A/N: Written for the Death Eater Groupies Darkness Reigns Fest! Thank you to the modmins for hosting this fest! It's such a fun one to do!
My prompt was: Apparently, Severus Snape was not the only spy at Dumbledore's disposal. Which is how she found herself in this bloody cabinet with a Viking who could crush her in one hand, and the man who nearly unraveled her with a silenced spell.
The very lovely TakingFlight48 was my alpha. No beta, just Grammarly, all mistakes are mine.
Come find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.
Summary: After 10 years of warfare, Hermione makes a fateful decision that leads her to her soulmates. Or where Antonin and Thorfinn ambush her with a soulmate spell.
Pairings: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle/Antonin Dolohov
Rating: M
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Smut, Dubious Consent, Soulmates Threesome - F/M/M
Safe
Life was full of slippery slopes. For ten years, Hermione Granger fought with the Order of the Phoenix to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters. Ten long, grueling years of guerilla warfare, of wrangling over control of the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Gringotts. Ten years and she was tired. Exhausted really. She began wondering if the fight was worth it. She was 29. Was she still going to be fighting when she was 39? 49? Would she ever get to settle down and have a family? None of her cohort from Hogwarts had kids. Not even those who had ended up on the other side of the war.
The more she thought about the consequences of ten years of war, the more worried she became. What would happen when there weren't any children to go to Hogwarts? The idea of Hogwarts closing for good put a chill through her like she had never known before. The idea that the war was essentially driving wizarding society off of a cliff it wouldn't be able to recover from was what had her making a decision she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to explain to anybody.
The first time she had come face-to-face with Lord Voldemort was at the Battle of Hogwarts a decade ago. Since then, he refused to step foot on any battlefield, leading his Death Eaters from the comfort of his throne.
The second time she came face-to-face with Lord Voldemort was deep within the corridors of Malfoy Manor. Draco Malfoy had finally learned to keep his mouth shut as he led her through the dark and silent corridors to the room Voldemort had claimed for his own. The looks he shot over his shoulder at her did tell her that he knew exactly who she was. And that he thought she was properly insane for insisting on this meeting. And perhaps she was, but the decision had been made and now she could only follow through.
She hoped she wasn't overplaying her hand, but the war needed to end. They couldn't go on like this and if the Order couldn't see it, perhaps Voldemort could. She'd heard plenty of rumors about him in the last decade, though when she tried to ask Snape, he shut her down and refused to speak to her about him. It was just as well. She had to have her wits about her and the last thing she wanted was to go in feeling overconfident. As it was, she was nervous as hell, but the last thing she could do was show it.
"You sure about this, Granger?" Malfoy whispered, stopping just before a set of very ornate, gothic doors.
"Didn't know you were such a worrier," Hermione replied as laissez faire as she could. She shrugged. "Either it'll be fine, or he'll torture and kill me. Doesn't matter to me which he decides, at least I'll be dead." She gave Draco a bloodthirsty grin then threw open both doors in front of her and stalked into the throne room. A thought occurred to her that she might not be entirely sane, but she buried it. There were more important things to focus on.
Like the man sitting lazily on the throne on the other side of the very long room. He hadh one leg over the arm and did not look like who she expected to see. Long gone was the snake-like appearance, and before her was someone she thought would look like a grown Tom Riddle. His dark hair was tousled artfully, and though his eyes were red, the rest of him was remarkably human in appearance. Including his nose.
He narrowed his eyes at her, pointing his wand directly at her heart, but Hermione ignored him and the rapid beating of her heart as she made her way toward him.
"Lord Voldemort, I presume?" she asked, stopping about ten feet away from his throne.
"Do I know you?" he hissed.
She threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing her face, and her infamous hair. "The last time we saw each other was at Hogwarts, ten years ago."
"Hermione Granger. Potter's pet mudblood," Voldemort spat. He stood from his throne, his wand still pointed at her heart. "Who do I have to thank for delivering you to me?"
She shrugged and glanced around the throne room. "Nobody. I came of my own accord."
"And why would you do such a thing?" His voice was low, but Hermione thought—hoped—she detected a note of intrigue.
"I'm tired of war," she answered with a shrug, turning her gaze back to his. "Aren't you?"
Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, it was high and cold, and just like she remembered it from Hogwarts. She resisted the urge to shudder as she waited for him. "A death wish, is it? I'll gladly kill another mudblood."
