Fans of Harry Potter Femmeslash

This thing was getting so long I just had to stop, and Redbeargrl helped me break it in half. There is a little more plot than usual in this one, and several things are being set up for the future.

Author: Lash_Larue
Title: Now and Then 3, Part One
Pairing:Fleur/Hermione/Ginny, McGonagall/Hooch, Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary:The ladies force the issue between Ron and Harry, Hermione discovers some things about old teachers and friends, and an awkward feature of the Veela Bond manifests.
Warnings:Some explicit sex, there are still 3 of them, beginnings of some mansex, not hard core in this part. Hermione is maybe a little less inhibited than usual. Some language, not much really.
Word Count: 10,000
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

Beta thanks to Sor_Bet and Redbeargrl, any screwups are all mine.




Now and Then

The 3rd Story, Part One


The time since Ginny had entered into the Veela Bond with Fleur and Hermione had been a very busy one. She had of course left Grimmauld place, and while Harry and Ron had said that they would miss her, Ginny could tell that they were inwardly relieved. She supposed that she had been “cramping their style” a bit, since she was Ron’s sister, and had at one time been linked with Harry.

She had talked with Harry about that before leaving. “Harry, about us…“ she began.

Harry had smiled, and said, “You don’t have to say anything Gin. Inside I always knew it was Hermione for you, and I always hoped that it would happen. And now, with Fleur too…“

“You KNOW?” gasped Ginny.

“I’m not quite so thick as Ron,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s perfect. My three favorite women in the world, in love with each other… how could it possibly be any better for any of us?”

Tears filled Ginny’s eyes. “I really do love you Harry.”

“I know Gin, I love you too. That’s all that matters in the end. I just hope that one day I can have something halfway close to what you three have,” he added wistfully, his eyes looking at something far away.

“I’m sure you will, Harry,” said Ginny, hugging him tightly. “Just follow your heart.”

“Yeah,” he said, as he broke the hug and kissed her on the cheek, ‘I’ll do that. Don’t be a stranger here, Gin.”

“No worries there, and we’ll expect you and Ron for dinner this Saturday!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for galleons,” he assured her, “and I won’t say anything to Ron. If he’s too dense to see what’s in front of his face, then he doesn’t deserve to know.”

At that, Ginny kissed him lightly on the lips, gave him a squeeze that made his eyes bug, and fairly danced down the walk to her new life. Harry smiled as she blinked out of sight. “There’s one part of my life that’s worked out right, anyway,” he thought, as he turned and entered his home.


Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny settled into a comfortable rhythm in their lives, and after two years together, they were as happy as they had ever hoped to be. Life was not without its rough spots, of course, but the unwavering quality of their love made it seem easy. Hermione had gradually turned over the day to day operations of S.P.E.W. to Dobby, who had proven a surprisingly adept negotiator and administrator. His exploits during the war ensured that he was taken very seriously indeed, and if he occasionally slipped up and referred to a witch or wizard as “Mistress” or “Master” it was never mentioned.

Hermione taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts, Fleur had a job in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and Ginny was a chaser with the Harpies. The only problem with any of it was that they all had longish hours and Ginny was away a lot at matches. Fleur and Hermione attended as many of them as they could, and they took joy in watching Ginny play. Then one evening after dinner, as they sat together in the drawing room, Ginny spoke up. “I have to leave the Harpies,” she said abruptly.

“We knew something was up,” replied Fleur, “you don’t seem to enjoy it the way you used to.”

“It’s not the quidditch so much, I still love the game, it’s just that I never seem to be home enough. And frankly, my hair is beginning to be a problem. It wants to play too.” Fleur and Hermione laughed at that; they were very familiar with the playfulness of Ginny’s hair. “The thing is, it’s starting to figure out how to escape from the bindings, and I’m pretty sure they would find some rule against it. To say nothing of the attention it would attract.” They all sobered up at that one, they gathered enough attention as it was. If the hair went public they would have no peace at all.

“Is the hair any good at quidditch?” Hermione asked, trying to suppress a grin. Ginny’s face split into the wide smile that she and Fleur so loved to see.

“I let it loose one night when I was practicing alone at Ron and Harry’s research pitch, with the enchanted players. I missed a pass, and my hair caught it and scored a perfect goal on the level 10 keeper. The quaffle went right through the backstop.”

Hermione and Fleur knew enough about quidditch by now to be impressed. Ron, who played keeper for England along with Harry, who was seeker, was one of the best keepers in the world now. Ron rated 9 on the scale. Harry was ranked 10 as a seeker. It was a little known fact, that the reason that they were so good, was that they worked tirelessly at it. Quite apart from Harry’s inherited wealth, they had a huge income from the sport with endorsements, bonuses, the lot. They had used a ton of galleons to construct an enchanted, private, pitch to work on tactics and techniques. The women had helped with the magic that operated and concealed it, and were the only ones apart from Ron and Harry who had access to it. The “boys”, as Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny referred to them, had found that their teammates did not meet their standard for dedication, and opted just to do the extra work on their own. They had also begun development on a top-secret racing broom that not even the girls were privy to.

“Well,” said Hermione, “I can see where that sort of thing would be a problem.”

“So leave the team, dear Gin, or is there something else to this?” asked Fleur.

“Well, Dad said he could get me on at the Ministry, but I wouldn’t be making nearly as much. I just don’t see how we could do the renovations we want to if I leave the team.”

“Ginny,” said Fleur, “I know you know our answer to that.” Of course she did, they all usually knew what the others were going to say before it was said, and a feeling just could not be concealed at all.

“We’ll be fine, Ginny,” said Hermione, laughing, “the changes will wait. Our house isn’t precisely a hovel as it is.”

“And we have our special place,” added Fleur, her eyes sparkling. The three exchanged a look that they all knew well, and three identical smiles disappeared with a crack!

Some time later in the now, they were all cuddled together in a warm puddle of well-pleased woman, breathing softly together under a glorious living cover. They did indeed, have their special place.

They awoke together, as always when they were there. They all took a deep breath, and enjoyed the very air of their bonding room. Also as always, they stood together before the mirror, the changes that were the result of Ginny joining the group were complete by now, and the result was, to any eye, breathtaking. To their eyes, it was perfection, because none of them would change the least detail of any other of them. Fleur’s figure was somewhat rounder than it was before she and Hermione bonded, and Hermione’s was a bit more graceful than before Fleur. Ginny had added a catlike strength to the mix, while her own slender form had filled out a bit. She had a little more breast and bum than she used to, but the strength in her was still evident.

