Here's another installment of 'Watching Love'! I really hope you enjoy, and be sure to leave a review! Thank you.
The Fifth Time - October 31, 2000
Harry teetered unsteadily as tried to navigate the long trek up the narrow steps leading to Ron and Hermione's flat. Every now and again Ron would turn back, look him up and down, and laugh.
"All right there Potter?" he asked jovially, making Harry wish he could pull his wand on him in response. Bloody ginger nut! Drank even more than me, yet he can somehow manage to walk straight. Only sign he's been drinking are his flaming ears and cheeks.
Harry growled at Ron, which elicited an even louder laugh, "Now, now, behave."
"Lucky this is a Muggle building, or that shit-eating grin of yours–"
"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, coming to an abrupt halt, causing a three person collision on the staircase, "Please mind your language. We have neighbors you know." Her haughty demeanor was undermined by her appearance: clothes slightly askew, wild hair springing free from it's once semi-tidy bun, flushed cheeks, and a faint sway to her stance.
"Yes Harry," Ron added mockingly, "we do have neighbors."
"And you," Hermione poked Ron in the chest, being several steps higher she had the rare opportunity to look him in the eye, "mind your mouth as well."
"I didn't think you minded my mouth in the least," Ron said, his voice low and husky. He leaned forward to run his tongue from Hermione's cleavage to her jaw line. She leaned her head back and gave a throaty moan. When she finally opened her eyes they stared at each other, the air suddenly thick with lust.
Maybe I should just Apparate home from here? I probably won't splinch myself – not too bad anyway. The loud bang of a closing door and the stomping of footsteps on the stairs broke the couple from their trance just before Harry could escape. Hermione cleared her throat, "Um right, okay ... not much further." The trio continued up to the next landing, with Ron's hand low – very low – on Hermione's back as she surreptitiously dismantled the wards protecting their flat. As she unlocked the door, Ron pressed himself flush against her body and whispered something Harry couldn't hear, though her breathy moan in response was quite clear.
The three friends had spent the night drinking heavily in Muggle London. Ron and Hermione had insisted on taking Harry out to celebrate their 'anniversary' as friends. More likely they didn't want to leave him alone on the day that marked the death of his parents. The past three months he had wallowed in self-pity and they refused to let this date pass the same way. Unfortunately, it being Halloween, Hermione's plans for the evening included costumes. And that is how Harry Potter found himself in the middle of Ron and Hermione's flat wearing a dog collar, ripped clothes, safety pins and eyeliner.
At least I'm not wearing a skirt, he laughed to himself, taking in the site of Ron in his kilt and stockings. And look at that shirt he's wearing. That barmy stringy, crinkly, chest hair-revealing, freckled pec-showing, pink nipple-flashing shirt.
"...Harry?" Hermione's voice suddenly broke through Harry's contemplation of Ron's pectoral muscles covered in white linen.
"Hm? I'm sorry. Did you say something?"
"I asked if you wanted a drink. Maybe I should just make some tea, or –"
"Fuck the tea," Ron interjected. "Bring us some Firewhiskey woman!" Rather than admonish him as Harry expected, Hermione just rolled her eyes.
"Are you sure Harry?" she asked gently, touching his arm.
"Yeah, he's sure. Now off to the kitchen with ye, you saucy wench!" Hermione certainly looked the part of a serving wench, given the costume she was wearing. She had on a long dark green skirt with a creamy poofy sleeved top under a tight brown vest that laced up the front and pushed her breasts together and up. Harry had caught several blokes checking out her tits during the night – course just as many girls were checking out Ron.
Hermione squeaked when Ron gave her a sound slap to the arse as she made her way to the kitchen. Ron let out a loud barking laugh and muttered something under his breath that sounded like, 'ripe' or maybe 'tight' – Harry wasn't quite sure.
"C'mon mate, let's have a seat," Ron said as he plopped himself down on their long three seater sofa. Harry took a seat in the nearest armchair and smiled to himself.
"What?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head and sniggered softly, "Nothing ... just ... well, I just never imagined Hermione dressed like that."
"That was all part of the deal," Ron laughed.
"Deal?"
"Yeah, I agreed to wear whatever she wanted, in exchange I got to pick out what she wore. Brilliant, innit?"
"She sure took this whole costume bit pretty seriously," Harry noted, looking over his slashed clothes and taking off the black studded dog collar Hermione had transfigured out of one of Ron's belts.
"No kidding mate. She was NOT happy when you showed up in just your Jeans and T-shirt. 'We agreed to wear costumes Harry, you CANNOT back out'," Ron said in a near perfect imitation of Hermione. "Lucky all you got was some rips and a bit of make-up, as pissed off as she was."
"Yeah well, maybe I didn't feel like dressing up, okay?" Harry said with a definite pout in his voice.
Ron sat up and leaned forward, elbows resting on his spread knees. His expression suddenly grew serious, "You have to talk to her, Harry."
"Ron," Harry said warningly.
"She'll be home soon, you can't go on like this–"
"She cheated Ron," Harry interrupted.
"You were seeing other people," Ron tried to rationalize.
"I wasn't."
"Yeah, but you could have –"
"But I DIDN'T!" Harry yelled, the venom in his voice causing Ron to flinch slightly.
Harry took a steadying breath before continuing, "I mean, what the hell Ron? If she didn't want to be with me–"
"She did mate – she does. She Floo calls here almost every night crying to Hermione about what a disaster she's made of things."
"Really?" He's shitting me. Does she really?
"Yeah. She's a mess, Harry." Ron looked down at his hands as they hung between his spread legs. Harry could see the strain this situation was putting on his best mate. I'm sorry mate. I never wanted this to happen, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Ron looked up and met Harry's gaze firmly, "You're a mess, Harry." Ouch.
Ron took a deep breath and continued, "Look, Hermione says she won't start planning the wedding until you two at least talk. Hell, she won't even wear her ring on her finger at work – only on a chain where no one can see it."
"What? Why? Ginny and I have nothing to do with–"
Ron cut him off by raising his hand, "Doesn't matter. Says too many questions about planning and wouldn't be right to flaunt our happiness or some such rot. You just need to try ... maybe I'm being selfish by pushing the issue, maybe I'm not. The point is I want you both to be happy. And besides," he added ruefully, "I really want to marry Hermione."
