Chapter Text
IT TOOK SOME CONVINCING, but I couldn't argue with Drake's genius, if a bit sadistic, logic. Twice as much rolled herb was required to prevent us from attacking either Gryffindor, tearing apart those asinine rules, or that ginger cunt's limbs from his body. Blaise's appearance seemed to help, as a distraction and a bit of a voice of reason.
The three of us descend into the common room when we hear enough music and chatter to be deemed fashionably late. Of course, Finnegan is already even more obnoxious from drink, and Longbottom is busy pre-rolling weed on a coffee table by the copious amounts of alcohol on offer. Potter and his Weasley are cozy in an armchair nearby, but no sign of the mouthy fucking brother. I scan the attendees and also don't see my witch.
“She and Pansy are probably still plotting,” Blaise supplies and I look to see he isn't even talking to me.
Draco relaxes a bit, smirking blandly as if he wasn't about to blast into every room to see if the Gryffindors were secluded together. Again. Every hair follicle across my body stung, and my scalp buzzed unpleasantly at the mental picture of her in his arms. I trust my witch, I can feel her to my core and know her loyalty and devotion lies with us, yet I can't help my reaction. Rationally, I can put a lot of my very Malfoy-like behavior on the unsealed triad magic, and my lack of sharing skill development in my formidable years.
Irrationally, I haven't loved anyone the way I love Hermione, and I wouldn't bloody apologize for the extreme emotional responses this fresh feeling incurrs.
I just needed to have her warmth beneath me. On top of me. Pressed into my side and tangled around me. I needed to be fucking inside her again. The primal urge to reclaim my witch echoes with every pulse of my heart, and if I'm struggling, I know Draco's head is about done in. Which was the main tipping point for me, if some classic Slytherin tit-for-tat would keep the madness at bay, then so be it. And Merlin help us.
I take a long pull from my bottle of Ogden's, noticing Drake doing the same as he eyes the oddly cheerful smirk on Blaise's face.
“What do you mean, plotting?“ I recall his seemingly offhand explanation, but that expression has my hackles up.
The two witches are bloody terrifying individually, I can't fathom what type of mayhem their combined wrath would produce. With a glance at the redheaded witch on the Golden Boy's lap, I could only be grateful she wasn't included. I gulp more expensive liquid courage to steel myself for my witch's imminent retribution. She was so wound up she'd actually listened when Draco had commanded her to do something.
“She looked ready to blow her top, or blast the place to hell when I left them,” Blaise responds with the same nonchalance and Draco sends me a look that reflects my own. Wary and forboding.
Through the years, I couldn't pinpoint which of the two were the more petty of the males of our group, though it was a near thing. I'm sure the Italian is harboring some hard feelings to do with their earlier spat. We've known each other for so long that it was easy to see now that I'd picked up on it. An outsider would never have noticed, because like all of us, Blaise shows what he wants you to see, and nothing more. His control was nearly legendary.
“You lot partaking?“ Longbottom holds a thick joint. Not needing to be asked twice, I vault the couch across from him and settle into the cushions.
“Where's Hermione?“ Ginevra asks, taking one joint and I the other.
Blaise gracefully lands beside me as Draco lounges on the arm of the sofa on my other side. I barely get the bloody thing lit and the blonde snatches if from my mouth, inhaling deeply. Potter's eyebrows climb his scarred forehead, too observant for his own good, while his bird frowns. The Malfoy heir's facade is cracking, that reaction to the mention of our witch is telling and the Gryffindors have picked up on it. Bloody dunce.
“Her and Pansy will be along shortly,” Blaise says on a cheerful sigh, intriguing the lions further. Fuck.
“This to do with that bollocks on the pitch?“ Potter is absolutely horrible at subtly, it's almost laughable.
“The what?“ The redheaded witch frowns harder and I steal back the herb, taking a large hit of the sweet smoke, myself.
“Nothing, hon,” the Chosen One tries to deflect, but the narrowing of her eyes indicates that this conversation is far from over. In a surprisingly intelligent move the black-haired wizard urges her to smoke, as I pass to Blaise.
“She alright?“ Longbottom's brow is pinched with worry, face set in a serious expression.
“Yeah, mate,” I tell him with sincerity. “We got it sorted.“
“Good. She has a hard time asking for help…” he trails off as his gaze catches on something on the top level, drawing my attention.
I have to double-take at the vision of Hermione strutting- yes strutting- to the staircase. The slip dress is a soft shade of violet, falling to just below the curves of her arse. Sleeves of black stop at the curve of her shoulders, leaving her décolletage on display, with no other material to hide her curves. The wild curls are twisted into an ornate clip, tendrils trailing along her neck and framing her face. Her shapely legs make my heart quicken as she makes her way down the staircase with careful steps, unaccustomed to the heeled ankle boots on her dainty feet.
This has Pansy written all over it, and the point is made even more obvious by the smug look the witch surveys us with as she follows her at a leisurely pace. A two piece, black crop and mini-skirt ensemble shows even more skin on the Slytherin witch, and I see Blaise's trousers twitch out of the corner of my eye. A small growl from behind me means Draco has noticed and approves, while wanting to whisk the Gryffindor away to the privacy of our dorm. The Weasley witch cranes around to see what we're all gawking at, and launches from Potter's lap so aggressively that he grunts, a hand flying to his abused loins.
