Hermione flopped back against the mountain of pillows and frowned up at the canopy.
Bored. She was bored out her mind, a travesty in a house with a library the size of a house. The only problem was, she couldn't go down to the library because she wasn't feeling well.
She was fine but—she winced—Narcissa didn't know that.
With a tug, Hermione freed one of the pillows behind her head and pressed it over her face, muffling a groan. Lying wasn't something she enjoyed and she certainly didn't take great pleasure in lying to her future mother-in-law. Her future mother-in-law who had positively coddled her upon hearing she was unwell, sending her straight up to bed with a cup of tea, but not before checking her for a fever with a hand pressed to her forehead.
Maybe it wasn't entirely a lie? Stretching the truth, certainly, but not a full-blown lie seeing as the thought of sitting through an afternoon of wedding planning did make her head hurt.
She tossed the pillow aside and huffed. Not that that delineation made her feel better. No, it was terribly un-Gryffindor of her, cowardly even to beg off under the guise of not feeling well. But even the bravest people had moments of weakness.
It wasn't that she didn't want to talk about the wedding or think about it or even put plans into motion. It was just... complicated, and she couldn't say anything and pretending everything was peachy in front of Narcissa was exhausting and if she didn't figure something out soon—either what to say or how to muscle through—someone was going to pick up on her strangeness, her reluctance, and get the wrong idea. Someone might misinterpret her behavior as dragging her feet, or worse, assume she had cold feet. Which she did not, not at
all. Her feet were positively toasty. If there was one thing about this whole wedding she was certain of, it was her feelings for Draco and Theo. Everything else...
The consequence of her cowardice was that she was now not only trapped in the story she'd spun, but trapped in her bedroom. She'd read all the books kept here, finished writing to Dean, and had finished balancing the budget for the school. Now she had nothing to do and it was—she glanced at the time—only one in the afternoon.
A loud crack filled the room, and a second later Milly appeared near the foot of the bed. Her big, blue eyes blinked at Hermione balefully. She shook her head, tutting softly. "Mistress Narcissa asked Milly to check on Mistress Hermione and see if she requires more tea. Poor Mistress Hermione looks so unwell."
The thought of her being a house elf's mistress was still rather unfathomable. Not that she had a problem with how Milly was treated—Milly had made it perfectly clear that she served of her own volition and enjoyed the work and her ample wages—but it was the word. Mistress. Like nails on a chalkboard, it grated, made her openly wince. Or, it had until she'd politely asked Milly to just call her by her name, or if she must, go back to calling her Miss Hermione like she had before the engagement. But Milly's eyes had welled with fat tears and her little lower lip had wobbled, her chin trembling as she tugged on one ear. Does Mistress Hermione not want to be Milly's Mistress?
What a loaded question. Had she said no, Milly might've taken that as meaning Hermione didn't want to marry Draco, or that she had some problem with her, with Milly. She'd assured Milly that wasn't it at all, that she'd be thrilled to be her Mistress. Milly's tears had gone as quickly as they had come, and the whole experience had served as a lesson in who was really in charge, the moniker of Mistress or no.
"Thanks, Milly, but I'm fine. Just, you know." She gestured to her head. It had been swimming.
Milly worried her hands. "Mistress Hermione requires nothing of Milly, then?"
Hermione opened her mouth, only to pause. "Actually, do you think you could do me a huge favor and bring me something to read?"
A book, a newspaper—okay, not a newspaper; she wasn't keen on reading the Prophet's write-up of last night's gala—Merlin, she'd read a bloody instruction manual at this point.
Milly frowned. "Something to read? But isn't Mistress's head hurting?"
Oh, Gods. She was awful at this, lying. Absolutely pants at it and it made her stomach ache, guilt twisting her insides.
"Uh, it's not that kind of headache?"
Milly cocked her head, gazing up at her suspiciously. "Well, all right. Oh!" She snapped her fingers. "I know just the thing."
She was gone in a crack, returning a moment later, arms full of—"Wedding magazines!" Milly crowed. "Mistress Hermione can flip through these while she rests."