"You truly love her, don't you?"
Ron's eyes glazed over even more and his small smile slowly grew into a huge grin, "You have idea how much, mate. No idea."
Oh, I think I do.
Ron suddenly cleared his throat and a deep blush shown through the open lacing of his shirt and quickly worked it's way to his face. "Um, do you think you the fact that you caught her with, er ... a, um, a...." Ron was obviously struggling to find the right word.
"Teammate," Harry offered.
"Um, yeah teammate, right," Ron's face was now as crimson as the plaid of his kilt. "Do you think that makes a difference in whether or not you can forgive her ... and maybe, I don't know, work things out?"
"Well gee Ron, I don't know? If you came home and found someone else's face buried in Hermione's quim, think it would make a difference to you if they were male or female?"
"Fuck Harry, don't talk like that about Hermione! This isn't about us – this is about you and my sister!" Ron took a deep breath to calm himself, his hands repeatedly contracting into fists. "Hermione says Ginny told her it was only the one, um girl–"
"Valeriya," Harry whispered.
"Yeah, her. You, er, know her right?"
It was Harry's turn to flush red, "Yeah, I know her." Ginny and I got to know her real well together ... great tits, strong thighs ... should have known something was going on between them, they seemed way too comfortable when we were all together.
"Ginny swears there was no one else - just the once, that she only wanted ... only wants you. I reckon she was just ... lonely."
"Lonely? Lonely!" Harry quickly became agitated. "And who's fault was that Ron? Tell me! Who's brilliant idea was it to leave home for six months? Who decided we should 'see other people', bring someone else to our bed?"
"Shite! Alright mate, alright. Calm the fuck down." Ron raised his hands defensively, "Hermione has a theory about all that."
Speaking of Hermione, where the hell is she with that whiskey? I need an effing drink - now! Harry snorted, "Oh does she?"
"Yeah. Hermione figures Ginny just wanted to give you a chance to try different things, different people, so you wouldn't have any regrets."
"That's barking!" Harry laughed loudly. "You've only ever been with Hermione, right?"
"Of course!" Ron cried indignantly.
"No regrets?" Ron shook his head violently in response, the mere suggestion obviously inconceivable to him.
"Not even for a moment?"
"Fuck no!" Ron bellowed.
"Well, me neither."
"Although..." Ron started before thinking better of it and stopping himself.
"What? Go on," Harry encouraged him, his interest peaked.
"Although, sometimes I think ... I mean I worry..." He took a deep breath before revealing his secret, "I worry Hermione will have regrets someday."
"Ron, no! She wouldn't, she couldn't."
"I know that – logically. It doesn't make me not worry that maybe someday she'll realize she could've had ... more." He let out a hollow laugh, "Guess that's something Ginny and I have in common, fearing we could never be enough."
"God, but you are enough ... she was enough. Bloody hell, she still is – more than enough." Harry's eyes filled with tears as he and Ron stared at each other in silence. Dammit Ron! Don't you know? How can you still doubt what you mean to her ... to me ... to everyone? How could Ginny have doubts?
Ron coughed nervously and averted his eyes from Harry's, "Um ... anyway ... about those drinks." He raised his voice, calling out for Hermione, "Oi woman! Where the hell's the whiskey?"
Hermione re-appeared in the lounge, levitating a tray laden with glasses, plates, a bottle of amber liquid and some food.
"Sorry, I had to do the washing up. Somebody," she gave Ron a pointed look, who in turn blinked up at her with feigned innocence, "didn't do it earlier.
"Well somebody distracted me." He tugged at the neckline of her bodice as he smiled.
"Be that as it may, it's all here now–" She lowered the tray and began pouring the whiskey.
"Not a moment too soon. Mr. Grumpy here was getting to be such a downer, I thought I might have to give him a cuddle."
"Fuck you Weasley!" Harry grabbed one of the many decorative pillows Hermione kept around and chucked it at Ron's head.
"Oi!" Ron caught the pillow and tucked it behind his head as he leaned back against the sofa, "You wish."
Say something clever ... don't wait too long...
"As if. Wouldn't want to put Hermione out of a job ... she seems to be keeping you pretty happy." Harry tried not to look Hermione in the eye when he spoke. He noticed she was flushed prettily, whether from the conversation or from drink, Harry couldn't tell. Realizing he could see straight down her bosom as she bent over to tend to their drinks, Harry decided the painting over the sofa was the safest place to rest his eyes.
"Damn right she is." Ron grabbed Hermione around the waist and hauled her back onto his lap. He thread one hand into her now loose hair and brought her forward for a searing kiss while his other large hand unconsciously kneaded one of her over-flowing breasts. Damn! I think I see a nipple. I'll take that drink now.
Harry reached forward to grab the filled glass Hermione had set in front of him and accidentally clanked it into the pile of plates on the tray. The loud clatter caused Ron and Hermione to break apart, each looking quizzically at the other, as if trying to recall where they were. Harry muttered, "Sorry" as he brought glass swiftly to his mouth, swallowing it all in one gulp. Hermione, reminded of Harry's presence, quickly slid off Ron's lap onto the end of the sofa farthest from Harry.
Reaching for the plates and cutlery, she announced, "I thought you boys might be hungry. I brought pudding – Treacle Tart."
Harry groaned and eyed the tray with revulsion, "I think I'll pass, thanks anyway. Treacle Tart and Firewhiskey. Don't think my stomach will forgive me that combo."
"More for me then!" Ron pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his kilt and slapped his toned abdomen soundly. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the trail of hair running down from Ron's navel. Ron absentmindedly scratched his fingers through the course ginger hairs, which appeared to Harry to be several shades darker than the red/gold of his arms and legs. Beaming pridefully, Ron boasted, "Can eat anything and never a problem."
"And you've certainly tried to eat just about anything," Hermione noted.
"Like your cooking..." Ron teased.
"Hey!" Hermione shot him a look of mock indignation. She then looked to Harry, quirking an eyebrow as she seemed to realize what he was focusing on. Shite! Look at something else... um, that's a nice lamp.