I sort out my features, giving a mildly interested expression for when she inevitably attempts to glare a hole into my face. But she doesn't. In fact her whiskey eyes skate over us to land on the Italian as though we were part of the landscape. That scares me worse than any spell or temper tantrum, knotting my stomach something wicked.
“Wow,” Longbottom barely articulates in awe, “Mione, you look wonderful.“
I cut Draco a look to stay his presumably violent reaction, and have to grab hold of my own when she beams at his praise. I force myself to lounge into the cushions, spreading my thighs and arms in hopes that if I take up enough space she'll be forced to acknowledge my presence. Without even camouflaging it, I search along the bond to ascertain her true emotions. To no avail, she's blocked us out, as is evident by the frustration etched into my triad-mate's cold sneer. I turn to casually chat with the Italian and find him gone, betraying wizard code by going to the witches.
“Thanks, Nev,” Hermione winks, bloody winks at the lanky Gryffindor, as she takes one of my former mate's arms, and all of my misgivings burn away in the heat of my ire.
Time for the fucking plan. I'm once again left looking foolish when I go to give Draco the nod and am met with empty air. He's rounding the sofa to charge toward the trio strolling to the beverage table. A muffled guffaw pulls me back to this makeshift sitting area and I see the lion across from me suddenly enthralled with his rolling task. To my right, Potter pushes his glasses up his nose, then takes a long pull from his bottle of butterbeer. Brilliant.
With a cursory glance I see Draco isn't having much luck with our cross witch, he's cornering her against the table when his legs go wobbly, and he's sprawling to the floor. The enraged flush to his cheeks does nothing to deter her as she steps over his pathetic form, too quick for him to grab her. A zing of arousal alerts me to the fact that he's just looked up her dress, and I have a whole new reason to feel jealous. Fuck, she was doing our heads in!
Or rather, the bond was. Fuck. I don't know anymore.
I summon the joint from Blaise when he tries to pass it to his traitorous witch, dragging in a load of smoke to take the edge off. My petty satisfaction at Hermione having to share with me is short lived when she plops next to Longbottom. A joint of her very own promptly lit as Ginevra sits on her other side and Potter engages the Gryffindors in conversation. I act unbothered, perfectly content on my cushion island, though I want to shake her back to this afternoon. When she couldn't keep her hands or lips off me, and we created our own reality amidst the students milling about the grounds.
This close I can see the subtle shimmer along her cheeks and eyelids. That luscious mouth, enhanced with a gloss of deeper blush than her natural lip color. Shiny and lickable. I gulp from my firewhiskey to detract from the ache in my chest as my witch laughs at something, dropping her hand to Longbottom's arm. Another drag of the herb, another drink of Ogden's.
Draco's seething in his spot against the wall, having ended her jellylegs jinx. Potter's stupid eyes bounce between us and he takes pity on the blonde, levitating his abandoned bottle of firewhiskey to his pouty perch. He manages a stiff nod in thanks, gaze never straying from the back of Hermione's head. How she can chatter so cheerfully with the intensity he's drilling into her skull is an anomaly. As is most things with the Brightest Witch of Her Age.
The redhead says something close to her ear and her face tilts my direction, properly skipping over my person and landing on someone over my shoulder. She bids some sort of farewell and makes her way to whoever grabbed her attention, taking the route furthest away from me. Teeth grinding, I spot the Seventh Year witch who'd propositioned me to “study” and my head feels like it's floating when I surge to my feet. I keep my eyes on her so I don't stray to my witch. I'm just angry enough to do this, and don't want to lose that steam.
I nearly veer off when she notices my approach and preens. The flirtatious way she flicks her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder makes me inwardly shudder. The group of witches around her giggle and she grins even wider. Bloody hell.
“Nott,” her voice is too whiney, too breathy, “you look well.“
“Yeah,” I ignore the salacious eyeing and drink from my bottle, “thought I'd come over and properly apologize for being rude the other day.“
More preening, but I'm watching Hermione laugh and touch another wizard in my peripherals.
Ernie Macmillan. I'll kill him.
When her eyes find me, surrounded by younger, more than willing witches, I pull the brazen one into a tight hold. The resultant sensation through the triad magic is equivalent to one of the Golden Girl's stinging hexes. She is proper pissed now. A genuine smile pulls at my mouth, which the Seventh Year mistakenly thinks is for her.
“Perhaps we could do some of that studying now,” she suggests coyly, glancing to the second level and I immediately release her, a bit too forcefully.
“Uh. No. Thanks. Just wanted to be polite and say sorry for being a prat,” and I walk back to the bemused Gryffindor wizards.
I find Draco chatting with an enthralled Patil sister, who startles when he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. My bold jolts from the cushion at the harsh zap that of the bond and I know Hermione is ready to spit nails. I try to play it off, but Potter and Longbottom are exchanging unsure glances.
“You're only stirring the potion more,” Pansy murmurs, leaning over the back of the sofa.
“Who's side are you fucking on?“ I blurt, cursing myself for how childish I sound.
“Come off it, Theo,” she laughs, “alls fair and all that.“
“You lot are playing a dangerous game,” Longbottom blows out his cheeks and goes back to smoking.
“They've bitten off more than they can chew with Hermione,” Potter adds with a grave nod and I resist jinxing both of them.
