Entry tags:

draco malfoy, draco/harry, harry potter, hermione granger, hermione/ron, ron weasley

[FIC] What a Friend Sees: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Originally posted here on 22 August 2007

Title: What a Friend Sees
Requestor: charmed310
Author/Artist:
Rating: NC-1
Word Count: ~7200
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Summary: When Ron sees something suspicious, his actions cause Harry and Draco to split up. Can he undo the damage before it’s too late?
Warnings: Rimming, Graphic sex, Slash, Het.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my hardworking beta, S, without whom this story would not have been possible.

~*~

What a Friend Sees

~*~

It had been a good day until Ron rounded the corner and was confronted with a sight he’d hoped to never see. Spinning on his heel, he stomped away, ignoring the cries coming from behind him.

“I don’t believe it!” Ron said, storming into the tent and allowing the flap to flop closed behind him.

“Ron?”

Ron closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Harry at that moment. “Tell me I did NOT just see that,” he hissed.

Harry sighed. “I knew you’d react this way,” he said. “You wonder why I didn’t want to say anything to you? Well, this is why.”

Ron spun, his face red and furious. “Have you forgotten what a git he is?” he snapped. “What he used to call Hermione? How he treated you? How can you bear to... to...”

“To kiss him?” Harry asked. He shook his head. “It’s been a gradual thing, Ron,” he said. “He’s not the same as he was. He’s on our side and I trust him.”

“He would kill you as soon as kiss you,” Ron said. “And I can’t believe you’ve fallen for his act.”

“I have no plans to kill anyone, especially not Harry, Weasley.”

Ron cursed under his breath and turned away as Draco Malfoy entered the tent. “Yeah, well you’ll excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,” he muttered bitterly.

Draco stepped up to Harry and, to Ron’s clear disgust, wrapped an arm around him. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but hear what he was saying.”

Harry nodded, relaxing against Draco, appearing to take strength from the blond’s presence.

“Ron, you don’t have to trust Draco, just trust me, please?”

Ron crossed his arms. “I’ll always trust you, Harry,” he finally said. “But this prat? Not so much.” Turning back to face them, Ron glared at Draco. “Just so you know, I’ll be watching you, Malfoy.”

Draco smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Likewise, Weasley,” he said.

“Oh my God!” Hermione’s voice was shrill, panicked, and all three young men turned towards the entrance of the tent in instinctive response.

“Hermione?” Ron pushed roughly past Draco and Harry just as an explosion rocked the camp. “Bloody hell...!”

“We’re under attack!” she screamed, and then there was no more time for petty grievances.

The battle raged for a long time, and Draco gave as good as he got; more than once he proved conclusively that he was wholly committed to the side of Light. So much so that later, when Ron saw Harry and Draco standing hand in hand and talking, he backed off. He’d personally seen Draco take several curses meant for Harry, just so that Harry could take his shot at Voldemort.

By the time reinforcements arrived, Voldemort was dead and Harry was no longer clutching his head where his scar had forcibly closed, severing his link with the Dark Lord. Draco still hovered anxiously over him, however, and it was clear he was going nowhere.

And later, when Harry left the celebration with Draco, Ron simply couldn’t look at them. He stayed long into the night, even managing to cuddle with Hermione a bit before passing out.

The next morning, Ron managed to go several minutes before being forcibly reminded of his best friend’s apparent insanity. On the way to relieving himself in the woods before helping to break down the camp, he paused when he glimpsed a flash of something through the trees.

Still on high alert, despite their recent victory, Ron crept up, craning his neck to see. There, through the trees, was a clearing, and as he watched, two figures stumbled into it, attached at the lips, groping frantically at each other.

Pulling away and panting, Harry smiled at Draco, brushing a hand tenderly through his hair. Draco murmured something and Harry laughed, the sound making Ron blink. He hadn’t heard his friend sound that happy in a long while.

Draco pulled a handkerchief out of his robes, and after laying it on the ground, he muttered an incantation. When the transfigured blanket appeared on the ground, Harry giggled and dragged Draco down onto it, wrapping strong arms around him.

Ron blanched, and quickly realizing he probably didn’t want to see what would happen next, began to back off, but before he could move, Draco rolled on top of Harry in a smooth move, trapping him.

Ron paused, determined to be sure that Harry was okay before leaving. It was the least he could do for his naive best friend, after all.

Harry smiled and tilted his head back. “You feel so good,” he moaned, the words drifting over to where Ron was hidden.

Draco bent his head, sucking a kiss into Harry’s neck as he ground his hips against him. He whispered something that only Harry could hear, and grabbed his wand.