“Back to the world, my loves,” said Fleur.

“Oui,” came the reluctant agreement.

Back home, the three had finished their preparations for work, and were on the verge of leaving, when Ginny remembered… “Oh, the boys are coming for supper tomorrow.”

“Oops,” said Hermione, “I had forgotten. I don’t think they’ve been over since right after Ginny came here. I’ll see if I can get the House-elves to cater.”

“I’ll cook,” volunteered Fleur, “I can do the shopping on the way home from work, I leave early today.”

“Great!” said Ginny and Hermione in unison. Fleur was a marvelous cook. They kissed each other and departed for their separate workplaces.

“Bloody idiots!” blurted Ron as he slammed his pads into his practice locker. “I tell you Harry, I’ve about had it with that slack lot. It’s like they expect me to block everything, you to catch the snitch, and leave them to bang the groupies after the game.”

“I know mate, but you pretty much do block everything, and I occasionally do catch the snitch,” said Harry placatingly. Ron heaved a huge sigh.

“Yeah, but when I think of all the work we put in, all those hours, not to mention the load of galleons we blew on our pitch…”

“Ron, you never have learned to stop worrying about money. You know perfectly well that we could walk out of here this minute, never straddle a broom again, and still not be able to spend what we’ve got.”

Ron smiled. “I do keep forgetting that. I wish the girls would let us do more for them, though.”
Harry nodded. Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny would not accept money from them, for they valued their independence, but they graciously accepted the lavish gifts the boys gave them on birthdays, Christmas, and the like. Both Ron and Harry took a great deal of pride in how beautiful their friends were. “I reckon we have the three best-looking sisters in the world, Harry.” Harry agreed.

“And speaking of them, we’re to go to their house for supper tomorrow, so try not to forget and go skirt-chasing.”

“Truth to tell Harry, I’m starting to get tired of the whole scene. The parties, the groupies, the drinking, there just has to be more; look how happy the girls are, and they just sort of scrape by.” Ron looked at Harry with a sort of desperate appeal on his face, and Harry felt a little lurch in his chest.

“Surely not,” he thought to himself, but he couldn’t forget the feeling. “Well then, I’m off to do another bloody advert,” he announced briskly, “I’ll see you at home later.” Harry quickly left the locker room. Ron stared after him for a long time.

“I thought that I would fix Boeuf Bourguignon for supper tomorrow,” said Fleur over dinner, “will that be suitable?”

“Anything you cook will be perfect, Fleur my love,” said Hermione, “and the boys do really like that dish. Unfortunately you’ll have to prepare it without me. Professor McGonagall has called a meeting of the senior staff tomorrow afternoon. I should be home in plenty of time to help set the table and things though.”

“I’ll help,” said Ginny. “Now that I’m not playing for the Harpies I’ll be home. Home is even better than quidditch, now.” Fleur and Hermione smiled their agreement.

“You will not bully me in the kitchen like your mother does, will you Gin?” asked Fleur teasingly.

“Well, I might bully you a tiny bit. But nothing at all like Mum does,” replied Ginny. “There is just something about you in an apron, working your hands in the bread dough… “

“Only an apron?” Fleur replied coyly.

“If you’re asking me, then yes,” replied Ginny her eyes alight.

“Honestly,” sighed Hermione, “you two are shameless. Absolutely shameless! Fortunately, so am I. Ginny’s right you know, as good a cook as you are, there is nothing in the kitchen nearly so delicious as you.” Fleur actually blushed a bit at that, or perhaps flushed is a better word. Ginny was starting to glow a little. Ginny did that.

“Nothing, perhaps, except …*us*…” breathed Fleur softly. A profound silence hung in the air for a moment.

“Race you!” cried Ginny, and she leapt up and fled down the hall in a cloud of flying clothes. There was no hope of getting there before her, and no reason to try. Ginny would be there.

“Thank you for Ginny,” Fleur said as she touched Hermione’s cheek.

“Thank you for us,” replied Hermione tenderly.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU TWO?” roared Ginny from the bedroom.

Giggling like schoolgirls, Fleur and Hermione scampered down the hall in a cloud of clothing of their own. Home was, indeed, much better than quidditch.

“OUT! All you lot! Get the hell out of here!” screamed a very red-faced Ron. There followed a sort of panicked exodus as the crowd of groupies and hanger’s on fled. Quite apart from being a wizard, Ron had filled out a great deal, and he was physically quite imposing. Harry took a moment to enjoy the sight of that bunch fleeing in terror from his friend, and then carefully schooled his face to a neutral expression. Ron sat down hard in his chair. “Sorry for ruining the party Harry, I just couldn’t stand another second of those fucking idiots.”

“I would have done the same,” said Harry, “but you’re lot’s scarier than I am.” Ron looked up startled.

“What are you on about Harry? You killed Voldemort! Nobody is scarier than you. Certainly not me, I’m just your lovable, goofy mate,” he said with just a little trace of bitterness in his voice.

“Ron, you’ve got to get over that schoolboy shit. Come over here.” Harry moved to stand in front of the large mirrored wall that faced the dining area. Ron reluctantly came to stand beside him. “Look, you great silly git,” said Harry pointing at their reflection, “you’re a head taller than I am, and you outweigh me by 30 kilos. You could fold me up and put me in your pocket if you took a notion to. It’s not always wands and magic you know, and even if it were, who came up with that braking charm for the new broom?”

“That’s different, it’s just flying, it’s not like it’s important.”

“Not important? It’s flying that got us all this, it’s what we live for.”

“Maybe. But you’re still a better flyer than I am,” Ron clung stubbornly to his position.

“Yeah, I am. So what. Damn near no one else is. You’re the best fucking keeper in the world Ron. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Ever will have. You’ve always looked out for me. I never had to watch my back during the war because I knew Ron Weasley was watching it for me.” Harry’s voice thickened a bit, and he cleared his throat. “Without you, Voldemort would have won. It’s just that simple, and everyone knows that except you.” Harry grabbed Ron’s bulging shoulder and squeezed it roughly, giving him a shake. “Ron Weasley is one hell of a bloke. I love you mate.” Harry punched Ron on the arm, and headed up to his room.

Ron stared long into the mirror, thinking of what Harry had said. He could still feel Harry’s grasp on his shoulder much later, when he went to his own room.

