Originally posted: March 09, 2006

Title: What a Difference a Day Makes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author:sdk
Pairing(s): Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione; implied Harry/Ron/Hermione; implied past Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ron
Rating: Hard R to be safe
Genre: Smut? P0rn? with a bit of plot thrown in for fun
Length/Word Count: One-shot, 5,374 words
Summary: Harry catches Ron and Hermione in a compromising position.
Notes: Written for the challenge community 7spells on LJ. My prompt was draw the line in the sand. It's slightly cracky and turned out completely different than I'd expected. Thanks to my lovely beta, quite_grey, who went above and beyond on this one.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.


What a Difference a Day Makes


Harry ran up the stairs to Ron’s room and flung the door open, an invitation to a quick game of Quidditch dying on his lips as he froze, his fingers slipping off the doorknob.

Ron’s hand was disappearing beneath Hermione’s skirt, her blouse unbuttoned as his fingers shoved her bra to the side, exposing curved flesh and rosy nipples that were hardening against the cool air. Hermione’s eyes were closed, her breath coming fast between parted lips as Ron buried his face in her neck; the loud sucking noises made it easy to guess what Ron was doing.

“Pinch it,” she growled, and Harry had never heard that tone of voice from Hermione before, desperate and demanding all at once, and he was startled when his cock twitched in response, his trousers becoming uncomfortable.

“Harder,” she commanded and Ron’s head snapped up.

“Why do you always tell me what to do?” He huffed before returning his attentions back to her neck.

“Honestly,” Hermione whispered, her eyes fluttering open. She took a quick breath as if preparing to say more, but then her eyes landed on Harry; her already pink cheeks darkened to a cherry red and her stricken gaze was enough to break Harry out of his trance. He shook his head as he backed out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he could while his heart raced.

It wasn’t that Harry hadn’t walked in on them before, but really, they’d only been kissing those times and they’d sensed his presence almost immediately, jumping apart, the three of them blushing furiously while Harry apologised for intruding. In fact, Harry had often teased them afterwards while Ron laughed and Hermione lectured him on the proper way to knock on a door. But there hadn’t been naked skin those times, or frantic groping or Hermione’s breathy demands, or her eyes, clouded with desire and embarrassment, staring at him, doing nothing to quell his own excitement.

“Why are you just standing outside Ron’s room?” Harry jumped, and turned to find Ginny Weasley standing with her hands on her hips, looking at him oddly.

“Err…” He was sure that ‘I just saw Hermione’s breast’ was written across his face, probably in flashing neon letters and he shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

“Oh, it’s more stuff I can’t know about, isn’t it? That’s fine. I don’t want to know.” Ginny tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, spinning back towards the stairs.

“No! I was just going to ask him if he wanted to play Quidditch,” Harry called after her. It wasn’t exactly a lie; that had been his intention, and he definitely wasn't keen on telling Ginny what he'd seen in Ron's room. “Nothing secret,” he added for good measure, his face still tinged pink.

“Oh, well…that sounds like fun.” Ginny looked embarrassed, but boldly walked back over to Ron’s door, her fist poised to knock. Harry grabbed her hand, yanking it away.

“I changed my mind. Let’s just do something together. You and me,” His words were stumbling over one another in his panic as he tugged her down the hallway.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting odd.” Ginny pulled her wrist free from his grip and halted, crossing her arms.

“Nothing, I just…do you wanna snog?” Harry’s erection made itself known again with a sharp throb, the image of Hermione’s exposed breast filling his head, her voice insistent in his mind. Pinch it…harder. He was so lost in his memory that he didn’t register the look of horror on Ginny’s face, the harsh smack across his cheek taking him by surprise.

Perhaps suggesting a snog with his ex-girlfriend had been the wrong thing to do, he realised belatedly, his face stinging where her hand had met his skin.

“Harry James Potter…you’re…you…you’re lucky I don’t have my wand, you awful—” Ginny’s face was almost as red as her hair and she spun, taking off for her room. Harry rubbed his cheek gingerly as he opened his mouth to speak, but his apology was cut off when she slammed the door behind her.


***


Harry retreated downstairs, following the clanging of pots and pans to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was cooking dinner.

“Can I help?”

“Oh Harry, dear.” Mrs. Weasley turned around, a gentle smile gracing her features, “No, don’t be silly. I’ve got everything under control. I thought you and Ron were going to play a bit of Quidditch.”