Ron tensed. Maybe he should have his wand handy in case Draco attacked Harry...

With a flick and a slow swish, Draco disrobed both of them, and, after tossing the wand aside, appeared to devote himself to touching Harry in as many places as possible.

Fascinated despite himself, Ron watched as Draco, to all appearances lovingly, brushed kisses all over Harry, whispering words as he did so. Harry was writhing urgently beneath the blond, looking as if he were experiencing intense pleasure.

Draco’s hand dipped between their bodies, and Harry’s legs spread to allow him room. Ron couldn’t see everything, but he saw enough to know what Draco was doing, and unable to turn away, he watched as Draco eventually thrust into Harry, eliciting a loud groan from both of them.

“Gods,” Harry cried, arching his body and wrapping his legs around Draco in an attempt to get closer. They moved together sensually, low, breathy moans the only sounds in the clearing for several moments.

Draco, his body bent over Harry, had his hands clenched in Harry’s hair and was pumping in and out, his naked arse flexing strongly with each movement. Ron began getting aroused despite himself.

It lasted longer than Ron would have anticipated until finally, Draco stiffened and came with an almost silent shudder. In contrast, Harry’s keening shout echoed in the woods.

The two men snuggled together afterwards, laughing and whispering. They looked almost domestic, and Ron felt a pang of guilt for having watched them during such an intimate moment.

“We should get back before they start looking for us,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, and retrieving his wand, clothed them once more. The two shared kisses and touches before gathering up the transfigured blanket to leave.

With a sigh, Ron turned away, trying to hide the sounds of his retreat. He took an alternate route back to avoid running into them. By the time he got to camp, he was thoughtful and quiet, fending off all of Hermione’s questions, and that day, for the first time, he spoke to Draco without animosity.

When the camp was broken down and they returned to the city, things were strange for a while. The Burrow, which Ron had for all his life thought of as home, was too crowded, and he simply didn’t fit in there anymore.

He looked for other options, including asking the twins if he could stay with them, but they were busy rebuilding their shop and their supplies after the devastation of the war. Even Hermione returned to her parents’ house for a month, and so it was with some trepidation that Ron accepted Harry’s offer to live with him and Draco for a while at Grimmauld Place.

Ron was actually beginning to think Draco wasn’t a totally evil bloke, until about a week after he’d moved in, when the blond began disappearing mysteriously whenever Harry was out.

Ron, still partly convinced that Harry was just being naive about Draco, decided to follow him one day. Luckily, Draco used the Floo, which meant Ron was able to follow a few moments after.

He arrived in Diagon Alley, and just saw the back of Draco’s head as he hurried out the door. Ron pushed past the crowd after him, mentally congratulating himself for managing to swipe Harry’s Invisibility Cloak on the way out, knowing it would make his clandestine surveillance a lot easier.

When Draco slipped into Knockturn Alley, Ron gulped, but he squared his shoulders and, pulling the Cloak about him, followed closely.

Draco walked into Borgin and Burkes, and Ron managed to slip in behind him before the door closed. Looking around the dim room, his eyes widened as he saw Draco wave at the shady-looking attendant before pushing past him and going behind a curtain.

Carefully edging his way around the man, Ron managed to open the curtain unseen, moving into a concealed back room.

“Rastaban,” Draco said, and an ill-appearing man looked up from a cot.

“Draco! Thank Merlin you came back.”

Draco shrugged. “I told you I would,” he said. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a bundle, which he unwrapped. “I brought you something to eat.”

The man grabbed the food, devouring it eagerly. “So, how goes the plan?” he asked between mouthfuls. “You haven’t told Potter, have you?”

Draco shook his head. “No, although I still think --”

Rastaban interrupted. “Just... don’t. I know you and he are close, but I don’t think he’d be willing to help me. He’d probably hex me on sight.”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, all right. I suppose it’s not the right time yet,” he said, clearly reluctant.

Rastaban smiled. “Trust me. The war’s just ended. If you help me, I can stay in hiding until the time is right.”

Ron was wide-eyed under the Cloak. The name Rastaban was familiar... He gasped, and fortunately, the sound was masked by Rastaban coughing.

Draco and Rastaban spoke some more, but Ron didn’t pay attention, his thoughts consumed by what these two were plotting. Clearly, Draco was up to no good. Harry needed to know this...

“I’ll see you in a few days, then,” Draco said, and Ron began paying attention the conversation once more.

“You think you’ll be able to access the Department of Records at the Ministry?” Rastaban asked.

Draco nodded. “I’ll drop Harry’s name. They all know we’re together, so no one will interfere.”

