"I'm worried about Harry," Hermione said as she propped herself up against Ron. She slowly stroked his firm chest, grazing her fingertips over his nipple until it became a hard nub. She loved how he squirmed and sucked in his breath, and she smirked up at him, watching his cheeks flush. A single lamp covered by Hermione's silky scarf cast a dim glow in the room, but she had witnessed his blush so many times now, she knew it even in the dark.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"He's just…" She pinched his nipple hard and he flinched, and she curled her toes in delight. "Moody."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry's always moody."

She grinned. "I can't pretend that's not true. But I think this time it has to do with the breakup."

Ron let out a huge sigh that Hermione felt roll through his chest. "I'm so bloody sick of talking about that breakup. They can both sod off for all I care."

"That's not a very nice thing to say about your best mate and your sister," she teased, her voice light as air. She liked to tease him. It made her shiver with a strange sort of pleasure that she wasn't so sure was all that innocent. She loved playing with her Ron; her brave, valiant Auror. She thought of him in his uniform and her pussy throbbed. "I know you care no matter what you say."

"I don't care about them when they're being annoying," Ron grumbled.

Hermione smiled. "Yes you do. But anyways, you didn't hear me out." He lowered his eyes to look at her. "He's confused, that's why he's moody."

"Confused about what?"

"Don't you know why they broke it off?"

"Of course!" Ron licked his lips. She suspected he hadn't the faintest clue why Harry and Ginny had broken up. "They got… er… they got bored of one another. I didn't want to hear the details," he finally admitted with a roll of his eyes.

Hermione sighed. "You don't even know!" She gently swatted his ribs.

He squirmed.

Hermione clenched her thighs together.

"They broke it off," she explained slowly, "because Harry couldn't figure out why he was so attracted to blokes."

Ron got a pained expression on his face like when the Quaffle used to fly past him and through the hoop. He groaned. "I can't talk about this."

"Are you seriously going to be like that?" She knew certain subjects made Ron uncomfortable - his family's income, verbally proclaiming his love for anyone besides his mother - but she didn't expect him to get tongue tied about this. Especially since this was Harry they were talking about. Their Harry.

"I don't want to think about what Harry got up to with my sister, okay?"

"I'm not talking about what he got up to with your sister," she said pointedly. "I'm talking about what he wants to possibly get up to with other boys." She knew that would get him to make a face, and she tried in vain to hold in her grin. "He told Ginny that, but she was uncomfortable with the whole thing."

"I should think so!"

"Yes, well, me too. I can see why she didn't particularly like the idea of him going out, experimenting with god knows who, and then crawling back into bed with her when he's figured it out."

"Hermione, stop."

"It's just sad." She sighed. "It's a difficult situation no matter how you spin it. And seeing them apart like this, and both of them miserable, just makes me sad."

"I know." Ron ran a large hand up and down her arm, causing delicious shivers to tickle her spine. "I feel bad for both of them, really."

"So do I. But I can see why she broke it off with him. If he's going to experiment, he's got to do it on his own. On his own time. It's not fair that he should waste hers."

"I'm glad you're so supportive of Ginny," he said softly, squeezing her arm.

"Of course I am, silly."

Ron smiled at her.

"Ginny will be fine." Hermione bit her lip. She had to approach this delicately. "It's just Harry I'm worried about."

"You're always worried about Harry."

"Listen." She moved, scooting up his body so she could better look him in the eyes. Their legs intertwined. Ron's legs were long and thick with muscle. She wanted to rub her cunt over his left thigh. "Listen," she repeated. "I have an idea that could possibly help Harry along."

Ron's forehead creased. "How are you going to help him along? You going to round up men for him to blow?" She tisked. "Hermione, I think you'd better stay out of it and let Harry manage his own shit."

"Ron." She pressed her lips together. "I can't."

Ron snorted. "Of course you can't. Here we go…"

She had to be extremely careful with her wording. She'd been thinking about how to approach this all day and she still couldn't come up with the right wording. Probably because there was no good way to bring up something like this. Especially considering the way Ron felt about her and Harry. He was over it, of course, but he could easily become upset again if he thought she fancied Harry even a little. No, she had to make sure he understood that this was nothing to do with romantic feelings at all. It was more to do with the fact that her cunt practically spasmed at the thought of it.