“He’s busy with Hermione,” Harry blurted without thinking. At Mrs. Weasley’s raised eyebrow he hastily added, “Reading…you know Hermione, she’s always making him read.”

“Ron reading when he’s not in school? Well, I did say Hermione would be good for him, but Arthur wouldn’t listen. Wait until I tell him!” She clapped her hands, her eyes landing on Harry again as if she just noticed he was still in the room. “Well, I suppose you could set the table if you wanted.”

Harry nodded and grabbed some plates from the cupboard, grateful to have something to do to keep his mind off the scene he’d just witnessed and his disastrous run-in with Ginny.


***


“Pass the rolls, please.” Harry placed the basket in Ginny’s outstretched hand, careful not to look her directly in the eye. He knew he still owed her an apology, but she was probably too angry to accept it just now; besides, he didn’t fancy explaining exactly why he was sorry to the entire Weasley family over dinner, so he simply kept his mouth shut and his eyes trained on his plate.

“Mate, why didn’t you ever come get me for Quidditch? I thought we were gonna play this afternoon.” Ron elbowed Harry in the side and Harry shot a wild look at Mrs. Weasley, afraid that she would discover his earlier lie, but she was too busy fussing over Ginny’s hair to pay attention. Harry’s eyes found Hermione’s across the table; they locked gazes for a split second, then both blushed and looked away. Harry hoped Ron hadn’t noticed.

“I fell asleep… sorry, I haven’t been sleeping that well, you know… and I just meant to lie down for a second, but I must have conked right out.” Harry stared determinedly at his dinner, pushing the food around with his fork.

“Oh, well maybe after dinner, then,” Ron said loudly, clapping Harry on the shoulder. His voice dropped as he bent down, leaning closer to Harry’s ear. “Are you having nightmares again? You should tell Hermione.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed and promptly flushed again. He could feel Hermione’s gaze on him and steadily ignored it. “No, nothing like that. Just normal—I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Ron said uneasily before he returned to shoving his dinner in his mouth.

“Honestly, Ron, you should slow down.” Harry knew Hermione was pursing her lips as Mrs. Weasley clucked in approval; the friendly bickering that ensued faded into the background as he continued to eat, trying to get a hold of his thoughts.


***


The Quidditch game did wonders to clear his mind, even though halfway through he felt Hermione staring at him, looking up from her book as he flew through the air. He and Ron were mainly just passing a Quaffle back and forth, taking turns scoring as they couldn’t do much with no one else playing; Ginny had retired to her room directly after dinner and although Harry had felt guilty admitting it to himself, he’d been relieved.

At one point, Harry made the mistake of returning Hermione’s gaze and his mind was instantly filled with images from that afternoon, the seductive curve of her naked breast, creamy skin exposed where her blouse gaped open, her whispered demands as her breathing quickened; he almost dropped the ball, but instead threw it wildly in Ron’s direction. Ron didn’t seem to notice his mad pass and Harry vowed that he would not look at Hermione ever again.

As soon as their brooms were put up, Harry bid Ron and Hermione both a hasty goodnight, Ron’s quiet explanation that Harry hadn’t been sleeping well following him into the house. He ran upstairs, glad that this summer he’d taken Percy’s old room; he'd wanted to give Ron a bit more privacy, though it didn't do much good if Harry kept forgetting to knock. His heart was thundering in his chest as he shut the door behind him, muttering a locking charm for good measure before he peeled off his sweaty clothes, leaving them in a pile by his bed, and slid between the sheets, placing his glasses on an end table.

“Nox,” he whispered, and the room was dark. He closed his eyes, intent on letting a good night's rest wipe the day from his memory, but his brain wasn’t cooperating.

Hermione’s pale skin, freckled fingers sliding roughly over the swell of her breast to toy with her rigid nipple, her chest rising and falling with the force of harsh breathing; the entire scene he’d witnessed was playing across the back of his eyelids and they snapped open as he cursed the ceiling. His cock was hard, tenting the sheets and he kicked them off, already hot and sweaty in his arousal. His hand grasped the base of his cock automatically; he firmly decided that he was not going to think about what he was doing and he closed his eyes again.

Harry—The echo of Hermione’s voice was breathy, wanton, and Harry stroked upwards once, encircling his cock with slippery fingers that he imagined were hers as he set up a steady pace, not wanting this to last any longer than it had too.

“Harry—” Harry’s eyes were clenched tightly shut, but her voice sounded so real, so close, muffled only slightly and he thought if he concentrated harder, he’d be able to feel her soft lips brushing against his ear.