The Patil twin races by and it's clear the blonde has finally seen our wayward witch. I join him at the table under the pretense of perusing my options.
“Worst idea ever,” he spits with venom, driving a hand into his white-blonde hair.
“It was your fucking plan!“ I hiss, following his stare to her.
I just manage to grab his arm before he properly kills the Hufflepuff when Hermione kisses his cheek. He blushes like the bloody virgin he is and she wanders away. To none other than fucking Ron Weasley. When he showed up, I couldn't give two fucks, but his daftness reaches new heights as he puts an arm about her shoulders. My mind is hazy red. My teeth are on the verge of breaking from the pressure of my jaw. I'm so out of my mind that I don't register Draco seizing Pansy and smacking a kiss on her lips, until Blaise is shouting in his face.
That two scores settled, I suppose.
Potter and Longbottom try to defuse the situation, Pansy is also cursing and shouting while Ginevra summons wands. And the Gryffindor Princess looks proper fucking mental with her eyes bugging out and her mouth twisted into a livid snarl. Her body jerks back when the Weasel prevents her from joining the mayhem, whispering urgently into her ear. She's shaking her head vehemently when her eyes meet mine and I let a cocky smirk form in the face of her hostility. If she looked mental before, she's downright lost the plot now.
I manage a hasty shield charm just in time to avoid whatever nasty magic she shot my way. Weasley is grappling for her wand, laughing while trying to prevent her from unleashing a full-blown attack and it pisses me off even more. I'm across the room in not time, hauling the violent witch into my arms and holding her wand arm out in front of us. If I properly confiscated her wand she was liable to accidentally kill me, or all of us. The amount of rage and turmoil that overran the bond was reaching dangerous levels.
“Don't fucking hurt her!“ Weasley says to my back.
“Fuck off, ginger cunt! She's more likely to hurt me!“ I toss over my shoulder and he chortles in agreement. Gods, I hate him, though not as much as I hate myself and Draco at this moment.
“-arsehole, cheating snakes!“ the witch berates as she kicks, elbows, and-
“Fuck!“ I growl when she sinks her teeth into my arm, drawing blood. “Enough!“ I kick Draco's bum, hard, as I skirt around the angry mob of snakes and lions. “Let's go!“
I don't wait to see if he follows, taking the stairs three at a time and basically sprinting to our dorm. Hermione thrashes the entire way, calling us womanizers, liars, and…eunuchs? She's gone proper feral, and I know I've lost it when I become enamored with the warm silk enrobing her curves, the smooth golden skin of her legs, and the fact that I'm at the perfect vantage point to see down her dress. Another bite to my cheek this time, pulls me from my ill timed admiration and I hear Draco slam into the room.
“Let me go!“ She roars and I see real uneasiness in my mate's eyes as he takes in her combative state.
His lip is bloodied, platinum hair disheveled, and boils healing on his face. That doesn't stop him from sneering arrogantly at our witch-turned-murderous-pixie. She lunges for him and I release her, share and share alike, yeah? If he's going to goad the dragon he should have to deal with the consequences. The pair of them are like Finnegan and Potions, one wrong prod or stir and the whole cauldron blows up in our faces. This time I've let Draco talk me into feeding the flames, and I would feel bad. I should.
Instead, I'm full of jealousy and lust. The need to lay my claim to her, to remind us that we belong together, is eating me alive. I'm hers and she's mine. She's ours and we're hers.
“Calm the fuck down,” Draco barks, having trapped her to his front and somehow gotten her wand.
“Don't bloody touch me!“ The witch tries to headbutt him and narrowly misses. “Get your slaggy hands off!“
She kicks out and I can see the tiny lace knickers that had sent arousal pulsing through our connection when he caught sight of them.
“I'm warning you, Granger,” he stupidly threatens with his lips to her neck, sending her into a renewed frenzy.
“Don't touch me with you traitorous fucking lips!“
“That's rich, coming from you!“ He shouts and whirls her to face him. “Kissing cheeks and grabbing onto any wizard close enough! Running for fucking Minister, are you?“
“Oi,” I call, needing to step in before things get really toxic.
“Oh-ho-ho! The double standard is laughable!“ Hermione sarcastically cackles and the vein in his forehead bulges worryingly. “I didn't kiss Ron at all, let alone on the bloody mouth!“ She snaps, pushing against his chest. “Unlike you! SLAG!“
“Oi!“ I try again, cringing at the animosity that pings from them.
“Funny that, I wasn't aware you knew we were in attendance, since you were too fucking childish to so much as look at us,” he retorts hotly, growling when she kicks his shin.
“Childish!?“ She parrots shrilly.
“OI!“ I magically separate, silence, and immobilize them.
They continue to glare daggers at each other from their respective sides of the dorm, and I take my time walking to the door, summoning our forgotten bottles of Ogden's. The two float to my hands and I gently shut and ward the door. Thank Salazar the rest were still downstairs or I'm certain we would've had multiple people trying to barge in. Ignoring them, I drape myself into an armchair and drink.
The blame lay firmly at my feet. I'd let the influence of the bond cloud my judgement, and reverted back to our old ways. I was the unofficial peacekeeper and I'd failed. It's these moments that I'm reminded we're still teenagers, forced to grow up too fast. That Draco and I never had anything we wanted or loved as much as we did Hermione, and we cocked it up. Again.