She sighed and shook her head. "You're 82 years old, despite not looking it, aren't you also tired of war?"
His gaze narrowed as he stalked closer to her. "I have yet to achieve my ultimate dream. There will be war until I either am Minister for Magic or I'm dead."
"Without the Horcruxes, one would think it'd be remarkably easy to kill you, and yet, here you are, still alive. Still hoping you'll get to be Minister for Magic and for what? To rule a world that's clearly dying? When was the last child born in the wizarding world? Do you even know?"
He took a step back, seeming shocked at the way she spoke to him. "What does the fecundity of the wizarding world have to do with me?"
It was Hermione's turn to throw her head back and laugh. "If you want to rule over a world of elderly and dying wizards, be my guest," she said once she had recovered herself. "I can leave now, taking any assistance I was planning—"
"What assistance?" he snapped.
"Oh, just where there's an Order safe house where a few high value targets are residing," she stated, inspecting her nails. Her heart was racing and she hoped he didn't have some sort of super human hearing that he could hear.
"And why would you give me that?" he asked, stalking closer to her until he was standing right in front of her.
"I already told you. I want the war to end," she hissed up at him. She didn't like the way he towered over her.
"Watch your tone," he warned with a low growl.
"Or what? You'll kill me? Torture me? Go ahead. I welcome my end in this war," she whispered into his face.
He grunted and took a step back. "What do you want in exchange for this information?" he asked, his tone going more formal.
"What anyone wants," she explained, "safety. When you win the war, with the information I bring you, I want safety in your regime."
"Safety?" he asked incredulously. "People don't want safety. They want power, prestige, influence."
Hermione shook her head. "Power, prestige, and influence can buy you safety, but at the end of the day, all anyone wants is a guarantee to live. The war needs to end sooner, rather than later or there won't be a wizarding world to rule. Use the information, or don't, but if you don't, I won't be back here. I'll find a different way to end this conflict and you might not like that one so much."
"If you have a different way to end the conflict, why haven't you used it yet?" he asked suspiciously. "Why flip now? Why come to me at all?"
Hermione's laugh was bitter. "Because the Order think I am a fucking child and refuse to listen to me. I am done allowing those who won't listen be in charge. Do you actually want to see this conflict end? I fear there are some on the Order side who are enjoying war just a little too much."
"Some of my followers are the same, but my goals have not changed," he replied with a lift of his chin. "Fine, I'll take your information. If it proves fruitful, we can have another discussion."
Hermione looked him over one last time, then nodded and gave him what he needed to know. "Don't forget, they'll be moving in three days. Act quickly."
She turned on her heel and swept from the throne room, lifting the hood on her cloak as she went.
Malfoy was waiting in the corridor for her and led her out of the Manor. "I'm glad you aren't dead, Granger," he muttered just as they crossed out of the wards and into the Apparition zone.
She gave him a humorless smirk. "Me too." Turning to her left, she Apparated away while Malfoy watched with troubled eyes.
Three Months Later
The war was not going according to Hermione's plan. She had hoped that Voldemort would have won a decisive victory by now, or made too many missteps with her almost perfect information that the Order would have finished the Death Eaters off, but that was not what was happening.
It was almost business as usual: guerilla warfare and jockeying at the Ministry. It was enough to drive Hermione insane. She was ready for this to be over with and could only hope that the drop she had for Voldemort tonight would be the final ending. She still had no cares about who exactly she wanted to win the war. In the end, it didn't matter. The Order would make moderate updates to wizarding law. The Death Eaters and Voldemort would attempt to end Muggleborns, but without them understanding genetics, would ultimately fail. That would be their undoing. Hermione would be safe either way. But war was not safe. She didn't feel an ounce of safety for the last decade and she'd had enough.
Tonight made her more nervous than usual though. Voldemort wanted to meet her at Borgin & Burkes, of all places. It was one of the few places of business still thriving in this never-ending wartime economy. As far as she knew, as far as she could gleam from Snape and Malfoy, Voldemort rarely left Malfoy Manor. Why would he choose to meet her elsewhere now?
At least the location made some sort of sense, Voldemort had worked at Borgin & Burkes for several years after Hogwarts, but still, the change in location made her nervous. The more she thought about the past three months, the more worried she became. It almost seemed as if every move she made was being counteracted by someone. But she couldn't figure out who would have the ability to do so.
