Hello, welcome to the beginning of a two part story from yours truly. I promise this will be the only long note, but you might read so you know what you're getting into!
This is a triad story with Draco/Hermione/Harry. This is a Muggle AU, and it was supposed to be a smutty small thing, but instead there were feelings. Whoops. It's written entirely in Draco's perspective.
There will be explicit sexual content between all three of our characters, including male/male smut. THis isn't something I've ever written before, so when we get to that, please let me know what I can do to improve. You're welcome to message me about that. :)
In This Moment was written for msmerlin, who prompted this fic when I was in a bit of a funk. Truthfully, I took the prompt Draco invites his two crushes—who fancy themselves as amateur ghost hunters—to stay in the haunted wing of his manor in order to get closer to them very liberally. Hope you like it! It'll be real awkward if you don't.
Summary: It's supposed to be a ploy to get Granger to notice what's been in front of her the entire time. There's only two things wrong with that: she's brilliant, something he's vastly underestimated, and such as his luck, the entire thing goes tits up.
It's pretty simple, really, when he stops to think about it. The fact that she hasn't seen it herself is astounding—especially given the fact that this is her and she's irritatingly brilliant. Potter's noticed without fail, but he's not going to spell it out for her.
"She's my best mate, and I'd rather not fuck that up because you want in her knickers."
Apparently, Potter's choosing to not mention the fact that he also wants in her knickers. It's been frequent pillow talk for them—both during and after their tumbles. They've shared a woman before, more than once even, but this is Granger. A good girl, Potter points out as he says she wouldn't be into this sort of thing.
Draco's seen the way her breathing hitches when he enters the sitting room of Potter's flat without a shirt. Her eyes linger after sweeping over them, and she squirms in her seat. He's certain she's not just the good girl Harry claims.
While he's been waiting for an opportunity to present itself, Draco's had plenty of time to think of just what he'd like to do with her—well, both of them, actually. He and Harry aren't together, not exclusively anyway, but they've always gone back to the other. It's an unspoken promise, and Draco knows that's probably why he's so worried about trying to bring Granger into it.
"Say we do this," Harry whispers after they stumble into bed, after spewing all sorts of nonsense while he's being fucked into the mattress and logic rushes up to meet him again. "You and me, we're a constant thing. I always come back to you. You always come back to me. Hermione is—I think it would be all or nothing with her."
Draco agrees, but he doesn't say that he thinks he could be happy with that arrangement. It's always been Harry. Like he's said, there's been one-offs in between, but they've never discussed bringing in a third party to their relationship. The only time it could have come up was after a weekend they spent with Theo and even then, it was Draco who shut it down.
Theo still looks to Potter longingly, and it makes his stomach twist.
But Granger—she's different.
It starts in the middle of a boring Saturday afternoon. Granger is lounging on the sofa with a basket of chips sitting on her stomach while tossing them in the air for Harry to catch in his mouth as he lays on the floor. There are crumbs everywhere, all over her, the carpet, and Potter's red jumper.
It's horrifying how much the two of them turn him on.
Rain pelts the windows, and Potter finally manages to catch one in his mouth. Granger squeals a laugh and holds one out, letting him eat from her hand directly, and she doesn't notice when Potter's mouth lingers a moment too long.
But Draco does, and he's able to see a flash of his tongue brushing the tip of her finger.
It's fucking chips but his cock twitches in his trousers. Not willing to embarrass himself unnecessarily, Draco plops a decorative pillow onto his lap. Granger brushes her hair from her face and sits up.
She bundles it up, tying it into a ridiculous knot on the top of her head, but it's not her hair that holds his attention. Draco leans forward, a smirk forming on his lips. "What's that on your neck?" There's a dark bruise forming at the bottom of her throat—where it meets her shoulder—and the collar of her jumper does little to cover it.
Red blooms across her cheeks. "Nothing," Granger says quickly, but she doesn't reach up to let her hair down. Then she sighs. "What is it, Malfoy? Have you never seen a love bite before?"
Harry chokes. He shoots up, and Draco watches his eyes narrow on the mark.
"I'm intimately acquainted with them." Draco's tone is a drawl. "So, I know that's not from a quick snog. That's the result of heavy petting."
She squirms, averting her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business—"
"It's really not. You don't have to tell us if you've met someone, 'Mione," Potter interrupts, and Draco honestly wants to beat him with the ridiculous pillow sitting in his lap.
