank you, but that's all right. I've got it."

"Master said you'd say that."

Ah. She was well and truly transparent. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she thought about the conversation that might have happened there earlier, with Harry warning Draco of her stubborn quirks. Harry knew her better than anyone, and sometimes she wished he wasn't quite as observant.

"Missy? Midgeon can help you. Bring you tea, biscuits?"

The earnest little creature seemed determined to offer assistance, and Hermione found it hard to deny help when she looked into those bright, buggy eyes.

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you very much, Midgeon." With an enthusiastic bob of her head, the elf disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Hermione to find the loo, performing a spell of her own creation to clean her teeth and freshen her breath before wandering into the kitchen to find a steaming mug of her favourite tea on the counter.

The Ministry was bustling as Hermione made her way through the halls on Monday morning, everyone rushing to their posts and lined up waiting for the lifts. She avoided the masses, taking the stairs instead. It took longer, but she couldn't bring herself to willingly step into one of those horrible mechanical death traps that she'd avoided since she was a child. When she reached her floor, she pushed open her office with her shoulder and hurried inside.

Her chair squeaked as she sunk into it, protesting her weight as she grabbed the cardigan that hung over its back and draped it over her shoulders, peering at the stack of papers before her. She had a few loose ends to tie up from the weekend, and she was scribbling away at her desk for an hour or two when a knock sounded at the door.

She looked up to find a smiling Katie Bell in the doorway. "Tea break, Miss Workaholic?"

Looking at her watch, Hermione said, "I suppose I can spare a minute."

Katie mock saluted. "Aye aye, captain. One minute and not a second longer."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do. And I also know you've been hunched over your desk since you came in this morning. Everyone needs breaks, Hermione. I'll teach you that even if I have to drag you forcibly from your office." With a rueful laugh, Hermione pushed back her chair and stood.

The little alcove tucked off the main corridor that held the tea station was empty, leaving the two witches to chat freely.

"How was your weekend? I missed you at brunch. I trust you had something terribly more important to do."

"Oh, fine. It was nice," Hermione said as she poured the tea into two mugs.

"Uh-uh. No, you don't, missy. You're hiding something. I want details." Katie punctuated her words with an exaggerated wiggle of her brows.

"Okay fine. I had a date."

"A date?" If she squawked any louder, she'd bring the building down on them.

"Merlin, Katie. Keep it down." Hermione stuck her head out into the hallway to check for eavesdroppers. Spying none, she leaned back against the counter along the wall as Katie dressed their tea.

"A date. Dinner and dancing and—" She caught herself, lowering her voice before continuing. "Maybe a little more."

Hand fluttering to her heart as she heaved in an exaggerated gasp, Katie said, "You dirty girl. You finally made your move on your hunky Aurors!"

"Oh hush," she admonished, a smile fighting free through her stern expression. "I may have."

"And it went well?"

Unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, Hermione nodded. "Oh yes. Swimmingly, one might even say."

"Well, well, well. I told you, didn't I? I believe your response was 'Oh no, Katie. That will never happen.'" Crossing her arms, Katie lifted her chin with a smug look on her face.

"You were right. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Always."

"Anyway, it was fun, but now it's back to solitary evenings eating take-away with my cat and mediocre one-night stands."

A crinkle appeared between Katie's brows. "And who made this rule?"

"No one, but it was obviously a one-time thing. Even if not, even if we do somehow have a repeat, it's casual. Just blowing off steam."

"Have you discussed it with them?"

"Of course not. It was barely two days ago."

"Honey, those men are partners in all things, and if you think for a second that they would shy away from exploring things with you, then perhaps someone slipped something in your tea, because that's mad, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious! You're well fit, sharp, somehow tender-hearted but also tough as a wizened war general. You're a bloody catch, witch."

With a laugh, Hermione picked up her mug and started the short walk back to her office, Katie by her side. "I don't know. How do I even go about approaching such a topic?"

"Hey fellas, we're dynamite together. Let's shag some more."

An indelicate snort was Hermione's only response.

"Listen, Hermione. Most blokes respond to a straightforward approach. Bring it up. No, I mean it," she hurried to say when Hermione tried to interrupt. "Just mention it and see what happens. Harry looks at you like you're the sun, moon, and stars, and Draco isn't far behind, I'm sure. The worst that can happen is that they say it was a one-time thing. You've already shagged, for goodness' sake. A simple conversation shouldn't be too hard. Buck up, buttercup."

"Fine. I'll consider bringing it up."

"I'll accept that answer for now. What's that?" She pointed to just above Hermione's desk where a little paper aeroplane hovered. Not an official Ministry memo, it was on grey paper with silver foiling. Katie's expression turned lascivious as she said, "Maybe it's a secret admirer sending you sexy notes."

"Off you go," Hermione said, shooing Katie out of her office and taking a seat, plucking the note out of the air with her fingers. She opened it, noticing with disappointment that it was not a sexy letter. Instead, it was a missive from Draco, asking her to meet him for lunch. Now all she had to do was figure out how to casually bring up the subject of future threesomes.

No big deal.

A/N: Alpha love to LadyKenz347, beta love to ravenslight, and many thanks to MidnightValkyrie for pre-reading this chap!

Thank you for reading! I'd love to know your thoughts, and I always welcome concrit.

Updates on Mondays! Find manips and story updates on my Tumblr at nuclearnik