“Everything is ready, except for the bread,” said Fleur. She and Ginny had been working all day getting the house ready for the boy’s visit.

They had hunted down the scattered clothes (Ginny’s knickers had been found hanging from the hall chandelier. She could really shed clothes when Fleur and Hermione had her worked up!) They then cleaned all the rooms they thought would be used during the visit including the spare bedroom, just in case the boys decided to stay over.

“Do you need anything to make it?” asked Ginny.

“I don’t think so, just let me check the flour…merde!.. I thought there was enough. I think there might be some rolls in the fridge though.”

“Feed the boys refrigerator rolls when it’s been so long since they were here? Doesn’t sound like you to me. Besides, you know how much they love your bread. I’ll pop to the market and get some flour. Anything else?”

Fleur made a great show of looking for the other ingredients before reporting, “No, I have everything else I need. I’m so sorry Ginny.”

“Don’t be silly lover, your bread is worth any amount of trouble,” said Ginny smiling. She kissed Fleur’s cheek and headed to the market.

“It will be worth the trouble this time, chere, that I promise you,” Fleur chuckled throatily as she removed two perfectly prepared loaves from their hiding place and slid them into the warming oven to rise.


“Thank you Professor Sinistra,” said McGonagall, “for that riveting report on the condition of the telescopes.”

Hermione groaned inwardly, but she kept quiet and pretended interest. The
reports at these staff meetings were excruciating. Except for Luna’s. Her Care of Magical Creatures reports were always fascinating. Luna had a positive gift for working with animals. Hermione sometimes thought that Luna could really talk to them, but that was just silly, wasn’t it? Luna was up next, and Hermione brightened up and prepared to listen.

Ginny was whistling as she headed into the kitchen with the sack of flour. It always made her happy to do things for Fleur and Hermione, even little things like this. She opened the door to the kitchen, and the whistling stopped as her heart leapt into her throat. There was Fleur, kneading a huge mound of dough, her back to the door, wearing nothing but a teeny little lacy apron. Her hair was unbound, but thoughtfully had arranged itself so as not to obstruct the view. Ginny couldn’t breathe, nor could she take her eyes off of Fleur’s taut, round bum. The way the muscles clenched when she leaned into the dough made Ginny’s breath labor a bit. “There goes another perfectly good pair of knickers,” thought Ginny. The flour hit the floor with a soft “thud”.

Fleur gave a little, obviously phony start, and her bum bounced prettily. “Oh, chere, you startled moi,” said Fleur as she looked over her shoulder at Ginny. “As it turned out, we did have some flour. I think I’m about - ready…” she said huskily.

It was cliché, but it was still Fleur…Ginny’s clothes flew like leaves in the wind, and her hair flared in a sudden flame as it burst from its bindings.


“So we now have the only in-care bred Crumple-horned Snorkack in the world,” finished Luna proudly. Nothing was in “captivity” with Luna. The beasts simply stayed with her because they loved her. Not even dear Hagrid had had such a way with creatures. Even the Centaurs revered Luna, and there was a Thestral named Nightwing that followed her around like a very large and scary puppy. Since the war, almost everyone could see Thestrals.

Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat as Luna moved on to her class progress report. “What is going on?” wondered Hermione, as she squirmed a bit more.

Fleur gazed heavy-lidded at the nude, vaguely incandescent form of Ginny. She leaned farther over the table, her breasts making interesting impressions in the warm dough. Fleur moaned, and Ginny pounced.

“OH!” exclaimed Hermione. She was just about to start her own report, and the exclamation sounded in an otherwise silent room. The other teachers looked at her in alarm.

“Are you all right, Miss Granger?” asked McGonagall, concern plain on her face.

The spreading heat and wetness in Hermione’s groin was usually perfectly all right with her, but this was not the time and place that she would have chosen.


Ginny grabbed Fleur from behind, and fitted herself to her, leaning on her, pressing Fleur’s breasts farther into the warm dough. Fleur felt her nipples harden, making the impressions deeper, and even more interesting. Ginny’s hair wrapped around Fleur’s legs, and stroked them.

“Fleur, you vixen,” breathed Ginny into Fleur’s neck, “you set me up!”

“Oui,” answered Fleur somewhat breathily, as she thrust her backside against Ginny, “do you like your surprise?”


“YES!” screamed Hermione, “I… I mean, yes Professor, I’m f- f- fine.”

Ginny softly tongued the soft place behind Fleur’s ear that they all loved so much. “Oh Ginny, you know me so well, you love me so well, you make me melt… more, please Ginny; you know what I want.”

Ginny did know, and she wanted it too. She sat on the floor (which apart from a bit of flour was spotlessly clean) between Fleur’s wide-spread legs and slid her tongue smoothly, slowly, and deeply into Fleur’s wet center. “Ohh…”

“…Oh, oh,” Hermione gasped.

“I think she has a fever,” opined Flitwick, “look how flushed she is. We should call Poppy at once, coming on this suddenly, it might be serious!”

McGonagall’s eyes met Madame Hooch’s, and a spark of understanding flew between them.


“Ginny, aahhh, Ginny! Yes, oh Yes! Ginny, I want to taste you too. Now!” Ginny didn’t need much encouragement. She stood up, Fleur turned to face her, her hard nipples were dusted with flour, as was the tip of her nose.

“You are so damn cute,” said Ginny admiringly.

“And you, notre petite Ginny, look…”


“…good enough to eat,” said Hermione breathlessly. Her already flushed face getting even redder.

“Everyone out!” ordered McGonagall, “Out I say! Madame Hooch and I will help Miss Granger. The rest of you, go, and we’ll get Hermione’s report later.” The staff fled, for the most part, for they feared some contagion. Flitwick lingered a moment, his tiny, lined old face etched with concern. Flitwick simply doted on Hermione.

“Are you sure, Minerva?” He asked. “It looks like she’s having some sort of fit.”

“She’ll be just fine, Professor,” reassured Hooch, “run along now, there’s a good fellow.” Flitwick left, and Madame Hooch was just about to close the door when she noticed that Luna was still in the room, watching Hermione with an expression of polite interest.


Ginny softly blew the flour off Fleur’s nipples, and then sucked the remaining dust from them, raking them with her teeth. Fleur moaned again…

Hermione let out a little growl.

“Ginny love, now, please now,” panted Fleur, and she pulled Ginny’s head from her breast and kissed her with all of her love. Their tongues mingled, Fleur could taste herself on Ginny. Ginny moaned softly into Fleur’s mouth.