Granger giggles, and Draco thinks that he wants to hear it again. "I haven't met anyone. I just… Oh, Ginny invited me to go clubbing last night."
Draco can't decide whether he's jealous that some lucky bloke got the chance to go home with her or happy that this proves that she's not the innocent, little girl Potter has built up in his head. "Anyone we know?"
She nibbles her bottom lip and squirms slightly in her seat. "Erm," her voice raises uncharacteristically high, "I don't think so."
Still on the floor, Harry's shoulders stiffen. "You can tell us anything, you know. We're the last people in the world who are going to judge you."
"Right," she snorts. "Because the two of you spend an awful lot of time shagging each other while also shagging others?" Granger blanches. "I didn't mean that the way it came out." For a moment, she looks a little fearful that they'll be angry.
"It's not the most conservative relationship," Draco breaks the tension, "but we're happy. Don't worry your bushy little head, Granger. We know you don't mean to insult us, but now that you have, you have to tell us who you shagged."
Potter shakes his head. "Don't listen to him—"
"Oliver Wood." Two words leave her in a rush, and Draco's certain he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. "We bumped into each other."
The man is a handful of years older than them. He's moved into professional football now, and Draco doesn't think he'll ever be able to watch him play again. Fuck's sake, had he been attached to her neck like a leech? Just as quickly as his anger flares, it lessens. It's hypocritical to act so angrily, especially given his own sexual preferences.
She's free to explore however she wants, he reminds himself—not that she needs permission—but he can't help the overwhelming surge of jealousy that washes over him.
Granger pushes her bangs from her face. "Can we just go back to talking about ghost hunting?"
"You don't believe in ghosts," Harry says. "Though you did get pretty scared last weekend."
Eyes hardening, she mutters, "It was a bloody cemetery. What did you expect?"
He shrugs. "Didn't expect you to scream like that. There's a rumour about the abandoned asylum twenty minutes from her. It's run down, falling apart."
Her face drains of colour. "Azkaban?" She nibbles her lip again, and while he also feels sorry for her, Draco can't knock the recurring thought that he wants to draw her plump bottom lip between his teeth. "Isn't that considered trespassing?"
For her display of nerves, it's a fact that Granger is an adrenaline junkie. It's the getting her there that's the hard part.
"The west wing of the manor is haunted," Draco says smoothly. "It terrified me when I was a kid, and I still won't go in it alone." Sure, it's a humiliating little fact that no one knows—not even Harry—and he knows he'll never live it down now, but it's worth the bright smile that turns her lips. "My parents are away for the week if you'd rather stay in the manor than explore an insane asylum."
Potter pins him with a glare. He knows, of course, that Draco is not offering merely out of the kindness of his heart.
Still, Granger leaps at the chance, and he sincerely hopes he's not about to fuck everything up.
She's visited the manor before. It's been the designated spot for ridiculous parties over the years, even more so when they were teenagers, but Draco still finds the way her lips part in awe unbearably cute.
"So," her lips frame the word and filthy thoughts rattle around his head, "are we just going to camp out in the west wing all weekend?"
"That's the plan," Potter answers. "I brought food."
She peeks in the bag, rifling through it. "Malfoy, is it really haunted?"
He feigns the appearance of looking bored. "I'd say so. Why? Are you scared?" He passes her, allowing his fingers to brush against her hip where Potter can't see.
Granger mutters under her breath and swipes a chocolate bar from the bag before trailing after him. She even breaks off a piece for him and waves her hand in his direction. "I asked because I wondered if you only offered because I was too frightened to go to Azkaban."
"Well," he looks over his shoulder, and it seems Potter's fucked off elsewhere already, "I do think it's haunted, but it won't be nearly as scary as an insane asylum. Honestly, Potter is going to give me a complex because he thinks he's so bloody indestructible." Draco pops the chocolate into his mouth.
"Thank you for offering to let us stay here then. I'm not sure why it took so much to convince Harry, but—"
Probably because I want to shag you both until none of us can walk correctly.
There's a vicious thump on the wall directly behind her, and she lunges toward him. He catches her, his blood rushing to his head as she nuzzles closer to him. It doesn't mean anything, he reminds himself. She's just bloody scared.
"What was that?"
He doesn't let go of her like he should; instead, Draco locks his arms around her middle. He can feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest, and then he focuses on the feel of her breasts pressed against him, even through her jumper.
He's such a fucking mess.
"Old homes like this make strange sounds all the time." Draco swallows as her fingers slide against his sides. "It's probably nothing."
