Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/108284.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry/Ron/Hermione
  Additional Tags:
      Genderswap
  Collections:
      The_Quidditch_Pitch
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-08-19 Words: 5132
****** When In Rome ******
by Cluegirl
Summary
     Hermione winds up with some unfamiliar equipment, and it's up to Ron
     and Harry to help her get acclimated.
                            **Wednesday afternoon**
The first sign of trouble was when Lavender and Parvati stormed into the common
room with a bang, and marched glowering up to Ron and Harry.
"Er?" said Ron, peering over his magazine.
"Go find your friend," Parvati ordered, sounding as if by "friend", she meant
to say 'lowest form of life on the planet, possibly even more despicable than
Voldemort himself.'
"Hermione?" Harry closed his book and stood, "What's happened? Where is she?"
The two girls shared a *look*, and then struck identical poses; hip-shot and
lip-curled with disgust. "Second floor girl's," Lavender sneered. "Better hurry
before Filch hears the noise." And then, still synchronized in their snit, the
pair turned on their heels and stomped up the stairs to the girl's dorm.
"What the bloody-" Ron began, mystified. Harry tugged him out of his chair.
"Probably just chafing," he grumbled, pausing to tug the too-narrow crotch of
his -- Hermione's, actually -- knickers from where they were trying to split
his bollocks in half, "I know I bloody well am!
"Oi, don't remind me!" Ron agreed, tugging his own package in an identical
manner, "I'd almost managed to forget how scratchy these things are."
"Oh, I don't know," Neville mused from the window seat, "I don't think they're
so-"
"Nev!" cried Seamus, horrified, "No sharing! We shook on it!"
"Yeah! None of us want to know it if you fancy wearing Ginny's knickers, all
right?" Dean growled.
"Especially not ME!" Ginny put in from her seat on Dean's lap, "Because between
us Gryffindors, YOUR y-fronts are putting me into a very bad mood!"
"Could just shuck'em," Dean grinned, patting her knee, "I wouldn't mind!" Ron's
wand was out before the dark boy finished speaking, and Harry had to haul his
friend out of the common room by the shirt collar.
                                      ***
As expected, they found Hermione in the second floor girl's lav. Unexpectedly,
however, they found her in the throes of hysteria, wailing fit to outdo Moaning
Myrtle, who was, in fact, sulking silently in the u-bend over having been
upstaged. Hermione's book bag had been scattered, books, parchments and quills
flung far and wide as though Peeves had gone on a spree. Furled tightly on the
floor beside the sinks sat the bushy-haired, weeping girl.
"Hermione?" Ron shouted, skidding to his knees beside her, "What happened!
What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied, trying feebly to bat his hands off her shoulders, "Go
away!"
"Er, Ron?" Harry murmured from behind them.
"Nothing? You've pitched your books all over the lav because, what, you fancied
it?" Ron gave her a shake, "Not buying that one. Now tell what's wrong -- it's
Parvati and Lavender, isn't it? You birds have a fight or something?"
"Ron, do you..." Harry's voice cracked, "Hermoine, is that..."
"No," she gulped, then, "yes, but that's not -- It's just they're so. I WASN'T
cheating! I WASN'T!" She thumped a fist against Ron's chest, then collapsed
into his arms in a fresh torrent of tears. And this, Ron knew how to handle. He
curled his arms protectively around her shoulders and squeezed. And Hermione...
crinkled. He froze. She froze, then gulped. "I'm not cheating," she whispered
into his ear.
"Hermione?" Harry asked from the doorway, "Why do you have a bulge in your
pants? My pants? Er. Do -- do you have a..." he swallowed, "penis?"
Ron didn't stop until his crab-scramble fetched him up against the far wall.
There, he pulled himself into a quaking ball of outrage, horror, knees and
elbows, and shouted, "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR TITS?!"