“Oooohhhhh…,” said Hermione quietly, and her eyes closed.

“Miss Lovegood. You need to go now, really, we will attend Miss Granger. There is no need to worry.”

“Oh,” said Luna absently, ‘I’m not worried, I’m a bit envious, that’s all. She’s not sick you know. She’s just about to come like the Hogwarts Express that’s all. Isn’t she beautiful? I mean, just look at her skin glowing!” Luna sighed wistfully.

“That will be all, Miss Lovegood,” said McGonagall firmly, and she ushered Luna from the room and locked the door with a spell. Outside, Luna wandered dreamily through the Entrance Hall and out of doors. She felt like going for a little ride on Nightwing.

Ginny broke the kiss reluctantly, twisted her torso, wrapped her arms around Fleur’s waist and lifted her while turning her upside down. Both Fleur and Hermione loved it when Ginny did this, they loved her strength, and they both loved the …*Ginny*… taste. Ginny held her easily, and they each lovingly kissed their lovers other mouth.

“Let’s give her some privacy, Minerva,” said Madame Hooch. “The poor girl is going to be embarrassed enough as it is. Why don’t you and I just retire to your inner office for a while?” McGonagall smiled, and took Hooch by the hand. The two old friends went into McGonagall’s private study and shut the door.

“Fleur, je t’aime, ma belle Fleur…” Fleur was paying special attention to Ginny’s clitoris. Ginny really liked it when she did that. “OH, OHH, FLEUR!!!” Ginny plunged her tongue as far into Fleur as she could, which was pretty much as far as there was to go, and moved it in a slow circle, touching every spot inside the …*Fleur*… place in one constant, swooping motion. Fleur shook, Fleur jerked, and then she went rigid in Ginny’s arms and squeezed Ginny’s tongue for dear life. “GINNY!! AHH, GINNY! YES!”

G: “Our Fleur…”

F: “Our Ginny…”

H: “I am going to kill you both!”

F&G: “Oh, merde!”


“Ron!” Harry called loudly as he headed towards Ron’s room. “We’ve got to get a move on if we’re going to pick up some wine for dinner. Are you ready yet?” Harry opened Ron’s door, stepped into his room, and stopped dead in his tracks. Ron was standing with his back to the door, just pulling a dark green jumper over his head; the muscles in Ron’s back rippled and bulged as he pulled it on. Harry’s mouth got a little dry.

“Wazzat Harry?” said Ron from within the sweater. His red hair showed at the neck hole and then his head popped through. “Not again!” said Ron in disgust. “I’ve only had this jumper for a couple months, and the bloody thing’s too tight in the chest to wear. Bleedin’ laundry must be shrinking them.”

Harry thought the sweater looked pretty damn good on Ron, but he had to admit that it was a bit tight. Ron peeled the sweater off.

“I wish my clothes fit like yours Harry. You look like something out of GQ.” Ron had a point, Harry’s body had a greyhound strength and elegance to it, and clothes just seemed to hang properly no matter what they were. Ron particularly liked the burgundy cashmere jumper he was wearing with his stone washed jeans tonight. “It goes well with his eyes,” thought Ron.

“Yeah, well,” Harry cleared his throat, “if you don’t back off in the gym, you soon won’t be able to fit into anything,” said Harry, looking at Ron’s muscular torso.

“Got to keep fit mate,” Ron replied heartily, “World Cup in a couple months. If we take this one, we’ll be the first team ever to win three in a row.” Ron rummaged through this closet and came up with a larger jumper. He pulled it over his head. “Right then,’ he said, “let’s get going, can’t keep our girls waiting. What are you looking at?”

Harry was choking with suppressed laughter, he couldn’t speak, but he pointed to his head, and then to Ron’s head, and then to the mirror. Ron went and looked.

“’Struth,” said Ron, “what a mess. Thanks Harry, I reckon I’d be in a fair mess all the time without you lookin’ out for me.”

“We’ll always look out for one another Ron,” said Harry as he watched Ron brush his hair. “Let’s go visit our sisters.”

Hermione had recovered, and she looked around the room in mortification. No one was there. She stood up, and looked at the seat of her chair. Quickly she pulled out her wand and unleashed a series of drying and cleaning spells, finishing off with her robes. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. Yet she had to smile, she was going to kill them mind you, but she did have to smile. A door opened behind her, and she turned to see Professor McGonagall approaching, she looked a bit …rumpled. She sat in her place at the table, and gestured Hermione to the seat beside her. Hermione sat. “Professor, I…“

McGonagall smiled at her and raised her hand to silence her. “There is no need to explain Miss Granger, I understand perfectly. At least as perfectly as I am capable of. “ This last statement had a wistful tone to it. “You see, Xiomara has some Veela blood herself. Not as much as your Fleur, but enough that she saw that you were Bonded when you came to work here. She told me in strictest confidence, and you don’t have to worry in the least about either of us telling another living soul. We do know how rare and precious this is, and we both have a proper Veela reverence for it.”

“Are you and she Bonded, then?” asked Hermione.

“Alas, no, we are merely in love, and have been since our school days. Things were different then, and by now the habit of secrecy is rather automatic,” she sighed.

“However, you must take care that this doesn’t happen again. Think if it were to happen in the Great Hall, or your classroom. We’d have students wanking off and shagging all over the place!”

Hermione’s eyes went round, and then she giggled. “I’m sure that between the three of you, that you can come up with a solution. You are three of the finest minds I have ever been privileged to know. In the meantime, please ask your lovers to exercise a little more… restraint… while you are on the grounds.” Hermione nodded, and was filled with a warm gratitude for her old teacher and friend.

“Professor, would you and Madame Hooch do us the honor of joining us for dinner sometime?”

“We would be delighted, my dear, absolutely delighted,” and McGonagall smiled the very biggest and brightest smile that Hermione had ever seen on her. It took years off of her, and Hermione could plainly see how lovely the young Minerva must have been. “And, Hermione, if you and your lovers, in your studies of this phenomenon, ever stumble across anything that you think might lead to even a tithe of the Bond that you share… do let me know, won’t you?”

“I promise, Professor.”

“Minerva, dear, please call me Minerva when we’re alone. We are after all, sisters, are we not? I had best get back to Xio. I like to be there, when she wakes.” The smile this time was small and distant, as was the look in her eyes, but it was no less beautiful. Hermione kissed her on the cheek, and left.