And our witch is inexperienced with wizards, especially wizards like us. Slytherins that are naturally selfish, arrogant, and proprietary. Our feelings for her put those traits into a softer light, yet no less prominent. We were selfish with her time and affection. Arrogant in our need for her to reciprocate that. Proprietary of her heart, body, and soul. It was out of love, and I knew that didn't make it sound any better. It just was and we didn't know how to change that. I doubt Draco even wanted to. He worshipped her. Adored her, as did I, which scared the shit out of us.
“If I lift the silencing charm, will you pair be civil?“ I ask quietly. Hermione rolls her eyes and Draco's narrow at her attitude. “Alright, I'll talk then,” I sigh. “We've bollocks'd things up grandly tonight,” they glare accusing at each other, “all of us. Myself included.“ I produce my now-crumpled joint and meticulously straighten it, then light it.
Fuck, Longbottom had some good green.
I stand, going first to her and placing the rolled herb between her frozen lips. Her eyes spit fire as she inhales for a long moment, then blowing it at me. I grin and breath deeply from the cloud. She takes one more toke, then I give the same treatment to Draco. Not to be outdone, he inhales even longer and I can't help to laugh at their antics. They would challenge each other for the rest of their days, just as they always had. Hermione is more like both of us than she'll ever admit.
“Feeling a bit calmer?“ Neither give away any signs of agreement or disagreement. “We're getting nowhere with this. So, I have a proposition.“
I have their interest now and I smirk victoriously.
“A punishment for all three of us,” I continue before taking another drag. “It'll require consent and Hermione being released from these restrictive measures,“ he growls in protest and I hold up a hand, “not to worry mate, you'll have a front row seat.“
I plant myself in front of my stiff witch. “Do you agree? Blink twice for yes,” she does. I turn to Draco. “Same goes for you,” he takes longer, but also acquiesces.
I stick the joint between my lips, smiling around it as I end the imbolization charm and she stumbles into me. Her mouth moves irrately and I place my finger over her lips, taking her hand and leading her to the foot of our giant four-poster. I summon Draco and the armchair, placing him in front of us, then sticking his body to the cushions. He can move his head, hands, and the lower half of his legs. I leave him without a voice, in case he tries to perpetuate their bickering.
“Take this off,” I murmur, fingering the black sleeve thing. She points to her mouth and I shake my head, “Later, sweetheart. Now follow directions.“
I can see the resistance in her face, her body language, and immobilize her again. Draco grunts in satisfaction and I flick him a warning glance.
“I'm in charge, now. You pair aren't in a place to do this any other way. This will be resolved before the night is done, so please, take off this fucking thing.“
When she can move again, the witch yanks it from her arms and whips it at my face. I smile, and she has the intelligence to look a bit wary under all that anger. The blonde snorts and I levitate the armchair closer, close enough that he could touch, if I'd let him. Which I won't, it's all part of this three-way punishment. Hermione retreats from him, bumping into the footboard and I can feel the warmth of his legs beside mine.
With agonizing slowness, I bend at the knee and remove her boots and socks, placing a sharp bite to her thigh. She jerks, crossing her arms under her breasts. Even from my shorter stature I can see the tops of her tits begin to spill from the low-cut top. If she weren't in trouble I'd suck on her perfect nipples until she creamed all over me. My nails drag up the tender flesh of her inner thighs, and hook into the gusset of her thong. My knuckle grazes the neatly trimmed strip of hair at her center, gathering the evidence of her arousal and making me shiver. I look up her gorgeous body, noting the pebbling of her nipples beneath the purple silk. I can smell the intimate sweetness. Bloody hell, she's so wet.
“No,” I command when the witch balks, “this isn't about pain, it's punishment,” I tell her and wait for the okay to proceed.
She gives a silent huff and I take that as the go ahead, pulling the black lace down her legs to pool around her feet. Snatching them from the floor, the witch pelts them into Draco's face with a moist thwap sound. I laugh at the mixture of arousal and annoyance in his eyes, so used to being the dominant one. This was part of his just desserts. He was really going to hate what came next.
“Go undo Draco's shirt, sweets,” I order and she throws her hands up, then leans forward, ripping his button-down apart. Buttons fly everywhere and my laughter is cut off when she does the same to mine. “Fair enough,” I nod, removing the ruined clothing. “Take your hair down.“
Again she hesitates, and I simply vanish the accessories keeping her curls trapped. They fall about her, catching my breath while Draco groans quietly. A sizable tent has formed in his trousers, to match the one in mine, and I haven't even gotten properly started. This was going better than planned.
“Hands on the bed, sweetheart,” I draw on my patience, needing her to do this herself for unquestionable permission.
I wanted her to remember the trust she'd recently found in me, in both of us, and this was the first step. Her pupils are blown wide as she studies my expression, having a guess at what I could possibly have up my sleeve. I lift an ambiguous brow, giving away nothing. The choice had to be hers, I wouldn't force this no matter how much I wanted it. She must take it as a challenge, because her jaw sharpens and she makes a show of setting her palms on the duvet. Gods, I'm nearly a relationship guru at this point. Well done me.
With some slight adjusting, I have her hands laid further up with her torso perpendicular to the foot of the bed. A light press to the small of her back gives it a small arch, widening her legs instinctively to lessen any discomfort.
“Such a perfect girl,” my hand lifts of it's own volition, fingers spanning the exposed skin of her shoulder blades.