Snape was the obvious choice, but he had made a miscalculation with Voldemort two years ago and was still working his way back into his good graces. Besides, he didn't get invited to most Order meetings she attended. It's possible Shacklebolt was briefing him behind the scenes, but Hermione didn't think that's what was happening. No, there was something else going on and that coupled with the altered meeting place had her on edge.
She dodged rain puddles as she made her way quickly through what remained of Diagon Alley. Some of the shops were boarded up, but others had crumpled into ruins years ago. The sight would normally make her sad, but she didn't have the emotional wherewithal to deal with that right now. Now she had to focus on her upcoming meeting with Voldemort, and leave unscathed. Borgin & Burkes may not be quite a public place, but it was damned close. Too close for Hermione's comfort.
The shop was dark as she approached, which eased a little of the tension in her shoulders. This, at least, was exactly as described. When the door handle turned under her fingers her unease fell even more. The bell tinkled above her head as she slowly closed the door behind her. Usually, she didn't bother taking out her wand when meeting with Voldemort. She knew she was no match for him, so why bother? But this meeting place had her nervous enough that she had it gripped firmly in her right hand, buried in the deep pocket of her cloak.
"Granger?" his voice called out from the back of the shop.
"Visiting for old times sake?" she asked as she followed the sound of his voice. The interior was as dark as the exterior and she took her time to make sure she didn't run into anything. Borgin & Burkes was known for its more unsavory items.
"Mmm, needed a change of scenery," he said. He was still cloaked in shadows. Hermione could just make out the outline of one shoulder standing in the doorway behind the till.
"Quite proprietary to borrow this shop for your use," she commented lightly, stopping a few steps before the counter.
"Follow me," he said without comment and turned on his heel. She heard his feet click against the hardwood, it sounded as if he were going upstairs. She didn't like this. She didn't like anything about this, but there was nothing to be done. One just didn't order Voldemort around, he was the one who did the ordering. So she followed him, feeling more unsteady and unsure by the moment.
When they reached the top of the steps, she found they were in a small, windowless sitting room. Candles were lit and the table at the center of the room was set for tea. Voldemort lowered the hood of his cloak and invited her to sit with the sweep of his hand.
"This is a change of scenery?" Hermione asked as she lowered her hood and sat. She was absolutely not drinking any of this tea.
"Opulence gets boring after a while. One must remember where they came from," Voldemort replied with equanimity.
Hermione frowned at him. That did not sound like Voldemort. None of this seemed like Voldemort, but did she risk turning her wand on him? If it was Voldemort, she'd be dead. If it wasn't Voldemort, they already had her in a remote location and there was a good chance she wouldn't be able to best them in a duel anyway.
"Why are we really here?" Hermione asked plainly as he poured for them both.
"I had some business with Burke," Voldemort shrugged. "Figured I'd make him uncomfortable by asking to use his sitting room for a private meeting and kicking him out of his premise altogether." He took a slow sip of his tea and indicated she should as well.
Hermione picked up her teacup and brought it to her lips, but did not drink.
"Well?" he asked.
"There's a big Order meeting next month," Hermione said, her insides clenching as she gave away her biggest tip yet. "At the old Burrow. We've been using the charred remains as a meeting site for a while now. Four days before the full moon."
"How big?" Voldemort asked
"Snape's been asked to join," Hermione confirmed. "Everyone who's anyone will be there."
"And your numbers?"
"Around 300."
"That's it?" He seemed skeptical and Hermione needed him to know that she was telling the truth.
"That's it," she confirmed. "Nobody wants to join a war to become canon fodder and ours has been going on long enough. Recruitment is down. For you too, I hear."
He made a non-committal noise and sipped at his tea again. Hermione also took another fake sip.
"And if you're lying?" he asked.
She sighed. "Have I lied thus far?"
He shrugged and picked a piece of lint off of his robes.
"I'll be there, so will every other Order member. If you come in force, it'll be your chance to wipe them out. Get rid of them for good. You may even have a few turn sides just to save their own hides. This is it, this is when it has to be."