Minerva quietly returned to her private office.

Xio was still sleeping, a soft smile on her face.

For a long time, Minnie simply stood and watched. And a smile grew on her face as well; it was as if her lovers’ lips had cloned themselves onto McGonagall’s face. The soft curving smile wiped years away, and the slow tears that found their way down the tracks carved by years of loving that remarkable Ravenclaw mind brought their own sort of renewal.

Minnie often just watched Xio sleep. And she always smiled as she did, and she always cried those gentle tears of joy and wonder when she watched, an aging feline guarding her heart, while she watched it lie beating before her.

“How kind has fate been,’ Minnie thought, not for the first time, ‘to send me someone so very marvelous to love. My sweet, strong, Ravenclaw girl. My Xiomara; the angel-child of my heart’s own longing. How very kind indeed….”

The warm feeling that Hermione had from that exchange lasted until she had passed beyond the Hogwarts Gates. Then she recalled the events leading up to that wonderful talk, and she got the least bit testy. She disappeared with a crack.

“Red or white, do you think?” Ron asked Harry.

“Both, I’m not sure what they are serving, and something sparkling for afters,” Harry answered. Harry waved the proprietor over, and pointed to several bottles.

“Case of each as usual then, Mr. Potter?” asked the shopkeeper as he made notes on his pad.

“Two cases,” said Ron, ‘and three of the sparkly stuff. This is an occasion.”

“That’s the spirit, Ron,” said Harry laughing, “loosen up those purse strings, and let the lolly get some air!” Ron grinned.

“I may yet get the hang of being rich. Send them to this address please, they have a standard delivery portal.”

“Right you are, Mr. Weasley, right you are. Good game last evening, both of you. Put a right trouncing on the Irish this time, you lads did.”

“Thanks,’ they said together. “Bulgaria next week. Krum. Hope you make it to the match,” finished Ron.

“I’d love to, sir, but you can’t get a ticket to that one for love nor galleons.”

Harry and Ron shared a glance, and Harry pulled a blank page from the order book in the man’s hand, he wrote across it in his untidy scrawl, and handed the note to him. “Just show that at the gate,” he said, “they’ll take you to our box. Enjoy the game.” They left the surprised and delighted shopkeeper and resumed their stroll to the girl’s house. They often walked, it was not too far, and they enjoyed the stretch.

“You know,” said Ron slowly, “one fan like that is worth more than the whole house load of gits and groupies we usually have to deal with.”

“Right you are, Mr. Weasley, right you are.” Harry grinned, and threw his arm ‘round Ron’s shoulders, almost like when they were mates in school. But not quite.

“We’re really sorry, ‘Mione,” said Ginny softly, her eyes downcast.

“That is not going to work on me, this time Ginerva Weasley. You can be cute, and pout all you like, but you two caused me outright mortification!” Fleur’s lower lip poked out a bit too, and she fluttered her eyelashes bashfully.

“Was eet ‘orrible for you ma chere?” Fleur asked in a thick accent that she knew very well lit a fire in Hermione.

“We’re very, very, sorry,” Ginny added, “we made you a present…”

Hermione knew she was doomed, there was no way she could look at the two of them and be angry over anything whatsoever. And of course they all knew that, this was just a game they played from time to time. They played a lot of games of this sort. “Oh very well, let’s see it then.”

Ginny and Fleur scampered eagerly to the refrigerator, and returned carrying a covered plate apiece. “You first, Fleur,” said Ginny eagerly. Fleur set the plate on the table in front of Hermione, and removed the cover with a flourish.

“Voila,” she said. Hermione goggled. Sitting before her and gently wiggling was a spell-o mold, and it looked like…

“Those are your breasts Fleur, like when you’re lying on your back!”

“You know me too well, chere. Now it is Ginny’s turn.” Hermione braced herself; Ginny was capable of anything. Ginny put her somewhat smaller serving dish in front of her, and almost shyly revealed her gift.

It was another spell-o mold. Hermione looked at it closely, it was very familiar, it was kind of curved, and there was a sort of valley in the center, and at the top of the valley was a rather prominent… “GINNY!” shrieked Hermione.

Ginny, her head bowed, her lower lip out, raised her eyes to Hermione’s face and said in a teeny little voice, “Do you like it, ‘Mione?” That did it. Hermione cracked up, they all did. They laughed a lot in that house too.

“We are NOT serving that to the boys,” said Hermione firmly. “You two still have to be punished and I think I know just the thing. Put these scrumptious and juicy-looking confections somewhere safe. I’ll deal with you two later. Oh, and Ginny, you still have a bit of flour on your nose, love, just there.” She tapped the side of her nose.

“I had a very interesting conversation with Professor McGonagall; did you know that she and Madame Hooch are lovers? They have been since they were students,” explained Hermione.

“I thought maybe so,” said Ginny, “I’ve seen some pretty melty-type looks pass between them. And a couple times when I got sent to McGonagall’s office, I thought I saw Hooch in her private study when she came out. They make a nice couple, I think.”

“They surely do, Minerva really loves her. She asked me to call her Minerva, in private. I invited them over for dinner, date unspecified. I think they will be really good friends. Hooch is part Veela, too. She knew we were Bonded,” Hermione explained.

“I don’t think I know her,” said Fleur, “what does she teach?”
“Flying,” answered Hermione, “she has very short, spiky hair, and the loveliest golden eyes.”

“Golden eyes?” Fleur queried. Hermione and Ginny nodded. “Then she must be of the Hawkwyng flock. They all have golden eyes, and it is a very old and much honored flock, indeed. They do very well in the games, as you might expect, they are wonderful fliers. Though they don’t usually need brooms.”

“Minerva asked me to let her know if we ran across anything in our studies of Veela magic that might let them share sort of like we do. Do you think it’s possible?”

“Well,” began Fleur, “I suspect that the potions we used on Ginny’s hair may have had an effect.”

“Damn sure affected me,” avowed Ginny. “But you may be onto something, my hair started to feel kind of alive not too long after you two started caring for it. Does this mean my inclusion in the Bond is some sort of chemical accident?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, if that were possible there would be many more bonded Veela. The potions we used are common, at least in my flock, the Silverwyngs. My Grandmother invented them, they are mostly herbs and natural oils, the magic just serves to bind them together. Now it might have something to do with how, er…, ‘playful’ your hair is.”