Two men at her disposal. Her two boys, her Ron and her Harry. Both of their naked bodies between her sheets and their hard cocks between their legs. God, she could hardly picture it for three seconds before her eyelids fell shut and her breath started to come ragged.

It wasn't romantic at all. It was anything but romantic.

Yes, she had to phrase this carefully.

"The thing is," she started slowly, "Harry doesn't know if he likes girls or if he likes blokes."

"I understand what his problem is."

"So you see why he needs to… experiment more."

"Yeah, and frankly, I think he should get on with it instead of sitting around the flat moping. He spent all of last Saturday on the sofa reading one of mum's dirty novels. Did you know that?"

Hermione nodded. "He's been keeping to himself a bit."

"I'll say."

"Which is why we need to help him."

"You mean like, take him to a gay bar?"

"Well… possibly." They could do that later if he really wanted to. "But no." She shook her head, getting back to the point. "I don't think Harry likes the idea of hooking up with strangers."

"Well he'd better start liking the idea or he'll have lots of nights on the sofa ahead of him. I don't know anyone who's gay, do you?"

"Of course we know other gay people." Hermione pursed her lips. "Honestly. Just because you haven't noticed…"

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Who do we know who's gay?"

"There's Seamus, and possibly Terry Boot, remember him?"

"Seamus is gay?"

"Yes. But that's besides the point! Forget Seamus. Listen, we can help Harry much more easily another way."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Well he needs to experiment with people he trusts, you see? People who care about him enough to take it slow and let him feel his way around. People who are very good friends of his." She raised her eyebrows.

Ron stared at her. "Hermione. I'm starting to think you're talking about…"

"... us."

She held her breath. This time the dark didn't even begin to cover the blush that spread across Ron's cheeks and over the tips of his ears.

She moved her leg, seeking out his cock. Her thigh brushed it, and that's when she knew her plan was going to work. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest because Ron. Well. Ron was getting hard.

"You like this idea," she said softly, trying to let a smile casually stretch her lips. But she felt like she was leering. She probably was.

She was also surprised, and thrilled, about how readily Ron latched onto the plan. After he freaked out only a tiny bit, of course, but she let him have that small show of outrage.

It was a simple plan.

They came up with it together, both giddy and crazily turned on while they lay there in bed that night. They didn't even fuck after because suddenly it wasn't as appealing, just the two of them. They needed Harry.

Harry.

Hermione could hardly control her heartbeat when she thought about finally taking him. Not having him, but taking him. Harry with his gorgeous eyes and lips, his stubbled jaw, his messy hair, his strong hands and forearms. He was gaining muscle, like Ron was, because Auror training was kicking both their arses into the best shape of their lives. And Hermione couldn't bloody stand it. She wanted to see his naked arse and all those private parts of his body hidden beneath his clothes. She decided she wasn't going to let Ron have his arse, because she wanted it. She imagined how that gorgeous arse would look as she fucked him.

Well, maybe she'd let Ron have it a little bit. Just for a little bit. They could take turns.


Harry was lying on the sofa after Hermione got back from work the next day, a book in hand. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the text. He probably hadn't even noticed her come in.

"Hey, Harry," she called as she hung her coat on the hook.

"Oh, hi," he said, finally looking up. He laid the book on his lap, hiding the cover. She knew it was a gay romance, she didn't have to see it. "How was work?"

"It was fine, nothing new." She walked over to him and pushed his legs aside, sitting next to him on the sofa.

He sat up to give her room. "You're the only person who'd voluntarily go in on a Saturday."

She smiled. "You know me." She casually rested her hand on his knee. He didn't move it. "Where's Ron?" she asked.

"No idea. He went out a little while ago." Harry frowned. "He was being really weird, though. Did you guys have a fight or something?"

"No, not within the last week."

Harry snorted.

"Weird how?"

"I don't know." Harry bit his lip. "He was just staring at me during breakfast, like just looking at me with this odd look. And then later, I caught him staring again. Almost like he wanted to say something, but when I asked him to spit it out he got all pissed off and said he had to go out."