Perfect. Just perfect. "Thanks, Milly. I'll do that."
Milly set the stack of magazines that was nearly as tall as she was on the nightstand and
snapped her fingers, leaving her to it.
Wedding magazines. Well, she had considered instruction manuals passable, so...
Leaning across the bed, Hermione grabbed the first magazine off the top of the stack and took a deep breath. It was just a magazine. It wasn't going to bite her once she opened it. She flipped the cover and was met with a flurry of white and off-white, pale shimmering pink, and champagne.
Dresses, it looked as if this particular magazine was dedicated to helping witches find the perfect gown for their wedding day.
Her shoulders dropped from where she'd unintentionally had them lifted, and the knot inside her chest loosened, her breath coming easier as she settled against the pillows.
Perhaps planning this wedding wasn't all bad. Really—she snorted at a picture of a witch who looked more like a cupcake than a woman—some of it might be fun, even. She could use a bit of frivolity, the past two months having been spent up to her eyelids in primary school planning.
She didn't have anything against this, dresses and tuxes and—she bit the inside of her cheek —serviettes. Just, the whole thing was rather bittersweet. She'd be getting exactly what she wanted, marrying Draco and Theo, just not everything she wanted. But who did, really?
Rather than focus on the negatives, she simply needed to change her thinking. If she couldn't have everything, namely her parents in attendance—she might as well focus on everything she would have, everything there was to celebrate and rejoice in. It was certainly more than she'd ever planned on, more than most other people ever got.
Setting that magazine aside, she moved on to the next. Menswear. If anyone looked dashing in formal wear it was Draco and Theo, as evidenced by how they'd looked last night at the gala. Letting her lids fall shut, she tried to picture what they might look like standing at the end of the aisle, waiting. Dapper tuxes, all black, perhaps? Crisp lines and gleaming cufflinks. Her lips curled. Fitted trousers. She pinched her lips together, eyes flying open when the knob turned, the subjects of her fantasy entering the room—
Oh, sweet Merlin.
It wasn't formal wear, but...
Sweat darkened their shirts and caused the fabric to cling to their chests like shrink-wrap over their muscles. Their hair was wind-rumpled and damp, curling around their ears, and Draco's pale strands were several shades darker than normal. His skin was flushed rosy, his eyes
bright and Theo—gods. Theo lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, the move flashing his stomach, the trail of dark hair beneath his naval on display.
She lifted a hand to her mouth, checking for drool.
They hadn't noticed her, not yet. Draco watched Theo, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. His fingers twitched at his side just before he lifted his hand, smacking Theo's arse.
Theo dropped his shirt and jumped. "Fuck." He growled. "Careful, love."
Draco hummed, stepping closer, fingers of his right hand slipping under the hem of Theo's
shirt where he traced the waistband of his grey joggers. "Or what?"
Theo grinned and wrapped his hand around the back of Draco's neck. "Or I'll do a hell of a lot more than swat you." He stepped closer, crowding Draco.
"Have other plans for my arse, do you?" Draco leaned in, nose nudging Theo's, lips ghosting across his mouth.
Holy—
Theo chuckled, tongue darting out to flick Draco's bottom lip. One hand dropped to Draco's arse, fingers squeezing. "If I do?"
Draco slipped a hand between their bodies and though she couldn't see what he did, from the sharp hiss Theo gave, she had a decent idea. "I'm not going to beg for it."
Chuckling darkly, Theo shoved Draco's hand away and thrust his pelvis up against Draco's, making him groan. "You always say that."
Her face burned. She really needed to say something, but didn't particularly want to interrupt. Not when watching was this much fun, even if it made her a voyeur.
Though, their knowing didn't necessarily preclude her from watching...
She cleared her throat.
They froze, heads turning.
"I didn't say you needed to stop," she teased, the effect a bit diminished by the breathlessness of her voice. "Just thought I'd make my presence known."
Theo smirked. "Didn't see you there, love."
"Didn't think you had. You looked a tad preoccupied."