I trail it down the smooth material, the texture not far off from that of her flesh. Each dip in her vertebrae is caressed as her muscles bunch and tremble under my touch. Her breathing becomes erratic and audible when I reach the base of her spine, encouraging me to continue. So I stop, letting my palm heat her through the silk. I look to Draco, his chest heaving and eyes trained on the bottom curves of her bum, exposed by the short hem and bent positioning.
“Draco wants to see you,” my voice is a soft rumble and her hips twitch at the timbre, “should we let him have a peek?“
Brown curls immediately dance as she vigorously shakes her head. Whoops, forgot about that. I lift the silencing spell from her and since I can't readily track her facial expressions, I watch the seated wizard instead. Sensing my stare he pulls his gaze from the masterpiece before him and beseeches me to release him with quicksilver eyes. I grin wickedly, infuriating the Slytherin Prince further. Giving up on that front, he nods aggressively to the witch's peachy ass in a bid for me to get on with it.
“Use your words,” I say to my witch while maintaining eye contact with our third.
“No,” she answers breathlessly.
“No what?“
“No, he shouldn't get to see me,” the witch grunts, shifting minutely.
“Mmm,” I muse, then flip the swath of purple fabric to rest above her back dimples.
She twisted around, dropping to her elbow for support, indignation crinkling her brow. “Wha-”
“Back in position, Hermione,” comes my harsh bark, startling her into obedience. “Move without permission again, and I'll tie you down.“
Draco nods eagerly and I wink at his enthusiasm. Kinky wanker, and I can see why, this is exhilarating, though I know I'd never do this with anyone but her. It would never be as good with anyone else. I got off on Hermione like no one else.
“Do you understand?“
“Yes,” she gasps when I trace the outline of a plump cheek, starting at the top of her crease and ending just under her dripping cunt.
“You're so fucking turned on right now,” I murmur, repeating the action to the other meaty hemisphere. “I wanted to eat your sweet cunt until you came all over my tongue tonight.“
“Wouldn't that be against your rules?” she sardonically snipes and I smack the inside of her thigh sharply.
A strangled noise bursts from her, changing to a small moan when I stroke the reddening skin.
“What brought you to this moment, witch?“ I slap the other thigh, leaving a matching mark, when she doesn't immediately answer.
“I don't know what you bloody mean,” want lacing the irritation of her tone.
“Why are you being penalized?“
“Because you snakes are too pigheaded to listen-” my palm cracks across an arse cheek this time and she gasps loudly.
Draco jerks against his magical restrictions, black overtaking the silver irises. My own breathing had become heavy and loud, addicted to the way the meaty flesh ripples from my hits.
“What the hell, Nott!?“ She screeches, leaning on her elbow and tossing her hair out of her face. With flushed cheeks, flashing eyes, and swiping her tongue along her bottom lip, the confusion is blatant.
As is the desire that underlines all of these tells.
“Put your fucking hands back where they were,” I say severely, and am gobsmacked when she listens, playing along with the scene.
Having little experience as the dominant I glance to the blonde for guidance. He sneers tauntingly, but relents at my exasperated glare, jutting his chin toward the witch causing some fringe to fall into his eyes. I lean close to her profile and lift the hair obscuring her face. “Alright?“
“Yes,” she whispers, as if she doesn't want Draco to hear.
“If holding yourself up becomes too much, tell me,” I respond just as softly and she nods. “I'm going to cast sticking charms on your hands, yeah?“
“A-alright,” she sounds certain despite the stutter and I do just that.
He smirks his approval, then widens his eyes at her bum for me to continue. I mentally shake myself to resume this new role and stroke my hand over the red cheek. Fuck, she is a vision like this, I know Draco must be going spare as a forced spectator.
“Let's start with something simpler, then,” I purr, hardly recognizing myself, “why is Drake stuck to the chair and not administering your punishment?“
“Because he kissed Pansy,” the witch snarls, earning a brush of my fingertips over her clit, admiring the way her skin now nearly matches her ruched up dress. All soft pink and ripe from my attentions.
Her hips chase my touch as I withdraw and I spank the other cheek in chastisement. “You'll get what I give you.“
She whimpers with wanton need and I remove my trousers to keep from chafing the head of my cock. The witch turns her head to watch, biting her lip at my cock protruding beneath my pants. It twitches at her perusal and I want nothing more than to fuck her into submission. No, this is much more effective, and fun.
“Should we help Draco out, and-”
“No,” she snaps.
I smack each cheek and the muscles tighten while she mewls at my sudden onslaught. “No interrupting,” even though I want to laugh at her vindictive streak.
Sympathetic as I am, I undo his trousers so that his erection can at least breath. She's angry now, but would be sorely cross if something were to happen to one of her cocks. He closes his eyes in thanks and toes off his boots, kicking them away as best he can. I feel her eyes trying to see what I'm doing, always needing to know everything. My beautiful swot.
“If you'd have let me finish I would've taken your opinion into consideration. As it were, I've relieved some of his discomfort,” I explain with intentional vagueness.
A saucy hmph gets her two more cracks and her skin is graduating from pink to red. I smooth my palm over each globe, the heat from the blood rushing to the surface is scalding. She moans, pushing her hips back and I slap both at the same time. The cry she emits permeates the air and sinks into my bones. Maybe I am a dominant and I'd never known.