“Harry! I know you’re not asleep! Open the door!"

Harry's eyes flew open, and he flung about for the sheets as he heard her determined "Alohomora."

"No! Hermione, wait!" he shouted, but it was too late, the door was swinging open. He managed to get the sheet across his waist as he hastily sat up, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and shoving them on his face.

"We should talk," Hermione said quietly, then whispered Lumos, a blueish light filling the room. Her eyes widened as the wandlight illuminated Harry, and his erection hadn't abated in the least, still poking up beneath the white sheets; he quickly folded his hands in his lap.

"You're sweating...are you alright? Are you sick? Were you having a nightmare? Does your scar hurt?" Hermione rushed to sit on the bed next to him, carefully brushing back his sweaty fringe as she checked his temperature. "You don't have a fever; at least I don't think... maybe I should run a few spells. Madame Pomfrey showed me some, to check for simple things like the wizarding flu—"

"I'm not sick, really." Harry managed to interrupt her as he shied away from her touch, trying to bat her hands away. "And I'm not having nightmares; I was just a bit hot."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, finally appearing to notice that the sheet tangled around his middle left his bare legs and chest exposed; a hint of colour rose in her cheeks.

"Well..." Hermione cleared her throat, and Harry very much wanted to reach down and grab his t-shirt, but didn’t dare move his hands from his lap. "I thought we should talk about what happened today. Earlier. In Ron's bedroom."

"No, really...we don't need to...I should have knocked," Harry choked out, his face turning beet red as he averted his eyes.

"Honestly! It's not a big deal. Ron and I were snogging and it went a bit too far and you happened to walk in. I don't see why we should be embarrassed."

"If it had been the other way 'round, I'd definitely be embarrassed. Not that I'm not now...I mean, I'm not. I'm not embarrassed." This seemed to appease Hermione somewhat and he expected her to pat him on his shoulder and be on her way; instead, however, she merely sat there, contemplating something. When she finally spoke again, he had to strain to hear her.

"How long were you there?"

"Not long," Harry replied without hesitation, hoping it would be of some comfort.

"How long is not long?" When Harry failed to respond, she prodded further. "What were we doing when you came in?"

"Hermione!" Harry yelped. Hermione threw him a stern look and cast a silencing charm around his bedroom with a quick flick of her wrist, but once she'd put her wand away, her features softened, and she lowered her gaze to the bed.

"Please, Harry."

Harry gulped and his eyes dropped to his hands still folded in his lap, hiding his flagging erection which was taking on new life with her plea. He didn't have to search hard to recall what she wanted to know; the vision was burned into his brain, and he took a deep breath, confused but unable to deny Hermione's question.

"Your blouse was already undone, and his hand was going up your skirt and..." His cheeks were on fire, but he forced himself to continue. “He pushed your bra to the side.”

“Did I look stupid?” Hermione asked, her voice small. Harry’s head popped up as she looked at him from beneath lowered lids.

“No!” he responded quickly, placing one hand on her forearm, “No, you did not look stupid.”

“Are you positive? I just...every time we get past a certain point...well, its fine at first and then, everything just...messes up somehow.”

“Why are you…shouldn’t you be talking about this to Ginny?” Harry asked uncomfortably.

“Can you imagine? Talking to Ginny about snogging her brother...” Hermione sounded just the tiniest bit bitter, as if she’d already gone that route and it hadn’t worked out like she’d expected. “No, I can’t. I don’t know who else to talk to and you’re a boy and you know Ron better than anyone.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say better than anyone, his mum probably and—”

“Right, I’m supposed to talk about this with Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione cocked her head and pursed her lips dubiously.

“Well, maybe if you were vague about it...and just wanted tips or something…”

“Harry—” She sounded exasperated as she knotted her hands together in her lap. “Could you just please...you’re the only one and—” She abruptly stood, crossing to the door before he even knew what was happening.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” she mumbled, reaching for the doorknob.

“No, wait, Hermione,” he called and she slowly turned, avoiding his eyes, “I just—we can talk about it, if you want.”

“Really?

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Alright,” she answered, taking a moment to collect herself. He used the opportunity to gather more fabric around his lap, where his cock was growing increasingly cheerful at having a girl in his bedroom while Harry was completely naked, save for a thin white sheet. He vowed to ignore his annoying erection, but as she sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, seemingly closer than before, he wondered if that would prove impossible.

