Title: When Fantasy Meets Reality
Author: eeyore9990
Characters: Ron/Hermione/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Het?
Themes/kinks chosen: Underwear as a fetish
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: Stuck in a tent for months, Hermione takes her opportunity to wank when she can. Thankfully, when she's caught, it's by a figment of her broken imagination.
Author's notes: Whee! Trio-smut! Written for vl_redreign cuz she's awesome and I luff her. Huge thanks to kathrynthegreat for pushing me to finish on time.

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Hermione watched Harry walk out of the tent and then waited, tense, to see if he would come back. Long, breathless moments passed where all she could hear was her heartbeat before she decided he was really gone. Hands shaking, anticipation coursing through her, she ran toward the room that was now just Harry's, the one he and Ron had shared before Ron had... well. Just before.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the dark thoughts of all that had gone wrong out of her head. She needed to be calm and relaxed and ready for this to work; ready was not an issue. Living in each other's pockets like she and Harry were, one didn't have the opportunity to take care of personal needs as one might like. Hermione sighed and opened her eyes, glancing hungrily around the room before she saw what she was after. Swooping, she plucked up the garment before she could change her mind, then crawled onto the bed.

As she lay there, surrounded by earthy, masculine scents, Hermione drew her knees up and rocked slowly on the bed. In her mind's eye, she conjured a lover... no, lovers. Hands, so many, stroking over her body, teasing her senses even as they teased her flesh. Warm breath ghosting over her cheek as meaningless words were murmured into her ear.

Biting back a sharp moan, Hermione slowly slipped the buttons free on her shirt, parting the fabric until gravity caught it and dragged it down to pool at her sides. The cloth she'd snatched from the floor she brought to her face, rubbing it gently over her nose and lips before trailing it lightly down her chin until it tickled down the length of her throat and swirled against the very top of her chest.

Grasping the elastic band of the garment, she rubbed it back and forth over her nipple. Even through the thin material of her bra, it was delightful.

She had no idea where this thought had come from, but once it had lodged in her brain, it had proven completely impossible to rid herself of it. It had grown into an obsession, a fetish. The best part of it was that she had no idea who they belonged to. They could be Harry's--most likely were Harry's--or they could be, possibly, Ron's. Hermione's breath sped at the thought of Harry wearing them knowing they were Ron's.

She could see it, really. Through her haze of passion, she conjured the scene in her head. Harry, devastated after Ron left them, coming back to this room that he and Ron had shared and seeing everything of Ron's laid out still. The clothing, the socks... the pants. Her fingers clenched in the cotton boxers and she dragged them down the soft curve of her belly as she pictured Harry slowly stripping out of the clothes he'd worn that night--a green shirt, denims, those ratty trainers--and in a moment of needy despair, slipping off his overlarge pants to draw these up his legs and over his groin.

Hermione tossed her head on the pillow, her body trembling. She kicked her feet into the air, fumbling with the tangled boxers until she had her feet in them, then sliding them up and over her hips. With a moan, she pressed the heel of her hand to her mound over the rapidly dampening material of the pants. She sucked on two fingers of her other hand, imagining they were something different, something more.

She drew her feet up, tucking her heels against her arse before dropping her knees to the bed, her thighs open wide. She writhed on the bed, hips bucking against her hand as she moaned around her fingers. God, she ached.

Something shifted near her hip and then a cold hand was covering her breast, fingers plucking gently at her nipple. Eyes flying open, Hermione looked up to see Harry leaning over her, his hair wet, skin pale with cold. His eyes, though... Hermione moaned, arching into his touch even as a long, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand from between her legs. Confused, Hermione looked down to see Ron there, kneeling on the bed beside her hip, slipping his fingers into the slit in the boxers.

"All right?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

It was a dream, a fantasy. It had to be. If it had just been Harry, Hermione would have been... well, possibly mortified. But the inclusion of Ron? Her mind must have snapped. He was gone. Gone. He'd left them. So of course this was all right. It was her fantasy, wasn't it?

Harry's other hand tugged hers from her mouth and after glancing back at 'Ron', he leaned over, brushing his lips against hers. His eyes, still wide, stared down into hers. After a slow, sweet kiss, he pulled back. "All right?"

