Even as she started rocking back and forth in an effort to prove Ron and Lavender wrong, Hermione found herself questioning the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, dressed to surprise her fiancee, only to end up on the lap of her best friend.

Yet, the absurdity of the situation wasn't the worst. No, the worst part was she started to enjoy it, particularly when Harry grunted in pleasure as she rocked on his bulging boxers, his hardness throbbing under her.

"What do you think, Harry. Do you think she's better than Lav — my dancer," Ron said.

"I have to admit —" Harry started, only to gasp in pleasure when Hermione grabbed his hands without warning and brought them to her ass, silently giving him permission to grab. She was pushing it, but the more Ron spoke, the angrier she was getting. "Yeah, there's no comparison."

"Too bad I can't touch," Ron laughed mockingly, but when Hermione looked back, she saw Ron's hands already on Lavender's thighs, caressing, breaking one rule she had given him.

She was self-aware enough to know that she had a tendency to overreact when facing extreme situations, just like the time she had decided to imprison Rita Skeeter illegally because of her insulting articles, erased her parents' memories to keep them safe, or set an illegal study group to improve her grades. And, letting Harry grab her ass openly while disguised certainly qualified.

Yet, watching Ron and Lavender challenge her, she was feeling her slipping control. She knew it was wrong when Harry's hands moved, slipping under her dress, but she said nothing, enjoying his fingers.

And, enjoy she did, much to her surprise. While she had never gone all the way with Ron, they were still engaged, and enjoyed some private times that often got hot and heavy. Yet, there was no comparison with Harry's fingers, caressing her ass gently yet skillfully, making it feel like her skin was burning.

"Mmm, such a comfy seat," she murmured as she buried her face to the nook of Harry's neck, her tits rubbing against his chest, her dress not doing much to reduce the sensation. One of Harry's hands stayed on her ass, the other went back to the surface and landed on her lower back.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, using it as leverage as she rocked even harder, picking speed even more once she heard Lavender moaning, not even looking at them.

In for a knut, in for a galleon.

"You're such a gentleman, Mister Potter," she moaned, with the full awareness that Ron, her fiancee, was sitting right behind them, watching as she sat on Harry's lap. "I'm sure you're much better than the groom. I'm happy that I'm your exclusive dancer for the day."

That earned a low growl from Ron. Hermione smiled happily. She knew exactly what she was doing when she said that. She wasn't unfamiliar with Ron's faults. Jealousy had always been his biggest fault, especially when it came to Harry; enough to actually abandon them while they were trying to defeat Voldemort.

He learned how to hide things better, but Harry's life of adventure and glory stayed a sore spot for him. He thought that he was hiding it well, but he was not as successful as he thought. Normally, Hermione acted her best to prevent such explosions, but tonight, she was feeling vindictive.

Yet, a second later, she felt regretful, unable to believe what she was doing, deliberately using his deepest insecurities against him. Ron had no idea it was her, but it didn't solve it. She was aware of just how twisted her actions were, yet it oddly felt fun. A dark variant of fun, but satisfying nonetheless.

She decided that it was it. She would finish the dance, give an excuse, and leave. She should have stood up immediately, but it would have been too suspicious. There was no harm in a few minutes, right.

Then, she noticed Harry's hand that was on her back moving up, slowly rubbing along her spine until it moved sideways, and ended up caressing the side of her breasts. It was over clothes, but considering the thinness of her dress and the absence of a bra, it didn't make too much difference. His touch burned, leaving tracks of fire.

"Someone is working hard for the tips," Ron growled in anger, not successful in containing his fury.

"Well, I'm a working girl," Hermione answered. She didn't compare Ron and Harry directly again, but she didn't stop either. She continued complimenting Harry in an over-the-top manner, often comparing him with the others in the room, and the men of Britain in general.

With each compliment, Ron's growls got more feral. "I need another drink," he said before summoning the whole bottle with a spell, drinking faster than necessary. Hermione checked, and saw him drinking far faster than advised.

However, with her attention on annoying Ron, Hermione didn't pay much attention to Harry's moves other than enjoying them. But, maybe she should have, because she soon found her dress being pulled down, with his fingers caressing the top of her breasts.

"Don't be so greedy, Mister Potter," she said coyly. "Unfortunately, I don't give public strip shows."

"I could always find us somewhere more private," he replied cheekily.

"You're persistent, I don't like that in a man," she responded, which would have been more convincing if she didn't follow up with a moan as he squeezed her ass. Hermione glared at his wide smile, but it wasn't enough to make him pull his hands away.

She wasn't exactly torn up about her failure. The feel of his hand on her smooth body, rubbing up and down, drawing gentle circles felt amazing. He moved his hands, his passion invading her body. She truly felt like an exotic dancer as she was fondled in front of Ron. There was something intensely wrong about it, but it was too exhilarating to stop prematurely.

She would stop after another complete dance. Just a few more minutes.