                                      ***
"I can't believe you two," Hermione sniffed, gathering up the spray of
parchments one sheet at a time, and stacking them far too carefully, "You're
being completely unfair about this-"
"Unfair?" Ron snatched up The Joy of Arithmancy; or, Imaginary Numbers Don't
Have to Add Up from out of a puddle, and gave the book a savage shake. "Un-
bloody-FAIR? Unfair is that Harry and me and the others have to spend the rest
of the week having our bollocks strangled by these, these, itchy, slippery,
arse-crack invading torture devices you girls wear, while you sit there, happy
as Larry in a proper set of y-fronts!"
"Look," she rounded on him, "I told the girls, and I'll tell you the same: it's
not a proper experiment unless you replicate ALL the conditions! How can I say
if a boy's underwear is more uncomfortable when it's clearly unsuitable for my,
or any other girl's physiognomy?" She wadded her careful stack and jammed it
into her bag, "The middle is far too wide, and the leg holes would cut off
circulation in a girl's thighs, and I only approached the whole thing with
proper scientific method-"
"Scientific method is NOT THE POINT!" Ron bellowed, grabbing Puns can Kill;
Word-Games and Ancient Runes Don't Mix. and marching up to Hermione.
"Well then, what IS the bloody point, Ron?" She shouted back, snatching the
book from him.
"I, er, I think the point is that you're a bloke, Hermione," Harry put in,
adding Potions for Imbeciles (By S. Snape), Advanced Organic Chemistry, and Her
Passionate Pirate to Hermione's bag. "And more than that, you're the only bloke
in Gryffindor sixth form who isn't hating what's under his trousers right now."
"Cause you're in a SKIRT!" Ron pointed out. Other than kicking him, Hermione
ignored the outburst.
"Well, I TOLD you two I'd be perfectly willing to alter the spell components
for you, if you'd just-" she stopped, rolling her eyes as both boys turned pale
and shielded their crotches with whatever they could reach. "See? You're SO not
taking this seriously!"
"I'm serious," Harry protested, "I'm very serious. Never been serious-er. You
serious, Ron?" Ron only nodded, and clutched Transfigurations They Don't Teach
In School tighter to his hips. "See?" Harry went on, "Very serious here. Point
is, you're queering the bet, aren't you? Because you're a bloke, and you're in
bloke's pants, so that's not-"
"If you'll RECALL," Hermione cut him off, "We all signed the agreement with our
proper NAMES, Harry. And the agreement is very specific that I," she tapped a
finger against her paper-filled bra, "have to wear your," she poked Harry in
the chest, "y-fronts until Friday, or else the Girls will lose the bet. So even
if I hadn't given you all my knickers for the week, Lavender and Parvati would
simply kill me if I changed now."
"Think they're going to be any keener on you sleeping in their ROOM with that?"
Ron asked, nodding at Hermione's pelvis, and the bulge that made the skirt
(which already didn't fit quite right) hang askew.
Hermione's eyes went wide with horror, and she dropped Dark Is Subjective: The
Slytherin Book of Very Useful Charms. "Oh no!" she wailed, "I'll never get up
the stairs like this! And Professor McGonagal checks the common room at curfew!
She'll give me detention for SURE if she finds me kipping on the sofas! What am
I going to DO?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other and signed. "It's okay," Harry told her,
picking up the book and tucking it into the bag, "you can sleep in our room."
 
                            ** Thursday morning. **
 
"Ron."
"Mmnn fi' mr minitzzz," he mumbled, nuzzling the dancing girl's soft, perfumed
belly while her fingers braided pearls into his hair.
"Ron, wake up!" A finger poked him sharply, right in the ribs, and he blinked
awake before he could stop himself.
"Blast!" he cursed the loss of his favorite dream, and Hermione flinched,
pressing her finger to his lips.
"Not so loud, do you want to wake everyone?" The light through the window was
blue and cold and Hermione looked like a worried ghost in Harry's spare
pajamas.
And, though in fact Ron rather did want to wake the others if he had to be
awake himself, he settled for grumbling and rubbing his face into the pillow
until the urge to shout passed. "What is it, Hermione?" he whispered back.
"Something's wrong." She said.
He waited.