Hermione was quiet for a long time, so long that if not for the resolute set of her chin, her brain obviously spinning in contemplation, he would have thought she'd forgotten why she'd come to his room in the first place. He was trying to think of a question, or a soothing phrase that would snap her out of it, when she finally spoke.

"I suppose I'm just worried. Because of Lavender." She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, refusing to look at him.

"Lavender? Why?" Harry asked before a light clicked on in his brain. "Oh... because..."

"She has much more experience than I do, obviously, and he spent most of sixth year...attached to her face." She frowned in disapproval and Harry bit his lip, shifting slightly on the bed.

"Well, that didn't mean anything. He really didn't like her."

"I've read books, though." She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I've done the research and it's just applying the knowledge practically, like spellwork.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite like—”

“But when I do, I ruin everything. It all starts out okay, and I really enjoy what we’re doing and Ron seems to as well.” Hermione stated this matter-of-factly, but Harry had to fight to hide the heat staining his cheeks. “But, I know I haven’t snogged other boys; Viktor and I only kissed a couple of times, mostly he watched me study. At least I don’t have to worry about Ron doing that...but I do know what I like.” She sounded very confident, almost as if she were trying to convince herself and Harry that she knew exactly what she was doing. Harry was more than a bit confused.

“Err...how is that exactly?”

“Oh…” Hermione looked at him, the only thing betraying her projected certainty was the high blush on her cheeks. “Surely you…well, I practice.”

“You practice?”

“Yes, on myself.”

“What do you mean, on yourself? How can you practice snogging without Ron or someone else?”

Hermione sighed, exasperated. “This is silly. Everyone does it and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I masturbate, Harry. I know you do too. Everyone does it, at least everyone should. It’s perfectly healthy.”

“Hermione!” Harry gasped, his mouth gaping even as his cock twitched with renewed interest.

“You do, right?” Hermione seemed rather horrified. “I’ve read several books and they say it’s very common, especially among teenage boys.”

“Hermione!” Harry flailed, his entire body going scarlet.

“Well? Am I wrong?” Hermione looked ill, as if stunned by the knowledge that perhaps her books had failed her.

“No—” Harry croaked, his hands shifting to better cover his lap; he was embarrassed, but his cock knew no such shame. The images that had been haunting him since he'd found Ron and Hermione twined together altered, Ron's rough fingers replaced by her delicate ones, sliding over smooth skin as she discovered just exactly how she liked to be touched. His erection pulsed and a strangled moan escaped from his throat as his eyes clamped shut.

“Harry…” Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder tentatively, and his skin burned under her touch. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Harry took a deep breath, grinding the heel of his palm down on the inflamed head of his cock through the painfully thin sheet. He meant to be tucking his erection away, he really did, but his palm gave just enough friction to make him gasp. “I just–I’m just surprised…that we’re having this conversation.”

“Me too,” she agreed softly, then fell silent for a long time. Harry finally forced himself to open his eyes, startled to find her watching him, her gaze traveling up and down his body.

“Harry,” she began cautiously. “Are you…naked underneath that sheet?”

“Yeah,” he answered, barely audible.

“Oh.” She bit her lip nervously but refused to look away, and he couldn’t escape her stare. “You don’t usually sleep naked.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, squirming slightly. “I was just…hot, you know. Like I said before…hot.”

“Oh.” Hermione inhaled deeply and paused, as if inwardly debating. “Did I interrupt something? When I came in? Were you doing something?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied automatically, caught up in her voice; it was just a bit deeper than before, just a bit breathier, almost like his imaginary Hermione. His eyes widened when he realised what he'd said. “No—I mean…no, I wasn’t…I mean, I was…yeah, I was going to bed.”

“Going to bed…” She bit her lip again and Harry couldn’t help but think she was adorable. Her hand crept between them, landing on his, which were still resting in his lap, and before he could react, her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, dragging his palm over his erection.

“Were you doing something else? Something before falling asleep?” She pressed down harder and Harry began to pant.

“What are you doing?” he rasped, but made no motion to stop her.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, Harry…” She leaned over, whispering in his ear. If Harry could think properly, he would find it ironic that this had been just what he’d been wishing for, right before she’d burst into his room. But he couldn’t think properly; not with the maddening friction she was creating with the steady weight of their hands on his cock.

“You.”