"Just kidding luv," Ron said as he removed his hand and gave Hermione a playful kiss on the nose. He sat back and gave the tart a dubious look, "Um, looks great Hermione. Did you, er... I mean, where did..." Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at Ron's obvious conflict between his desire to devour the pudding and his wariness over it's origins.
"It's from your mother Ron," Hermione said, taking pity on the poor fellow and trying admirably, Harry thought, to not sound too annoyed.
"Excellent!" Ron ran his finger through the sticky center and shoved it into his mouth. His tipped his head back, exposing the powerful cords of his neck. Sliding his eyes closed he released a soulful moan, "Mmmmmm, so good."
"Sure you don't want a bite mate? It's perfection." Ron scooped up another large tasting on his finger and as Harry opened his mouth to protest, he was surprised to find himself with a mouthful of treacle covered Ron. He tentatively closed his lips over Ron's finger tasted. Oh that is good! Catching the amused look Hermione was giving him, Harry quickly grasped Ron's wrist pulled it back. "Um, thanks."
"Sure," Ron made to eat the remaining tart filling off his finger, but before he could, Hermione took hold of his hand.
"Can I have a taste?" she asked huskily. Whoa! What's with the sexy voice? Not waiting for a response, she brought Ron's hand to her mouth and slowly licked the rest of the gooey filling from his finger. When she drew the long digit into her mouth, sucking it all the way to the second knuckle. Ron released a deep moan, the sound very similar to the one he had made just a moment earlier. Fuck! It's like she's going down on his finger.
The mischievous smirk that Hermione gave Harry as she sucked Ron's finger seemed to say. 'This is how you do it.' What the hell is that look for?
"Here Ron, let me put some on a plate for you before you eat the whole thing with your hands." She cut him a generous slice, nearly a fourth of the tart, topped it with clotted cream and smiled as he dug in. Feeling slightly queasy at the sight of Ron's assault on the innocent treacle tart, Harry took the opportunity to head to the loo.
***
When Harry returned from the toilet, he was greeted by the sounds of deep lusty moans – and not the treacle tart-induced type – as food never made Hermione make those sounds. As Harry rounded the corner to the lounge he saw Hermione pressed against the armrest of the sofa with Ron's face attached to her cleavage and his hand snaked under her long skirt. Hermione's hands were not idle, she had Ron's shirt bunched up while she clutched frantically at his bare back, making marks with her short nails. Chuffing hell! Can't they keep their hands to themselves for five bleeding minutes!
Harry coughed discretely once ... twice ... finally after the third time, which sounded like he was going to hack up a lung, they broke apart. Ron looked up from Hermione breasts and grinned, "Sorry mate, didn't hear you come in."
"Um, I just wanted to say thanks for tonight. Really, I should be going," Harry said as he started to back away toward the door.
"Okay, night then," Ron agreed before reattaching his mouth to the swell of Hermione's breast.
"Ron!" Hermione pushed him off her with an indignant huff, "Honestly!" She sat up abruptly and tried to adjust her clothes, pulling the neckline of her shift back to an only semi-indecent level. She obviously didn't notice the love bite on her chest or Ron would have been in a lot more trouble. "We're sorry, Harry. We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." She can't see my half stiffy can she? Damn, I knew these jeans were too tight. "Please stay, Harry."
"Um ... I don't know..." Harry gave Ron a questioning look.
Ron, who judging from the twitching going on under his kilt was way past half hard, ran his hand over the back of his neck and let out a slow breath through his long nose and said, "She's right, mate. Sorry ′bout that, stay for a drink."
"Well..." I really shouldn't ... it's just so quiet in that big empty house, only Kreacher for company...
"Please," Ron said softly, "You don't have to be alone tonight. Stay with us."
"O-okay ... just for a bit." Harry plopped back down in his vacated armchair. "You say something about a drink?"
"Here ya go, mate," Ron swiftly poured Harry a refill of his whiskey then lifted his own glass to his mouth when Hermione grabbed his arm.
"Wait!"
Ron dribbled his drink down his chin, amber droplets running down his neck to pool in the hollow of his throat. "What the hell, Hermione?"
"We should make a toast," she said, ignoring Ron's harsh tone.
"A toast?" Harry asked, "To what?"
"To us," she announced, "All of us. It's been nine years since we all became friends. We've had a lot of adventures and fun together–"
Ron snorted at this, but Hermione continued without hesitation, "and I think the good times deserve some recognition."
"Oh yes, good times, dodging certain death and trying to avoid a madman and his evil minions. Good times indeed," Ron noted sarcastically.
Hermione turned to him wide-eyed, and perhaps a bit teary, "It wasn't all bad was it? Our friendship was based on more then just surviving Voldemort wasn't it?"
Ron set his drink down and had an arm around Hermione in a flash, "Of course it was." She seemed appeased and gave him a small smile while he squeezed her shoulder. Ron reached forward with his free hand and picked up a glass of Firewhiskey. Handing it to Hermione, he said, "We'll each propose a toast, to all the good times. You first, luv."
"Um, okay. We'll take turns, each saying something good from each year. Let's start with first year, shall we?" The boys nodded in agreement and Hermione lifted her glass in salute, "To making friends." She looked at Harry expectantly
"Um, alright. To ... er ... trolls!"
"Okay, my turn." Ron lifted his glass and gave Hermione a lopsided smile, "to levitation spells." Based from the sudden blush creeping up Hermione's exposed flesh, Harry wasn't so sure they were all toasting to the same incident.
The three friends then each gulped down their whiskey, Hermione coughing slightly as she swallowed. Ron rubbed her back as her eyes watered, "Takes some getting used to I guess." Harry took his drink in one swallow and coughed almost as much as Hermione. Ron however, drank his shot with ease, no coughing or watery eyes, before he leaned down and whispered something in Hermione's ear, causing her to nod slightly and flush even more.
Harry cleared his throat and refilled all their glasses, "Um, let's see ... second year..."
"Oh! I know!" Hermione practically bounced with eagerness to respond, Harry was surprised she didn't raise her hand, she looked so much like the schoolgirl she once was. She picked up her glass and held it high, "To Deathday Celebrations!"
"Damn, remember that food?" Ron grimaced and slid his hand under his shirt again.
"Please don't remind me," Harry begged, feeling a bit green at the recollection. "Okay, my turn again ... I guess I'll go with – To Cornish Pixies! Your turn, Ron."
