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“Hello, darling. Care to join me for lunch?”
Hermione looked up from the sea of parchment scattered across her desk, her quill pausing mid-sentence. Standing in the doorway of her office was Theodore Nott, his lips curved into a dazzling smile—the kind that made it difficult to remember he was once someone she would never have considered a friend. His Auror robes fit impeccably, highlighting the lean strength of his tall frame as he leaned casually against the doorframe.
If someone had told Hermione Granger two years ago, when she first began her tenure at the Ministry of Magic, that she would one day befriend Theodore Nott—a Slytherin, no less—she would have dismissed it without hesitation. Divination had never been her strength, but even in her wildest imaginings, she couldn’t have predicted becoming close with someone who had once been Draco Malfoy’s most trusted ally at Hogwarts.
And yet, here she was—sharing lunch breaks and inside jokes with a man who seemed hell-bent on injuring himself during every single field assignment, leaving Healer Granger to patch him up again and again.
...And again.
....And again.
“Where’s Draco?” Hermione asked, slipping her quill into her hair as she attempted to bring some semblance of order to the dishevelled pile of papers on her desk. She stood, her hands fumbling as she searched for her purse, her mind already drifting to the lunch Theo was proposing.
“Busy,” Theo replied with a slight shrug, his tone light. “They’ve just brought in a whole new batch of recruits, and he’s been saddled with the delightful task of training them.”
Hermione’s gaze drifted back to the documents spread across her desk—sixteen physical examinations for the new Auror recruits, completed over the past two days and still awaiting her final review.
If these were the recruits Draco was meant to train, she could already picture the scowl on his face as he assessed their performance. There was no doubt he’d have his hands full—these new hires had a lot to learn.
“So, darling, shall we?” Theo extended his arm with that same infectious smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Hermione raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small smile. “What a gentleman. But won’t your boyfriend be jealous?”
If you had asked Hermione Granger just a year ago whether she could ever imagine Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott publicly declaring themselves a couple, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it. It was yet another reminder that Divination was not her strong suit.
Harry had chuckled at her shock, Ginny had rolled her eyes, and even Neville had quietly said, “I mean, Hermione… they’ve always been rather close.”
In hindsight, all those seemingly innocent touches and lingering glances made perfect sense.
“Draco? Jealous? Never,” Theo responded with a smirk, his confidence unwavering.
Within the Ministry, it was common knowledge that Theo belonged to Draco. The blonde’s overprotectiveness was infamous, something Hermione had witnessed firsthand every time Theo ended up in the hospital wing. The moment word of an injury reached Draco, his angry footsteps would echo through the corridors, and within minutes, he’d be at Theo’s side—regardless of how minor the wound.
Looking back, if the idea of befriending Theodore Nott after Hogwarts had once seemed preposterous, then the thought of Draco Malfoy becoming part of her inner circle was downright inconceivable.
And yet, here she was, counting him among her closest friends.
It had all started two years ago, just a few months after her unlikely friendship with Theo had begun. For weeks, it had been just the two of them—sharing lunch breaks, exchanging theories, debating everything from policy to potion ingredients. Then one afternoon, she arrived at their usual table to find Draco already there, his pale blond hair catching the sunlight. Their eyes met across the table, both of them unsure yet cautious.
But Theo, being Theo, had broken the tension with a grin and a breezy, “You remember Malfoy, right, Granger?”
“Love, just stop,” Theo’s gentle voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, his hand wrapping around her wrist to still her nervous fidgeting. He nodded toward the corner of the room, where her small black bag sat forgotten in her earlier rush.
Hermione flushed, pressing a hand to her forehead in embarrassment as a sheepish smile tugged at her lips.
Theo chuckled softly. His arm, once offered formally, slipped around her shoulders instead. He plucked the quill from her hair and set it neatly atop the stack of parchment on her desk. Then, with the same quiet care, he brushed a stray curl back into place.
“You’re going to get ink all over yourself, barmy witch,” he teased, his tone warm and affectionate.
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully as they made their way toward the lunch area. As always, Theo’s light-hearted banter drew a string of giggles from her—a sound she never would have associated with herself two years ago. Then again, there were a lot of things Hermione Granger never expected. Chief among them: being absolutely, unequivocally smitten with Theodore Nott.