“Nah, that’s just me, “ said Ginny. “Playful….” She gave Fleur an unmistakable look.

“No time for that now, dears,” Hermione declared, “I need to clean up. Thanks largely to you two, I might add. Don’t be idle while I’m gone.” Hermione marched off to their room.

“We do love her so,’ said Ginny.

“Oui,” said Fleur, and she kissed the flour from Ginny’s nose. A bell rang at the back of the kitchen. “That will be the boys’ contribution to dinner, I expect.”

Ginny walked to the delivery portal door and opened it, “Merlin!” she said in awe. There was a mountain of wine in the portal, and one small gift–wrapped box with a card saying – “England for the Cup! From your biggest fan, Richard the wine-merchant.“

“Do you suppose he’s a fan because of quidditch, or because Harry and Ron are putting his kids through school?” asked Ginny.

“Perhaps both, put the package on the sideboard please, love, while I choose the wine for supper. “ Ginny was quite happy to leave the choice to Fleur, knowing that her family had been vintners for generations. Fleur was delighted to see several cases with the Delacour crest on them. Such thoughtful brothers they had.

Hermione returned to the kitchen, comfortably dressed in soft slacks and a jumper. “Whatever are we going to do with them,” she said, shaking her head in wonder.

“Whatever we can, I expect,” said Ginny. “They are dears though, even my brother. But don’t tell him I said so. In any case, they’re here.”

The greeting was everything you might hope for from a close group of friends too long apart, there were hugs, and Fleur kissed Ron and Harry firmly on each cheek. “Funny,” thought Ron, “that used to make my toes curl. I suppose I really do think of her as a sister, now.”

The dinner was a huge success, much was made over the deliciousness of each course, and Fleur and Ginny blushed furiously when Ron said that the bread was the best he’d ever put in his mouth. The wine was lovely, as well, but there was one thing wrong, and all three women noticed it. Harry and Ron hardly met each other’s eyes. The girls had watched them all evening. Sneaking glances at each other, but looking away quickly if they thought the other saw. For the first time in their memory, they seemed ill at ease around each other. Harry and Ron took the present from their fan into the drawing room while the women cleared the table, and Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny held a meeting in the kitchen.

“Don’t fret the dishes,” said Hermione, “the elves at school got wind of the dinner and literally begged me to let them wash up. They wanted to cook too, until I told them that you were doing it, Fleur.” Hermione could do a rather good house-elf impression by now, and she did; saying “You is not needing us to cook then, Mistress Hermione, Mistress Fleur is a wonderful cook!” They all giggled at that.

“Why do you suppose they call us ‘Mistress’ now?” asked Ginny. “They even call me that.”

“I’ll ask,” said Hermione. “Now, what’s up with Harry and Ron?”

“They did seem a little uncomfortable with each other,” mused Fleur, “do you think they’ve had an argument?”

“Tuh,” snorted Ginny, “it’s obvious. They’re so hot for each other you can smell it.”

That pronouncement was greeted by a stunned silence, but you could see them thinking. “Zut,” breathed Fleur.

“So that’s what that smell is, I thought maybe they came straight from practice, or something.”

“Nope,” said Ginny confidently, “that smell is pure bee-oh-wye, or perhaps em-ay-en, they have grown a bit. Growing up in a house full of boys discovering the flower of love, you get to know it. It’s a bit icky, but it’s what they have.”

“Leave it to Ginny to cut to the chase,” thought Hermione. “Do you think they know?” she asked aloud.

“I think perhaps so,” said Fleur slowly, “they are just frightened. Perhaps they don’t know how to tell one another.”

“I don’t suppose I can talk Harry into trying the Veela challenge on Ron, but I have to do something,” said Ginny. “They are our boys, after all.”

“Right then, “ pronounced Hermione, “I’ll tackle Ron. Fleur, I think they might be a bit uncomfortable talking with you about this.”

“I think so too. It should be you two, but you must both help me a moment first. I have an idea.” The three took the back way into the hall. It was in fact several moments before they returned, but they looked very pleased with themselves.

Fleur took two silver goblets from a cabinet, and Ginny and Hermione went into the drawing room. Fleur took out her wand, and tapped each cup, saying Portus each time she tapped. She smiled, and settled down to wait.

Hermione and Ginny entered the room to find Harry gazing out the window idly, while Ron stared into the fire. The gift lay forgotten and unopened on the couch. Ginny passed through the room, and when she reached the archway leading to the foyer, she turned and said, “’Oi, Harry. Come with me a minute, I need to ask you something.” Harry followed after Ginny, Ron started to rise, but Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and firmly pushed him back into his seat. In a tone long familiar to Ron, she spoke.

“Ronald, I have to talk to you about something important- “ she began.

“If it’s about the three of you being in love, then I already know, I’ve known for some time. It just didn’t seem my place to say anything about it.”

Hermione was surprised. “And it’s alright with you? I mean, that we’re all women, and that there are three of us. It is just a little unusual.”

“It’s unique, in my opinion,” said Ron. “Is it alright with me? You mean is it all right with me that my little sister is in love with, and is loved by, the two most beautiful women in the world, apart from her? That she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her, not just now and then, (Hermione shivered at that) but all of the time? That she’s cared for, looked after, and has simply everything that matters in life? That she holds in her heart something that no amount of money can buy? Is that what you mean?”

Hermione was staring at Ron, and she was aware that her mouth was gaping. She managed a small nod. Ron smiled, and it was a smile that somehow reminded her of the small smile that she had seen on Minerva’s face that afternoon. “You bet your sweet arse it’s alright with me, Hermione. I hope that one day I can know even a small part of what you three have.”

Hermione’ eyes were blurry with tears, and for a moment she thought Ron’s were as well. “Thank you, Ron. We all love you, you know. You and Harry.”

“I’m not nearly as thick as I pretend to be…it’s just always seemed easier. I know ‘Mione, I know you love me, and Harry.”

“Speaking of Harry, Ron…”

“Where are we going, Ginny?” asked Harry as he followed her down the hall.

“Just out in the garden, right through here,” answered Ginny, as she opened a door and stepped through it. Harry joined her, and she closed the door. It was a tiny garden, given over mostly to the herbs that they used for cooking, nothing like the manicured and landscaped gardens at Ron and Harry’s, but it suited them.

“So, have you got a new plant, or something?” Harry asked, looking around.

“When are you going to tell Ron that you’re in love with him?” Ginny could in fact get to the point of a thing.