"Something's wrong with... you know.," she went on when he didn't speak. "It's
swollen, and I didn't even do anything to it." Ron turned one eye clear of his
pillow to blink at her in disbelief. She could NOT be asking him about this!
But her brown eyes were wide and worried, and her lower lip trembled as she
tried to explain. "I was just sleeping, not even dreaming about anything in
particular, and it started to sort of..."
"Hermione..." he groaned.
"Ache, I guess, and it felt hot and sort of tight, and then it started
twitching, and that woke me up properly, and it's been like-" she started to
lift the duvet aside, and Ron hastily closed his eye again. "-that ever since,
and I don't know what to-"
"Hermione!" He put a hand over her mouth. "It's nothing. Stop worrying."
"But how can it be -- mph, stoppit, Ron! How can it be nothing when I didn't DO
anything to cause it?" She peered down into the blankets again, as if there
were a basilisk down there instead of a perfectly normal...
Oh bloody hell.
"What are you two going on about?" Harry muttered sleepily from behind him.
"Hermione needed to tell me about her morning wood," Ron sighed, rolling his
face back down into the pillow.
"My WHAT?" Ron clapped his hand over her mouth again as Harry dove for his
wand, casting a silence spell cast on the transfigured-together beds. The spell
took hold barely a moment before Hermione sank her teeth into Ron's thumb.
Harry, familiar with Ron's early-morning temper, hissed a warning too late.
Ron tore his hand loose with a curse, then dragged Hermione into a grapple that
was the terror of the sixth-year dorm's tickling fights. She squeaked,
thrashed, and learned the hard way that Ron's arms were very long, his legs
could grip like a bareback trick rider, his hands were like iron, and sixteen
years of wrestling with brothers larger and sneakier than he had taught him how
to fold just about anyone into a knot in ten seconds flat.
"It's normal," he hissed into her ear, grinding his own erection into the
crease of her thigh, "Happens almost every morning, and it's no call to go
waking me up and then biting me!"
"You-" she struggled to twist her face away from the mattress, one brown eye
doing its best to glare at him, "Yours is-" She swallowed, and Ron felt the
fight go out of her wiry little frame. "Er... bigger." And only then did it
occur to him that he was palming Hermione's, head into the covers while
twisting her arm up behind her back, and pressing his tackle hard against her
arse. He let his hold slack, squirming inside his skin as she turned her head
to speak more clearly, and asked in a very small voice, "What is it supposed to
do then?"
"Doesn't do anything," Harry lay down, face to face with Hermione as Ron let go
her arm and slid off her back. He pulled one tangled swatch of hair out of her
mouth and smiled. "You have to... er... help it along."
"Masturbate, you mean?" Hermione asked, sitting up carefully, "is that what
this is all about?" She rolled her eyes at the choking sound Ron made. "What?
It's not like girls don't do it, you know."
"Then if you know all about it, why'd you wake me up?" Ron grumbled, "You just
want an audience or something?"
"Well I don't KNOW all about this, DO I?" She snapped, but was careful to stay
out of Ron's reach, "I mean you're comfortable enough with that..." she looked
at Ron's crotch, the worn flannel of his pajamas not concealing at all the
rather impressive erection underneath, "But I've never even seen one do this,
let alone touched it! What if I... you know... break something?"
"Do you want us to show you how?" Harry offered, voice quiet and sober and
quite serious indeed.
"Harry!" Ron and Hermione voiced the same pitch of outrage.
"What?" Harry shrugged, "Obvious you both want a bit of relief, and I'm getting
hard with all this talk of wanking. And anyway, Ron, It's not like we haven't
before."
"But not in front of-"
"Oh, so you'll do it with each other, but not with-"
"Quiet, both of you," Harry ordered, fed up at last. "I'm not putting up with
you two having the blue bollocks all day just for want of a little wank! Now
hand me that bloody lotion, Ron!" He skinned out of his pajamas, not even
pausing at Hermione's horrified/fascinated flinch and stare as his own erection
bobbed into view. "Well?" He challenged her, "You've got to sleep in those
pajamas one more night, you know, and you're not giving them back to me covered
in come-stains!"