“Why are you bent over our four-poster getting your arse reddened, Hermione?“ Her arms shake and I tsk at her neglect. With a palm between her shoulders I guide her head and chest to the bed.
Draco growls and I see his eyes crazed, wild with need and pinned to her backside. Curious, I step back and swallow thickly. This new angle exposes her sopping cunt, and everything else to the light. Holy fucking Merlin she's so bloody gorgeous, I nearly come in my pants. The tiny wet patch over his cock, means Draco is close as well. My handprints on her arse and thighs makes me lightheaded with desire.
“Because I didn't take your feelings into consideration,” her voice is watery and small.
Fuck no, she's crying. I start toward her, but Draco kicks my ankle to get my attention. He slowly shakes his head, shifting his eyes to our witch. Despite my instinct to soothe the triad magic tells me the tears are more cathartic, rather than sad or hurt.
“Go on,” I coax warmly, his pale fingers dig into the upholstery of the chair's arms.
“I saw you with that Seventh Year,” she accuses with steel in her voice and I deliver another spanking. She moans, rotating her hips, searching for friction.
“We'll get to me. You were doing so well, then had to ruin it,” I murmur lovingly, aiming my next blow between her thighs.
I feel her cunt spasm beneath my palm and groan appreciatively. Unable to hold back, I bring my hand to my mouth and lick every bit of her juices from my skin. Draco stomps in protestation, nostrils flaring at being left out. I shrug indifferently and he slams his eyes shut as though praying for serenity. The cocktail of our combined sexual frustrations and wants are far more intoxicating than any firewhiskey, fraying my already threadbare restraint.
“If you answer me properly,” I croon, enjoying the tremors that accompany my gentle strokes on her fiery bum, “I'll let you come.“
Draco goes mental, nearly tipping the chair over in his violent disagreement. With an arched brow, I convey that he will be left on the floor should he succeed in upending the furniture. He claws the arms and carpet with his nails, but ceases the theatrics. This is my show and I'll let our witch come if it so pleases me.
“I should've come to yous first,” she reluctantly admits, and I lightly clap my palm to her flank. “I compromised our bond by disregarding it for my own purposes,” she moans prettily, earning a strong tap to her cunt in reward. “Gods, please Nott.“
I slap my hand onto an arse cheek.
“Ah!“ She shouts, “Theo! I meant Theo!“
“Please what, Granger?“ Her hands fist the bedclothes, bristling at my own use of her surname.
“I want to come!“ She shrieks when I smack each cheek again. Fucking hell, they're an enticing Gryffindor red now.
“You want you turn, Draco?“ I offer benignly, to which the witch hisses in objection and the wizard nearly bobbles his head from his neck in affirmation. “Too bad.“
I drop my hand on top of a cheek, relishing the jiggle of her posterior and ensuring he gets a good view. The dark spot at the crown of his cock grows larger as it weeps for his deprivation. Hermione whimpers her approval, whether to my verbal denial or physical stimulation, I don't care. All of her sexy noises travel along my cock and intensify the ache in my bollocks. It's a delicious torture, for all of us.
“Why do you think we were so affected by your actions?“ My voice is raspy with desire, wanting her to hear that this was getting me off as much as her.
“Because…” the last part is too low for me to hear, so I lift the sticking spell and flip her to her back.
A deep flush colors her cheeks and bleeds down to her cleavage. If she were properly starkers I know it would cover the tops of her breasts, circling her lickable nipples. I need her naked and I need her to be able to face us when she makes these confessions. It's an underhanded, Slytherin thing, but I am what I am.
“Slide to the edge, sweets,” I grasp her hands to help her balance her tailbone on the ledge of the footboard. A gasping whine leaves her throat when she puts weight on her sensitized arse. “Place your feet on either arm,” I indicate the carved wood that Draco's fingertips are barely brushing. “Remove your dress,” I say when her feet are where I want them.
Eager to get what she wants, the Gryffindor has the garment off in seconds and tossed behind her.
“Lean back on your hands, sweetheart.“
This posture thrusts her perfect tits out and opens her center for our viewing pleasure. She's so lost to her own arousal that she forgets to glare at Draco, eye-fucking him and then me with lust-glazed whiskey orbs. The former licks his lips and devours her bare tits and pussy with a hooded gaze. The swollen folds are pink and glistening, her juices leaking to her inner thighs and dripping to the carpet below.
A man dying of thirst, I drop to my knees and situate myself beneath her with my mouth open. It's not enough, nowhere near satisfying. Grunting in frustration, I grip the crease where her thighs meet her arse, carefully avoiding her abused cheeks, and lift her to save my neck from strain. My tongue laps at the heated smoothness of her thighs, cleaning her spilled essence. I stop when she grinds down, clenching her flesh to stay her movements. A breathy huff tells me she wants to rail at me, but remains quiet in order to find the release she desperately wants.
“Good girl,” I murmur and I actually see her entrance contract at my praise.
I snap, driving my nose into her taint and my tongue into her greed cunt. A soft cry greets my enthusiasm and spurs me on. My tongue is possessed, harshly licking and probing her entrance, her folds. The sweet tang of my witch is the nectar of my salvation, and I intend to swallow every drop.
“Why do we act this way, Hermione?“ I growl into her greedy sex. I sink my teeth into an outer lip when she only pants in response.