Smitten might have been too tame a word, actually. Embarrassingly, she was harbouring a full-blown schoolgirl crush. And she hated herself for it. Every single day.
Crushing on a gay wizard? Pathetic. Crushing on a gay and taken wizard? Worse. Crushing on Draco Malfoy’s wizard? Suicidal. And the worst part, It wasn’t just Theo...
As Hermione stepped into the lunchroom, her ears were immediately assaulted by the unmistakable sound of Draco Malfoy’s raised voice, deep and laced with irritation. She didn’t need to look twice to recognise the scene unfolding in the corner of the room. Draco, drenched in what appeared to be coffee, glared down at a nervous junior Auror who was practically trembling in front of him.
“I’m so sorry, Sir! I-I just tripped,” the young Auror stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Draco’s voice was as cold as the marble floors beneath them. “I have five minutes to myself—five minutes—because I spend the rest of my time compensating for the Ministry’s failure to adequately train new recruits. If you can’t manage to carry a cup of coffee without spilling it, I seriously doubt your ability to handle the demands of a field mission.”
Hermione exchanged a glance with Theo, and without missing a beat, Theo was already moving to defuse the situation. It was a familiar dance by now—Draco’s temper flaring, Theo stepping in to soothe the flames.
“Oh, Drake, stop. It was an accident, darling. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Theo’s voice was soft and calming as he approached Draco, his long fingers finding their way to Draco’s arm, rubbing gentle circles to ease the tension.
Hermione watched as the rigidity in Malfoy’s posture softened, his scowl lessening, though his icy gaze still bore down on the unfortunate Auror recruit. It was as though Theo’s touch had a tranquillising effect on the blonde, his body instinctively leaning into the comfort Theo offered.
The rest of the lunchroom seemed oblivious to the scene, or perhaps they were all too wary of drawing the attention of Head Auror Malfoy, infamous for his sharp tongue and short temper.
“Theodore…” Draco began, his tone clipped, though laced with hesitation.
“Draco,” Theo interrupted, lifting a single, admonishing brow.
With a casual flick of his wand, Draco’s clothes were instantly dry, his robes once again immaculate. Hermione watched as Theo’s hand slid up Draco’s chest, fingertips trailing lightly until they reached his jaw. He tilted it gently, guiding Draco into a tender kiss.
But it was enough. The tension in Draco’s shoulders melted instantly, as if that single touch had undone him completely.
If Draco hadn’t already softened, he was practically pliant now—his once-intimidating demeanour melted into something almost boyish. The formidable Head Auror had vanished, replaced by a man completely enthralled by the presence of his partner. Though they stood nearly eye to eye, Draco just slightly taller, there was an ease between them that spoke volumes. Draco dipped his head, pressing a lingering kiss to Theo’s forehead, as if the world around them had ceased to exist.
“Run along, Cadet Harris. I’ll see you in the training room in five minutes,” Draco said, his tone still firm but now tempered by a lazy smile. “I’ll be expecting significantly elevated levels of performance after this.”
The junior Auror didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried away, leaving his forgotten coffee behind as he hurried out of the lunchroom. Hermione, who had been watching the entire exchange, finally made her way over to the pair, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
“How many times must Theo apologise on your behalf, Draco?” she asked, unable to resist a light jab. War had changed many things about Draco Malfoy, but his short fuse was not one of them.
Draco scoffed, turning to her with an incredulous look as she joined them. “Me? Apologise? He’s the one who spilled coffee on me.”
“Have you considered that you might have overreacted just slightly, darling?” Theo chimed in, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.
Draco responded with a low, disgruntled grumble, prompting Hermione to stifle a laugh. But the sound slipped out anyway, and in an instant, both men turned their attention to her. Two pairs of eyes—one icy blue, the other warm brown—locked onto her with uncanny precision. For a brief moment, it was as if they shared a silent conversation, some unspoken agreement passing between them, before their gazes turned back to her in perfect synchrony.
“It’s Friday. Dinner at ours tonight, Hermione?” Theo asked, the invitation offered with casual warmth, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Hermione’s lips parted in mild surprise. “Oh. Just us three?”