"Harry..." Hermione groaned, covering her face with both hands as Ron wadded up
his own pajama pants and tossed them off the foot of the bed. "Are you sure we
have to- I mean won't it just go away on its own?"
"Sure," Ron said, tugging her hand away from her face so he could squeeze a fat
dollop of the lotion into it, "Give it an hour -- half an hour if you think of
Snape in his underpants. Only you won't like it any better then, 'cause it'll
ache like blazes all day long. Oi, don't waste it," he complained as Hermione,
mystified, began smoothing the lotion over her hands.
"Watch me, Hermione," Harry breathed, catching the bottle Ron tossed to him.
"Just do what I do, all right?"
She gulped, looked wide-eyed from Harry's working fist to Ron's bitten lip, up
along his chest to where his other hand toyed and pinched his nipples beneath
his t shirt, then back to Harry. "All right," she sighed, and took herself in
hand. "Oh..." she sighed, catching Harry's rhythm eagerly. "Oh, it feels..."
"Yeah," Harry panted, rolling his bollocks into his palm and wondering how long
he'd be able to hold out with both Ron and Hermione wanking shamelessly in
front of him.
"It's still..." she panted, eyes rolling closed as her fingers tightened, "It
still feels, only hotter, and...oh!" She toppled back into a sprawl, hiking one
leg to reach behind her flushed, wrinkled bollocks.
"Merlin," Ron gulped, speeding his strokes as Hermione's small fingers slid and
pressed along the ridge there, "What're you-?"
"I want-" she gasped, toes splaying and sliding in the rumpled sheets as she
arched into her own fist, "want something... inside... Damn it!"
"Girls do it like that," Ron protested, "boys don't." His own hand didn't slow
at all though, and his bollocks were high and hard against his prick as he
watched her frustration grow.
"Nonsense," her voice was a throaty growl, "boys must do too, just not..." she
sat up suddenly, stretching her hand out imperiously to Harry. "More lotion!"
she demanded.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron complained, as if her stopping had somehow inhibited
him, "You've got plenty-"
But Harry, catching on quicker, squirted a long, thick line of goo down her
fingers, then watched in open-mouthed awe as she buried one deeply in her arse.
At first she winced, but the second push went deeper, and the third deeper
still. "Does it-?" he murmured, watching the flush creep up across her face.
"Feels strange," she panted, arching her hips up to resume thrusting into her
fist, "but I think I- Ohmygod!"
"What?" Ron yelped, "What is it?"
But Hermione only groaned, thick and deep and guttural in her throat, arching
all the way up off the bed so she could shove two fingers in. Her bollocks were
high and tight, and both boys watched as her cock, purple with need, wept
clear, hot streams across that flat, soft belly.
Harry wondered if Ron was tempted, as he was, to put a tongue out and taste
that growing pool of slickness -- to find out if her flavour would be that much
different from their own. But he didn't move, almost didn't breathe as
Hermione's breath caught, short and shallow and desperate in her throat. Her
eyes flew open, locked on his, and suddenly she was coming, rigid and
twitching, cock flinging ropes of white along her chest and cheek and forehead.
"Merlin, Hermi'ne," Ron panted, fist working furiously as he struggled up to
his knees, "that was -- that was-" And he couldn't have known she would.
Perhaps he meant only to toss off across her, add his come to the splatters
already decorating her milky skin, but he was caught utterly off guard when
Hermione, hungry-eyed and nimble, slithered around to grab his cock from his
grip and suck it into her mouth.
Ron made no sound. Couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Heat and slippery and
suction, and tongue, and didn't the lotion make it taste nasty, only she didn't
seem to mind because she made that noise that went straight to his bollocks and
made him grab her head with both hands just to keep from falling over, and he
was going to, he was going to- "NOyoucan'tstopnow!" he bawled.