Draco stepped back, chuckling when Theo pouted. "Feeling any better?" Her? Feeling—oh. "Did your mother say something?"
"Just that you weren't feeling well," he crossed over to the bed, frowning down at her. "Caught us on the way up the stairs."
From this angle, she had the perfect view of his tented joggers, cock straining against the fabric. She pressed her thighs together. "I'm fine."
Draco crossed his arms, light from the window glinting off the fine hairs on his forearms. "I don't know. Your face is flushed."
Theo took a seat on the edge, one hand encircling her ankle where he stroked her bare skin. "You are looking a bit peaked."
Her mouth was dry, tongue heavy, but not too heavy to keep from sating her curiosity and teasing them in one fell swoop. "What were two going to do? If I were sleeping? Shag on the other side of the bed?"
Theo scoffed. "Come on. That would've been rude." He grinned. "We'd have shagged in the bathroom."
The mental image of Theo fucking Draco against the vanity made her whimper.
Draco chuckled and lifted a hand to her forehead. "You sure you're feeling well? You're looking a little feverish."
Dragging his hand from her forehead, she brought his fingers to her lips and pressed a kiss to the middle digit, tongue darting out to taste. He shivered.
Beside her, Theo hummed. "I think someone wants to play, Draco."
Rather than respond, she pressed against Draco's stomach, urging him to take a step back. When he did, she slipped off the bed and sank to her knees in front of him.
She hadn't even touched him, but her intention was clear, the message received, reflected in the stormy grey of Draco's eyes as he stared down at her, his perfect teeth biting into his lower lip. Behind her, Theo made a soft noise of interest as he shifted, settling in for the show.
Wetting her lips, she reached for the waistband of his sweats and did her level best to ignore the incessant throb between her thighs. It wouldn't do to get distracted before she'd even begun.
She curled her fingers around the fabric and tugged, pausing when Draco set a hand on her wrist, halting her. His cheeks were pink, his ears a vicious shade of red, and he licked his lips, oddly shy.
"I spent the last three hours playing Quidditch," he explained. "I need a shower."
As if she cared. She yanked hard on his waistband, spit pooling under her tongue when his cock sprang out, bouncing slightly in front of her face. Draco's nostrils flared, his jaw clenching.
"That's just your way of trying to get me in your bathtub." She wrapped her fingers around his cock, fingers stroking down his shaft and swiping over his slit, capturing precome on her fingertips. "It's practically your M.O. by this point."
Theo chuckled, but otherwise stayed silent, though she could feel his eyes on her, watching. Draco snorted. "Not to be crass, but I've been sweating, Granger."
She rolled her eyes. As if none of them ever broke a sweat, or even sweat profusely, when having sex. There had been times when they'd been at it all night, shagging until the sheets were soaked and their skin was tacky with dried sweat—among other things—and the room reeked of sex so strongly she could taste it.
She held his stare and flicked her tongue against the underside of his cock, the sensitive ridge just beneath the glans. No different, just salt and musk, a little sharp, but under it all she could smell his skin and muted sweetness of his soap. The back of her mouth flooded with saliva and she closed her lips around the head of his cock, her cheeks hollowing as she lowered, swallowing as much of him as she could before dragging her lips back up and repeating the move over again.
Draco's jaw twitched, lids hanging heavy like he was torn between shutting them and watching.
A hand tugged at her tank top until the neckline slipped low enough to reveal an indecent portion of her bra. Theo yanked at one of the cups until her breast was free, his fingers circling her nipple until it pebbled, then pinching it. Hard. She moaned, the sensation traveling to her core.
"Fuck." Draco hissed through his teeth and lifted one hand to her face, thumb brushing the hollow of her cheek reverently.
"This is getting you hot, isn't it?" Theo whispered in her ear. "Sucking Draco's cock?" When she hummed, Draco's eyes rolled back, his breath coming quicker.
Behind her, Theo shifted. The hand teasing her breast disappeared, returning a second later, wrapped around her throat. Her pulse tripped, speeding.