"And why should I make this my final stand? Ten years isn't so long, after all," he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
Over the months, Hermione had gotten to know his ticks fairly well, and she realized he was trying to rile her up. Instead of taking the bait, she took a deep breath and another fake sip of tea. "If you want the war to linger, then stop taking my information," she replied with a shrug. "Though if you stop taking my information, perhaps I'll stop giving it."
He laughed and pointed his wand at her throat in a move faster than she could see. "I'd like to see you try, Granger. You've become quite the spy, and heaven forbid you were to disappear. What would your friends say?"
"Probably good riddance. I'm not the little soldier they want me to be," she told him with a sharp grin. "Shall I see you next month? Four days before the full moon?"
"We'll be there," he agreed. Hermione nodded and stood to leave.
"This better not be a trap, Granger," he said just as she began making her way down the stairs.
Hermione didn't bother responding to that at all. If he wasn't there, it would all be for naught anyway.
Just as she was making her way out of the shop, a cabinet door opened and a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, yanking her backwards. Another hand slapped over her mouth before she could utter a sound. She found herself trapped in a dark cabinet with at least two assailants.
"Don't make a sound," a voice hissed into her ear. "We aren't here to hurt you, but we have to make sure he leaves, yeah?"
She shuddered as she recognized the voice and then made herself stiffen even though all she really wanted to do was collapse into the strong arms that held her. This wasn't right, she knew in her head nothing about this situation was right, but it was harder telling her body that.
"Get off of me, Rowle," she hissed, trying to yank herself free.
"Don't make me silence you," Dolohov whispered from above. Hermione's eyes fluttered and she tried to hold herself still. Both Rowle and Dolohov were in this cupboard with her; it wasn't fair.
She shut out thoughts and memories of fights and battles from the last ten years. She absolutely needed to have her wits about her if she was going to come out of this unscathed.
Was this a Voldemort plot? Had he lured her here so that Dolohov and Rowle could kidnap her without Malfoy knowing? But if so, it begged the question. Why? She was already giving him the Order on a silver platter. What use would he have to kidnap her?
After the information she had just given him, really, it would be stupid to kidnap her now. It would only make the Order suspicious.
"Look," she began quietly when a hand slid over her mouth. She couldn't see a damned thing and couldn't tell who it belonged to, but the warm skin pressed against her mouth did things to her she didn't want to think about. And the smell. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from groaning at how good that hand smelled. Were hands supposed to smell like this? She didn't think so, but Circe… her thoughts trailed off as a door slammed from somewhere above them.
Steps sounded. Voldemort was making his way down the stairs. Rowle pulled her tighter against him as Dolohov crowded from in front of her. She didn't know if it was to distract her from Voldemort passing right in front of the cabinet or if it was to keep her from moving to catch his attention, but it didn't matter, there was nothing she could do.
After the bell tinkled a clunk told her that the lock had been engaged and a warming sensation meant the wards had been put into place. She was well and truly trapped. With Rowle and Dolohov. Her nipples tightened at the thought and she was glad she was wearing so many layers.
Slowly, the hand left her mouth and the arms around her eased.
"Anyone planning to clue me in?" Hermione asked, digging for her wand.
"Accio Granger's wand," Dolohov snapped. She lunged for it as it flew from her pocket, but it was still pitch black inside the cabinet and she just missed it. Her fingers brushed the very end before it disappeared entirely.
"Damnit, Dolohov," Hermione growled, and began reaching around him, trying to find her wand.
"As much as I'm enjoying this," Rowle said from behind her, his breath warm against her ear, "we did come for a specific purpose."
"And…" Hermione prompted when he didn't go on.
The two men both sighed heavily, simultaneously and Hermione shifted the weight on her feet. "If you aren't going to tell me, I'll take my wand back," she said sharply.
"It's not that we don't want to tell you," Dolohov murmured. "It's more that we're not sure how to begin."
"From the beginning," she said, rolling her eyes. Shifting her weight again had Rowle's hands landing heavily on her waist, stilling her.
"Gotta stop rubbing your arse against me, little witch," he told her, even as he pulled her back against him, nestling her bum into his groin. She tried to control her breathing, but there was no controlling her heart as it raced in her chest.
"The beginning?" Dolohov asked, crowding closer once more so that his words were dripping into her ear. "The beginning should have been your ending and it wasn't."
"Don't speak in riddles, and tell me what you mean," Hermione snapped, trying desperately to gain some sort of control in this situation.