With his confession, she released his wrist, although he continued the movement she'd started on his own. Her hands flew to the top of her blouse, and with shaky fingers she undid the first button. Before Harry could think, his hand snuck underneath the sheet, and he was grasping the velvety length of his cock in his fist. He took a ragged breath as Hermione flicked open another of her buttons, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“What about me? Were you thinking of earlier? What you saw…?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper and he nodded, his mind blissfully empty as he began to languidly stroke his cock. She finished unbuttoning her blouse, one bra strap falling off her shoulder as she shrugged the material away.

“Do you want to touch me, Harry?”

“Yes…God, yes.”

“Touch me,” she commanded and he quickly complied, slipping his fingers underneath the cup of her bra. He lightly squeezed her breast, his fingertips fumbling over her nipple, and he gasped as it hardened from his awkward ministrations. She exhaled forcefully, and her legs spread off the edge of the bed as her hand trailed up one thigh to push her skirt up around her waist.

“I want to see you.” Her words didn’t register, as he was too busy staring at her fingers moving closer to that scrap of white cotton between her legs, but when she tore the sheet off his lap with her free hand, he understood. He was naked, vulnerable, stroking his cock in front of her and instead of being embarrassed (although there was a twinge of that in the pit of his stomach), he was only more excited. She slipped her hand over his, slowly speeding up his rhythm as the fingers of her other hand reached the apex of her thighs; she was rubbing herself through her knickers. He thought she was the most erotic sight he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Pinch it,” she demanded and he wasn’t sure what she meant before he realised his hand was still cupping her breast, trapped under her bra. His thumb and forefinger slid to either side of her nipple and he squeezed. She let out a tiny moan. “Harder…”

He pinched as hard as he dared, worried that he might hurt her, but at her growl (he thought he could make out a faint trace of yes in the midst of the desperate sound), he knew he’d done it right.

Her hand tightened around his and she pulled faster just as her fingertips disappeared under the waistband of her knickers. The room was filled with their panting, low keening moans and it took all Harry’s willpower not to close his eyes and give over to the sensations, but he wanted to watch her. He stared at the outline of her fingers, hidden beneath white cotton, doing mysterious things that were making Hermione sweat and groan, his name falling from her lips when he dared to pinch her nipple again.

His breath came faster as his muscles tightened in anticipation and he knew he was going to come far too soon. It was just too much: her skin soft except for that pebbled flesh he delighted in squeezing, which never failed to bring forth a reaction from her; the way her breath hitched; her tiny whimpers turning into loud groans, his name interspersed between incoherent sounds he could hardly believe were coming from Hermione. And suddenly she was screaming and he couldn't keep his eyes from falling closed as his body began to quiver, their joint hands pulling his orgasm from him, hot come shooting over their sweaty fingers as he shouted her name.

“Harry—”

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, eyes closed as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He reluctantly slid his hand out from beneath her bra, lightly cupping her cheek as he dazedly opened his eyes.

“Harry.” She said his name again, and he leaned over, intent on placing a light kiss on her lips, but when he was a mere inch away, she pulled back.

“We shouldn’t have–oh God…” Before he knew what was happening she was scrambling away, grabbing her shirt, muttering Scourgify. She was halfway to the door before she even had her blouse properly buttoned, mumbling, “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have…I have to…” And then she was gone, his door shut tight again, the lingering scent of her arousal his only company.

“Oh, fuck…” The truth hit him like a ton of bricks, his post-orgasmic bliss shifting to shock and then disgust; he’d just done things with Hermione. Hermione, who was his best mate’s girlfriend, not to mention his best friend as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to be just a dream, an intensely sensual one, but a dream nonetheless as the heavy weight of guilt sank low in his stomach.


***


Harry avoided everyone by not going to breakfast. He didn’t want to stay in his room either, figuring that would be an easy place to get cornered by one of the Weasleys, or worse, Hermione, so he spent the morning tucked away in the dusty broom shed polishing his broomstick. After a couple hours, his broom was shinier than it had ever been and he was wondering what else he could do to distract himself and keep him far away from the rest of the household, when he heard the door creak open. He was afraid to look, but he forced his head up anyway, catching a glint of red hair as the door slammed shut.

“Why are you hiding in here?” Ginny made her way over to him and he sank further against the wall, shrugging.

“I’m polishing my broom,” he answered dully, and then remembered that he still owed Ginny an apology.

“Listen,” he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand before sitting down next to him.

“Hermione explained everything.”

“She did what?” Harry's heart lept into his throat, and he surprised he wasn’t being hexed to oblivion.

