Sleeping. Eating. Fucking.

Those three primal instincts had ruled Hermione's life for the last two days. Theo had successfully convinced her to play hooky with him—not that it'd taken much convincing—and they'd done literally nothing.

Fuck, eat, sleep, repeat.

By all accounts, it should have been amazing.

This was the exact type of stay-cation Hermione had dreamed of. But even through the throes of passion, when Theo used her body to meet some base need, something was missing.

She couldn't explain it, but her body longed for another set of hands to roam her skin. Her back felt terribly cold at night, and even her feet longed for a lap to claim when she snuggled on the couch.

It seemed that during the short few weeks navigating her introduction to the Poly lifestyle, Theo and Draco's presence had been permanently cemented in her heart.

She tried to ignore the pull and just be there for Theo, scarcely texting Draco updates to calm his worries, while attempting to tentatively broach the subject of when Theo might humor the idea of actually talking to Draco again.

But forty-eight hours was a long time.

And, frankly, it was getting hard to sit down without wincing. If her body had any chance of getting a break to heal, she knew what she needed to do.

Get her men back together.

It was simple, in theory. She'd planned it all in the shower earlier that morning after she'd kicked Theo out post-orgasm so she could actually clean up.

But now that it was in motion, and Draco was on Theo's couch whilst they waited for Theo to return with the sushi she'd sent him to pick up after 'accidentally selecting pick-up instead of delivery,' it felt rather… stupid.

She hadn't lied. Technically, this was good for them. But now that she'd taken a moment to pause and reflect, it felt like a bit of an ambush.

She rubbed her hands against her thighs, hoping the faded black leggings she'd found stuffed in her trunk would pull some of the sweat from her palms.

Draco was sitting beside her, dark wash jeans tight across his thighs. He looked as posh as ever—always ready for the chance photograph. Just the hint of a gray collared shirt peeked from beneath the collar of a forest green sweater. Effortlessly charming—the asshole.

"You okay?"

Was she alright?

Sure. Yeah. Perfectly fine.

She was moments away from having her two boyfriends confront one another over something so fucking deeply emotional she teared up just thinking about the positions they were in.

Because truly, there was no clear 'wronged' party here. Theo's feelings of betrayal were justified, and Draco's fear was absolutely understandable.

This was the literal definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place, and frankly, it made her sick to her stomach the longer she thought about it.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yup."

"You don't look okay."

Her hackles rose, the instinctual need to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism pulled to the surface. She lifted her eyes from where she'd been burning holes in the floor and shifted to face Draco. "Gee, how kind of you to point out."

It had taken years to perfect. Many heartbreaks, crushing disappointments, and tears all allowed her to build the wall that secured her heart as her own, and for the first time in a very long time, she'd allowed someone in—or in this case, two someones.

Sure, Harry, Ginny, and Teddy broke through, but this was different.

Yes, she loved them, but she wasn't in love with them.

Not that she was with Draco, nor Theo yet! God no, but the potential… Well, the potential was there. And she couldn't help but hope she hadn't set this whole thing up for failure because she wanted it to work so fucking badly. They did make her happy, and she assumed they felt the same, but it was the nefarius 'them' making each other happy that seemed a tad problematic.

She had to give Draco credit, he didn't so much as react to her snark. Instead, he nodded, and his gray eyes appeared to soften as if he could feel her unspoken unease. Reaching out, he let his hand rest beside hers, fingertips brushing along the side of her palm.

"It'll be okay… this isn't the first time we've fought, Hermione."

That was precisely the problem though, wasn't it? And the fact Draco couldn't (or perhaps wouldn't) see it as such—well… that gnawing feeling that this was absolutely going to blow up in her face was growing so large it might have swallowed up those butterflies that normally filled her chest cavity around her boyfriends.

"Draco, I'm not—"

She would never get to finish her warning or return the tender touch, because it was at that exact moment the laundry room door swung open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the kitchen.

"Sorry it took so long. Blood hostess couldn't read her own writing." The sound of the keys hitting the kitchen island was quickly followed by the soft squeak of styrofoam containers being pulled from a plastic bag.

Those plans she had—the same ones that felt like they were built on a bed of matchsticks—disintegrated into ash as she listened to Theo draw near. All she was capable of doing was sitting wide-eyed on the couch like some sort of deer in headlights, helpless to the fear that took hold.

She was an adult (sometimes this was debatable), and her fucking job was to manage tense situations—amongst other important things like hiring, terminating, and dealing with their legal team. All of which should have prepared her for high-stress situations. She shouldn't freeze up like this!

She'd never had skin in the game before, though. Sure, her job could be on the line, but that was replaceable. Her heart, on the other hand, was not.

Her world moved in slow motion, like a poorly recorded VHS, as she watched Theo collect their meal, thick auburn hair drafting across his brow, hiding his beautiful eyes. He stacked the containers on top of one another, making sure to tuck the chopsticks in before he collected their meal. "Did you want to eat in the—"

His words died in the air between them as he looked up. Judging by the way his mouth dropped open and the color ran from his cheeks, Hermione didn't need to guess his feelings about her surprise.