"Hush," Hermione's voice was low and gravelly, utterly wanton, utterly
unraveled from the hidebound girl with the lifetime library pass, "Do it,
Harry," she said over her shoulder, and Ron noticed only then that his best
friend had risen to kneel behind her. He could just see the crown of Harry's
cock over Hermione's tailbone as he rubbed it along her slick, spread cleft "Do
it now!"
And then she took Ron back into her mouth, just held him there while she waited
for Harry to... for Harry to... Merlin, Harry was doing it! His face twisted up
in concentration as he pushed himself into Hermione's arse -- pushed right in,
like it would even go! But Merlin, it was going, and he could see it sliding
in, and he could feel it in the way she sucked him harder, growling and mewing
around him until Ron thought he might die if he didn't come soon.
"All right?" Harry whispered.
"Bloody hell," Ron moaned, eyes burning gas-flame blue as he stared down at his
cock disappearing into Hermione's mouth.
"MMmm!" Hermione gave a wriggle and clenched around him, and Harry was moving,
thrusting, lurching to drive himself deeper and harder into that silken, slick,
oh-so-tight heat. He knew, in some part of his mind, that he ought to be
careful, ought to go slow, ought to do something more for her -- for him.
He leaned forward, took Hermione's not-quite-softened cock into his hand,
pulling and stroking until it swelled to fill his palm. Slicked with lotion and
come, it was just like wanking himself, only better, because his hand wasn't
that tight, didn't slide that smoothly around him, didn't feel hot enough to
melt his bones, didn't wriggle and pulse to meet his every thrust. And his hand
didn't make those whispering, breathless moans, didn't mutter half-stunned
nonsense-filth in Ron's voice, didn't push back counterpoint to his rhythm, so
she hung, suspended and writhing between them.
And this time when she came, Hermione screamed aloud, and this time when she
came, Harry and Ron came, bellowing along with her.
 
                                      ***
 
"Bloody hell!"
"Right, you said that already, Hermione," Ron grumbled sleepily, searching on
the floor for his pajamas.
"It's just -- I can't believe it!"
"Well you were there," Harry yawned, amused, but ready for another hour's sleep
now he'd had the orgasm of his life, "What's not to believe?"
"It's just -- that's normal?" she managed to squeak at last, "You boys get that
every bloody morning?"
"Every morning?" Harry gasped, before Ron's frantic hand motions behind
Hermione got his attention, "Well... er, yeah. Don't you?"
Unaccountably, she blushed, the rose colour spreading across her collarbones
and partway down the smooth, flat chest beneath. "Well not in the morning,
no..." she twisted the hem of her pajama top around her finger.
"Well when then?" Harry asked.
"Half four in the afternoon," Ron answered, flopping over to get his pajamas
back on. "Ow! Hey! You're always creeping off alone just after tea, and then
you come back all pinkish and out of breath, so..." he shrugged and then
climbed under the duvet in case she felt like hitting him again, "just figured,
is all."
"Well, it's true," she smiled after a moment, climbing in herself. "That was
bloody-"
"Brilliant, we know," the boys replied in chorus.
"But now it's sleeping time, all right?" Ron added. "Ow! What!"
"I can't believe you two want to just go back to sleep after that!" Hermione
grinned.
"As opposed to what?" Harry protested, making a production of folding his
glasses up and putting them on the night table, "It's not even six yet?"
"Well..." she looked through her eyelashes, "what if I'm not through?" Then she
blushed again as both boys laughed at her. "What? I mightn't be!"
"Trust me, Hermione," Harry yawned, rolling up against her side and not-so-
subtly nudging her into the curve of Ron's body, "You were doing good to get
two out of it without a break in between. You're through."
"Well," she murmured, giving in to a yawn herself, "THAT's disappointing..."
 
                            ** Thursday Evening.**
 
"Hermione, stop it!" Ron hissed.
She jumped, nearly dropped her spoon. "What?" she demanded.
"Stop watching Cho's behind!" Harry answered, deliberately sliding over to
break her line of sight. "Really not subtle there, you know? If you weren't
wearing a skirt and a bra full of paper, somebody would probably get offended."
