Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11368803.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Fleur_Delacour/Ginny_Weasley, Fleur_Delacour/Hermione_Granger/Ginny
      Weasley
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Ginny_Weasley, Fleur_Delacour
  Additional Tags:
      Voyeurism, Cunnilingus, Anal_Fingering, Vaginal_Fingering
  Collections:
      (don't_get_your)_wand_in_a_knot
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-01 Words: 1433
****** In Flagrante ******
by songquake
Summary
     The day of Fleur's wedding, Hermione happens upon a secret.
Notes
     Written for LJ's Wandinaknot fest 2017. My prompt was “Two’s company,
     three’s a crowd” from kitty_fic/lrthunder. Also partially inspired by
     mywitch’s gorgeous artwork, Secret, because I was feeling like some
     femslash is called for but was having trouble coming up with a
     plausible combination of ladies.
  This work was inspired by
      Secret by MyWitch
Hermione wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed or thrilled by Mrs Weasley’s
instruction to “Go check on the girls, dear. See if they need any help getting
dressed.”
On the one hand, Hermione was well aware of Mrs Weasley’s strategies to keep
her separated from Ron and Harry so they couldn’t plan to quit school and take
care of their task for the war.
On the other hand….
Hermione believed the phrase of the moment might be in flagrante delicto.
Though the “delicto” bit was less about a crime than about, well, licking.
Because that was what she was watching, having come up the stairs to the room
being used by Fleur and Ginny for their preparations for the wedding. Except
they were pretty far from being dressed—and certainly did not seem to be in
want of assistance. The fragrance of their arousal permeated the room, so thick
that it made Hermione’s eyes water.
Though that may have been her desire.
Fleur was splayed open, her head thrown back, mouth gaping even more than her
glistening pussy. It looked as though she had been dressing when the two of
them had become distracted. Hermione couldn’t imagine how this had come
about—even a few days ago, Ginny was calling the woman she was sucking off
“Phlegm.” Hermione supposed all the name calling could have been hiding sexual
tension.
God, but Ginny was such a boy sometimes.
Then Fleur moaned, a soft intake of breath high up in her voice, and Ginny
chuckled.
“Like that, do you, witch? Do you think my brother would ever think to bite you
here?” She buried her mouth even deeper, her nose seeming almost to go into
Fleur’s hole.
Hermione cast Muffliato just in time.
She thought herself as much ablaze as Fleur, her presence as much forbidden as
the tryst she was witnessing. Hermione was aware of her own nipples peaking,
her own cunt gushing, the breath catching in her throat. She’d never really
considered herself attracted to girls before—able to appreciate beauty and
strength, of course, but that was just aesthetic, or so she had told herself.
But there was something here more beautiful, more carnal, than even the proudly
protruding cock she’d encountered when dating Viktor or Cormac.
Yet now, seeing these two women she regarded as nearly family, she was frozen
in her desire—and her shame. She shouldn’t be watching this. She shouldn’t be
wanting this. They were breaking the rules, yes, but she was breaking a greater
rule in violating their privacy.
Even if they were doing it in a crowded house on the day of a wedding.
Even if they’d left the door ajar.
Hermione knew she should leave. She didn’t. She watched, squirming underneath
her own dress, feeling rather precarious on her orchid-coloured heels.
When Ginny growled and snuck a finger into Fleur’s arse, Hermione nearly tipped
over. She stumbled and gasped.
Both Ginny and Fleur’s heads snapped to look at Hermione, whose legs were
clearly rubbing against each other under her chiffon skirt, whose nipples
protruded through her bodice, whose ears and face and chest were all flushed
with arousal.
“If you want to watch, at least give us a show too, hmm?” Fleur said, grinning.
Hermione felt light-headed. She took a deep breath, then dragged a chair so
that she could see and be seen. She blushed even harder as she rucked up her
dress, knowing that they would be able to see her juices running down her bare
legs.
“So hot,” said Ginny. “Now let Fleur see what you wish we were doing to you
while I keep taking care of her. This is her last chance, you know.”
“I know,” Hermione choked out. She stared at where Ginny’s surprisingly full
breasts squished into Fleur’s stomach, the way Fleur grabbed at Ginny’s arse,
and realised she was wearing too much to give them the show they were looking
for.