"Hi, Theodore." Draco's ability to find his voice was fucking impressive, considering Hermione couldn't exactly remember how to make her vocal cords function. He rose from the couch, hands smoothing his sweater across his abdomen. "Can I hel—"

"What is he doing here?" Theo didn't even cast a second glance at their boyfriend, instead turning the full-force of his gaze on Hermione. She could see tension ripple through him—the thick muscle on his jaw flexed, and his shoulders stiffened.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, finger running along the shoddy seam in her leggings at her thigh. This was okay. She could do this. She was a strong, resilient capable woman.

"I was thinking that… uh… maybe we can all have a chat?"

Theo nodded, his tongue pressing against his cheek, and though she couldn't read minds (despite what she'd told Teddy and Eli), she knew damn well Theo was likely plotting her demise in his head.

If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't blame him.

But she also knew, if he were in hers, he'd likely do the same.

"What if I'm not ready?"

"Oh Christ, Theodore, seriously?" Draco clicked his tongue, and let out a sharp breath as he shook his head. "Can't we be adults about this?"

"Draco!" Hermione frowned.

"I don't know, Draco. Can we?"

Oh fuck.

This was already off to a great start.

Clapping her hands to get their attention, Hermione pushed up from the couch and pointed toward the cushion to her right.

"Theo, sit." She didn't bother to wait for him to finish before she gestured to the cushion to her left. "Draco, sit."

Turning around, Hermione edged back until she felt the coffee table press against the back of her legs and she lowered herself down. A cushion divided the two men as they each settled into their designated spots. She took the styrofoam containers from Theo and set them beside her.

"Okay… before we begin, I have something I'd like to say." Hermione rubbed her hands together. Nervous energy begged for release as she prepared to spill her soul to the two men before her. "But I need you both to just listen. Okay?"

Theo gave a stiff nod, his hand curled around his jaw as he leaned on the arm of the couch, positioning himself as far away from Draco as possible.

"Of course, love." Draco seemed to be taking the opposite approach to Theo's standoffish demeanor. Under normal circumstances, she might have found his antics endearing, but now? Now it felt as if he were putting in the extra effort to drive their boyfriend mad.

"I am not going to sit here and pretend to know every single detail of your relationship. It would be naive of me to think I could become intimately acquainted with your shared history over the past several weeks, but there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty." Leaning forward in a non-threatening gesture she'd perfected over her career, she looked back and forth between them both. "You two love one another."

Theo shifted, resting his ankle against his opposite thigh. "My love for Draco has absolutely not bearing on—"

"Theo, please." Hermione lifted her hand to silence him. "Just listen."

He shifted again, spine twisting as he leaned farther back into the arm of the couch with a small sigh.

"You two have been together for over fifteen years, romantically speaking, and friends for much longer. I just… I don't want to see something that's lasted nearly two decades thrown away simply because neither of you could just fucking talk to one another. I… I just...Don't either of you realize how lucky you are?"

It was Draco's turn to bear the cross of confusion. His brow set as his eyes lifted to find hers. "Lucky?"

"Yes. You had each other. This whole fucking time! I would have given anything to have someone there for me when I was younger—friend or boyfriend. After my mom and dad… after the uh—the crash I was so fucking lost and… and I didn't have—" Her voice cracked, and Hermione had to pause, taking slow and steady breaths to calm the rising tide of long-suppressed emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

She needed to stay on track.

She needed to focus.

This wasn't about her and her fucked up childhood. This wasn't about her abandonment issues, nor her commitment woes. This was about them—about the two men who had weaseled their way into the depths of her heart, despite it being so black and bitter after all these years.

"I didn't have anyone. I didn't even know what real friendship was until I met Harry and I was a fucking adult already." A watery laugh bubbled up her throat, and she felt the burn of hot tears slip free from the prison of her lower lid and rush down her cheek.

A shaky hand rose, and she hastily brushed the shameful wetness away from her flushed skin as she looked down at her lap. She had to ignore the way Theo whispered her name and Draco reached for her hand.

"Look, we can… we can spend as much time as you want unpacking my shit, but in order to do that, we need to fix what's going on between you two first. I'm sorry, but I can't just sit by and watch you throw it away over miscommunication and—"

"This is more than miscommunication." Theo's eyes softened on her, and despite the evident need to comfort her, there was also a sadness that drove that wedge deeper in her heart.

She knew there was truth in his words, she'd known it since that morning, but whether it was naivety or hope, Hermione had allowed herself to cling to this notion that Draco could justify his error—that he could provide some logical explanation. "But you didn't even give him a chance to fix it."

"Hermione, I'm not sure it can be fixed." Theo rarely spoke her given name, and his choice to use it now only added a level of gravity to the situation that left her reeling.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one blown back by the admission. Draco's apathetic mask fell, the mask he'd spent years perfecting in his silver-spooned upbringing broke. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces like shards of a mirror, and within his eyes, she saw the real Draco. The one he kept hidden from the world.