Ron almost growled. He’d known the bastard was up to no good...

When Draco left, Ron slipped out silently behind him, and once out of Knockturn Alley he breathed easier. He was reluctant to Floo back to Grimmauld Place immediately, not really wanting to have to look Draco in the face at the moment, so he killed some time in Fortescue’s.

When he arrived home, Harry and Draco were in the kitchen. Ron had become very careful about walking in on them as they had this tendency to be quite demonstrative in their affections, but, distracted by the events of the day, he pushed open the door without checking, and was confronted by Draco devouring Harry’s mouth as he pushed him up against a cabinet.

Harry’s hands were busy beneath Draco’s shirt, and, as Ron watched, Draco ground his hips into Harry’s emphatically.

Harry moaned, one of his hands working its way down under Draco’s trousers to clutch an arse cheek.

Draco tore his lips away and began attacking Harry’s neck, and Harry gasped, “Godsss, you feel ssso good...”

Draco gurgled. “Do that again,” he begged. “You know how I love it when you do that.”

Harry began hissing and Draco closed his eyes in pleasure, writhing against Harry, the sibilant words having a profound effect on him.

Great, just what I need to know. Parseltongue makes Draco horny.

Ron started to back away and fortunately, neither man noticed his presence, absorbed as they were with each other.

As Ron walked up to his room, he shook his head, marvelling at Draco’s acting ability. It looked as if, for all intents and purposes, Draco really did care about Harry, although Ron now knew better.

Sleep was a long time coming for Ron that night, and when he got up the next morning, he was groggy and cranky.

Both Draco and Harry were already gone by the time he went downstairs, so, relieved, he ate quickly and Floo-called Hermione. Luckily, she was home and had a few minutes to chat, so he went through and filled her in on his investigations.

She was dismayed, the name Rastaban rang concerning bells for her, and she agreed to do some research into the matter over the next few days.

Ron sighed as she talked animatedly. He’d really missed her, and it was finally hitting him how much.

The next few days passed quickly; Ron stayed out of Harry and Draco’s way as much as he could, and Draco didn’t do anything too suspicious, at least not that Ron saw.

Hermione, finally back from her parents’, had decided to move in with Ginny, despite Ron’s protests. He didn’t want to try wooing her in front of his sister, after all!

Hermione laughed at his concerns and Ron shut up. Still, it did put a bit of a crimp in his seduction plans.

When Hermione finally got back to him with information about Rastaban, Ron was so frustrated he was ready to do anything to expel his excess energy.

“He escaped from the Aurors just a few days before Harry defeated Voldemort,” Hermione declared unceremoniously, stepping through the Floo at Grimmauld Place.

“Rastaban?” Ron asked, looking up from the chess board.

She nodded. “There’s a reward out for him.”

Ron sighed. “So what do we do?”

“I think we have to ask Draco about it,” she said, a determined gleam in her eye.

Ron nodded. “He’s upstairs,” he said. “But Harry’s with him...”

“I think Harry needs to hear this, too,” she said, stalking out of the room. Ron trailed after her.

They were on the bed cuddling as Ron and Hermione walked in, and, to Ron’s relief, still clothed. Harry, correctly interpreting the look on Hermione’s face, sat up expectantly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking back and forth between them. “Is Voldemort back or something?”

Hermione shook her head. “Harry, there’s a Death Eater named Rastaban who escaped from the Aurors. He brutally murdered an Auror during a raid and now he’s missing. There’s a reward for his capture.”

Harry looked puzzled. “All right,” he said. “But what does that have to do with me?”

Draco, Ron noted, was rigid, his hands clenched in a fist. His eyes met Ron’s and the grey gaze went chilly. Ron shivered.

“Not you, Harry,” Hermione said, eyeing Draco. “We think Draco knows about him, though.”

Draco calmly looked at Hermione. “And why do you think that?” he asked.

Hermione looked away first. “We just do,” she finally said.

Harry frowned. “That’s not good enough,” he said, grabbing Draco’s hand protectively. “You can’t come in here and make accusations without proof.”

“I saw him, all right?” Ron met Harry’s gaze defiantly. “I followed him and I saw him meet with a Death Eater that he called Rastaban, and he agreed to help him escape from the Aurors. And he was going to drop your name, Harry, to get into the Department of Records for something...”

Draco shook his head. “Even when you follow someone and eavesdrop you get it wrong,” he sneered. “If you had been paying attention you’d have heard what happened. Rastaban is my uncle by marriage, and he was framed for that murder. He didn’t do it, and there’s proof of his innocence in the Department of Records.”