"It's hard not to be persistent when you're a knockout," Harry said. "Not that you seem to be very unhappy about it. Your nipples are very honest."

Hermione blushed as she looked down, catching her own breasts, her nipples rock hard. He looked down as well, enjoying the sight, her dress doing a terrible job hiding from that angle.

She looked at his eyes, and saw the desire in their emerald depths. She tried her best to remain calm and collected as his gaze stripped her even more than her clothes did. "Shut up," she muttered.

"Are you sure you can't bend that public rule a bit," he teased. "I want to see just how incredible is the body you're hiding behind this beautiful dress."

"Unfortunately, it's going to stay —" Hermione teased, enjoying his hungry look. Her enjoyment turned into shock when he suddenly leaned forward, capturing her lips. She ended up kissing her best friend. With tongue. A lot of tongue, dancing in her mouth, capturing her soul along with it. For a moment, she had forgotten everything, and focused on the pleasure.

It would be a lie to say she had never imagined how it would be to kiss Harry. Inevitable after the life they lived. Sometimes, she thought it would be fun and soft, sometimes, she expected it to be disappointing. After all, their relationship was best described as siblings, right.

The kiss she received didn't feel like family. It burned her, far more intense than anything she had ever felt. Only then, did she understand that the toe-curling kiss was not a figure of speech, but reality. When he pulled back, she was panting hard, forgetting everything but his lips.

"Maybe you should get a room," Ron growled in frustration, his words slurring, showing the magical drink already affected him hard. "That way, it won't turn into a porn. I don't want to see a whore naked in my living room."

Hermione found herself growling in anger. Yes, she was in the wrong. Yes, he didn't know that it was her. Yet, she still felt angry. Yet, before she could say anything, Harry moved his leg, and she let out a surprised squeal at bouncing on his lap, right on his bulge.

And, if it wasn't enough, it made her dress slide down more, turning her cleavage into something obscene. "Don't let it get to you. He's a mean drunk," he said as he bounced her again, his hands hungrily dancing on her body. Then, he raised his head. "So, you don't mind if I bring her upstairs, do you Ron?" he asked.

Hermione felt his voice was weirdly hard, as if he was asking for something sharp.

"Go ahead, use the whore," Ron answered, even more mean. "You're the best man. You can do whatever you want."

"Good news," Harry said, his tone once again complicated, as was his grin as he slapped her tight ass.

"You can have her all you want," Ron said, as if reiterating the point. Hermione was feeling a lot of complicated feelings. Even under the subterfuge, Ron giving Harry permission to drag her upstairs and have his way with her was intense. Not just in her mind, but also in her core, which burned hot. She was getting wet enough to stain Harry's boxers.

"Are you sure about that, Weasley? Your best friend can 'have' me?" she asked even as she shivered. Harry's gaze bounced between them, his grin getting wider. His hand settled on her ass once again, grabbing even harder.

"I don't care about you, whore. Of course, he can have you. He can even use my childhood bed," he replied, his tone filled with resentment.

With that, Harry stood up. And, since Hermione was still on his lap, facing him, she reflexively wrapped her legs around him to prevent a painful fall. His hands tightened on her ass, supporting her, but also grabbing her like he owned her. "I'll take you on that," Harry said. "I'm going to fuck her on your bed."

Hermione felt her body heat up even more. She had never heard Harry so confident, so cocksure, so domineering. She had to admit, that traveling helped her. Of course, it was unfortunate that he wouldn't actually end up fucking her. She wanted to punish Ron, but not that much. Harry would just have to get over not nailing her.

"Have fun with the slut. Try not to get a disease," Ron commented, Lavender still on his lap.

Harry just chuckled mockingly. "If that's what you want, I certainly will," he said, and started walking toward the stairs. Once they were out of the room, Hermione opened her mouth, to ask him to stop. Before she could come up with an excuse, he planted his lips against hers once more.

The kiss once again burned her mind, enough for her to lose sight of everything. It being the second kiss didn't reduce the impact any. She was lost in her lust and fear in equal measures, and the fact that she was still being carried by him in an intimate position didn't help any.

She just stayed there, her arms around his neck and his hands digging into her ass as aggressively as his tongue digging into her mouth. It felt like an eternity, yet it passed in a flash. Well, not in a flash, because somehow, they had not only climbed the stairs, but also arrived at Ron's old bedroom at the Burrow, his bed still in place.

Yet, she knew that not only the door was locked, but she also distinctly remembered it was her who locked the door.

Hermione froze when he deposed her on the bed, trying to think of an excuse. She failed to come up with one, even though her mind started working better once he stopped touching her.

Then, he pushed his boxers down, revealing his huge, raging erection. "I … I can't," she muttered. "I have a boyfriend." She hoped that it would dissuade her.

"Yes, Hermione. I know. We were just with him, right?"

His words made her freeze. Suddenly, she felt even more naked than her slutty dress made her feel.

And, she had no idea what to do.

I also have a pat - reon, so feel free to visit for advance chapters.

Pat / jessedesire