“Because you care about me,” she grits out.
Disappointed, I pull away and meet Draco's intense silvers. His jaw tics with similiar feelings on her severe understatement. When she remains silent, I bite into a glowing cheek and she cries out in pleasure/pain.
“Because you love me!“
“Who love you, Hermione?“
“You two,” she sniffles and I close my eyes against the defeated tone.
“And who are we?“ I persist, finding her nub with my fingers and putting the lightest pressure on the bundle of nerves.
“Theo and Draco,” she says on a shakey exhale.
“What are we, sweetheart?“ I say into her pussy, willing the ache in my jaw away as I idly insert the tip of my tongue into her sopping heat.
'Tell her to fucking look at me!' The blonde demands in my head.
“Look at Draco and don't turn away,” the order comes out husky and I watch him until I'm satisfied she's followed directions.
“M-m-mine,” is the barely audibly whisper, but it electrocutes my system all the same.
“Good fucking girl,” my growl around her pussy and I feel her clamp down on the bit of tongue I replace at her entrance.
“I'm so close,” she whimpers and I remove my tongue.
“Yes you are,” I concede enigmatically. “Tell us who you are.“
“Yours!“ She shouts as I flick my tongue over her clit.
“And why were you so vexed with us?“
“Because you were flirting with other-” a gasp when I drag the wet muscle down her center and to her back hole, “witches!“
“And that is why I'm not feeding you my cock for my own pleasure, I'm in my own purgatory for my sins,” my words float to her and I hear a small sigh. “What would make you so territorial, Hermione?“ Fuck, it was becoming difficult to keep this up, but I need her to say it aloud.
For me. For Draco. For herself.
“I-” she halts herself, “I…”
“Fucking say it, baby girl,” Draco's command jolts me and I realize he's broken the silencing charm.
“Because I love you, both of you prats,” she grouses.
Hardly a romantic declaration, though ours weren't sappy confessions either. I bloody shouted it at her in the middle of a stairwell. My heart balloons to impossible proportions and I'm embarrassed to note that moisture gathers in my eyes. I can feel the conviction flowing from her, despite being coerced into finally vocalizing the thing.
“Theo,” he says hoarsely, “give us a taste.“
Feeling cheeky, I dive deep into the slippery folds once more, then surge forward and lick across his lips. When they part in shock, I invade the cavern of his mouth and deposit as much of her juices as I can. His answering groan vibrates my tongue and it travels straight to my erection.
“I think our witch deserves a treat for being such a good girl,” the wizard flicks his eyes to her when we pull away, hunting for any remnants left on his lips with his tongue.
I can feel the movement of Hermione nodding in the legs bracketing me, and stretch out my stiff knees to stand. Without missing a beat, I have the witch in my lap, legs splayed on either side of my thighs, and my cock notched against her juicy pussy. Even through the thin material of my pants she's branding me. She twitches at the chafe of material under her spanked bottom and I guide her back to my front, moaning at the skin-to-skin contact.
He taps the arms with intent, the witch seeming to understand, slides her feet under his fingers and he instantly clutches them. A relieved sigh eases some of the tension in her body, allowing her to mold to me properly. Don't come, Theo boy, don't fucking come.
“Take out that big cock, baby girl,” the order oozes desire, sending goosebumps along her golden skin and my heart rate soaring.
I lave the ones along the column of her throat to distract me from the paradise of her little hands reaching into my pants. Pre-cum leaks from my slit when her soft palms grasp me and expose the hot flesh to the cool air. My hips jump, fucking her hands in a poor substitute for her wet pussy, and she squeaks at the pressure against her arse. The responding squeeze has my eyes rolling to the back of my skull, willing my bollocks to relax so I don't blow my load too soon. I want to revel in this hedonistic moment with the two most important people in the world.
“Don't shy away from me,” I lift my hips again and she judders in my arms. “Take your punishment sweets, you've been pushing our limits, it's time to test yours.“
Her thumb swipes over the swollen head as she lowers her arse onto me slightly.
“Good girl, baby,” Draco mutters, his own cock jerking.
“Can I…?“ She trails off, turning her head and searching my face. When I wait for her to continue the witch darts her eyes to our still trapped wizard and I grin.
“Such a sweet witch,” I nod my agreement and nip her bottom lip. “Don't you dare get down.“
Contemplating for a moment, she folds her legs and places her knees on either side of me. I hold her hips when she starts to lift over my cock, pulling her thighs further back in order for her to stretch the distance to his chair. Draco watches with rapt attention, tracking her every move while she grabs the arms to drag him closer. With an impressive show of strength, the petite witch is able to move the armchair into better proximity, and uses me to anchor her lower half in pace. My cock folds beneath her and slots even deeper into her slippery cunt folds.
“Holy fuck,” I growl, ogling the view of her abused cheeks spreading over my hard length, as I swipe some of her wetness to rub around her displayed rosebud.
“Just take it out, baby girl,” his gravelly comment ignites my voyeuristic instincts and I switch to watching them.
I follow the sexy line of her back, to the wild tendrils of rich chocolate that she's moved over one shoulder, and the dainty fingers that contrast so beautifully to his alabaster shoulders. Being the obstinate witch she is, Hermione nicks his wand and vanishes all of his clothing. His bossy side is livid, the horny side is thrilled that she wants him starkers too.