"I mean that pretty, purple scar you have on your chest, Granger. The one I gave you all those years ago." Dolohov's finger landed in the small space at the base of her throat that wasn't covered by her cloak or shirt beneath. Her skin erupted into goosebumps.
"I didn't die because I Silenced you first," Hermione replied.
Dolohov's laugh was a dark, warm chuckle that did delicious things to Hermione's insides. "Silencing me wouldn't have kept you alive. I knew it then and I know it now that I've gone through so many years of war. No, something else kept you alive."
"What?" she demanded.
"What affects magic in such a way?" Rowle asked, turning the question back on her. His hands squeezed around her waist, they were so big they could almost touch and Hermione wasn't a particularly small woman.
"No," she shook her head, denying what they were trying to tell her. "No, no, no. That's not possible. It's just not."
"Why do you think we were fine after you Obliviated us in that café?" Rowle asked. "Or what about that time after the Battle of Hogwarts on the moors near the Burrow? Our magic works against each other, but it's weaker than it would be against anyone else."
"We are NOT soulmates," Hermione said. "It's simply not possible. I'm certainly not soulmates with two men. Two Death Eaters."
Dolohov laughed again, this time it was a mean sound. "You call us Death Eaters when here you are giving the Dark Lord information on the Order? Information the Order doesn't know you're giving out?"
"How would you know what the Order does or doesn't know?" Hermione asked. Her ears were ringing even as her body continued to react to the two men in ways that she didn't have a name for five minutes ago, but now? She shuddered and Rowle pulled her closer, sliding one hand around her stomach to tuck her completely against him. And, dear gods, did it feel good to lean her body against his.
"How do you think?" Rowle asked.
"Are you planning to contribute to this conversation? Or just ask questions?" Hermione grumbled. "Did you switch sides? Decide to do a Snape? Why?"
"Because of you, princess," Dolohov said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It took us some time to really figure out what was going on, but once we had? We knew we had to get in with the Order. We never thought that you'd turn dark."
If Hermione had the space to rock back on her heels, she would have. They were so convinced they were her soulmates that they switched sides in an extremely deadly war for her. It was almost sweet, in a twisted, kind of fucked up way. If she believed them.
"We can't be soulmates," Hermione replied, shaking her head and trying to pull further away from Rowle.
"There's only one way to really prove it," Dolohov said. He crowded closer to her and she could feel his breath on the top of her head. She was properly sandwiched between the two men that even had she wanted to move—and a very large part of her didn't want to move at all—it would have been extremely difficult to do so.
Then both men began speaking in Latin. Hermione tried to keep up to figure out what exactly they were saying, but as they were speaking a spell was being woven around the three of them, and she got her first look at both Dolohov and Rowle. Her heart skipped a beat and despite her earlier denials, there was no denying what the sight of these two wizards did to her.
The golden light was almost blinding inside the small cabinet. Dimly, she realized the runes on the inside of the cabinet door were for a Vanishing cabinet. She couldn't focus on what that meant for long because the swirling bands of magic began tightening around the three of them. Rowle and Dolohov's voices rose to a crescendo as the velocity of the magic swirling around them increased. The bands of gold wove tighter and tighter to the point that Hermione could feel it pressing against her skin. It was almost burning, the magic was hot, it felt like she'd been branded. Everywhere. All over the magic pressed itself to her.
That was nothing compared to what the magic was doing inside her body. She'd been aroused prior to the spell, but now… now she felt like if she couldn't get a cock into her as soon as humanly possible she might just combust.
"Fuck, okay, we're bloody soulmates," she groaned, rubbing her arse against Rowle. She ripped at the closure of her cloak and began attacking the blouse underneath. The spell was over, leaving a faint glow of magic in the air, allowing her to see the two men clearly for the first time. Though, just because she was seeing clearly, did not mean she was thinking clearly. The soulmate spell they cast left a heady feeling of lust and want in her. Her cunt was empty and clenching and begging to be filled.
"Granger," Rowle said, his hands squeezing her hips so hard he was able to still them. "Are you sure?"
Her mouth dropped open and she wiggled around so that she could face him. "You should have asked me that question before performing a bloody soulbonding ritual, Thorfinn Rowle," she snapped, punctuating her words with pokes to his massive chest. Merlin, how had she never noticed how huge he was. He stood more than a head taller than her. No wonder she felt so safe and secure tucked into his arms.