“Yes, she said you’d walked in on her and Ron snogging, which is gross in of itself and would probably cause anyone to go mental—” She screwed up her face with a mock retching sound. “But she also explained how you say stupid things when you’re in a shock, not that I didn’t know that but…” She shrugged apologetically. “And that you were probably just trying to keep me from catching them; thanks for that by the way.” Ginny pushed herself up from the ground, throwing him a crooked smile. “I know you didn’t mean it. So you can stop hiding, I’m not going to hex you.”

“Thanks, Ginny.” He watched her flounce out the door, dropping his head back against the wall with a loud groan.


***


Just after lunchtime, Harry finally emerged from his self-imposed isolation; he still didn’t have a plan other than to pretend ‘it’ never happened. He heard the back door slam and there was Hermione stepping outside; he almost turned right around and headed back into the broom shed, but she’d already spotted him and was striding in his direction. He shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled towards her, trying to mask his nervousness.

“Harry, I’ve been looking for you.” She held out a plate. “I saved you some sandwiches. It was hard getting them away from Ron.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine. Thanks,” he said awkwardly as she led him over to a couple of patio chairs. He immediately stuffed a sandwich in his mouth, thankful he had a good reason not to talk.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she started, frowning slightly. “I shouldn’t have just run out like that…last night.”

Harry swallowed, wiping a few stray crumbs off his mouth with a napkin. “It’s alright.” The food hit his stomach like a dead weight, and suddenly he wasn't that hungry anymore; the rest of the plate was left untouched.

“It’s not. I don’t want things to be weird between us, between the three of us.” She took a deep breath as if she were preparing to recite a memorised speech for class.

"Hermione, don't—" Harry began, but Hermione held a hand up.

"Technically, we didn't do anything wrong. I don't think Ron will even be upset."

Harry looked at her aghast, wondering if Hermione was under some sort of spell.

"Right, I'm sure he'll be just spiffing when we tell him." Harry couldn’t keep the sarcastic edge from his tone.

"Harry." Hermione looked at him reprovingly. "Well, perhaps we did cross the line... a bit." She took another deep breath and twisted her hands, her voice dropping. "Ron told me what happened between you, back in school. In fact, we've been discussing things and he actually told me he was concerned you were feeling left out."

Harry wasn't sure what to say, he just stared at her, his mouth open in shock “It’s not…I didn’t—we really didn’t…”

“Harry, please, we’ve masturbated in front of each other; I think we can be honest, now.”

Harry’s face reddened and he blew out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “It was just the one time… we were curious,” he flustered, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Fine, it was twice. We were just—”

“You don’t have to explain; it’s perfectly natural. I’ve read all about it. Lots of boys do it.”

“Really?” Harry asked meekly and Hermione slowly nodded.

“So, you and he have been together,” Harry’s cheeks blazed at her words, “and you and I have been together and he and I have been together…so I was thinking, it would be only natural to—” Hermione was promptly cut off as the backdoor swung open.

“Oi! There you two are—Harry where have you been?” Ron bounded out and dropped a kiss on Hermione’s forehead before sinking into a chair next to her. They shared a quick smile and Harry’s mouth quirked upwards as well, watching Hermione subtly rake her eyes over Ron’s muscular form. Ron was oblivious, looking at Harry, as if waiting for a response and Harry suddenly remembered he’d been asked a question.

“Oh, I was just polishing my broomstick.”

Ron snickered and Hermione quickly elbowed him in the side.

“All morning, mate?”

“It was…it had been a while,” Harry stuttered, turning pleading eyes on Hermione. Ron threw his head back and laughed while Hermione clucked her tongue.

“Ron…Ron!” She jabbed him in the side to get his attention and her whole demeanor changed; her features softened, her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Harry felt his blood flow to his groin. “I was thinking…that maybe we could go upstairs…to your bedroom.”

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes widened in understanding, “Yeah… alright, but I thought we were gonna…” He cocked his head toward Harry, and Harry felt like he should look away, as if he were interrupting again, but he found his eyes glued to Hermione’s hand as it crept up Ron’s hip.

“I’ll explain everything…once we get upstairs,” she murmured, winking at Harry as she stood.

“Alright.” Ron glanced at Harry apologetically. “See you later, then.” He disappeared into the house again as Hermione straightened her skirt.

“Give me fifteen minutes, then come to Ron’s room,” she instructed and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“But—I thought…”

“Shh…trust me. You’ll come?” Harry gulped, nodding despite himself; he couldn’t say no to Hermione. She smiled and bent over, placing a light kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

--Fin--








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