Hermione blushed, and for a moment both boys expected an explosion. But
instead, she only folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them with
a groan. "How do you do this?"
"How many so far today?" Ron asked sympathetically.
She didn't reply, but gradually, four fingers appeared from under the bushy
fall of hair. Harry whistled, impressed. "All the way? Wow!"
"No, not all the way," she snarled, smacking his arm, "I didn't have time, did
I? And now I'm all sore, and I really want to, only I have homework and there's
a test in advanced Arithmancy I have to review for, and I can't bloody well
stop staring at Ginny's bloody knees!"
"Oi!" Ron warned, but she ignored him.
"And I'm never going to get to sleep, because this thing will keep me up all
bloody night, and I'm going to fail the exam, and my grades will suffer and
I'll get pitched out of Hogwarts, and all because of this lousy-"
"Er, shouting now, Hermione," Harry warned, "Great Hall. Professors. Slytherins
just there!" She gulped, went pale, and subsided back to her shelter, peering
over her arms like a baleful, round-headed Kappa from its pool.
"You, er, wanna go have it off then?" Ron surprised them both by asking. He
blushed, swirling his spoon through the wreckage of his treacle pudding. "Just
a quick one, right? Take the edge off so our Hermione can concentrate and not
get booted out of school or lynched by the proper girls."
When she continued to glower, silent and oppressive, Ron was sure he'd torn it
for good. There'd be a screaming row any moment, because flat chest and tackle
or not, that business of being perky first thing after a good wank in the
morning was proof that under it all, Hermione was still really a girl. Even
Harry was edging back just a little bit, angling for room to bolt if she
decided to go over the table.
But then the brown eyes blinked once, slowly, as though the basilisk had left a
little bit of itself behind. Ron shivered, then jumped as Hermione she sat
suddenly up, shrugged her hair over her shoulder, and snatched her book bag out
from under the table. "Yeah, all right," she said, and headed straight out of
the Great Hall without looking back.
Bloody hell! he thought, That worked?
And Harry's awe stricken face echoed his surprise. "Good on you, Ron!" he
grinned, and still more than a little stunned, Ron grinned back.
Until they both realized that Hermione was going to go get naked, and sweaty,
and she was going to do it in their room, and if they didn't hurry, she
probably wouldn't let them watch.
Then they ran from the Great Hall together, and neither one of them worried one
bit about what the Slytherins might think.
 
                             ** Friday Morning. **
 
"Shh! What are you doing!"
"What's it feel like I'm doing? Shh, stop squirming, or you'll wake him!"
"I'm not squirming, I'm -- mph! -- getting these things off. I swear, knickers
really are easier- oooh, do that again..."
"Nice, innit? Oh, yeah... easy... like that..."
Ron turned his face just enough to peer through his eyelashes. He could see the
curve of Harry's shoulder, sweeping down into his neck, muscles working as his
arm did something to Hermione that made the tiny sliver of her cheek, just
visible over the fluff of the duvet, flush a needy pink.
"Mmm," he heard her sigh, "Better with the lotion... Where is it?"
"Er," Harry's shoulder went still, "that is... Why don't I just..." and then he
slithered down under the duvet, and even if Hermione's mouth hadn't opened wide
in shock, Ron would've known exactly what his best friend was doing.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Trust a girl to ask! Ron shut his eye quick as
Hermione glanced in his direction, but gently eased his hand down toward his
waking cock.
"S'called a blowjob," Harry's muffled voice replied, "Blokes love it." Then
came a rustle, and he yelped, "Ow! No pulling -- I've teeth down here, you
know!"
"I know what it is," Hermione's protest trailed into a groan that Ron couldn't
have slept through if he'd been hung over and dead to boot, "But why are you
doing it?"
Yeah, Ron wondered, stroking his cock slowly.
"Maybe I want to," Harry replied, slurping a little, "Maybe I always wanted to
see what it felt like to do it." Another shameless slurping noise, which went
straight to the root of Ron's bollocks. "You don't mind, do you?"