"That's it." His other hand was in her hair, his grip firm but gentle as he urged her to swallow more of Draco's cock. His other thumb stroked the front of her throat. "Relax."
She took Draco deeper until the blunt head of his cock bumped up against the back of her throat. Her gag reflex tremored, but she breathed through it, past the urge to convulse and lowered more until his cock was in her throat and her nose was pressed against his groin, the musk of him stronger, but nowhere near unappealing.
Draco gasped, hips twitching, sending him a little deeper. "Sorry."
Pulling off, and panting just a bit, she shook her head, hand stroking his shaft with firm pulls. "It's fine." She licked her bottom lip. "You can...if you want."
His eyes bounced between her exposed chest and her face, gaze darting briefly over to Theo before he released a trembling breath. "You're sure? I don't want to hurt—"
"Go on," Theo urged. "She wants you to fuck her face, Draco. Don't you, love?"
The hand not stroking Draco's cock dropped to her thigh, fingers meeting denim. Stupid trousers. "Yes."
When he continued to look a touch reluctant, she met his eyes and smiled. "Please?"
Draco swore, and nodded, jaw clenched as he brought himself to her lips and slowly fed her his cock, inch by inch.
He never did this. Really thinking about it, she could count on one hand the number of times Draco even let her get down on her knees, let alone stay there for longer than a minute or two before shifting her somewhere softer.
Sweet as the thought was, she liked this, liked being able to look up at him from her knees while she brought him to his, metaphorically. And it was no secret she liked it when he lost himself in it, his reactions instinctual, reflexive, just a little wild. Rarely did he ever let himself get as rough with her as Theo, but when he stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and let himself go—Gods. He never stopped being sweet, the look in his eyes, even when lost in the pleasure of the moment, always a touch awed, amazed, a look that would never get old.
The fact that he was doing this, hips thrusting as he shallowly fucked her mouth, had a flood of wetness slipping from her, drenching her knickers. For the second time, she cursed the fact that she'd chosen to wear trousers and not a dress or a skirt, something she could've slipped her fingers under.
"Fuck, that's hot," Theo muttered.
Draco's brow furrowed, lips rolling together before his jaw slid forward. His hips sped, just a touch, the head of his cock nudging the back of her throat on each thrust. She let her eyes fall shut, loosing herself in the feeling of his cock, heavy on her tongue, the musk of him growing as he began to leak precome.
A muffled groan made her open her eyes a minute later. She clenched her thighs together and, had her mouth not been solidly occupied, she'd have groaned at the sight of Theo and Draco kissing above her, Draco's teeth tugging at Theo's bottom lip as he struggled to control himself, the sway of his hips losing rhythm.
"Close?" Theo asked, one hand still wrapped around her throat, the other gripping the back of Draco's neck.
Draco swallowed, the smooth, alabaster skin of his neck jerking. "Yes," he gritted out. Theo applied gentle pressure to her throat. "Stop."
What?
Apparently, Draco had the same, equally appalled reaction because he growled beneath his breath, chest rising and falling. His hips faltered, slowing to a stop. "Theo."
Theo chuckled and reached down, snaring her around the waist and helping her stand. As much as she'd enjoyed being down there, her legs were a touch weak from kneeling. Luckily, Theo held her tight against him, supporting her weight. His lips latched on to the side of her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. The hand not supporting her reached down, fingers wrapping around Draco's cock and squeezing. "If I don't fuck one of you, I'm going to go spare."
Draco scoffed even as his hips jerked into Theo's fist. "And you couldn't wait thirty seconds?"
Theo grinned.
"I thought I was deciding what we did," she said, and if it came out a touch waspish, oh well.
Theo had the gall to bop the tip of her nose. "It's adorable when you try to top from the bottom."
Draco covered his laugh with a cough.
"I see how it is," she said, taking a step to the side, away from both of them. "Well, then maybe I should just—"
Theo grabbed her around the waist and hefted her over his shoulder, tossing her on to the bed. When she glared, he laughed. "It's easy riling you up, sorry. What did you have in mind?"