Harry blinked and looked at Draco. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked.

Draco dropped his eyes. “He asked me not to tell you,” he said. “And I promised. I know I should have...”

“Yes, you should,” Hermione said. “Now we don’t know if we can even believe you.”

“I don’t really care what you think, Granger,” Draco said, straightening up. “Harry’s opinion is the only one that matters to me.”

“Well explain it to Harry, then,” Ron said snidely. “Just do it in front of us.”

“Ron...” Harry said warningly, but Draco was already getting off the bed to stand up and face Ron.

“I don’t have to say anything to you, Weasel,” he hissed. “I’m helping someone in my family, and if you want to get tetchy about it then go right ahead, I don’t care.”

“You’ll care when I call the Aurors on you,” Ron snapped back. “And don’t think I won’t! I always knew you’d bear watching...”

Draco drew back. “You do what you have to, and so will I,” he said. Turning to look at Harry, he continued. “Since your friends have decided that they are going to spy on me and sabotage my attempts to save my uncle, I suppose I’m on my own. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, Draco strode out the door and soon after they all heard the Floo sound.

“Good riddance,” Ron said.

Harry growled and Ron took a step back. “Get out of my sight,” he snarled, pushing past them and slamming into the bathroom down the hall.

Hermione looked at Ron. “That didn’t go so well,” she said.

Ron sighed. “He’ll get over it, right?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. For now, why don’t you come home with me? You can sleep on the couch for a few days. Harry won’t be angry forever.”

As Ron tossed and turned on Hermione’s lumpy couch he couldn’t help but wonder why he was being punished for Draco’s sins.

It took two days for Ron to hear from Harry, during which time, Hermione continued her research into Rastaban. Even then, the message from Harry was terse, telling them to meet him at the Ministry in the morning.

When Ron and Hermione walked in it was to see a deflated Harry waiting for them.

“Why are we here?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “I got a note from Draco asking me to be here. He told me to let you two know as well. We’re to go up to a Wizengamot hearing.”

They took the lift, no one saying much, although Harry did lean against Hermione briefly.

The hearing was crowded and the trio slipped into the back, settling into what appeared to be the last three chairs that were located together to wait.

They didn’t have to wait long, though. The announcer cast a Voice Amplification Spell and announced the next hearing.

“The Ministry versus Rastaban Lestrange!”

The crowd buzzed as a man was led out, followed by Draco. The man was seated in a chair facing the three-wizard panel and Draco stood behind him.

The evidence was presented, and Ron had to admit that it looked bad. Draco was calm through the whole presentation, however, never once appearing to be upset.

When the presentation was finished, the presiding wizard asked if Rastaban had anything to say for himself.

“Yes,” he said. “My nephew-by-marriage, Draco Malfoy, is my council, and he has evidence to present.”

“The Wizengamot recognizes Lord Malfoy!”

Ron had to admit, as he listened to Draco, that he was persuasive. When he pulled out Pensieve evidence that proved that Rastaban had been framed by someone Polyjuiced to look like him, the crowd yelled excitedly, and the judges had to threaten to clear the room to get them to be quiet.

In the end, Rastaban was judged not guilty of murdering the Auror, but was still sentenced to six weeks in Azkaban as he was a Death Eater. Neither Draco nor Rastaban appeared surprised at the verdict, which was fairly lenient considering, and Draco’s quick look up at the balcony where Harry, Ron and Hermione were made it clear he was aware of their presence.

By the time they got downstairs, Rastaban had been dragged away and Draco was waiting for them.

“Draco, you were amazing,” Harry said. “I still wish you had trusted me enough to tell me about it, but... I guess I understand.”

Draco crossed his arms. “I had to keep my word to him, Harry, don’t you see? And yes, I regret that I used your influence to get the evidence to clear him of the murder charges, but I had to. He was innocent of that.”

Harry laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Yeah, I understand,” he said. He would have said more, but the Minister, who had been trying to get in touch with him for weeks, spotted him at that moment.

“Harry Potter!” Scrimgeour said, clapping him on the back. “So good of you to come by. Care to stop by my office?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but unable to be completely rude, nodded. “Talk to you later,” he mouthed at Draco, and was hustled away.

“Well, I’m glad that’s sorted,” Hermione said. “Oh, while I’m here I need to stop up and check on Remus. I’ll be right back.”

Ron cursed to himself. What luck, being left standing next to Draco, whom he still didn’t trust.

Draco didn’t look pleased to be there either, and, reaching into his robes, pulled out a parchment. He wrote a quick note on it, and, after what appeared to be an internal argument, handed it to Ron saying, “Look, I have to go. Would you make sure that Harry gets that?”