It wasn’t unusual for them to spend time together, but typically, their gatherings included others—Harry, Ginny, Neville, even Blaise, who had somehow slipped seamlessly into their eclectic circle. Hermione preferred it that way. The presence of others acted as a buffer, helping her forget the inconvenient truth: she was pathetically, hopelessly in love with two wizards who were not only gay, but very much in love with each other.
Draco was like ice—inscrutable, fiercely independent, and razor-sharp in both wit and demeanour. He kept the world at arm’s length, and the rare glimpses of vulnerability he allowed were precious, reserved for a select few. Then there was Theo. Theo, who was nothing like Draco. If Draco was carved from ice, Theo was sunlight—warm, bright, and disarmingly charming. He was the softness that tempered Draco’s edges, the humour that lifted his mood, the light that scattered his shadows.
And damn it, Hermione wanted them both.
Why? She had absolutely no idea.
“Yes, is that okay?” Draco asked, his voice almost shy.
Hermione’s eyes dropped to their hands—Draco and Theo’s fingers intertwined in a quiet, intimate gesture that made her heart twist painfully.
Had she mentioned how much she hated herself for this?
“Of course, I’d love to,” she replied, forcing a smile as she nodded, even as she silently cursed the universe for this particularly cruel twist of fate.
-----
Hermione was an hour late to dinner—though, in her defence, it wasn’t entirely her fault.
As she stepped out of the fireplace, the emerald flames of Draco and Theo’s Floo faded, shrinking back to their usual size. She quickly brushed the stray flecks of Floo powder from her clothes, murmuring a brisk Scourgify under her breath to make herself somewhat presentable. Both wizards were already waiting, each holding a flute of wine. Their impeccably tailored outfits stood in stark contrast to her slightly dishevelled appearance. Even in what passed as their “casual” attire, they looked effortlessly handsome.
“Good evening, Hermione,” Theo greeted her with a cheeky grin. “Fashionably late, I see.”
“I would apologise for my tardiness,” Hermione began, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she placed her hands on her hips. “But instead, I think I’ll let Draco do that for me.”
“Me?” Draco echoed, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise.
Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the table where a bottle of wine was waiting. She poured herself a generous glass.
“I would have been here much earlier, but somebody, Sergeant Malfoy, decided it was a good idea to send his new recruits into the simulation room for training. By the afternoon, the hospital wing was filled with nine injured Cadets.”
Draco’s expression shifted from surprise to a sheepish grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, well, they need to be prepared for anything.”
Theo chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the exchange. “You do realise there’s a difference between preparing them and breaking them, right, Drake?”
Draco shrugged nonchalantly, taking a seat on the couch. He crossed one leg over the other, his demeanour innocent as he blinked up at Theo. “It’s a fine line.”
Theo shot him a disinterested glare, while Hermione couldn’t help but laugh softly, settling into the nearby armchair.
Theo slid in beside Draco, their bodies naturally drawn to each other until their legs pressed together. Draco’s hand came to rest on Theo’s knee, a casual, effortless gesture, but one that spoke volumes. Hermione noticed. She always noticed. Her gaze lingered a moment too long, and that familiar pang stirred in her chest. Jealousy. Sharp and unwelcome.
Everything about the scene felt wrong, though she couldn’t quite say why. She didn’t even know who she was more envious of—Theo, who could tuck his nose against Draco’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world, or Draco, who looked utterly at peace beneath the warmth of Theo’s quiet affection.
She rolled her eyes, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Cheers to fewer trips to the hospital wing?” She offered, her voice light, despite the tightness in her chest.
Theo laughed, clinking his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that. And I must say, I haven’t seen the inside of the hospital wing after a mission in months now.”
Draco’s expression softened, his gaze turning protective as he looked at Theo. “And I intend to keep it that way. No unnecessary risks.”
Theo merely laughed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Draco’s neck before shifting his attention back to Hermione. “By the way, Hermione, don’t think you’re off the hook for being late.”
She raised an eyebrow, her mouth opening in mock indignation. “I thought we’d already established that it was Malfoy’s fault, not mine.”