She didn't answer, not immediately. Making quick work of her tank and bra, she moved on to her jeans, wiggling her way out of the restrictive denim before slipping her ruined knickers down her legs. She tossed them at Theo's head. Reflexives sharp, he caught them, eyes heating as he lifted them to his face and saw how wet they were.
Heart beating almost painfully inside her chest, she settled back against the pillows on the far side of the bed. "Pretend I'm not here."
Draco frowned, and Theo cut his eyes, asking, "Pretend you're not here?"
She nodded and slid one hand down her stomach, the move suggestive enough to get her point across if the way Draco's silver eyes darkened was proof. "If I weren't here. What would you do?"
Theo turned, looking at Draco. Something silent passed between them before Theo reached behind his neck and lifted his shirt over his head. He let it fall it to the floor, forgotten, and reached for Draco, hands tugging at Draco's shirt as Draco kicked his trousers off the rest of the way.
It didn't take them long to pick up where they'd left off when they'd first entered the room. Lips brushing Draco's jaw, Theo muttered, "Tell me you want it."
A smirk flirted at the edge of Draco's mouth as he shook his head. "Make me."
Her breath caught in her throat when Theo wrapped a hand around Draco's cock. Draco dropped his head back, throat exposed and eyes fluttering shut as he swore quietly, Theo's hand working him slowly.
Despite having the intellectual fortitude to lock herself in a library and revise for hours, Hermione lacked patience when it came to this. Theo could draw it out, impose patience upon her, but she couldn't tease herself, not the way they could. Her fingers went straight to her clit, circling, her teeth sunk into her lower lip while she watched.
"You realize"—Theo's teeth closed around the lobe of Draco's ear, tugging hard—"you're not coming until you ask me for it."
Draco clenched his jaw, white teeth flashing. "Fuck you," he groaned, the words lacking malice.
Theo laughed, and slipped his other between their bodies, tugging at Draco's sac. "All right. Now, this time, say please."
"Tosser." Draco's hips twitched, his pale chest flushing pink.
Still laughing beneath his breath, Theo dropped his hands, making Draco groan at the loss, and tugged at his joggers, stepping out of them, leaving him in a pair of tented blue boxer shorts. Before Theo could resume his teasing, Draco grabbed his around the arse, fingers slipping under the waistband of his pants and digging into his skin. With a hiss, Theo stepped closer and buried his face in Draco's neck, hips rocking.
Her fingers sped, one hand moving up to roll a nipple between her fingers. A light sheen of sweat broke out between her breasts as her breath quickened.
"Fuck, Draco," Theo panted, rutting against Draco's hip. His teeth closed around the tendon in Draco's neck, the one she liked to lick, and sucked hard, tugging at Draco's skin, drawing a low moan from deep in his chest.
Toes curling into the bedsheets, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, back bowing as she shuddered through her release.
When she finally opened her eyes, Draco and Theo were both staring, chests heaving as they breathed hard.
Theo whispered something in Draco's ear that made him shut his eyes, chin dipping in an abrupt nod of agreement.
Cock flushed so red it looked painful, Draco stepped away from Theo and climbed onto the bed, prowling his way toward her. She held her breath when he grabbed her by the hips and tugged her onto his lap. Limbs still a bit shaky, Hermione gripped his shoulders for balance as she held herself aloft over him.
"I'm not supposed to be here, remember?" Her voice shook almost as bad as her knees.
One of Theo's hands gripped her waist from behind, holding her steady. "But you are here." "You could pretend."
Theo pressed a kiss to the ball of her shoulder and reached between her legs with his other hand, fingers closing around Draco's cock, dragging it through her folds. "We could..."
Draco's grip on her hips tightened when Theo urged her to sink down and—"Oh."
Sliding a hand from her hip to the back of her neck, Draco dragged her down for a kiss, his lips closing around her bottom one, sucking gently. His hips rocked up, driving himself deeper. She gasped against his mouth and then jolted when Theo's hand slid from her waist downward, over the curve of her arse and lower, to where she and Draco were joined, her cunt stretched around his cock. Pressing alongside Draco's cock, Theo slipped a finger inside her, chuckling darkly when she and Draco both groaned, her at the stretch and him, presumably, at the friction.