"Damn, I'm bad at this..." He looked down at Hermione curled up against him and smiled. Finding inspiration, he raised his glass in salute to her and said, "To the Mandrakes." Hermione's hand found it's way to Ron's knee and she gave it a squeeze while he tipped his glass back and swallowed hard. Hermione took her drink quicker this time and coughed a lot less; Harry slammed down his drink, with only a few tears this time.
Harry noticed Hermione kept her hand in place on Ron's knee, drawing random patterns on the bare flesh peeking out from Ron's costume. Looks like she's playing connect the dots. Wonder what shapes you can make on his knee ... or his back? Ginny has a group that looks like Orion on the small of her back. Stop! Don't think about Ginny ... or the shapes Ron's freckles can make.
Harry quickly filled the glasses again, only spilling a bit in his haste. "Hermione?" he asked as he offered to fill her glass. As she held out her glass with her right hand, her left inched further up Ron's leg, shifting his kilt higher and exposing more of his muscly thigh ... and more freckles hidden amongst the reddish gold hair.
"To Buckbeak," Hermione offered before shooting back her Firewhiskey in one gulp. Harry's head was starting to swim a bit from their liquid trip down memory lane. He became momentarily transfixed at the site of Ron's hand draped over Hermione's shoulder, his long index finger tracing the edge of her blouse, pulling it out a bit to allow him a better view.
"You're up, Harry." Hermione's voice slowly reached through the fog in Harry's brain. Up ... almost. "Wh-what?"
"It's your turn – for a toast. We're on third year, remember?" she offered.
"Third year, right." Harry thought for a moment, trying to recall details, "Oh wait, that's easy," he suddenly remembered, "To Hogsmeade weekends." Harry took his shot quickly, shaking his head afterwards, as if that would clear the cobwebs. Unfortunately it only made things fuzzier.
"To Honeydukes' Chocolate," Ron said without preamble, his voice husky with drink and lust. He drank his Firewhiskey slowly, his eyes never straying from Hermione's. Harry had the unbidden image of Ron and Hermione writhing together, smeared with Honeydukes' Finest. One look at the couple confirmed they were all probably thinking the same thing.
Hermione finally broke from Ron's gaze and she leaned forward to serve the next round. Her usually nimble hands were clumsy, the bottle shaking a bit in her unsteady grasp. Ron reached down and wrapped his hand around hers on the bottle, helping her pour. She smiled adoringly at him as she passed out the glasses. Sitting back with a sigh, she suddenly giggled to herself, "Ah yes, the very best thing about fourth year... To Malfoy, the bouncing ferret!"
Ron groaned, "Aw man, that was what I was going to say."
"Sorry mate, at least she didn't say Krum ... or your dress robes." Harry couldn't help but laugh at the memories of the way Ron looked that night.
"Shut up you wanker!" Ron grumbled as he slouched down in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione wrapped her one hand around his biceps and stroked his forearm with the other. "Pay no attention to him, Ron." She narrowed her eyes at Harry with a glare that caused him to squirm. "Nothing about the Yule Ball ranks anywhere near the top of my list of good things our fourth year."
"′Specially after that Bulgarian fucktard tried to give you a tongue bath," he pouted.
"Yes, especially after that," she said in a placatory tone, moving her hand up inside the open lacing of his shirt and scratching her nails along his chest. "No woman should have to endure such advances."
"Krum's a terrible kisser then is he?" Ron teased, leaning closer and rubbing his cheek against Hermione's.
"Yes, quite disgusting," Hermione agreed as she plucked at his nipple, causing Ron to hiss softly.
Before they could get too lost in the moment, Harry raised his glass, "Speaking of tongues, here's to Ton-Tongue Toffee!"
Ron pulled back from Hermione and gave a shout, "Ho! That was hysterical! Blimey was Dad angry! That is still one of our best sellers at the shop. I recommend it to everyone!" Harry and Ron looked at each other, and as if on cue, both stuck their tongues out and let them hang listlessly over their chins, while sputtering gibberish. Hermione shook her head and tried to act disapproving, finally giving up and joining in the laughter.
Once he calmed down, Ron wiped the drool off his chin with the back of his hand and reached for his glass. "Well, let's see if I can think of anything else then..."
"Don't say the veelas, mate. Even completely pickled, she can hex you into next week," Harry said with a laugh.
"Oi! I'm an Auror – I can take her!" Ron decreed. Hermione snorted beside him, trying to hold in her laughter.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Sorry," she giggled.
Ron rolled his eyes, "Despite the obvious lack of respect I get around here," he gave Hermione a mock glare, "in honour of my beloved wife-to-be, I propose a toast to spew, er, ah, I mean ... to the house-elves! May their burdens be lifted and their praises sung to the heavens!"
"Prat," Hermione muttered as smacked his arm. Ron gave Harry a wink before downing his shot, Harry and Hermione joining in.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, Harry's eyelids growing increasingly heavier. Hermione leaned against Ron's arm, her head on his shoulder, while Ron's head rested on the back of the sofa, his eyes half-shut. Harry watched their joined hands resting on Ron's plaid covered thigh. Hermione was gently and slowly rubbing her palm against Ron's, lacing and unlacing their fingers.
It's like their hands are fucking. This thought made Harry giggle out loud, the sound bringing Ron back to consciousness.
"Okay, we're almost done. Let's see this through." Ron released Hermione's hand and poured them each another shot. He hand swayed a bit as he handed Harry his, "You first mate."
Um, okay ... fifth year? Dementors, Umbridge, Grimmauld, Sirius, Department of Mysteries ... nope nothing good there. Wanking to thoughts of Cho... Mmmm, that was pretty good.
"I've got it!" Harry announced finally, "To Wildfire Whiz-Bangs!"
"Damn, that was brilliant, wasn't it?" Ron said with awe.
Even Hermione nodded in agreement before raising her glass, "To the Room of Requirement!"
"Mmmm yeah, I think that one deserves two drinks," Ron said, quickly drinking his shot before grabbing Hermione and placing sloppy kisses into her neck, causing her squeal with delight as her drink spilled.
"I think I liked it better when you two both pretended you didn't fancy each other," Harry noted dryly as he slowly sipped his drink.