Theo chuckled as he stood up, refilling her glass with more of the goblin-crafted wine before topping off Draco’s. “It’s not nice to blame others, missy,” he teased. “I’m heading to the kitchen to finish dinner. I’ve been practising my Muggle cooking techniques just for you. I’ve got a lovely marinara simmering. As punishment for being late, you’ll have to stay here and endure Drake’s company.”
Hermione pulled one knee to her chest, a blush creeping up her neck as she tried to play it cool. “Ooh, can’t you take me with you? Don’t leave me alone with him.”
Draco shot her a mock glare, tossing a cashew at her head with startling accuracy—it struck her forehead dead centre.
Theo, ever the doting one, gave an exaggerated pout before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the spot where the cashew had landed. Then, without a word, he turned and strolled toward the kitchen.
“Drake, hands to yourself, please,” Theo called over his shoulder—his tone light, but laced with an undertone Draco clearly recognised.
Draco’s eyes followed Theo’s retreating figure, something sharp and unspoken flickering in his gaze just before Theo disappeared around the corner.
Hermione’s skin still tingled where Theo’s lips had touched her forehead, the sensation lingering far longer than it should have. Was she blushing? Oh, she was definitely blushing. And was Draco blushing too? The faint pink colouring of his pale cheeks said yes.
In the eighteen months since they’d grown close, Hermione realised she had never actually been alone with Draco. Their time together was usually buffered by others—Theo, Harry, Ginny, even Blaise. The rare moments they had been alone were fleeting, limited to the brisk exchange of files at the Ministry.
But now, sitting across from him in the quiet intimacy of his living room, she felt a strange, unfamiliar unease settle in her stomach. His eyes were already on her—soft, watchful, so different from his usual guarded expression. It left her at a complete loss.
Should she say something? Would it be too awkward to admit that she felt awkward?
Yes. Definitely.
Hermione’s eyes drifted to Draco’s hand, catching the glint of silver. Something about it held her attention.
“I never realised you still wear the Malfoy signet ring,” she remarked, her gaze lingering on his fingers, each adorned with elegant silver bands. But it was the signet, the bold, unmistakable M, that stood out.
Draco paused, the silence stretching for a moment before he exhaled softly.
“After the war, I wanted nothing to do with the Malfoy name,” he admitted. “My father’s in Azkaban, and everything he stood for... it disgusts me.” He shifted slightly, eyes lowering to the ring. “But my mother, before she passed, gave me this. It was his. The only Malfoy signet ring, passed down through generations.”
He rubbed his thumb over the silver as he continued.
“She said it wasn’t a symbol of legacy anymore, it was a symbol of strength. Of change. She wanted me to wear it not as a reminder of who we were, but of who we could become. She knew the name had been tarnished. But she believed I could show the world that not all Malfoys are beyond redemption. That we’re capable of doing good.”
“That’s… beautiful,” Hermione said softly, her heart tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “What your mother did for us during the war, she saved Harry’s life…” Her words trailed off, her thoughts wandering as she absorbed the weight of his confession.
Draco’s eyes never left hers, and for a moment, it felt as if he understood every emotion churning inside her, without her needing to speak another word.
“I know,” he whispered, voice low and threaded with a rare vulnerability. “So now I wear it to honour her memory. And to remind myself that I can build something new. A legacy that isn’t defined by war and prejudice.”
He paused, then added with a crooked smile, “And... I like knowing it pisses off my father. He always saw this ring as a symbol of pureblood superiority. Now, it stands for everything he tried to silence. It’s defiance, I guess.”
Hermione’s eyes drifted back to the ring, lingering on it a moment too long before returning to his face.
Damn it. That ring had no right to be so attractive. He had no right to be so attractive.
In these rare, unguarded moments, she found herself desperately wishing he would revert to the arrogant schoolboy she once despised—someone she could write off without hesitation. It would be a mercy. A reprieve from the rising tide of feelings he kept pulling from her, piece by piece. But no. He had to speak with such honesty, such quiet strength. He had to keep peeling back the armour she once thought impenetrable.
And every time he did, her heart swelled and splintered in equal measure.
There was no escaping her feelings.
Perhaps this was why they had never been alone together before. It was too dangerous.
Draco was too dangerous.
“Oh no, the room feels sad. What did Draco do? Did he bite you, bella?” Theo’s cheerful voice cut through the tension, drawing both their gazes toward him.