Draco released a shuddered breath against her neck. "Theo."
Shifting, Theo lightly circled her pucker, making her bite her lip to keep from whimpering.
"Draco and I had something else in mind. Want to?"
Draco dropped his head, lips closing around her nipple and sucking, his teeth grazing her gently. She nodded. "Mhmm."
One hand stroking his cock, Theo reached across the bed to the nightstand and grabbed the lube from the drawer, quickly slicking his fingers.
She panted, holding still as Theo pressed a finger inside her, then another, prepping her. "Yes."
They didn't do this often. It was a bit of a balancing act, took coordination they didn't always have the time or space for, and it proved, without fail, intense and overwhelming. She didn't always have it in her to come like that, her will to move afterward vanishing for a solid hour.
One of these days, Hermione was going to get watch them the way she wanted, but this? A worthy alternative.
Theo slipped his fingers from her arse and slicked his cock, the sound of his hand moving against his flesh noisy, making blood rise to the surface of her cheeks. Draco lifted his head and hooked his chin over her shoulder, watching Theo. He groaned softly. "I'm not going to last long, fuck."
"Would think not," Theo said. She took a deep breath when he pressed against her hole.
Gods. Theo pressed deeper, cock stretching her, the burn subtle, a delicate warmth paired with pressure so good she couldn't see straight. He slid inside, deeper until his groin was flush with her rear. She held still, the muscles in her stomach occasionally trembling, her arms shaking lightly around Draco's shoulders.
Draco tipped his head back. His lids were heavy, his jaw tight, making his features sharp, the afternoon sun streaming through the window beside the bed making shadows of his angles. "All right?"
She nodded. If she opened her mouth, Merlin only knew what embarrassing sound would slip out.
Nose nudging the nape of her neck, Theo sighed, breath warm against her top vertebrae. "Hermione?"
Right, it was better if she did the moving, mostly, they'd found, at least when they were like this. Bracing her hands on Draco's shoulders, she tensed her thighs and lifted, whimpering at the drag of them inside her.
Theo's hands tightened on her hips, holding her steady as she established a rhythm, rising just until she couldn't without someone sliding out, then sinking back down. Her nails bit into Draco's skin, and he groaned around her breast, teeth toying with her nipple.
"Fuck." She dropped her head against Theo's shoulder and arched her back, pleasure building between her legs, everything going hot and tight, swollen from arousal.
Draco's hips snapped up, messing with her rhythm, but it was good, so good, because she was having trouble keeping up the pace, and the angle was brilliant, nudged against her just so, her eyes crossing. Pressure built just beneath her belly button, threatening to bubble over.
Theo gripped her harder and growled under his breath. "Come on, Hermione."
One hand reached around her body, Theo's fingers searching between her folds for her clit, rubbing the slick, swollen bundle until she was writhing, trapped between them, all three of them damp and hot, skin sliding against skin. Her hands twitched against Draco's back, involuntary spasms. She couldn't speak, couldn't—Gods, she was—
Draco grabbed her by the neck, mouth covering hers.
She shattered, his mouth failing to fully muffle her scream, the pleasure sharp, intense, so intense her stomach burned, so much more intense when she was this full, the stimulation coming at her from what felt like everywhere, inside, outside, pleasure reverberating and stacking and echoing.
"Fuck." Theo's hips jerked, his cock shoved deep inside her, twitching. He bit down against her neck, the fingers of the hand on her hip squeezing hard.
Mouth still pressed to hers, panting against her lips, Draco froze, their eyes locked, so intimate it made her chest ache. His pupils dilated as he came, a low groan spilling from between his lips.
Arms unlocking from around Draco's neck, Hermione lifted her head and— Feathers. Hundreds of feathers floated around them, hovering at head-height.
When she gasped, the feathers fell, fluttering to the bed and the floor beside it. Theo snorted. "Whoops?"