"I... oh God, Harry, that's...Oh good yes very good... only..." and Hermione's
voice sounded so thick, so growly and hungry, Ron couldn't resist another peek
at it, just to see the stain of flush where the duvet slipped low, and he could
just see her fingers pinching at her tiny pink nipple. "Only if you... ohhh...
If you always wanted to do that oh god Harry yes, do that, why didn't you
just... oh, why didn't you... Ron?"
Panicked, Ron shut his eye and froze. The rhythmic rustle from under the duvet
stilled along with him, but then after a moment, Harry answered. "Because. It's
Ron. I mean he's... he's my best mate, and he's on the Quidditch team, and we
take showers together, and we sleep in the same room, and I can't go all gay on
him. I mean what if he freaked?"
I wouldn't freak! Ron thought.
"Ron wouldn't freak," Hermione said in a voice all soft with smile and
mischief, "would you Ron?"
He blinked, too caught out, too turned on to be annoyed at the merry sparkle in
her brown eyes. But Harry sweaty and flushed, with eyes wide and hair standing
wild, erupted from the lump of blankets. Both stared, equally mortified,
equally tempted, until finally Hermione gave a frustrated groan and shoved
Harry onto Ron.
"Oh, just DO it already," she insisted, throwing back the blankets to wrap a
small hand around her spit-slicked cock.
"Whu, buh-" Ron swallowed as Harry, grinning, squirmed around in his grasp and
slithered back under the covers, "But didn't you want... one too?" He heard
himself asking, and Hermione's impish grin grew wider still.
"You offering?" she purred, kneeling up beside him.
"Well, I've... oh Merlin, Harry!" Ron gasped, gripping Hermione's thigh, "been
a bit curious myself..."
"And since I'm not a proper boy, it's less weird if you suck me off than if you
sucked off one of your roommates, is that it?" She asked, rubbing the soft,
spongy head along Ron's sleep-chapped lips, so the saltymusky smell of her went
right up his nose and all down his spine and coiled like a fist like a snake
like Harry's tongue around his cock and hissed behind his bollocks.
And Ron knew he probably should be protesting something, but his mouth was
suddenly full of her, and he was pulling her closer, and humping his hips up
into Harry's hot, smooth mouth, and sucking and thrusting and lusting far too
much to argue with anything that bid fair to make him feel that good. And when
she wound her fingers into his hair, when she whispered words like slut and
cocksucker and you like it, don't you back at him while she drove into the
depths of his throat while Harry was sucking every thought Ron ever had in his
life out through his cock --
Well, what could he do but come like a freight train? He groaned, twitched and
sucked hard as his orgasm ripped through him, and a second later found his own
mouth flooded with a thick heat as Hermione gripped his head fiercely. He found
he'd swallowed it before it even occurred to him that he might've spit it out.
"Ah -- hah, that was-" Hermione sagged back across the bed as though her bones
had been liquefied.
"Brilliant," Ron agreed, licking the intensely strange taste from his lips as
Harry crawled up his body.
"Really?" the dark haired boy asked, eyes worried.
"Oh yeah," Ron nodded, knowing his face was covered with a goofy grin, but not
quite able to shake it off.
"Not weird?"
"Not weird. Want me to...?"
"Yeah?"
"Sure."
"Yeah!"
And beside them, her matchmaking work done and her efforts amply rewarded,
Hermione grunted, turned her back on her two best friends, and sank deeply into
the sleep of the just.
 
                             ** Friday Evening. **
 
"It's sick, really," the pale boy said as Hermione got up from the table and
wandered into the stacks.
"I know," his dark-haired companion simpered, "The way they fawn all over her.
I mean I suppose Potter can't really be expected to know any better, being
raised by muggles and all, but you'd think a pureblood like Weasley would have
better taste, really."
"Weasley? Taste? I'm sure there's some grammatical rule against using those two
words in the same sentence, Pansy!"
"Oh, Draco you are bad," she giggled. "Still, I do rather wonder what it is
they see in her..."
"I don't know," Draco not-so-subtly segued into a more promising topic, "I
suppose she might give decent head."
                                      Fin
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