He wasn't Prince Draco, Duke of Gloucester.

He wasn't calm, cool, or collected.

He was broken—just like the rest of them. He was vulnerable, scared, and possessed the same demons that had made a home in her head for so many years.

"What exactly are you saying, Theodore?" Draco's voice wavered, and his Adam's apple traveled the length of his throat with an audible gulp.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what Draco expected—hell, she wasn't even sure what she expected to come from this—but Theo's response, or rather, lack thereof, was clearly not it.

Silence lingered between the three of them, tension as thick as the late summer fog that plagued the city. She didn't need Theo to say it aloud—to give life to what she'd prayed wasn't coming, because his face said it all.

His lips turned down with a well-practiced ease as he looked away from Draco to examine his cuticles. A familiar sadness shaded his eyes, like it had made its home there long ago as Theo fought back the brewing tears with slow and steady breaths.

Each tick from the clock on the mantle was like a knife driving deeper into her chest. The weight of what was unfolding before her felt like too much.

This couldn't be happening.

There was no fucking way.

"Theo, are you—"

"I don't know!" He cut her off quickly, tongue darting over his lips, and as he looked back up, two fat tears left glistening lines down his cheeks. "I… I don't bloody know, okay? I just… I can't keep being a secret."

"Theodore you know what kind of pressure I'm under… you know that if it were up to me that I'd—"

"But it is up to you, Draco. You're making the choice to… to hide me and Eli. You're making the choice not to allow yourself to be honest about who you art. You're making it fucking impossible for me to stay. I deserve better than a secret fucking relationship after fifteen fucking years."

"It's not that easy!" Draco was perched on the edge of the cushion, his body rigid. The fear that had frozen him solid moments ago was gone, vanished as if it'd never been there to begin with, and now a storm brewed. "You just… You just think I can fucking go home and tell them that I'm—that we're—"

Theo shook his head, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. "You can't even fucking say it. Can you?"

"Jesus Christ." A low growl worked its way up Draco's throat and his hands clenched into fists. "You act like I enjoy this life. Like I am keen to parade around like some bloody show pony for my family. I don't—"

"From where I'm sitting it doesn't look like you object much." Theo scoffed. "Galavanting around the world at a moment's notice. Having zero real responsibilities. Must be real fucking tough to be you, Draco."

It was like watching the stitching of her favorite sweater unravel before her. Years upon years of resentment and pain bubbled to the surface. Each man was defiant, their heels dug in, unwilling to budge as the other poked and prodded to try and convince them of their misdeeds.

The sad truth was, realistically, they were both wrong.

Draco should make an effort.

Theo should understand.

But after fifteen years, it appeared that neither was willing to try and fix the problems they'd grown accustomed to.

Hermione struggled to stay silent and allow them to work through their issues. She held her tongue, desperate to speak up and tell them they were both wrong, that if they could just take a moment to look from the other's point of view they might gain some perspective. But before she could pull herself from the mental jungle gym of trying to unpack fifteen years worth of unspoken resentment in one sitting, it appeared that an abrupt end was reached.

"You know what? Fuck this." Draco rose from the couch, his brow furrowed, gray eyes wild. "I don't need this. I get told how much of a fuck up I am from my father, the absolute last thing I need is to hear it from you, too."

"Yeah? Well maybe Lucius has a bloody point." Theo's jaw tensed as he watched Draco begin to cross the room. "You were always a coward. You ran away from your problems when we were kids and you're still fucking doing it. It's high time you grow the hell up, Draco."

"Not fucking helpful Theo!" Hermione fumbled over her feet as she shot up, nearly tripping over the coffee table in her haste to hurry after Draco. She rounded the sofa, heart thumping in time with each footfall.

"Fuck you, Theodore." Draco spun on his heel, eyes aflame with a fire she'd never seen before. The sweet, kind, generous man she'd come to know over the past several weeks was gone; not even a ghost of his visage remained. "How dare you sit there and judge me after what you've put me through!"

"Excuse me?" Theo blinked up at him, large frame twisted to fully face Draco. "What I put you through?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be on the receiving end of a phone call where the person you love says they're leaving the fucking country? How about getting a fucking email where they explain they got a woman pregnant—someone you didn't even know they were dating, let alone fucking! Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to watch the love of your life create a family without you? Because I do. Intimately well. So, forgive me for not being ready to upend my fucking life because I am still trying to navigate through my own bloody issues."

Draco's chest heaved, eyes wide and wild as he waited—daring Theo to utter a single word, to provoke him. When only silence followed, he took it at his opportunity to leave.

This time, Hermione didn't chase after him. No, she stayed frozen, feet glued to the floor, physically unable to pry herself from its hold as she watched Draco slip from the townhome. The red front door slammed shut behind him, rattling the windows.

It had been a risk, inviting Draco over without Theo's knowledge, one she clearly shouldn't have taken.

A band tightened around her chest, making it near impossible to breath as the weight of what had just happened settled around her. She might not have been the cause of their end, but clearly her meddling was the catalyst.

Author's Note:

dont hurt me. /slowly backs away

until next time.