"Oh hush," Hermione tutted.
Harry's comments seemed to effect Ron though, "Maybe we can just skip sixth year."
"Oh, c'mon Ron," Harry insisted, "you can find something good about it..." He handed Ron an overflowing shotglass.
"Alright, um..." It was clear to Harry that Ron was trying to think of something that wouldn't upset Hermione too badly and remind her of the 'fiasco' that was their sixth year. Harry watched as Ron's brow scrunched up in concentration, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out – looking remarkably like the young school boy he once was, rather than the giant of a man he'd become.
"I've got it ... to Luna's Quidditch commentary!"
"To Felix!" Harry added without hesitation, joining Ron as he drank.
"To bezoars," Hermione said in a small voice before taking a quick shot. Ron took her glass and placed it back on the table. He then reached over and gently stroked her cheek before leaning forward to meet her lips with a tender kiss. "Oh love," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. Their eyes closed as a silent tear ran down Hermione's face. Harry felt his own eyes tear as thoughts of what might have been swirled in his mind. He blinked them back rapidly and cleared his throat loudly, "Okay, enough of that! Supposed to be happy memories - no more of this sad shit."
Hermione slowly pulled her face back from Ron's and gave Harry a watery smile. Ron turned his glassy eyes on Harry and laughed, "Well that definitely leaves out any toasts to what would have been your seventh year."
"Bollocks!" Harry sloppily refilled their glasses, "Here's to disarming spells!"
"To magical tents," Hermione offered earnestly, "They are so much better than Muggle ones!" Harry laughed and nodded in agreement.
"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, his face once again screwed up in thought. Harry couldn't help but tease, "House-elves again, Ron?"
"Actually I was going to say the deluminator, but yeah, those guys too." The tender look that passed between Ron and Hermione after they all drank was broken when Ron stood unsteadily and announced, "My stomach may be bottomless, but my bladder isn't. When I get back I getting out of this ridiculous outfit." He was standing directly in front of Hermione and she reached out and stroked the back of his bare leg, "But I like it," she pouted.
Harry felt himself start to stiffen again when Hermione's hand went further up under Ron's kilt, practically to his arse. "I was so hoping you'd keep it on," she said with a coy smile.
"Well ... maybe the kilt can stay – but I've had it with these effing laced up shoes and stockings. You knotted these damn strings so tight I can't get them off."
"I'll help you. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
Ron laughed, "You always do, luv, always do." He leaned over and gave Hermione a sloppy kiss, affording Harry a view of his plaid covered arse. I wonder how authentic his costume is? Most Scots don't wear anything under their kilts. Surely Ron's wearing pants under there. Isn't he? Shite! What if he isn't? His tackle just hanging free... Oh fuck!
Harry discretely placed his hand in his lap and tried to clear his mind of the image of Ron's bare arse under his kilt. His head was spinning and he closed his eyes to try to steady himself, promptly passing out.
***
Sometime later, Harry really didn't know how long it had been, he woke to the sound of a deep moan. He blinked rapidly, trying to remember where he was. I'm not home ... this isn't the dorms ... why do I hear Ron?
Finally able to focus, Harry almost gasped out loud at the site in front of him – Hermione was sitting on the sofa in front of Ron, who now stood barefoot, her hands were up his kilt and his prick was in her mouth. .
"Oh fuck, Hermione," Ron groaned. "Love the feel of that pretty little mouth of yours on me."
Hermione just hummed in approval, making Ron's knees practically buckle. Harry's hand instinctively went for his crotch, palming his rapidly growing erection. He couldn't see Ron's face, but he was fascinated by the way Ron's bare arse muscles clenched tightly as he thrust slowly into Hermione's mouth.
Hermione released him with a 'pop.' "Shhh, you'll wake Harry," she admonished, with no tone of reproach to her voice.
"Don't give a shit ... Harry can watch and wank for all I care. Just. Don't. Stop!" Hermione giggled as she took Ron back in her mouth.
Oh fuck. Oh God. Wank? Yeah, I'll freakin' wank! ... What the hell is wrong with me?
Ron's hips continued thrusting his cock deeper into Hermione's mouth as she stroked him eagerly. Suddenly his kilt fell when he tried to reach for her. Ron growled with frustration as he gathered his kilt into his hands, "Can't I just take this fucking thing off?"
Hermione hummed in response, which Ron interpreted as 'no.' "I need to ... oh fuck just like that ... I need to ... touch you."
She stood suddenly, panting, her body shaking with barely contained lust, "Yes! Touch me, please Ron." Before Ron could even speak, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily, clawing at his body as if she couldn't get close enough, ripping his shirt up over his head and throwing it aside. She kissed his neck and exposed torso while dragging him down onto the sofa, "You are so sexy ... my gorgeous man ... have to have you."
Damn, I think she's gonna explode! Harry leaned back further into his armchair, head spinning from drink and sex. He was seconds away from undoing his zip and easing his pain when fate intervened.
Hermione pulled Ron on top of her and wrapped her arms and legs around him. "Please, Ron, please ... I love you ... I need you," she begged, rubbing herself against him. They're insatiable ... it's like they're trying to devour each other. I remember when Ginny and I were like that ... I remember that feeling...
Ron ran his hand up Hermione's bare leg that she had wrapped around his waist, as he buried his face in her chest. "Love you so much, so fucking much," he said into the curve her neck as he planted loud wet kisses in a path toward her mouth. As he captured her lips, his hand slid between her legs and he moaned loudly. "Where the hell are your knickers?" he asked with a growl as he began to move down her body, intent on investigating.
"Took them off ... too wet..."
"Oh God!"
Ron suddenly froze. Oh shit! Did I just say that out loud? Ron pulled back from Hermione and slowly turned to face Harry. His eyes were wide and unfocused, blinking like large ginger owl. He sat back on his haunches, swaying slightly from the abundance of alcohol he had consumed. Harry could see his large hard cock jutting forward, tenting the kilt. Harry knew his own ache was almost unbearable and could only imagine how much pain Ron must be in, how much he needed release.