She doesn't move. Who knows if it's a good thing or bad. "Sorry." Granger disentangles herself from him and brushes her hair out of her face. "I really hope Harry has more chocolate in that bag. I dropped mine."
It's so bloody normal that Draco bursts into laughter. "If he doesn't, I'll order more."
Her eyebrows lift. "There's nowhere that delivers chocolate. I'd know." Granger's nose crinkles, and he's so tired of thinking everything she does is endearing without being able to say it.
"Fine, then I'll order a bloody pizza and offer a large tip if they'll bring you chocolate." He rubs his temples.
"You're sweet, Draco." She smiles, and the useless organ in his chest flips. God, Potter would laugh at him if he knew just how much she affected him.
Or maybe he wouldn't since Potter's so obviously head over heels for this woman.
It hits him then, in the middle of the corridor while there's chocolate smudged at the corner of her mouth. Draco wipes it away, allowing his thumb to glide across her soft lips, and smirks when her breath catches. Potter isn't going to laugh at him for his thinly veiled obsession with Hermione fucking Granger. He'll probably relate since it's suddenly incredibly clear just what's going on here.
Potter is in love with her. Honestly, Draco imagines he hasn't even noticed, but there it is. It's why Granger's different. And the reason the thought of Potter actually loving someone that's not him must mean—
There's another sound, but this one sounds like a rustling in the walls, and Granger looks like she's about to jump out of her skin.
"We should keep going." Draco swallows. "Potter has probably gone ahead by now. There's another entry to the wing."
Her eyes are dilated, and he has the suspicion that it's not from fear.
I'm fucking in love with her.
He's not sure how that happens—how you can fall in love with someone without having the mind to notice.
Draco swears it had just been a mindless obsession at first, just wanting to sink into her until she screamed, but clearly it's not all it had been.
Granger laces her fingers through his—he should think how odd it is for her to touch him—and drags him forward. She mutters that perhaps they should go away from the sound, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something fucking ridiculous like he'll follow her wherever she wants to go.
She sinks into the far end of the sofa, curling up with her legs tucked beneath her. "Is this room not used anymore?"
Just like he'd thought, Potter has already made it there, and he eyes Draco carefully.
"This wing was used for entertaining mostly, but since my father's well-publicised scandal, there's no need to entertain anymore." At the mention of his father Harry's hand brushes his, and he flashes a reassuring smile. "But I've hated this part of the manor since I was a child. Aunt Bella used to chase me through the manor, so I hid here once."
Granger's face softens. "Oh, that's terrible. Was she mean?"
"That might be understating it," Draco mutters. "But that doesn't matter. This is the drawingroom. Down the corridor a ways, there's a ballroom that's not been used in the last three years, so I imagine it's as good a place as any for a haunting."
She laughs. "Harry, did you bring the Ouija board?"
Draco thinks it's going to be an incredibly long weekend.
It starts to rain again near midnight, and Granger curls up in the windowsill, resting her temple against the chilly glass.
"What took the two of you so long?"
Draco shifts on the sofa. "We were talking, and then there was a knocking in the wall."
Potter nods. "I see."
"You're angry with me, aren't you?"
He doesn't immediately reply. "I'm just trying to figure out what your plan is here. If you're trying to shag her—"
"I'm not." At the silence, Draco lowers his voice. "Or, that's not what I'm after. Of course I want to, but it's more than that now."
Harry still doesn't say anything at all, but his brows knit together. Minutes pass, and Potter scoots closer to him. His lips brush Draco's ear and his hand slides up Draco's thigh. "She's asleep," He whispers, nipping his ear.
"What's gotten into you?" Draco's question is a quiet hiss, and he watches Granger carefully in the window. She doesn't stir, not even as lighting whips across the sky just outside the window. Not even when thunder sounds and it feels like the entire sky is moments from cracking open. "This is a bad idea, you know."
Though he entertains a fantasy where Granger wakes and finds their activities interesting, Draco thinks for the first time that this is a truly terrible idea. He's only just rooted out the reason for his obsession, and he's not sure how he'll work through it. He should probably tell Potter, considering it involves him.
I love you.
I think I've always loved you.
"What are you thinking about?"
"That I wasn't aware you had an exhibitionism kink." Draco manages.
Harry sees through it, but he doesn't call him on it. "Shh." His lips slant over Draco's, and Harry climbs into his lap.