Standing, Hermione drew her dress over her head. It crumpled to the floor.
Thank God she knew a good ironing charm. Her knickers and bra followed suit.
Hermione sat again, hooking her ankles around the legs of her chair so that her
cunt was on display. She reached up and took some of the liquid from between
her legs and used it to wet her nipples, circling lightly around them for a
moment before pinching with one hand while her other stroked her own inner
thighs.
Fleur was staring at her. Hermione felt her gaze upon her like the sun. She
felt her skin burning wherever it fell. When Fleur met Hermione’s eyes,
Hermione could only stare back for a second before the intensity of it scorched
her mind.
“Show me how you think I should fuck Ginevra,” Fleur said.
Hermione nodded and used one hand to spread her labia wide. Though she couldn’t
see Ginny’s quim, the younger woman’s whimper let her know Fleur was indeed
following Hermione’s lead here. She pushed her thighs even further apart, then
drew the middle finger of her other hand up from the hole of her vagina, very
lightly, to her clit. She made several small circles around her nub, just
drawing it out of its hood, then used only one finger to drub lightly against
the root of it.
“Fuck,” exclaimed Ginny.
“Keep sucking me, little witch,” Fleur responded.
Hermione watched as Ginny buried her face once more, watched as Ginny’s finger
circled Fleur’s arsehole again before prodding back in.
Hermione leant back in the chair, scooching her hips to the edge, her heels
giving her more leverage than she’d expected. She moved the finger from her
clit to her hole and slid it in quickly. Both she and Ginny gasped at being
suddenly impaled, but Ginny’s hips moved faster, trying to encourage the
fucking.
So Hermione slowed down. She fingered her hole leisurely, circling around the
vestibule, using a second finger to widen and show off her hole’s flexibility.
Not that Ginny could see that, not that Hermione could see Ginny’s dilation.
But Fleur could and her gaze turned wolfish.
“Such tiny, eager holes you have, yes? Perhaps they would like something more?”
Her voice was breathy and strained despite the controlled provocation in her
words.
Hermione brought her two fingers up to her clit and rubbed hard and quickly for
a few seconds. Then she curled her hand so that the two of them could ease in.
It couldn’t have been easy for Fleur to replicate, what with Hermione’s palm
now blocking most of the view. And the angles couldn’t possibly be the same.
But Hermione could see Fleur mimicking the movement of her own wrist twisting a
bit as her two long fingers pumped slowly in and out.
Ginny’s backside was fairly jiggling, almost as though she were about to shake
off her freckles. Hermione looked down towards Fleur’s openings, and saw that
Ginny was likewise moving her single finger into Fleur’s bum at the pace
Hermione set. Hermione moaned low in her chest, imagining a finer in her own
bottom. She’d never done that before, not even to herself. It was something to
investigate further, but not while she was splayed on the edge of a rickety
wooden chair. Perhaps she and Ginny could try it before Hermione left the
Burrow later in the week.
Gasping, Ginny came up for air and whined. “I need more. Fill me, already!”
Hermione laughed breathily, in disbelief. “No…not today, Gin. Two’s company,
three’s a crowd up there.”
Ginny snorted. “Your fingers must be much thicker than Fleur’s, then.”
“Use your tongue for something better, Ginevra,” Fleur commanded. “I want you
to make me come, now.”
Hermione pumped the fingers in her cunt harder and faster. She heard Ginny
nearly wailing against Fleur’s clit as she did so and saw Fleur’s legs lock
around Ginny’s head. Hermione ground her palm against her own clit, not caring
that Fleur wouldn’t be able to manage it. Watching Ginny and Fleur coming
apart, hips thrusting against face and hand, Hermione pinched her own clit
hard—once, twice—and came.
Fleur and Ginny were a sweaty mess of limbs and torsos on the bed. Their
hairstyles had been thoroughly ruined and would need some quick and competent
repair. Their make-up would need to be redone.
They looked too shagged-out to consider those details.
Hermione sighed. She was pretty pleased at how this had turned out—nothing like
an orgasm to dissipate anxiety and frustration—but there were jobs to be done.
“Come, girls. Let’s get you sorted before your guests arrive.”
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