The move to face Rowle had the unfortunate effect of putting her back to Dolohov. He took advantage by pulling her hips to him and rubbing his hard cock against her arse. Had the air not been filled with lust pheromones, Hermione was sure she would have told him off for this action, but it felt so bloody good that all she could do when she opened her mouth was moan.
"I think she's perfectly fine with it, Finn," Dolohov murmured, his lips pressed against her neck. She tilted her chin, giving him better access and finding that her head fit perfectly on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed as Dolohov's tongue became acquainted with the sensitive skin on her neck and behind her ear.
"Merlin," Rowle muttered as she continued her work on her blouse and yanked her bra free from her chest. He raised one massive hand from her hips to her chest, cupping her breast and thumbing her nipple.
"Lick them," Dolohov said, lifting the other breast for Rowle to bend over and put his lips on. Hermione cried out at the contact, her skin was buzzing with desire and she began to wriggle her way out of her long skirt, cursing the witches' fashion of wearing so much fabric.
Dolohov's hands helped her and within a few moments she was completely, deliciously, naked between the two fully clothed wizards.
"Someone better get naked and fill me with a cock," Hermione said, her fingers scrambling at Rowle's cloak. Rowle batted her hands out of the way and reached for his wand, spelling both him and Dolohov completely naked.
The light from the soulmate spell was getting dimmer by the moment, as it faded into their skin, so Rowle lit a small witchlight and sent it to the corner of the cabinet.
"Any thought of getting out of here and to a bed," Hermione whispered as she took in the giant cock that Rowle was sporting.
"Can't leave," Dolohov murmured. "We're warded in... besides, haven't you always wanted dirty broom closet sex?" His breath ghosted past her ear, causing Hermione to shiver as Rowle's hands caressed her thighs. Dolohov slotted his cock right between her arse cheeks and she couldn't resist rolling her hips against him. They both groaned at the feeling.
"No," Hermione snapped. "How long until we're out?" She could barely keep her train of thought due to the way the wizards were touching her. And the spell. The bloody soulmate spell that she knew she needed to be upset about, but at the same time, couldn't quite muster enough rage. She knew she'd be able to once the lust had passed. She wasn't very well versed in soulmates and soulmate magic, but the lust that she knew about.
"We've got all night," Rowle said as he slid down onto his knees, his head level at her cunt and Hermione moaned as she leaned back into Dolohov, giving him more of her weight. Rowle's breath was hot as he slid his lips over her thighs, licking her everywhere except where she actually needed to be licked. His beard scratched at her delicate skin and she decided she fucking loved it.
"Dammit, Rowle," Hermione growled, slipping her hands in his huge mane of hair and directing him exactly where she needed him. His lips made contact and she grunted, throwing her head back as Dolohov kissed along the column of her throat, his fingers tugging at her nipples.
It was almost too much; a sensory overload after a decade of abstinence. Rowle groaned, the vibrations echoing through her skin.
"Fucking, Salazar," he hissed as he held her hips, pulling her legs apart and tonguing her. "Tastes divine, 'Tonin," he murmured into her cunt.
Hermione turned her head, lifting one hand from the back of Rowle's and pulled Dolohov's lips to hers. It was as if an explosion went off inside her when his lips touched hers for the first time. He abandoned one of her breasts and slid the palm of his right hand along the purple scar she sported right at the center of her chest. The scar he gave her when she was sixteen years old. A new warmth, one not caused by the soulmate spell erupted at her chest and she arched her back, crying out into Dolohov's mouth.
Even with her eyes closed, she could see the bright white light emanating from Dolohov's hand and entering her chest. She pulled her head back with a gasp and looked down. Dolohov wasn't nearly as large as Rowle, but the size of his hand against her chest took her back.
"What... what's happening?" she panted. Rowle looked up, but didn't stop his tongue licking along her clit.
"I think it's the bond," Dolohov replied, sounding slightly amazed. "I'm not... I'm not actively trying to do anything but—"
"Bond is clearly healing an old injury," Rowle replied, pulling his head away from her. Hermione groaned and tugged him back into place. He chuckled and got back to work as the magic flowing from Dolohov into her slowed to a stop.