With his legs bracketing Draco's, Harry sinks his fingers into soft, blond hair, and rocks against him. After a while, Draco forgets that he's supposed to remember why it's a terrible idea.
Thunder strikes, and the foundation shakes.
He rolls onto his side, his hip aching from the floor, and Draco notices two things. One: Potter is snoring again. It's not a soft, cute sound either. Two: Granger's gone. She's not in the window, nor is she draped across the sofa in the room, but the door is open a crack.
Draco braces his hands against the floor and climbs to his feet. He doesn't bother with his shoes, though he wishes he'd grabbed his socks the second he steps into the corridor. Draco doesn't have to go far before he finds her.
Granger is swaying in the middle of the ballroom, her arms wrapped around herself while she peers up at the glass ceiling. His footsteps are nearly silent as he nears her, but she hears him anyway. "You can't see the stars like this in London. There's too many lights."
He stands beside her, glancing down at her. She shouldn't look so pretty when it's the middle of the night, but she does, and his stomach twists. "This is the best place in the manor to see them unless you go outside."
Still swaying, her hip bumps his. "Hey, Malfoy?"
The sound that comes from him is non-committal at best. Truth is, he's not sure how to carry on a conversation with her when something else is already on the tip of his tongue.
"You don't really think the west wing is haunted now. I believe you did when you were younger, but that's not the case now, is it?" She tilts her head up. Her tongue darts out and swipes the path of her bottom lip, and it's terribly distracting.
Slowly, too slowly, Draco nods. "You're right, but there was that bump in the walls earlier."
Granger shakes her head. "That was definitely Harry."
His thoughts swim. "You think so?"
"No, I know it was him. It's the exact sort of thing he'd do." Her fingers brush his, and Granger doesn't pull away awkwardly like he expects her to. "Don't you know why?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She gives an indelicate snort. "He wants us to get along, but I doubt that's all his aim was."
"Did you think it was Harry when you latched onto me?" Draco murmurs as he traces the inside of her wrist, and she takes an infinitesimal step closer to him.
Granger stares at her feet, and her nod is barely there. "It did frighten me at first, but I realised quickly that it had to be Harry."
His mouth is dry and swallowing only makes it worse. "So," his voice cracks, "you knew even when you continued to hang on to me?" His head spins.
Slowly, too slowly for his liking, Granger finally nods. "I don't think I'm supposed to feel this way."
The words, barely a breath above a whisper, slam into him. Air rushes from his lungs as he peers down at her.
All of a sudden, he's intimately aware of the way her fingers feel against his, the heat of her chest pressed against his as she closes the miniscule gap. Big brown eyes stare up at him, and her lower lip wobbles. Fuck, she's waiting for him to reply.
Draco meant to explain it to Potter first, but now she's here and she's—
"I'm sorry," Granger whispers and pulls away from him. "Clearly, I've misread the situation. God, this is so embarrassing. If you could just not tell Harry—though I know that's a lot to ask—"
He cradles her face, dragging his thumbs across her cheekbones. "You're not wrong."
"I'm not?" It's a breath, shallow and slow as her fingers knot in the front of his shirt.
Shaking his head, Draco dips his head down. "Definitely not wrong. I can't get you out of my head." It's never felt like a betrayal to talk to someone, to whisper sweet nothings, but this isn't nothing. "I should talk to Potter first."
Granger's eyes search his. She's already leaned in so closely—there's no space between them now—and he's certain she's going to stretch up and press her lips to his. It's all he's wanted for months now since she entered his head, and he can't have it without the chance of destroying everything else.
He clears his throat with some difficulty and grips her hips. "I want you, just so we're clear," Draco voices as she lays her head against his shoulder. Soft, pretty lips that he's dreamed of brush the hollow of his throat and all he can think of is that he wants to lay her against this floor and slip between her thighs.
"I feel the same, just so we're clear." Granger's tongue darts out and slides against her lower lip.
His trousers tighten. She's going to be the death of him. "That's not all I want though."
"Harry." The name escapes her with a soft exhale, and she nods. "I want him. And you. Both of you."
It's tempting to drag her down the corridor and wake Potter, but Draco only nods. "How long?"
She runs her hands up his chest, fingers trembling. The slight tremor gives her away. "I'm not sure. Long enough, I suppose."
He doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. "Potter wants you, you know. He has for a while."
"I know." The quiet admission doesn't catch him off guard. Of course, she knows. At the moment, it feels like the worst kept secret in all of Britain. "He looks at me differently. You do too. But you… You watch me."