He spun away before Ron could reply.

Ron stared down at the note. Bloody ponce! I’m not his owl, he thought. Let him deliver his own notes!

With a muttered Incendio, he destroyed the note, tossing the remnants into a rubbish bin before taking off to look for Hermione. The satisfaction he’d felt at burning that note put a spring in his step.

Ron had forgotten all about the incident until three days later when he walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

“He’ll be in touch, Harry, I’m sure,” Hermione was saying, patting Harry’s hand. “Just give him some time.”

“I dunno. This doesn’t feel right,” Harry said. “The way he looked at me...” He blushed. “Well, I thought we’d end up together that night. It’s been a long three days without him.”

“Who?” Ron asked, helping himself to a cup of tea and some toast.

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. “Who do you think?” she said. “Draco, of course. He hasn’t contacted Harry yet.”

Ron blinked. The memory of the note he’d destroyed in a fit of pique flashed through his mind and he briefly considered saying something.

“What if something’s happened to him?” Harry said.

As Hermione continued comforting Harry, Ron bit his tongue. Harry didn’t need to know about the note, did he? Draco would be in touch some time.

Another five days passed during which Harry was miserable. Ron finally got tired of him moping about the place, but all his efforts to get Harry to go out and see friends were met with adamant refusal.

Ron was beginning to get worried, although he couldn’t tell anyone why, and when Harry returned from Malfoy Manor without having found Draco, Ron panicked and Floo-called Hermione.

She came over immediately, but when Ron confessed what he had done, she told him off in no uncertain terms. “Ronald Bilius Weasley! I cannot believe you did something that irresponsible! Harry is devastated and then you do something like this? Are you trying to ruin Harry’s life?”

Ron shrugged defensively. “No! I just didn’t think Draco would stay away this long,” he said.

“Well he has,” Hermione hissed. “You have to tell Harry what you did!”

“What did you do?” Harry asked, walking into the kitchen just then.

Ron blanched. “I... er... IburnedanoteDracoaskedmetogiveyou,” he blurted.

Harry frowned in an effort to decipher what Ron said. “You... what?”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but he was being such a prat, and you’d already gone and Hermione was off, too, and I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with him, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Harry said, voice low and dangerous. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.”

When Ron finished, Harry stood up and walked to the door without saying a word. When he got to the threshold, he said, “You should leave, Ron.”

“But...”

“Leave! NOW!”

Ron’s mouth fell open as Harry walked out. They could hear him going up the stairs, and a moment later a door slammed.

“Hermione?”

She sighed. “Yes, you can borrow our couch,” she said. “Get your things quickly and we’ll go.”

Ron gathered his stuff, and as they went to the Floo together he began to talk. “I wish...”

Hermione interrupted him. “Ron, shut up.”

He did.

~*~

Things were strained for a while after that. More than once Hermione tried to get Harry to come over for dinner with her, Ginny, Dean and Ron, but he repeatedly refused. All of Ron’s owls were sent back unopened. Ron began to fear that Harry would never speak to him again.

About a month later, Ron spotted Harry at Fortescue’s. Taking a chance, he walked up and slid into the chair across from him.

Harry looked up.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Ron blurted out. “I wish I hadn’t done it, I really do. I... I’m an awful friend, and if you never talk to me again I guess I understand, but, please, don’t give up on my family. Mum loves you like a son, Ginny’s afraid she’ll never see you again --”

Harry held up a hand, and Ron came to a stop. “It’s okay, Ron,” he said, sounding tired. “I was angry at you, but really, Draco could have contacted me and he hasn’t. So maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know?”

Ron sighed. “Have you tried to contact him?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, stabbing at his dish of ice cream with his spoon.

“Maybe he’s --”

“I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind,” Harry said, cutting Ron off.

Ron nodded. “Right, well, why don’t I buy your ice cream and you can tell me what you’ve been doing for the past month, yeah?”

By the end of the afternoon, they were chatting away like the best friends they were, and Ron, humbled by Harry’s forgiveness, vowed he would do his utmost to get Harry and Draco reunited.

Actually doing it, however, proved more difficult. Any owls he sent came back unopened, Malfoy Manor was barricaded, the wards were active and not allowing anyone within one hundred feet of the building, and even his contacts at the Ministry couldn’t help.

Admittedly, his one contact there was Percy, who’d been singularly unhelpful, as usual, but Ron asked anyway.

It was as he was walking out of the Ministry that an idea occurred to him. A quick trip to the Department of Corrections confirmed his theory, and Ron made plans to return two days later.