Harry could feel himself blush. He hasn't killed me yet, maybe, just maybe... This was different than anything else they had ever shared – it was more, so much more. Asking them to face Voldemort was nothing compared to asking them to share what they have with him. But he was too drunk and too lonely to not try. "Don't stop. You're beautiful Ron... I mean you're beautiful together. Let me watch, please. Remind me what love looks like."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said weakly, her voice on the verge of tears.
Harry could hear Ron whisper, "Are you sure about this Hermione?" The tender smile she gave him while stroking his cheek nearly broke Harry's heart, "Show him Ron ... show him how much you love me."
Ron smiled back at her, kissing the palm of her hand reverently. "All right then, if we're gonna do this might as well do it right," he said before lifting her skirt and burying his face between her bare thighs.
Hermione immediately arched her back high off the sofa and moved so she was propped up more on the armrest. Ron took this opportunity to place several of the extraneous pillows laying around under her bum, lifting her closer to him. They moved with such practiced ease, Harry didn't doubt this was not the first time the long sofa had been the site of their coupling.
Harry couldn't see exactly what Ron was doing, but it was obvious Hermione approved. "Oh God, Ron!" Hermione moaned loudly, reaching down and grabbing a fist full of his hair. Harry thought about the women he had tasted, it was never unpleasant, just different. He enjoyed the experience, but never like Ron seems to. Harry mumbled to himself, "Wonder how she tastes?"
Ron looked up at Harry, the auburn scruff on his face glistening with Hermione's juices, "So fucking good ... sweetest thing on Earth."
"Is she ... is she very wet?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Fucking dripping," Ron groaned. Hermione moaned as well, squirming at the lack of attention.
"Touch her ... I think she wants you to touch her," Harry said.
"Yeah," Ron nodded. Turning back to Hermione, he asked, "That what you want Hermione?" Harry could hear the sound of Ron's fingers entering her. "You want my fingers inside you, want them fucking you?"
"Fingers, mouth, cock ... I don't care! Anything! Please ... I'm so close!"
Ron laughed huskily, "Yes M'am." He bent low again, his plaid covered arse sticking up slightly in the air. His bright red hair was nestled against Hermione's entrance, one hand holding her open to him, the other plunging in and out of her, setting a sure and steady rhythm.
Harry's senses were under assault: the sounds of Ron and Hermione's moans, the wet noises from between her legs, the smell of sex permeating the room, the taste of Firewhiskey fresh in his mouth. "Oh God ... you two, so hot..." he moaned involuntarily, his hand once again rubbing his crotch. "Hard for a fucking hour, I swear," he grumbled. Ron looked up and gave him a quick nod, "S'ok mate, go ahead." Harry let out a huge huge sigh of relief and carefully lowered his zip, palming his erection through his boxers before reaching inside to relieve his ache.
Hermione opened her eyes briefly, glancing from Harry to Ron. Through some sort of silent communication, Hermione seemed to understand Ron's plans. She reached behind her head and pulled out a pillow. Ron quickened the pace of his hands and mouth, quickly bringing Hermione over the edge. She clutched the pillow over her face and screamed, her hips bucking wildly against Ron's face. He held on, staying with her until her back bowed high off the sofa and she collapsed back down with an 'omph.'
Ron slowly crawled back up Hermione's body, kissing her reverently as he went. He peeled the pillow out of her grasp, whispering, "Hi." Hermione giggled in response before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. She snaked a hand between their bodies, kissing along his jaw she murmured, "Ready for more, are you?"
"Always ... it's you..." Ron murmured into her breasts, as his large hands kneaded them until they were both free and exposed to his mouth. He cupped them together and squeezed, almost fitting both nipples in his mouth at once. Hermione had her hand back under Ron's kilt and Harry resumed touching himself, keeping rhythm with Hermione's strokes. After another powerful kiss, Ron pulled Hermione blouse up to cover her breasts and sat back on his knees. He looked from Hermione to Harry and back, finally asking her, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, please ... you said yourself he could watch."
Ron chuckled, "So I did." Harry gave him a quick nod, his eyes pleading with him to continue. Yes, please!
"Okay then," Ron said with a nod of resolve. He looked down at Hermione with a lascivious grin. "Turn over, Hermione," he ordered, "Up on your knees."
"Oh, God," Harry and Hermione moaned simultaneously. Hermione turned over and raised herself up on her elbows, her legs spread apart. Ron flipped up her long skirt, and ran his hand appreciatively over her bare backside, kneading it gently. Harry was hypnotized watching Ron's large freckled hand run circles over Hermione's pale flesh. "God, I love your arse," Ron moaned, "so fucking round." Ron suddenly smacked her soundly on her bottom, Hermione squeaked and wriggled her arse in response.
"You always were an arse-man, weren't you Ron?" Harry observed with a deep laugh.
"′Specially Hermione's, always Hermione's," he grunted as he smacked her again, eliciting a throaty moan this time.
Ron reached for the buckles of his kilt in an attempt to remove it, Hermione looked back over her shoulder at him, "Leave it." Ron didn't say anything, he simply lifted the kilt up with one hand, stroking his cock with the other; even sheathed in his big hand, he was impressive. He pressed forward and rubbed his erection over Hermione's opening, teasing her repeatedly, "This what ye lookin′ for lass?," Ron joked in a near perfect Scottish accent, "Ye want what's under me kilt?" Before she could answer, he gripped her hip and entered her in one firm thrust. All three of them groaned at the contact. "Yeeeessssss," Hermione hissed under her breath.
Ron grabbed both sides of her hips and rocked her back and forth onto his cock, filling the room with the sound of their flesh slapping together, along with his grunts and her stifled whimpers. Harry watched Ron's face, his clenched lips and occasional constrained mumblings made it clear to Harry that he was restraining himself – trying to hold back. He knew from experience that Ron was usually pretty vocal when making love to Hermione and Harry felt guilty that he was suppressing his urges. Taking a chance, Harry spoke.
"Talk to her, mate," he implored.
Ron groaned loudly, almost in relief. "Mmmm, she likes that."
Me too.
"Don't you Hermione?" Ron continued to pump into her as he spoke, "You like to hear how tight your pussy is, how warm and wet you feel wrapped around me – squeezing me?"
"Uhhhh," she replied incoherently.