“Give us a kiss, witch.“
I angle my head for a better view of her lips crushing his in a vicious kiss. Their tongues and teeth clash, pillaging as deep as they can into the other's mouth. The sounds of their passionate kiss and lusty moans fog my brain. I give her another spank when she rocks her pelvis, sliding along my shaft with teasing strokes. Gods, this arse though. She grunts and I see Draco has her bottom lip trapped between his teeth in his own form of chastisement. I reach around and take harsh handfuls of her tits, pinching the needy points between my fingers, smiling at her adorable mewls.
“I thought I got a treat?“ The whine is muffled by her immobilized lip.
He releases her with a wet pop, gaze drifting down to where I'm tormenting her bosom. Her head bends to watch too, but he nudges her forehead with his chin to catch her eyes again.
“Say it,” he whispers to where I have to strain to hear.
“I want to come.“
“No!“ He snaps and her giggle is too fucking precious.
Our witch loves to wind the Malfoy heir up.
“I love you, Draco,” she replies with deep sincerity and the wonder that crosses his face is a memory for the ages.
“Now-” he has to clear his throat, “now, Theo.“
The witch crawls backwards, purposefully wiggling her crimson cheeks in my face and I make an impression of my teeth into it, a mirror image of my first one. Her balance falters, but I'm there to steady her as she settles back into me. With a hand holding the curly mane out of the way she twists to face me. My pulse throbs, our surroundings melt away until there's only me and her with Draco bearing witness, as I did for them. The golden hues dance in her irises as she looks up at me with those endearing doe-eyes. The shimmery make-up gives her an ethereal aura that seems to grow about her person. Little pants leave her parted lips, brushing mine in ghosts of kisses I want to take.
And the overwhelming plethora of emotion that fills the triad magic pulses between three of us in hypnotic waves.
“I love you, Theo.“
My mouth absorbs the last syllable of my name and colorful spots light up behind my eyelids. A detonation in my chest steals all of my oxygen and coherent thoughts, but Hermione is there giving me her breath. The room shifts, or the very earth beneath us does and I can't believe what a lucky fucker I am.
“I love you, Hermione,” Draco avowed, slowing our kiss.
“I love you, Hermione,” my broken whisper seems loud, or maybe it resonates so strongly through my bones that it's only loud to me.
“Straddle him,” the abrupt direction flares our shared desire back to life, “facing me.“
The witch hurries to obey, my previously forgotten hard-on has all of my attention, especially when my vixen is spreading herself open on my lap. My pants vanish and I notice she still has possession of Draco's wand. I pluck it from her and place it to the side next to mine. Using her hips, I make adjustments so that her folds are firmly enveloping my cock.
“No,” she says and my heart sinks. “I'm still furious, but I want both of you.“
I smirk at the wizard and am gobsmacked when he slowly shakes his head.
“No baby, this is my punishment, and trust me it's fucking killing me to not touch you,” he highlights this statement by giving her a salacious full-body inspection. “I was the worst offender and have to just dream of being the one between your thighs.“
Appeased by his out of character humility she undulates her pelvis, nudging her clit with the mushroom head of my erection. I grit my teeth, letting her use me for her pleasure, as this was my penance. The witch slides her wetness up and down me like she's riding a fucking Abraxan. Soft gasps and moans fall from her parted lips, driving me mad. My hands snake up her body to pull and twist her sensitive nipples, driving her to speed up. Her heart races under my hands, arching for more, and I give it to her, properly grasping the malleable mounds.
“That's it, sweetheart,” I bury my face in her neck, pressing my tongue to her pulse point.
Our thighs cling together with every upward motion, her cunt getting wetter and wetter. When the thrusts become harsher, more erratic, a deep rumble climbs my throat. Her starving channel suctions me from root to tip, begging for me fill her, yet I can't. Not just because of the rules. This is my punishment, to be so close to nirvana and not be able to enter.
“Come for him, baby girl,” Draco rasps and we both groan at his voice. “I want to see you fall apart and I know Theo wants to feel it.“
“Please,” the throaty cry brings me that much closer to the finish line, and I wrap her up in my arms.
With her nipples wedged between my tight fingers, her weeping pussy frantically rubbing along my cock, and her lush arse bouncing in my lap, she climaxes. The pleasure wracks her petite frame with spasms as her thighs clamp around me. I try, I try so bloody hard to hold back, and it's utterly fruitless. Spurts of come shoot onto my forearms and her legs. Draco hasn't fared much better, grunting and writhing as much as the sticking charm will allow, white ropes spilling onto his stomach.
Bright light illuminates the room in a flash then dissipates just a quickly. The witch falls limp in my arms and Draco must see my panic.
“She's alright, just passed out,” he clarifies. “Cast a diagnostic, then lift this fucking charm.“
I smile at his usual commandeering attitude and reach for my wand. The diagnostic confirms his prognosis, and now satisfied that she's not in danger, I free him from the chair. We quietly go about cleaning ourselves and our witch, a light snore is the only noise she makes as we shift her to the pillows. Tucking her under the blankets, we climb in on either side and I reach over her to grab his arms. I fold them about her nakedness, patting him in reassurance. He hadn't been able to touch her, save for her feet. I could be content with her hand in mine and an arm under her pillow, the light weight of her head comforting me into an easy sleep.
“I love you as well, Theo.“
“I love you too, mate.“