When Rastaban Lestrange stepped into the hallway, a cloaked man was waiting for him. Ron, watching from the sidelines, stepped up just as Rastaban smiled at his greeter.

“Draco?” he said softly.

The figure froze, and turned to look at him. “What do you want, Weasley?” Draco asked coolly.

Ron licked his lips. He’d prepared a speech but it went out of his head when he was confronted with the blond. Draco looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping, and Ron again realized how he’d ruined two people’s lives with his stubbornness.

“Draco, I need to apologize. I neglected to give Harry the note you asked me to, so he thinks you left without a word. He’s miserable. Would you please contact him?”

Draco crossed his arms. “I should have known you’d sabotage me. Why should I believe you now?”

Ron sighed. “Look, you don’t have to believe me, but won’t you at least see Harry?”

Draco considered this. “All right, I’ll think about it. How do I contact him if I decide to talk to him?”

Ron smiled. “We’re hoping to talk him into a holiday, so can I get in touch with you and let you know where?”

Draco nodded. “All right,” he said. “But I’m not waiting around to hear from you.”

Ron inclined his head. “You’ll hear from me,” he promised.

As Draco and Rastaban walked away, Ron sighed. Now all he had to do was talk Harry into taking a vacation.

~*~

“Isn’t this fun?” Hermione said, sipping her tea. “I’m so glad we decided to come to Corfu.”

Ron nodded. He was still shocked that Hermione had agreed to help him talk Harry into going on holiday, although it hadn’t taken too much to persuade her that they all needed a break. A break with sex was what he’d hoped for, but so far that hadn’t panned out. The main reason that hadn’t happened yet, Ron was convinced, was walking towards them now.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled, sliding into the seat across from them.

“Hullo, Harry,” Hermione said, beaming at him. “Did you sleep well?”

Ron could have answered that question just from looking at Harry’s face. The rings under his eyes spoke of not just one but several restless nights.

Harry muttered something underneath his breath and was saved further questioning by the arrival of the waiter. He ordered his breakfast and all three settled into a comfortable silence.

That was the nice thing about being on holiday with people that you knew well, Ron reflected. No one felt the need to fill the silence with useless chatter.

“You need a fling,” Hermione suddenly said, looking at Harry.

Except Hermione, when she’s on a tear.

Harry blinked at her. “What?”

She tutted. “You need to have some fun. It’s summer! When was the last time you had a nice, romantic fling?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You mean in between my oh-so-lovely visits home to my caring family and my hunting down and killing that madman?” he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. “That was almost three months ago,” she said. “A lot’s happened since then.”

“I’ve not really had much of a chance...”

Hermione held up a hand. “It wasn’t meant as a criticism, Harry,” she said. Then, rethinking that, she clarified. “Wait, I suppose it was, but I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. It’s just that we want to see you happy, don’t we, Ron?”

Ron, well-trained, just kept nodding.

Harry smiled wearily. “I know you do,” he said. “And I am happy. Mostly.”

Hermione sighed. “You are not. Don’t even try to tell us that you are. You were happy at the end of the war, when --”

“Hermione,” Harry warned, but she kept talking, ignoring the interruption.

“-- when you and Draco were together,” she finished. “Say what you will, but you smiled a lot more back then. You even had a skip in your step...”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Harry said.

“You never even really looked for him,” Hermione pushed.

“Yes I did! But really, why should I continue?” Harry said stubbornly. “He’s gone. It... was good while it lasted, but it’s over.”

“He had to have had a good reason,” Hermione insisted. “Maybe the letter would have explained why...”

Harry shrugged and looked away. “If he had that good of a reason he could have told me to my face.”

“Harry, I’m really sorry about that --” Ron began.

Harry held up a hand. “It’s all right, Ron,” he said. “I forgave you. Plus, Draco should have told me himself, not left a note for you to give me.”

Ron looked away. He would always feel guilty about this. He again kicked himself for overstepping his bounds and for his fit of anger when he’d destroyed that letter. He only hoped that Draco would show up eventually. He’d never got a response to his owl.

Just then Hermione’s mouth dropped open and she blanched. “Well, I suspect you’re about to find out what happened, Harry,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?” he asked tiredly.

“Hello, Potter,” a familiar voice said from behind him, and Harry froze. Then, slowly turning around, he stared. Draco looked amazing, his body lean, his stance relaxed. Harry thought he seemed comfortable, until he gazed up and into stormy grey eyes.

“Draco?” Harry bit his lips as his voice made a telltale crack. “How...?”