Hermione let out a sobbing breath and said, "God, yes, please. It's all right. Of course it is. Shut up!" Grabbing onto his overly-long, cold, wet hair, she pulled his head down, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth until he opened up and kissed her back. Really kissed her back.

The fingers that had been sliding over her cunt went still and began to pull back. With a low sound, she reached down, grabbing that hand and holding it in place as she rocked her hips against it. She whimpered, torn between sucking on Harry's tongue and ordering Ron to touch her more, harder, deeper.

Once again proving himself to be a figment of her imagination, Ron read her mind. One long finger slid into her, the waistband of the boxers inching down as he forced his hand through the front slit to gain better access. Hermione moaned into Harry's mouth just as wet lips covered the nipple Harry wasn't rolling between his fingers. Hermione did pull back from the kiss then, her whole body trying to fly off the bed as pleasure roared through her.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she gasped, rocking and arching and twisting her body from one to the other. And it was her fantasy, in living colour. Hands, so many, stroking over her body, teasing her senses even as they teased her flesh. Warm breath ghosting over her cheek as meaningless words were murmured into her ear just before Harry's teeth scraped over the shell of it, sending tremours down her body to meet the ones rising from Ron's hands and mouth. "Please!" she cried, not knowing which way to turn to fill the ache.

Another mouth covered hers then, silencing her cries, and this time it was Ron. Ron who was so familiar, his tongue stroking over hers in a pattern she recognised, soothing her even as her body tried to fly apart.

Tears squeezed from her clamped-shut eyes, part sorrow for what might have been and part pure, physical frustration. She wanted, needed, and they were teasing her. Making her so desperate. Hermione twisted away from Ron, needing the space, needing clarity. "Please," she whispered.

Opening her eyes again, she saw what she'd missed the first time. Harry was naked. Turning back, she saw that Ron was not, though his clothing was damp in places. As if he'd embraced a wet, naked Harry. Hermione moaned at the images that sprang to her head, her body continuing to buck and writhe. "Please."

"Both of us?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned her head to scowl at him. "Of course! You should know that. Both of you. Now!"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her demand, then looked to Ron with a shrug. "You heard her, mate."

"Been doing a lot of this?" Ron asked, his expression guarded.

Hermione choked on a sound of frustration. "God, I haven't even had a decent wank in months and you want to stop my fantasy to ask to stupid questions. I don't need realism now! I want imaginary Ron back. Why are you still dressed? Why is there so much talking?"

Ron stared at her before a slow smile spread across his face. "Sorry." Without another word, he peeled his jumper over his head, then undid the buttons on his denims and peeled them down his thighs.

"Oh God," Hermione whispered. "Do you see that?"

Harry, nuzzling at her neck, made a questioning sound.

"His pants. They look just like these. Oh God, yes." Turning her head, Hermione brushed her lips over Harry's forehead and murmured, "You've been wearing his pants, haven't you?"

Harry went still, then raised his head and looked down at her, his eyes bright with worry. "I... I didn't have anything clean?"

"You were wearing them. After him." Hermione bit her lip and turned back to stare greedily at Ron. "And now I am."

"And now you're the one over dressed," Ron said, sliding one hand up her thigh and under the loose leg of the boxers to tease her with the tips of his fingers. Hermione pushed onto her elbows, rolling her hips against his hand. Her head fell back and she languidly rolled it to the side to allow Harry access. He licked and kissed and nibbled, his hand massaging her breast as he devoured her throat.

"Sit up," Harry whispered, helping her when Hermione couldn't find the coordination to do so. He slid behind her, making her gasp as his erection pressed against the small of her back. Hermione pressed back against him before pushing forward into Ron's hand and then... it wasn't enough. Not near enough.

"Do something!" she moaned, hands digging into Harry's legs on either side of her.

"Ron," Harry said, and there was a husky quality to his voice that Hermione had never heard before. Ron looked up, his eyes gone dark with arousal. "Do it."