Harry startled, but he didn’t protest. He slumped down on a nearby bench, and Ginny sat next to him. He didn’t bother asking how she knew, either. “I can’t tell him, we’ve been friends forever. We’re teammates; we’ve fought side by side through some of the worst, the most blood-soaked, foul-smelling parts of Hell that living men have ever seen. And now I’m supposed to kiss him and tell him I’m in love with him?”

“Yes, you are. What do you think got you through that Hell? Tell him how you feel, Harry. You owe that to Ron, and to yourself.”

“I’d like to, I would, but if he didn’t feel the same as me, it would wreck what we have now. I don’t dare. I can’t risk losing him altogether. I just can’t” There was a world of pain and longing in that statement, and Ginny felt it all.

“I know Harry, believe me I know. I went through the same thing with Fleur and Hermione.”

“Not quite the same thing, Gin. At least you knew they liked girls.”

“Harry, it’s not like that. We don’t love women, we love each other. Fleur, Hermione, and I love each other, …*us*… It’s love Harry, it’s just love, and love doesn’t care whether you’re a man or a woman. It just is. And I know Ron loves you, Harry. You can’t hide love from a Veela.”

“You’re not a…“ Harry stopped short, and looked at the freckled face before him. “You really are a Veela, somehow, how in …“

“That, my darling brother, I won’t say; but I’m pleased that you see it. Back to you. What are you going to do about this, Harry? And you’d better think quickly, because Hermione is chatting with Ron right this minute. She’ll likely take a little longer than I did to get to the heart of the thing, but she’ll get there. Don’t you doubt that.” Harry didn’t doubt it in the least.

“What about Harry?”

“You have to tell him how you feel.”

Ron went pale, then bright red. “What do you mean, how I feel?” he said very softly.

“Ron, you love him, all three of us can see it.”

“Of course I love him, he’s my best mate, and we’ve gone through Hell together! Sure, ‘course I love him,” he said gruffly.

“Ron,” said Hermione gently, “you’ve already slipped up. What you said about Ginny, and Fleur and me. You’re not so thick about love as you pretend to be.”

Ron dropped his face into his hands, and spoke from behind them, “Yeah, all right. I’m in love with Harry. What the hell am I gonna do with that, eh?”

“You have to tell him.”

“And suppose he doesn’t feel the same as me. He’s been out with a hundred girls, he doesn’t fancy blokes,” said Ron miserably.

“He fancies you,” Hermione said simply.

“Do you really think so?” he asked with a tiny bit of hope in his eyes.

“No, I don’t think so, I’m perfectly sure of it. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy to tell him. Important things are seldom easy, Ron. But they are worth the effort, in the end,” she said gently, and she kissed his cheek.

“I’ll think about it,” said Ron, ‘that’s all I can promise at the moment.”

“Well,” Hermione said, smiling, “that’s a start, anyway. I’ll go and help Fleur with the drinks.” She left him, and he was once again staring into the fire.

“How did it go?” Fleur asked her.

“He did acknowledge it; he hardly fought it at all. But I don’t know if he’ll be able to pluck up the courage to say anything.”

“Yes, it is hard. I was never able to tell you of my feelings, even after I realized that I had them,” admitted Fleur. Hermione reached out and touched the softness of Fleur’s hair.

“Thank goodness for the hair,” and they kissed.

“Get a room, you two,” said Ginny as she entered the kitchen.

“Got one, thanks,” responded Hermione, ‘how did you fare with Harry?”

“Not too bad, he knows how he feels, and he knows that we say that Ron feels the same. But I’m not sure he’ll be able to tell Ron.”

H: “Plan ‘B’ then?

F&G: “Oui.

Hermione and Ginny carried bottles and glasses into the drawing room while Fleur trailed behind, carrying the silver goblets. They stepped into what might be best described as an “awkward silence.”

“What did the wine-merchant give you?” asked Ginny.

“Dunno,” Ron answered, glad to have a subject for speech, “open it, Harry.” Harry picked the parcel up and was examining the wrapping when Fleur stepped into the room.

“Catch!” she said, and Harry and Ron looked up to see a large silver object speeding at each of them. Of course, it was nothing for them to catch them, Harry didn’t even drop the box, but they were a little surprised by the strong pull at the midsection that always accompanied portkey usage.

“Well then,” said Hermione briskly, “the rest is up to them, for twenty-four hours there is simply no way for anyone to reach them. Now, as for you two very naughty girls, I have decided what your punishment shall be.”

Fleur and Ginny were caught between amusement and just the least little bit of excitement.

“You shall both appear before me in our Bonding Room in ten minutes time. You shall wear what you are now wearing, and you shall leave your hair in its bindings. Have I made myself clear?” They nodded, and Hermione swept past them headed for the kitchen.

“Do you think she’s really angry?” asked Fleur.

“I don’t think so, we’d know that, but she is definitely up to something. We’d better be on our toes, I reckon.” Fleur nodded in agreement.

Ron and Harry landed on their feet; they were much better with portkeys than they used to be. They looked around them. “This is the guest room at the girls’ house,” Ron said. Harry laughed.

“Yeah, it is. Well, it was funny, let’s go back in and give them their credit. Portkeys aren’t that easy to do.” He turned to the door, but there was absolutely no sign of one. Instead, there was a note on the wall written in Fleur’s flowing script.

“Notre beau freres,” it began, “we have decided to take a hand in this matter. We love you both too much to stand by and watch you suffer this way. Talk to each other, we beg you. You will not be able to leave this room for twenty-four hours from the time of transport.” They checked their watches, it was 8 PM, near enough. “We know that you will try to get out, but please don’t waste too much time trying. Remember that there are few chances for happiness, please don’t squander this one…”

Votre Souers

Harry cleared his throat. “Well that’s taking a joke a bit far, but we’ll fix it.”

“Yeah,” Ron said heartily, “imagine them, thinking three girls can pen up Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.”

“Right you are, Mr. Weasley, right you are!”

Fleur and Ginny appeared as, and when, instructed, to find Hermione wearing a beautiful set of robes of a rich, wine-colored velvet fabric, her hair was still up, and she was not smiling. “Fleur, stand there,” she said pointing to a spot on the floor, “Ginny, you over there.” They complied, and ended up beside each other, a few feet apart, facing Hermione.