Ron stood up, smirking. “I found out where he was and I told him we’d be here,” he said. As both Hermione and Harry stared at him in horror, he rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, you two. I had to do something! Harry’s miserable. Plus,” he added sheepishly, “he was on our side.”

Harry stared down at the table. “Actually,” he said. “I never doubted whose side he was on.”

“Nor did I,” Hermione added. “Took you long enough, though, Ron!”

Ron looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I admit it, I thought he was on his own side!”

“No,” Harry spoke up. “I always knew he fought for us. I never doubted his loyalty to the cause.”

“Just everything else?” Draco drawled.

Harry closed his eyes. “You left me, remember?” he said. “Without a word, without a way to follow...”

“Would you really have followed me, Harry?” Draco said, exhibiting the first crack in his facade. “I left you a letter. In it I asked you meet me at an isolated location so we could talk. I waited for a week, and when you never came... Well, I admit I went a bit mad. I know now that Weasley here threw it away, he told me about it, but would you have read it if he’d actually given it to you?”

Harry raised his eyes slowly to look at him. “Of course I would have,” he said. “I... I loved you.”

“Past tense?” Draco asked softly, his hand involuntarily clenching.

Harry sighed, and standing up, grasped Draco’s hand in his. “I’ve been miserable without you,” he admitted, gazing deeply into Draco’s eyes. “I didn’t look for you at first because I was angry, and then because I was ashamed...”

“Of me?” asked Draco.

He began to pull away, but Harry held on, not willing to let him go. “No! Never. Of how I acted. Of course you would want to help your uncle, and I just wish that you’d felt you could have come to me about it.”

Draco nodded. “I do regret that,” he admitted. “So... what do we do now?”

Ron smiled ruefully. “Well, I personally think you’re idiots if you don’t get back together,” he said.

Harry and Draco jumped as if startled, then looked at him. “We can’t have that, then,” Draco said, and, with a smirk, began dragging Harry away, although Harry didn’t appear to be too reluctant to go, from what Ron could see.

Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand. “That was sweet,” she said, a soft smile on her face.

Ron grinned. “Yeah, about time I did something right.”

She chuckled. “Well, what should we do now?”

Ron winked. “Maybe we can go off on our own and do some sightseeing, now that Harry’s sorted,” he suggested.

Hermione smiled and tucked her hand in his arm.

~*~

They spent the afternoon relaxing together, and by the evening, they decided to go to dinner on their own, assuming correctly, that Harry and Draco would be too absorbed in each other to bother with them.

They enjoyed a relaxing meal on the hotel’s outdoor patio and then retired to Hermione’s room, Ron being reluctant to go back to the room he shared with Harry for fear that he would interrupt something.

“I’ll take the couch,” Ron said gallantly.

Hermione smiled. “That’s sweet,’ she said. “We’ll see. Why don’t you go out to the balcony and I’ll join you in a moment.”

Heart soaring with hope, Ron did so, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the ocean view. The evening was cool, the breezes drifting up from the garden redolent of tropical flowers and summer. The moon was high in the sky affording superb light to see everything in sharp relief.

A sound made him glance over, and his eyes widened. The balcony was curved, thus facing another, and, as soon Ron realized, it gave him an excellent view of Harry and Draco’s activities.

He almost choked. Harry was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed in ecstasy as Draco knelt at his feet, face pressed into his groin, his head bobbing up and down.

Draco clearly knew what he was about, and Harry’s fingers were scrabbling at the wall in response to his ministrations.

Ron sighed. Apparently it was his lot in life to see these two go at it.

A muffled sound behind him made him turn around, and for the second time in only a few minutes, he found himself gobsmacked.

Hermione was leaning against the wall, dressed in a sheer peignoir, her hand buried in her crotch. “They are quite... inspiring, aren’t they?” she whispered huskily, her breath hitching.

Ron couldn’t speak, all his blood having gone to his cock in response to the delicious vision before him. All he could manage was a strangled moan.

A wicked smile curved Hermione’s lips. “Well? Aren’t you going to come here and help me?” she asked.

Ron didn’t remember moving, but the next moment he was next to her, pressing her into the wall, his lips on her neck. Her hand grabbed his, guiding him to her wet curls.

He groaned against her scented skin as she undulated against his hand.

“Look at them,” she whispered. “So hot.”

Ron turned his head, glancing over to the other balcony where Draco was fondling Harry’s balls reverently as he sucked the tip of his cock.

“I should study his technique,” Hermione said, giggling. She murmured a Summoning Spell, and a chair appeared. Pushing Ron down into it, she climbed into his lap. “There, this gives us the perfect view,” she said.