She made slow, soothing circles with her fingers over Harry's knee. "Just relax, Harry." She dared to move her hand just a little bit further. To lightly rest it on his thigh.

"It's probably nothing," he said.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Or maybe…" She stopped moving her hand.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Maybe what?"

"Maybe he's just checking you out." She grinned at his confusion. "Sort of like, seeing you for the first time."

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"See, we have this idea." She shifted, moving closer to him, and Harry pressed himself back against the arm of the sofa. Hermione placed both hands on Harry's waist. She bit back a sigh, brushing his stomach with her thumbs.

Harry stayed very still, his eyes searching her. With his rosy lips parted like that, she wanted so much to just lean in and kiss him.

But Ron wasn't here. Where the fuck had he gone? He knew what time she was going to come home from work, they had a bloody plan.

And as if he'd somehow heard her, the doorknob turned and the front door swung open, and there was Ron walking in, finally.

"Oh," he said, stopping dead upon seeing them.

Harry looked down at himself and seemed to suddenly realize how close Hermione was and where her hands were, and he nearly jumped off the sofa.

"Ron, I…" he stammered, his cheeks flushed. His panic was so pretty. "Hi, you're home."

Hermione wanted to chuckle as he frantically stumbled over his words. She fucking loved him. She fucking loved them both.

"Ron, come here!" She waved him over. "I was just about to tell Harry about our idea."

Ron nudged Harry until he moved out of the way and ended up between the two of them, with Ron and Hermione on either end of the sofa.

Harry leaned back, turning his head from one to the other. "What are you two on about? You're both being really weird."

Ron reached over and wrapped a hand around Harry's waist, and Harry practically squealed. But he couldn't go anywhere, because Hermione pressed up close to him from the other side, placing a hand this time right in the middle of his thigh.

Harry looked at how close Ron was and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He suddenly became very still, he could have been Petrified. He started at Ron's legs, which he'd spread confidently, and then looked up at Ron's face.

"Hermione's worried about you," Ron said, as if that explained everything.

"She's always worried about me."

"I'm sort of worried about you, too." Their faces were so close, they could have kissed right then and there. Hermione's breath hitched.

"We're both worried about you," she repeated.

Harry abruptly turned his head to face her. "There's nothing to worry about."

"We know you've been having some really confused feelings," she said, ignoring him. "We're your friends, Harry. We just want to help you."

Harry's chest rose and fell, and he muttered, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Why don't you turn and face Ron?" she suggested softly. The only sound in the room was Harry's ragged breathing. "Go on, Harry, dear," she said.

Narrowing his eyes for a moment, he slowly began turning his head, looking away from her only when he absolutely had to.

"That's a boy," she said, her voice quiet and low.

Ron was looking Harry in the eye, and Hermione could tell he was nervous. His lips parted and he breathed steadily.

"Do you like Ron's hand holding you?" Hermione asked. She swallowed. She held her breath. This was the moment. If Harry said no, it was all over, they would back off and apologize and it would be awkward for a few days but they'd forget about it eventually. But if Harry said…

"Yes." He continued to look into Ron's eyes as he said it. Ron's pupils dilated darkly. And of course, Harry was so serious, so determinedly Harry, she thought with a fondness that made her lust for him all the more sweet. Even though his cheeks were pink and his breath was obviously coming harsher, he didn't flinch or even look away.

"Ron," she said. "Rub your hand over Harry's waist."

Ron moved his hand up and down, caressing Harry's side. Harry inhaled sharply through his nose.

"Close your eyes," she said, and they both did. "Now…" She bit her lip. "Lean into each other."

Harry stayed stock still as Ron closed the space between them. His chest rose and fell visibly as Ron pressed their lips together.

"Kiss," Hermione said weakly.

And they began kissing properly, and it was, quite frankly, the hottest thing Hermione had ever seen. The way their lips slid together, sucking lightly, exploring this new sensation. When Harry parted his lips and let his tongue slip into Ron's mouth, Hermione almost whimpered.