"Speak up Hermione, we can't hear you. Tell him," Ron said, his voice deep and authoritative, "Tell Harry how much you like it when I fuck you." He adjusted his grip and slammed into her harder still. "Tell him how much you love it when I fuck you so hard I leave bruises – bruises you won't heal ′cause they remind you of me filling you, taking you."
"Y-yes ... love it ... love you," Hermione moaned.
With this display all Harry's inhibition vanished, he pulled down his pants and began stroking himself in earnest, "You like that big cock don't you, Hermione?" Her face now buried in the seat cushion, all Harry heard was her murmur of assent, "Mmphmm."
"How does he feel inside you, Hermione?" Harry couldn't help asking.
She lifted her head and looked him dead in the eye, "So good ... so fucking good."
Her response caused Ron to emit a deep growl. He released one hip and reached forward to grab a handful of her hair, using it for leverage, he proceeded to pound into her even faster. "Fuck yeah it feels good."
Hermione whimpered and pressed back into him, urging him to continue his frenzied assault. Harry started stroking himself in time with Ron's thrusts, "Hell yeah, Ron!" Ron moved his hand off Hermione's hip and snaked in around her front, and he began rubbing her frantically. The hand that fisted her hair came down and rested on her shoulder, anchoring her in place.
Hermione moaned loudly, obviously on the verge of climax. Ron turned to Harry and yelled, "Look away!"
"Wh-what?" Harry sputtered, clearly confused.
"You can watch me fuck her, but you can't watch her cum! She's mine dammit!"
His demands affected Hermione as she arched her head back and shuddered, screaming "Oh Ron, oh yes!" Harry clenched his eyes tightly shut, fearing Ron's reaction if he didn't. He could only hear Hermione's cries of release, "Love you ... so much ...yes Ron ... Oh God ... RON!" Harry then heard Ron's whispers of encouragement and love, the words unclear but their sentiment evident.
Finally Harry heard Ron's strained voice, "S'ok mate ... s-sorry," Ron panted. "I just get..."
"No, it's fine," Harry's voice trailed off as Ron picked up his pace again. Hermione was limp as a ragdoll, her face hidden in the cushions as Ron held her hips firmly in his grasp, plowing into her with all the force he had left. Harry could tell Ron was about to blow, so he increased his own strokes and tugged on his bollocks. "Oh shit, gonna cum," Harry moaned. He felt the tightening in his belly and screamed in relief when he spilled all over this hand and stomach, just as Ron shouted.
"Fuuuuuuuck Hermione! ′s good, so fucking good. Love you!" he yelled, slamming into her once - twice - three times more before collapsing over her back, clutching her to him as he slowly lowered them to the sofa.
The room was silent but for the heavy breathing of the three friends as they each recovered.
Harry slouched low in his seat, his hands limp at his sides. Oh shite! What have we done, what have I done? His head lolled to the side as he started to nod off, so complete was his exhaustion he didn't even bother to clean himself or tuck in his now flaccid penis. Hermione was stretched out on her side, her back pressed against Ron's chest while he held her tightly to him. She caught Harry's eye and gave him a reassuring smile. Ron looked up over Hermione's shoulder and nodded briefly to Harry, the ghost of a lop-sided grin on his face, before tenderly kissing Hermione's hair and laying back down. Harry finally gave in and closed his eyes. It's going to be okay. It has to be...
***
Harry slowly peeled his eyelids open, the act taking way too much effort. He blinked a few times trying to get his bearings. The room was blurry and he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses; he also realised he was sleeping in an armchair in the middle of Ron and Hermione's lounge. Oh God, did last night really happen?Looking down at body he was surprised to find himself covered in a soft blanket. Peeking underneath he found that he jeans were still open but his pants had been pulled up over his spent cock and someone had cast a cleansing charm over him.
He tried to stand up and promptly collapsed back into the comfy chair. Merlin's balls! My head is effing killing me. I know Hermione must have some headache tonic around here somewhere. Harry stood much slower this time and found his glasses on the side table, next to his transfigured dog collar. Holding his jeans up, he carefully made his way down the hall to the toilet. Wonder where Ron and Hermione went? Must be in bed. Shite! This is gonna be so fucking weird. Maybe they'll be too pissed to remember. Ha! Like I'd be that lucky.
After relieving himself, Harry stared at his reflection as he washed his hands. The eyeliner Hermione had insisted on as part of his 'costume' was smeared all over his face, making him look like a raccoon. The barmy things I do for that girl ... the things she does for me. Harry's eyes started to water as he remembered what Hermione had done for him last night, what they both had done for him – sharing their love with him. Harry sank to the edge of the tub and let the tears flow – tears of gratitude, tears of confusion and frustration.
Oh fuck ... oh bloody buggering fucking hell! I'm not gay ... I know that. I know I keep looking at him, he just looked so good, they looked so good, I just needed to be a part of it somehow, I need to see that love tonight.
It's not like I want to fuck Ron - gross!. Hell, even when he was pounding into Hermione like a man possessed I didn't wish I was her ... I wished I was him. NO! Not because I want to fuck Hermione - hell no! ewwwww - I just want to be like him. Be that confident, that powerful. I want to know what it feels like to be that loved, that wanted. I felt it with Ginny sometimes, but there was always something between us, a wall of some kind. Fuck! Maybe it's like Ron said - she thought I'd change my mind, that I wouldn't always stay.
"Oh God, Ginny," he sobbed. "I love you, I want only you ... What the fuck are we doing?" The headache he woke with had grown progressively worse as his tears finally subsided. Collecting himself, he found a flannel and washed the remnants of make-up and grief off his face. Searching the cabinet he found the perfect hangover cure and took a generous gulp. He chuckled to himself when he put it back and noticed the extra-large bottle of super-strength contraceptive potion. The laughing stopped as the potion brought back thoughts of the previous night. I hope I haven't lost them too.
He stepped into the hall, intending to Floo back to Grimmauld Place, but stopped at the sound of Ron speaking his name. The door to Ron and Hermione's bedroom was open a crack and he could hear them discussing what had happened. Harry stood outside, waiting with bated breath to see if he had ruined their friendship.
" –don't know if I can face him in the locker room," Ron was saying. "He's seen my cock before, but he's never seen me using it!" Harry could hear Hermione giggle at Ron's outburst. "It's not funny," Ron pouted. "′Cept seeing me take a piss of course. What we did 's just not normal for best mates, Hermione."