The ugly purple, puckered scar that she had lived with for over twelve years was no more. A lighter, fainter white mark took its place. Her skin was no longer puckered, but smooth, almost looking like a birthmark instead of a scar.
"Holy Merlin," Hermione breathed as she gazed down at it.
"Still think we aren't soulmates?" Dolohov whispered, his arms tightening around her in a remarkably comforting hug.
Hermione shook her head. There's no way Dolohov would have been able to heal her that way without the soulmate bond. It wasn't possible. She and Madam Pomphrey and the staff at St. Mungo's had tried everything for close to a year to get rid of the scar and nothing had worked. Snape had even attempted to make a new scar reducing paste, but even that hadn't worked.
She turned her head to gaze at Dolohov with wonder. He'd been the one to curse her, but he'd also been the one to heal her. If they were soulmates... her thoughts trailed off when Rowle began using his fingers in addition to her mouth and suddenly she couldn't think of anything, except what her body was feeling. Her orgasm swept over her faster than it ever had before. She gasped her way through it, as Rowle continued licking her and Dolohov was supporting her almost entirely.
"Please," she begged. Despite the relief of the orgasm, she was still so unbearably aroused. All due to that blasted spell.
Dolohov and Rowle did some shuffling, and Dolohov's cock ended up between her legs. Rowle helped to lift her and suddenly there was a thick cock at her entrance and she slid down it slowly. Rowle stood taking her weight from Dolohov as Dolohov's hips began to move. His hands were on her hips, guiding her. Rowle wrapped her hands around his neck and pressed his lips to hers.
The taste of herself on him was almost enough to send her over the edge and her back arched as her cunt clenched around Dolohov.
"So fucking tight," Dolohov grunted, his fingers twitching against her hips.
"Wait till you taste her," Rowle replied. "Like ambrosia."
Someone's hand, Hermione wasn't sure whose, slid to her clit, giving her the attention she needed to buck against Dolohov and have a screaming orgasm around his cock.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dolohov chanted as he worked her through it and then found his own release moments later.
Hermione panted for a few long moments, enjoying all the delicious skin at her disposal between the two wizards, but it wasn't long until the spell intervened and she was hot and ready once more.
More shuffling as Dolohov slid from her and helped lift her into Rowle's arms so that she was the right height for that massive cock of his. Between how turned on she was and Dolohov's seed dripping out of her, she was plenty lubricated enough for Rowle to slowly impale her on him. The stretch was incredible though, like nothing she had ever felt before.
She grunted as her body slid far enough down to take him all. "Circe, Nimue, and Morgana," she panted.
Rowle shuffled, letting her shoulders lean back against Dolohov's chest and then caressed her lower abdomen where there was a distinct bulge of his cock.
"Salazar, that's fucking hot," he grunted and gripped her hips tightly as he helped her move. The slip and slide along his huge length had Hermione speechless and nearly breathless. It was incredible and she didn't think it was just due to the spell. Turned out, she might be a bit of a size queen. Dolohov provided the support and slid one of his hands, which had been tweaking her nipples down to her clit, providing her with the pressure she desperately needed there. Hermione's hands were clenched around Rowle's forearms which were bulging as he worked her over him.
Dolohov pressed against the bulge in her abdomen every time Rowle bottomed out, causing Rowle and Hermione to both grunt at the added pressure.
"Fuck, I'm going to come," Rowle muttered, losing track of his pace. Dolohov sped up his ministrations at Hermione's clit and the moment she felt the first rope of his seed spurt inside her, she came, thrashing and screaming in their arms as the most intense orgasm of her life took her over.
She was pretty sure she even passed out for a moment, because when she came to, the wizards were murmuring quietly to each other as they held onto her.
"There you are," Dolohov whispered. The light from the spell was extinguished entirely and the only light was the small witchlight Rowle had placed in the corner.
"Hi," Hermione said, smiling up at him.
"If that's all it takes to put you in a good mood," Rowle said, his lips placing soft kisses along her chest, his beard scratching her there as well. She slid a hand along his jaw, loving the feel of his hair against her palm.
"Not sure I've ever passed out before," she shrugged.
"A goal for me next time then," Dolohov said, dropping a kiss along her shoulder.
"You guys are going to find a way to compete over this, aren't you?" she asked as a laugh bubbled up.
The world was in dire straights, but somehow, between the soulmate spell and the best sex of her life, Hermione didn't feel so anxious about it anymore.