"That's good, Harry," she said encouragingly, squeezing his thigh for emphasis. "Keep doing that. Ron, let your tongue touch Harry's, just lightly at first. That's right - just like that. Now, deepen the kiss…"

Oh fuck, their tongues slid together, and they both began to pant into each other's mouths. Harry was emitting little breathy, moaning sounds, which made Ron bring his hand up to the back of his neck, steering him as he snogged him properly.

"Oh… blimey…" Hermione's was good and wet now. Who the fuck wouldn't be after seeing this? "Harry, look at me."

With what seemed like reluctance, Ron let go of Harry's head, dropping his hand flat against Harry's chest instead. Harry took that as his queue to obey, and when he turned to her fully, Hermione could see how flushed he was. His lips were red and wet.

Hermione reached out this time, cupping Harry's cheek. His eyes flashed with something for only a moment, something like hesitation, but then his eyelashes fluttered as he shut his eyes and left his lips slack. She kissed him immediately. She pressed their lips together. She was harsher than Ron, she demanding Harry let her in. She dug her thumb into his cheek, her nails into his hair, until he hissed and she could claim his mouth - her Harry's sweet mouth.

"Hermione." It was Ron.

She stopped kissing Harry and looked up to see Ron staring at her, his forehead creased. She smirked at him, because he needed to see that, and his frown lines lessened.

"Who did you enjoy kissing more, Harry?" she asked him.

Harry blinked at her, the poor boy, then turned to look at Ron. He was utterly confused, his eyes wide and searching. "Uhm." He licked his bottom lip, as though considering the taste of them both. "You know, this really is insane."

"Harry?" Ron pressed. His hand was still resting on Harry's chest, and he moved it down his stomach, trailing it lower, until he was touching Harry's cock through his jeans. Harry made a high pitched noise in the back of his throat. "Maybe… maybe you need to try one more time," Ron said, leaning in again.

As they continued to kiss, Hermione pressed her lips against Harry's neck. He jumped, but stilled quickly, and he reached out to take her hand, squeezing her fingers as if anchoring himself with her touch. She lightly kissed and sucked at the warm skin below his ear, her hand replacing Ron's on Harry's chest, rubbing his nipple through his t-shirt as she worked his neck with her mouth.

Harry's moans were delicious, so much so that Hermione felt pleasurable tremors run through her and straight between her legs. She needed to desperately speed this along.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, her voice raspier than she'd ever heard it.

"Very good," he replied.

"Good. I think we should take off your shirt."

"What?" His eyebrows flew up, but she and Ron had already grasped the hem of his t-shirt and were pulling it up. He complied easily, likely too turned on to think quickly enough to stop them, and lifted his arms to let them tug it over his head.

They both attacked his warm skin.

Two sets of hands roamed Harry's chest and stomach, and Hermione battled with Ron for each square inch of skin. Harry openly panted, his head thrown back against the sofa, limp in their arms and powerless to stop them. Hermione tore at the button of his jeans, released the zipper, reached in and under his pants to grabbed his cock. It was hot and thick in her grip, getting bigger and harder by the moment. She glanced down to see Harry clenching his fists at his sides.

"Ron," she said, "take Harry's cock and stroke it, there you are." Ron's hand covered hers, then she withdrew her own and let him continue her work. His palm was bigger and he could take more of Harry's shaft in his fist. "Yes, like that. Do you like that, Harry?"

"Uh huh," was all Harry could say apparently, and he nodded while watching Ron's hand through dark eyes.

"Why don't you lie back, Ron? Yes, get on the sofa, and Harry, you lie on top of him. Don't let go of his cock, Ron, keep stroking. Harry, I'm going to pull your trousers all the way off."

Harry nodded again as they got into position. Ron lay on his back, his head propped up against the cushion that rested against the arm of the sofa, his legs extended underneath Harry, who lay on top of him.

She stood to give them room. "Take Ron's cock in hand," she instructed. She had no idea when Ron had unfastened his own trousers, she had been too busy to notice, but his trousers were tangled around his knees and his cock was out. Harry gripped it tentatively as Ron kicked off his trousers all the way.

Raising her wand, she whispered Accio to fetch her strap-on and harness, which flew through her open bedroom door. Her boys were too happily preoccupied - she was pleased to see them kissing sweetly and fervently once more - to notice her removing her own trousers and knickers and putting it on. When it was settled comfortably enough, the base putting glorious pressure against her clit with every movement, she climbed back on the sofa behind Harry.