“Now then, I hope that you are feeling properly guilty about the embarrassment you caused me in front of my colleagues.” They nodded. “I know it was fun, believe me, I know.” Fleur and Ginny glanced at each other and smiled. "But, in your enthusiasm you neglected to cast a muting spell on the kitchen so that I would not become quite so, involved in your baking. Therefore, (“Here it comes”, thought Fleur and Ginny) I have decided that your punishment shall be to stand right where you are, with your hair bound and your arms at your sides, whilst I enjoy my dessert. I may not give you any at all, but if there is any left when I am done, I shall invite you to join me. You shall not move until I tell you to. Do you agree?”

They took a minute to think. It sounded all right, maybe a tiny bit silly. It wasn’t like they were starving, and Fleur and Ginny supposed it did have a kind of balance to it. They had certainly had a little dessert when Hermione couldn’t really have any, when you thought about it. The reason that they had to think was that a promise among them was as binding as an unbreakable vow. It wasn’t that they would die if they broke one. It was that they would rather die than break one. The Bonding was very powerful. Still and all, it seemed little enough, and it was all in fun, anyway. “We agree,” they said in concert.

And the trap was sprung.

“I never would have believed it,” said Harry; impressed in spite of himself. “There is absolutely no way to get out of here. None! I can’t even begin to understand the magic they used to seal this place. Voldemort was a bloody squib next to those three.”

“They’re something, right enough,” agreed Ron, “at least they left us food and drink. What the hell do they expect us to talk about for twenty-four hours in this little room anyway?” He blushed as soon as he said it.

“Yeah,” said Harry, blushing as well. “What?”

Ron took a deep breath; Fleur was right, Hermione was right, there are so few chances. His face looked like it would burst, but the voice that came out of it was very small indeed. “I’m in love with you, Harry. I mean, in love. I can’t carry on with the parties, the groupies; it sickens me. There just has to be more.”

The words struck Harry like a blow. It was what he longed to hear, even perhaps, deep inside, expected to hear. But to actually hear it... Harry couldn’t speak.

Ron waited, looking at the floor, the silence stretched interminably. Was Hermione wrong? Had Hermione ever been wrong? He raised his eyes to Harry’s, those startling green eyes that had seen so much horror, just as his had.

He waited.

“I hope this teaches you a lesson,” said Hermione briskly, but inside she was laughing her arse off. She put the chair back by the table, walked to the edge of the bed, and turned to face Fleur and Ginny. Hermione’s face changed.

F&G: “Uh-oh.”

F: “She wouldn’t.”

G: “She might….

She did.

Hermione slowly unbuttoned the red velvet robe, the buttons went all the way to the floor, and she opened every one of them. She reached up and pulled the robe off of her right shoulder, then her left. She looked right at Fleur and Ginny and let the robe hit the floor. It wasn’t as if they had never seen her nude before, of course. But they had an idea what was ahead, and there wasn’t a thing that they could do about it. It was brilliant, and their minds applauded while their bodies rebelled at the enforced stillness. Their hair, of course, was not happy in the least.

Hermione slowly reached up, and began to loosen her hair, Fleur and Ginny watched as her breasts rose, and then Hermione’s hair spilled about her in a cloud. There seemed to be a lack of air in the room. Certain parts of Fleur and Ginny were beginning to tingle. Hermione said nothing, and slowly began to caress her breasts with her hands, while her hair caressed other parts of her. Her lips parted, and they caught a glimpse of Hermione’s tongue. Hermione’s breathing deepened, her eyes closed, and one hand began to slowly slide down across her ribs. It kept going.

G: “She won’t”

F: “Yes, she will.”

She did.

Hermione moved one foot to the side, and her fingers slid through the soft brown curls and pressed. “Oohh,” came a quiet sound from her lips. Fleur and Ginny melted, and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it but stand there and watch, and feel. It felt very good, but it was rather a limited experience compared to the usual in this room. Hermione’s hand began to move in a circular fashion, and a very faint sheen of dew appeared on her forehead. The hand stopped and the two outside fingers curled into her palm.

F: “She couldn’t.”

G: “She damned well better. This is HOT!”

She did.

Hermione plunged two fingers into herself, and her hips bucked, her mouth opened wide, her head rocked back. “AAHHHhhh”, came the sound from deep within her.

Fleur and Ginny shifted uneasily, but they stuck to the deal. Hermione’s fingers began to slide slowly in and out of her pussy, shining wet in the light of the room. Fleur and Ginny caught just a trace of …*Hermione*… in the air. Their mouths had dried up when Hermione’s robe fell to the floor. They weren’t dry now. Hermione’s hips began to move… “oh, oh, yes..” came the sound from her lips.

There wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

Harry smiled, “Ron Weasley is one hell of a bloke,” he said loudly, and then added much more softly, “and I’m in love with him.” He took the long step between himself and Ron, and embraced him. Ron’s arms wrapped around Harry and they held each other tightly. “Don’t kill me Ron;” gasped Harry, “you’re nearly as strong as Ginny.”

Ron eased up a bit, and pulled his head back so that he could see Harry’s face. “Don’t be silly Harry; no one’s as strong as Gin.” They smiled at each other, the tension eased from their faces, and they saw in each other’s eyes exactly what they were looking for. Their lips met. It wasn’t bad, for a first kiss, which is what it was for both of them, really.

“YES, OH, OH Yes!” cried Hermione as one hand vigorously massaged her lower mouth. Her other hand slowly pinched and rolled first one nipple, then the other. She began to pant. A faint sheen of dew appeared on her breasts.

Fleur and Ginny had no dew on them. They were sweating like longshoremen. They could feel Hermione’s hands as she touched herself, and they remembered, oh how they remembered, what it was like to touch those same places on her body. They could even on maddening occasion, smell the scent of her that they so loved, and they could almost taste her. But not quite.

Hermione’s hips began to jerk sharply, her hand moved faster, and a low, keening, sound came from deep within her.

G: “Soon.”

F: “Pleaseletitbesoon!

“Ah, Ah, AH!!... ooooh.,” gasped Hermione as she slowly straightened up and smiled as a cat smiles at it’s prey. She brought her glistening fingers to her mouth and slowly licked them, never taking her gaze from her quivering lovers. Fleur and Ginny were shaking, and there definitely wasn’t enough air in the room, their chests heaved as they fought for breath. Hermione thought it quite a lovely sight.

G: “She’ll let us go now, won’t she?”

F: “She has to!”

She didn’t.

To be Continued in Part Two