"We still have things to work out," she replied with a frown as thoughts of where they were and why began intruding.
"Like why you're a spy for the Dark Lord?" Dolohov growled, his arms tightening around her.
"I want this fucking war to end in anyway possible," Hermione replied, defending herself. She got turned around so she could look at him without having to do it over her shoulder.
"By having the Dark Lord win? That way lies madness," he spat, glaring down at her. His arms were still around her waist and she pushed at them, trying to get away from him.
But they were in a tiny vanishing cabinet. Made tinier by the fact that Rowle was right behind her and he was huge.
"Shhh, calm down," Rowle said, settling his hands on her shoulders.
"No, we need to have this out, right here and now," she said, trying to shrug him off too.
"There's nowhere to go," Dolohov said. "So we're going to be calm and talk about this like adults."
"Fine," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What's your plan?" Rowle asked gently. "What were you hoping to gain by giving the Dark Lord information on the Order?"
"Exactly what I said," she replied. "I want the war to end. I've extracted a promise from Voldemort to allow me safety if he were to win."
Dolohov laughed at that. "You think the Dark Lord keeps promises, princess? You are wholly mistaken if that was the case."
Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing the spot between her eyes that always was the start of her stress headaches. "You're right. Which is why I wasn't feeding Voldemort accurate information. Obviously, I don't want to live under a world where he's in charge."
"What?" Rowle asked, turning her around so he could look at her. "You were feeding him false information?"
"It was close to being the truth, and a few things had to be true in order to get him to trust me, but yes, it was all designed to be false. The Order doesn't take me seriously, I'm still just a child to them. So I appealed to Voldemort's need to rule the world. The plan was never to have him actually win."
"That is not the intelligence we got from Snape," Dolohov said. Hermione looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged.
"Again, the Order didn't trust me to actually have any ideas or plans that would work. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And this will work," she assured them.
They exchanged a look over her head and she huffed. It felt like she was being treated like a child, just like the Order did and it pissed her off.
"If you even think about treating me like the Order does, I'll break this fucking bond," she threatened.
"It's not that," Rowle assured her, running a hand down her back. It brought her back to the fact that they were having this discussion completely naked inside a defunct Vanishing cabinet. The absurdity of it all would have had her laughing if it weren't so serious.
"We'll do whatever we can to help you," Dolohov said, his voice full of conviction. "Doesn't matter who wins, it's the three of us."
"Does Voldemort know you've been spying?" Hermione asked. They both shook their heads. "Do you think he or anyone else suspects?" Again, they both shook their heads. "What about Snape?"
"What about him?" Dolohov asked.
"He's the famous spy. Everyone knows he's playing both sides. But whose side is he really on? Is there a possibility that if Voldemort does win, he turns you both in to get in the good graces of the Dark Lord?"
Dolohov looked worried at that, but Rowle shook his head. "If Voldemort wins, we'll take out Snape."
"Just like that?" she asked.
"The soulmate bond demands it of us," Dolohov said. "I'm not sure how much you know about them, but we're bound to protect each other. That means getting rid of external threats."
Hermione thought about that. She really didn't want Voldemort to win, but her chances of survival if he did win, just increased rather dramatically. And while she was still pissed they sprung the spell on her, basically without her consent, she knew she wouldn't be too angry about it for long. Especially if they kept the orgasms coming and judging by how explosive it was between the three of them, that was highly likely.
"I'm still angry about the ambush," she muttered sullenly.
Rowle gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly and she buried her face into his shoulder. Already, just the scent of him was enough to calm her. She knew it was the soulmate bond and more and more she was feeling that it was a good thing. Why be angry when a comforting hug from one of her soulmates would calm her?
"I'm sorry," he murmured against her neck. "But we didn't know how else to approach you. We argued over it for ages, but I'm not sorry we did the bond."
She tightened her arms around his shoulders. "I guess I'm not sorry about that either," she admitted.
"That's extremely good to hear," Dolohov said from behind, cuddling close. She turned and pressed her lips to his cheek.
"It's us against everyone now," Dolohov murmured.
"The three of us will survive at all costs," Rowle added.
For the first time in a decade, Hermione felt hopeful and she felt safe, wrapped in Dolohov and Rowle's arms.
~Finn~