Hermione bit her lip hard, though it didn't keep back the groan that rose up in her when she saw Harry's bare arse. "Harry," she breathed. "Harry, I'm going to fuck you now."

Harry moaned desperately. "Oh, god. Oh god oh god."

She took hold of his arsecheeks, getting a feel for them in her palms. He was so beautiful, her Harry. "Are you okay with that, dear?" she asked.

"Yesss," he hissed.

"Keep stroking each other." She positioned herself, her legs on either side of him, her knees pressing into Ron's legs. They were a tangle of limbs, the three of them. When she was sure she wouldn't fall over or anything so ridiculous, she spread Harry's arse and whimpered at the sight of his gorgeous furrowed hole, ready to be breached.

Slowly, carefully, she pressed the tip of her plastic cock over his hole, then mumbled the lubrication charm. When it looked slick enough, she began to press her way in. "There you go," she was saying, "that's it. Take a bit more, you can take it, you can Harry. That's a boy. You're taking it so well." Her cock slipped further and further into his arse, his opening stretching around the intrusion, and she would never forget the sight of it. One of these days she would rim him so hard, she would eat that arse so well. She was sorely disappointed she hadn't tried that now, but this was good too, very good. Her pussy throbbed and dripped, she could feel her wetness getting all over her thighs.

"Fuck him, Hermione," Ron said.

"Oh, fuck," she sputtered, hardly able to breathe. Ron's voice was so guttural, it killed her. He stared up at her with a fierceness that she didn't recognize.

Harry's dark head was buried in Ron's neck.

"Fuck him," Ron repeated. "Come on, fuck his arse good."

Harry grunted and arched his back, pushing his arse against the plastic shaft inside him. He was such a natural bottom, look at him now. He bloody loved this.

Hermione moved her hips. It was surprisingly easy, though she had never done this before. She had fantasized about it countless times, read pages and pages of erotica about men being fucked, both by real cocks and plastic ones, but she had never before had the chance to do it herself. And she wondered if she could ever have sex any other way again.

Pumping into Harry, the power and the control of it, was so goddamn erotic. It was an addictive feeling. The more she fucked him, in and out, the more she needed to keep fucking him harder and harder and faster because the strap-on was rubbing her clit with every thrust. And Harry was so clearly loving it, making sounds she had never heard a bloke make. Ron humped into Harry's loose fist and continued to pull at Harry's cock as well, in rhythm with Hermione's thrusting.

She looked at Ron, and he looked at her, and they both seemed to smirk at the same time. They were both fucking Harry. She was taking him from the back and Ron was taking him from the front, and they shared this, the two of them. And for a moment - but just for a moment - Hermione let herself imagine that Harry wasn't even there to separate them and that she was fucking Ron's arse. The thought was too much. Her pussy was wrought with pleasurable spasms from somewhere deep inside her body, and she stilled her hips as her orgasm rolled over her, her clit momentarily so sensitive it almost hurt.

She realized she'd been openly moaning.

Ron's mouth fell open, his face tensed up, and Hermione knew he was coming as well.

She reached down to caress Harry's balls. They were drawn up tight against his shaft.

"Oh, Harry," she moaned as she fucked him slowly some more, just a few more rolls of her hips, and heard his own orgasm escape him loudly.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there together, a sweaty mess.


The shower was brilliant. She had never seen Harry so… well, giddy. They kissed wetly, she didn't know whose lips they pressed against hers now, Ron's or Harry's. The water was just this side of hot, the steam pleasantly filling the bathroom, and they left the door open to let it roll out so they wouldn't bloody suffocate in their lusty, showery haze… The wafts of fresh, cold air stung at her skin, and she jumped back into the spray, pushing them out of the way and begging female privileges. She giggled when they told her off.

She nearly cried when they held her close on either side, Ron in front and Harry in back, and suddenly she was the one in the middle.

Her two boys. Her beautiful, toned, brave, amazing boys. They were so gorgeous, so lovely, so sweet and tender when they pleasured her in all the ways she commanded.

And they were both undeniably hers.