"Noticed that, did you?" The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.
"I liked it." Granger loops her arms around his neck and meets his gaze again. "Dance with me? It's a ballroom, after all."
As if he can tell her no. Draco pulls her closer, and allows his lips to brush the top of her head. "Sure, Granger, we can dance for as long as you like."
She's asleep on the sofa in the morning. Granger sleeps past noon, curled up at the end of the sofa with her legs tucked under her, and Draco thinks it must be impossible for the position to be comfortable. Unfortunately, as he's watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, Potter clears his throat as he enters the room.
He doesn't waste any time to close the gap, and he glares at Draco. "You left last night."
"She," Draco nods toward her, "was gone when I woke up. I went to find her."
"I know you did." Potter doesn't take the seat beside him. He doesn't kiss him like Draco expects, and he knows that it can't mean anything good. "I went to look for you. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the ballroom? Jesus, Malfoy, do you think you're going to dance your way into her knickers?"
All the colour drains from Draco's face. He coughs. "That's not—"
"I knew you were a bastard, but I thought you understood that I didn't want—"
Draco can't think. Behind him, Granger still doesn't stir and he wishes she'd bloody wake up and explain that this is a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding. "Granger and I danced until my feet were sore. We didn't do anything else."
Harry arches a dark brow, challenging him. "The two of you were standing awfully bloody close."
"We were dancing. I understand you have two left feet, Potter, and you trampled my poor Italian leather when I took you dancing, but—"
"You are such a prick."
"But it's nearly impossible to sweep a woman across a room while keeping her at arm's length and if you want the truth, I would have preferred to dance with both of you."
A foot wedges into the bottom of his spine, and Granger mumbles, "Harry's a terrible dancer." His chest deflates as she crawls closer to them. "Please don't be angry with Malfoy."
Potter doesn't know what to say. It's written across his face as he looks from her to Draco.
"Granger, can you give us a minute?" She climbs off the couch with a nod and pecks Harry on the cheek as she goes. "What you saw last night was Granger telling me she's in. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I'm not sorry for it either."
Harry's nostrils flare. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
Draco rakes his fingers through his hair. "She's in, Harry."
"You PROPOSITIONED her?"
"No, no," he manages while leaning away from Harry. Maybe he's never been violent before, but Draco's not keen on risking a welt on his cheek that lasts for over a day. "She called me on it. Apparently neither of us have been discreet. "
Red blooms across his cheeks and Potter stares at his feet. "Oh," slips between his lips. "I see. So, you weren't trying to sleep with her."
He snorts. "I was trying not to sleep with her, which is incredibly fucking hard when she's staring at me the way she does." He recalls needing a ridiculously cold shower after having her pressed against him for so long. "I told her I didn't want her without you."
"Right, because we share." Potter nods.
Well aware of how dense he's been, Draco knows he doesn't have much room to judge, but it can't be that hard to figure out. Even Potter can't be this oblivious.
"If you're looking for my permission—"
Draco shoots off the sofa. He swallows the shocked sound that slips out of Harry while crushing his lips to his. "You're so fucking annoying."
"Is that why you're kissing me?" It's breathless, and fingers latch onto Draco's shirt as he tugs him closer.
"No," Draco tightens his fingers in Harry's hair and forces him to look up at him. "I'm kissing you because I love you."
Fingers trace a path along the hem of his shirt, and they sneak under to press against heated flesh. "And Hermione?"
He doesn't want to talk, but they should. "You told me it would be all or nothing. I'm in."
The slamming of a door causes them to pull away, and Draco frowns. "That must have been her. We should—"
Harry tilts his head toward the window, his features drawn. "She's leaving."
Draco doesn't believe him, but when he comes to the window for a better look—even though they're right beside it—he can see Granger stepping into a cab. "I don't understand."
Fumbling with his phone, Harry's face crumbles. "Goes straight to voicemail. Maybe she isn't as serious as we are, Draco."
That's not it. It can't be.
"You didn't hear her last night. She and I—we're on the same page."
For all the times they call her, Granger never answers, and the only thing worse than the sudden hole in his chest is the way Potter can barely talk.
The second and final part will upload next Friday! I hope that you liked this, it feels like baring a piece of what I hope is development in my writing. (Please be advised that I frequently misuse bear vs bare.)
Talk to me here, or on tumblr at mrsren96! I sincerely hope you've enjoyed the first half of this little story.