Ron paused, his fingers going still against her as he looked at Harry. "Both of us." Hermione could feel the tension in Harry's chest even as his hips jerked under her. Obviously taking Harry's silence for an answer, Ron dropped his head, pressing kisses to her belly even as he tugged the boxers down her hips. Hermione wriggled, helping him, but wouldn't allow him to continue teasing her as he had been.

"Just... do it!" she demanded, sliding her legs apart and hooking her feet over the outside of Harry's knees. She brought her hands up, cupping them over Harry's on her breasts and guiding his fingers to pinch and pull against her nipples the way she liked. More than gentle but less than rough.

Ron nodded and settled into place between her thighs. "You sure?" he asked, looking down at Hermione.

"Do I have to do everything myself?"

A small grin tugged at his lips before he took his cock in hand and pressed it against her. A few false starts, then he was sliding inside, filling her in the most delicious way. Hermione brought one hand to her mouth to muffle her screams. Ron thrust shallowly, slowly, three times, then slowly pulled out. Gasping, face red with strain, he gripped the base of his cock and said, "Harry."

Hermione tossed her hair, ready to murder him for stopping, not understanding why he had. Then Harry was shifting behind her, lifting her hips, and then another cock was filling her. The angle was different, the penetration less and yet... more. Rubbing places she could never quite reach with her fingers. Gravity pulled her down, forcing him into her. She keened, back bowing, and clenched her inner muscles against him. She heard a short, bit-off whinge before Harry's hands were lifting her again and allowing her to slam down. A third time.... and then he pushed her up until his cock slid free and Ron was there, pushing back in.

Oh God, oh God this was too much. Both of them. Even in her fantasies, she'd never considered this. There was always one at each end, or, when she was feeling really adventurous, both at once. But never like this. Never taking turns. It was too much and not enough. Just as her whole body started to tingle, her belly filling with knots, Ron pulled out and helped Harry lift her again.

She had no idea how many times they changed out. Always three strokes right up until Harry's fingers spasmed against her hips and his teeth sank into the curve where her neck and shoulder met. He slammed up a fourth time then, and held her tightly to him as his cock pulsed and jerked inside her. He held her there, hips grinding up against her, for long moments. Hermione, eyes closed, didn't notice the shifting of the bed until a tongue pressed between her parted labia and began to lick slowly, occasionally dipping down to where Harry was still buried inside her and soothing the stretched skin. From the way Harry twitched everytime Ron did that, Hermione could only guess it felt as good to him as it did to her.

Finally, Harry shifted his hips and his softened cock slid out of her, freeing the way for--

The world spun as Harry rolled out from beneath Hermione, leaving her half-twisted on the bed, legs tangled around Ron's shoulders. A murmured conversation that she couldn't hear for the buzzing in her ears and then Ron's mouth and tongue were gone. Hermione writhed, glaring up at the two of them as they stared back at her. Ron grasped her calves and slowly pulled them up, pushing her legs wide apart. Harry yanked the pillows from beneath her head and stuffed them under her arse, tilting her hips to give Ron better access.

Ron surged forward, wrenching a cry from Hermione at the swiftness of his entry. Apparently satisfied with their positioning, Harry ducked down and began to kiss and lick at her the way Ron so recently had, even as the fingers of one hand slid up her abdomen to pluck and tweak at her nipples. With Ron pistoning into her, Harry sucking on her clit, and fingers rolling her nipples, it wasn't long before Hermione felt the chords of tension in her body draw tight then burst, sending pleasure coursing through her. She keened and moaned through her orgasm, her hips rocking against Ron's until he, too, slammed forward one last time, his whole body taut as he emptied himself inside of her.

Harry continued to lave them both with his tongue until Ron pulled free and fell to the bed beside her, his strong arms gathering her close. Harry crawled up the bed, sliding his body close on her other side, hands still trailing over her as she shook from the aftermath of that fantastic orgasm. She'd never felt so safe as she did now, trapped in a fantasy, mind obviously broken from the strain of living with this wretched war.

Hermione's first clue that her fantasy was in fact reality was when Harry said, after they'd all caught their breath, "This really sort of overshadows the whole 'finding the Sword of Gryffindor' thing, doesn't it?"