Ron looked again, and sure enough, between the angle that they were seated and the bright moonlight, they had an excellent view of Draco’s mouth filled with Harry’s thick prick.

“Would you like me to do that to you?” Hermione asked, her fingers busy undoing the clasp of his trousers. “Suck you down my throat?”

Ron gurgled and she smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

Their lips tangled erotically, and as Ron’s prick swelled in her hand, Hermione pulled away, burying her face in his neck. “I can hardly wait to taste you,” she whispered. “But right now I want you in me.”

A hoarse shout from across the way drew both their attention just in time to see Harry arch his back impossibly and come.

Draco was swallowing frantically, and despite that, some of Harry’s seed dripped down his chin, glistening in the moonlight.

Ron blinked as Harry gently stroked Draco’s cheek, then urged him to his feet where he kissed Draco deeply then licked his face, cleaning him off.

“So hot,” Hermione moaned, and Ron nodded, shaken.

Hermione was still stroking his cock and rocking against him. Ron closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her hand. His eyes fluttered open as she spoke.

“You know, Ron, I always thought men had a thing about breasts. Was I wrong?”

Ron blinked, then, realizing she still had most of her clothes on, blushed. “You mean you’d let me...?”

She chuckled. “Ron, I have my hand on your prick and I’m sitting on your lap. What do you think?”

They worked together to free her of her peignoir, and when she was naked, her nipples pressed enticingly against him, she said, “They’re still ahead of us, though.”

For a moment, Ron wasn’t sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was. Draco was back on his knees, but this time Harry was facing the wall and Draco’s hands were spreading his arse cheeks wide open.

What the...?

A high, keening sound escaped Harry when Draco buried his face in between those plump cheeks and began kissing? Sucking? Ron wasn’t sure what Draco was doing, but whatever it was, Harry was clearly enjoying it. He was clutching at the unyielding wall, pushing his arse back against Draco’s face as he sobbed.

“I guess rimming must feel good,” Hermione murmured. “Harry certainly seems to like it.”

Ron would have answered, except Hermione chose that moment to rise up and hold Ron’s cock at her entrance. Their eyes met and she smiled. “Ready?” she asked, and sat down on him.

Ron’s head fell back as he was encased in the slick, tight, wet heat.

He groaned and she gasped, wriggling as she settled comfortably. “Shhh! They might hear us,” she whispered.

Looking over at Harry, Ron thought that unlikely. Both men seemed quite engrossed, and as far as he could tell, Draco was trying to introduce a finger alongside his tongue into Harry’s arsehole.

His cock twitched, and Hermione gasped again. “I’ll add rimming to the list of things to try later,” she said wickedly.

She rose slowly, the walls of her cunt clinging deliciously to his cock, and Ron’s eyes closed as he tried not to come there and then. “Oh gods,” he whimpered.

“They’re... fucking... too...” Hermione gasped out, her head falling back a bit as she rode him.

Risking a glance, Ron saw she was right. Draco was now standing behind Harry, his hands clasping his hips as thrust slowly. Ron’s fascinated gaze again noticed how perfect Draco’s flexing arse muscles looked, before tearing his eyes away and looking at the vision above and around him.

His hands, which had been clutching the sides of his seat, came up to begin fondling her taut breasts, plucking at her nipples and making them peak. He began meeting her thrusts, bucking up off his seat in an attempt to give as good as he got.

“I’m trying... to make it... so we all come... at the same... time...” she moaned, her eyes slitted with pleasure, her teeth biting her lower lip hard.

She rolled her hips and Ron groaned. A quick look confirmed that her rhythm did match Draco’s thrusting, yet, even as Ron watched, Draco sped up. His left hand reached around Harry and began tugging at his re energized cock, and Harry’s mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Hermione clenched hard around Ron and he arched up, one hand clutching her hip tightly.

“I’m going to... come...” she groaned, then her walls were rippling around his prick, milking his seed from him. He was swept up in a wave of ecstasy as she ground her cunt against him, sobbing her release.

A scream from across the way made Ron’s sated eyes open in time to see Harry’s cock spurting its essence over Draco’s hand. Draco bit Harry’s shoulder, a deep shudder wrenching his body as he buried himself to the hilt and bucked against Harry. The two collapsed against each other, and Ron closed his eyes.

“Looks as if everything’s settled, then,” Hermione whispered after a moment.

Ron smiled. “Yeah, it sure does,” he said. The sound of a door closing made him look to see the balcony was now empty.

“Show’s over,” Hermione said. “Shall we go in and entertain each other?”

Ron smiled, and lifting Hermione in his arms, proceeded to do just that.

~*~