"But you're not just best mates, Ron," Hermione explained. "The three of us together, we're 'us' – more than just friends, closer than family." Harry slunk to the floor next to the door, his legs suddenly weak with emotion. She understands.
"Harry needed us last night," she continued. "He needed to be with someone he can trust, he needed to share some love."
"Yeah, it was 'us'," Ron agreed. He gets it too? "Holy shit," Ron suddenly gasped. "He said I was beautiful – You don't think he's a poofter, do you?" NO! I must certainly am not!
"No, I don't think Harry is a homosexual. I think he's suffering from a bit of envy honestly."
"Oh like that penis envy thing you told me about?" Ron asked
"Not quite," Hermione explained, "though I'm sure most men would be quite envious. I was thinking more like..." she paused trying to find the right term, "uh ... Ron-envy."
"Harry Potter, 'The Chosen One', is envious of me? You've gone round the bend my love."
"No really, it makes perfect sense," Hermione insisted. It does? "You have everything Harry ever wanted. A large loving family, a stable committed relationship
"A great sex life," Ron interjected.
Ignoring him, she continued, "respect of your co-workers based on what you've done not just who you are, plenty of–"
"Okay, okay you can stop, i get it; I'm a lucky bloke." Merlin, yes!
"You are," Hermione agreed. Harry could hear the soft sounds of a kiss being shared. "Really, it was just a one off, a too much whiskey kind of thing," Hermione decided.
It was!
"Besides," she continued, "you are beautiful."
"Oh am I?"
"Mm-hmmm," she hummed huskily, "Especially when you're making love to me." Harry didn't have to see them to know they were sharing a kiss. "But no worries," Hermione continued, "I think you're safe – Harry's not going to drag you under the mistletoe at Christmas dinner." They both laughed and Harry couldn't help but smile too.
"Speaking of Christmas," Ron piped up, "I'm giving him and Ginny till then to work this all out." You're what?
"You expect them to work out all their difference by Christmas?" she asked incredulously.
"Alright, New Year's then – that's 2 months! If they can't, then George can be my best man and Luna or somebody can be your best maid or whatever they're called." NO! "′Cause dammit Hermione, I want to marry you."
"I want to marry you too," she said softly, "but Harry and Ginny..."
"No! Enough about fucking Harry! All our relationship we've had to worry about Harry. I love him more than anyone, ′cept you, and I'd do anything for him – think I fucking proved that tonight. But enough. He needs to get his shit together." I'm trying dammit!
"We can't do it for him or put or lives on hold till he does. I love you I want to marry you. I want my frigging future Hermione – my dream, our life. I can see it, I can feel it – it's right at our fingertips Hermione, we're almost there."
"Oh Ron..." Hermione started.
"I talked to him, you know," Ron continued quickly. "Tried to explain about Ginny to him. I think it'll work, I think he gets it."
I do!
"Really? You talked to him?"
"Yup. While you were in the kitchen," Ron explained. "But then again," his voice took on a teasing tone, "you already knew that."
"I did?" She asked coyly.
"Took your bloody time just to give us a chance to chat – just like you wanted."
"Perhaps?" she said, conceding nothing.
"That's probably when you took it..."
"Took what?" Hermione asked, clearly confused.
"The potion – the one that kept you from getting drunk," Ron explained.
"I beg your pardon," she huffed indignantly. "I did not take any such potion–"
"There is no bloody way you were drunk tonight," Ron interrupted. "I mean a bit maybe, but you did something to make sure that you stayed pretty sober." What is he on about?
"What makes you think that?"
"Hermione, please, give me some credit," Ron said sardonically. "You are at least half my size, there is no way you could drink as much as me and not pass out. We both know that after at least two drinks you are a giggling mess – like you were earlier tonight at the Pub. She was a bit giggly ... kinda funny actually.
"And," he added, voice full of mischief, "after three, you're so randy you're practically gagging for it. You never would have made it until Harry passed out."
"Pfft!"
"Plus, you didn't fuck me like you usually do when you've had too much to drink."
"Excuse me!"
"Whenever you manage to make it to three drinks, you always kinda shag all wild,–"
That wasn't wild?
"…riding me, taking charge. Hell, I always need some healing charms after you've been drinking. Look at me, not a bite mark on me."
"Your point?" she asked with a huff, not bothering to deny his claims.
"My point is, my love, you were sober, or damn near it. You wanted Harry to watch." What! No way, no flipping way!
"Wh-what?" Hermione asked haltingly.
"You, my kinky little witch," Ron said smugly, "liked the idea of Harry watching us. When I told you I thought he might have seen us back in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, you weren't near as cheesed off as I expected. You knew what you were doing when you started going down on me," Ron accused.
"Well, I ... I mean..." she spluttered.
"Hey luv, it's okay. I don't mind." Thank God!
"It is rather ... naughty, isn't it?" She said the word 'naughty' in a near whisper.
"Mm-hmm, very naughty," Ron agreed. "Just the way I like you."
The sighs and moans that followed indicated to Harry that the conversation was over. Just as he stood up, he heard Hermione say, "Glass ... it was the glass."
"Hmmm?" Ron asked, his voice muffled.
"I charmed my glass. It absorbed most of the alcohol." DAMN! He was right! She did know ... she wanted ... DAMN!
There was silence as both Hermione and Harry waited for Ron's reaction. Finally he spoke, "My wife is the most fucking brilliant woman in the World," his voice resonating with love and awe.
"Not your wife yet," she pointed out.
"Soon enough Hermione, soon enough," he said, his voice low and deep.
Harry leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes and listening to his two best friends share their love. All jealousies faded as he finally realised it was time to let go and let them have their future – alone. I'll talk to Ginny when she gets here; I have to. There is no fucking way I'm missing out being a part of their wedding, just because we cocked up our relationship. Maybe we can work it out, maybe Ron was right... Harry felt his heart lighten at the thought. He heard tender voices coming through the door,
"I love you, Ron."
"I love you too, Hermione. Forever."
I love you both. Thank you.
Be sure to check back for the Epilogue! What? Did she say there's more? Woot! Visit my profile page for a link to my fiction journal, if you'd like to read more of my musings. AND REMEMBER... please review!