Bella.
It was one of the many nicknames Theo had for her, a charming nod to his Italian roots. The way he said it, his smooth accent wrapping around the syllables, made the simple word sound like a melody. Theo had a rare gift for making the ordinary feel extraordinary.
“Now, Theodore. I only bite upon request,” Draco smirked, his mood visibly lightening as he extended a hand to Hermione, helping her to her feet. She accepted it with a gracious smile, though her heart was still racing from the previous exchange.
“I assume that wonderful smell is dinner?”
“Avresti ragione,” Theo replied with a playful smile, gesturing toward the dining room. (You would be correct.)
Hermione watched as Draco’s eyes narrowed in a playful glare. As Theo passed by, Draco caught him by the shirt, tugging him close.
“I thought we agreed, no Italian. It’s cheating when I can’t translate,” he murmured, voice low and intimate.
Hermione stood frozen, caught in the soft gravity of the moment. It felt private, like she was intruding, but she couldn’t look away.
“Lo ami… You love it,” Theo teased, his grin unmistakable.
-----
Draco Malfoy was not accustomed to feeling unworthy.
For most of his life, he had been raised to believe that anything he desired was his by birthright—the world bending to his will simply because of the name he carried. But in the quiet moments, when the weight of the past settled heavily on his chest, the truth became impossible to ignore.
He felt unworthy.
Of peace. Of happiness. Of love.
But perhaps most of all, he felt unworthy of Hermione Granger.
It was absurd, he often told himself—a cruel twist of fate that he could crave the presence of someone he had once scorned. The witch who had bested him time and time again. Who had met his cruelty with unwavering grace, a kind of inner strength he could never hope to match. And yet here he was, clinging to her friendship, and in the most guarded corners of his mind, where only Theo truly understood, longing for something more.
Theodore had a way of drawing her in, folding her into their lives as if she had always belonged there. And maybe, in some strange, cosmic, magical way, she did.
But Theo was different. He deserved her.
Draco’s gaze flicked toward her from the corner of his eye, watching as her laughter filled the room. Their empty plates had long been abandoned in the kitchen. Hermione sat nestled on the couch beside Theo, her white sock-clad feet tucked beneath his thighs for warmth. Theo, ever attentive, was massaging her calves, his fingers working slow, soothing circles into her golden skin.
Draco’s eyes lingered as she yawned, her head drifting toward Theo’s shoulder.
There was something achingly domestic about the scene: Hermione’s closeness, Theo’s gentle hands, the fire casting a soft, flickering glow across the room. For a fleeting moment, Draco allowed himself to imagine it as something permanent. A life where this wasn’t borrowed time, but theirs.
Night after night.
“You look tired, bella,” Theo murmured, his voice low and soothing. He shifted slightly, pulling her legs fully onto his lap, his touch tender as he continued to rub soothing circles against her skin.
Hermione yawned again, blinking sleepily. “I had a busy day. I should probably Floo home.”
Draco and Theo exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Draco’s heart twisted in his chest, the idea of her leaving now—after four large glasses of wine—was unacceptable.
“It’s Friday,” they both said in unison, the synchronicity of their words surprising even them. Draco felt heat rush to his cheeks at the realisation of how eager he sounded.
“Stay the night?” Draco offered, his voice softening at the end, an unspoken plea laced in the question.
Hermione blinked, her foggy mind taking a moment to process the offer. “I—I don’t want to impose. You two should have your space,” she began, but her words slurred slightly, betraying the effect the wine had on her.
Draco stood abruptly, his expression darkening as the pager on his belt buzzed with sharp urgency. He pulled it free, glancing at the message with a scowl.
Of course.
Of all the moments to be called into work, it had to be now. A low groan escaped him, frustration knotting in his chest as his thoughts flickered between duty and the tempting desire to ignore the summons entirely. Just this once. Just to stay with his wizard and their girl.
“Draco?” Hermione’s voice was hesitant, concern lacing her tone as she noticed his shift.
“I’ve been paged,” Draco muttered, his tone clipped with annoyance. “They need me at the office, something about an emergency debrief with the new recruits. Trust me, I’m furious about it, but I have to go.”
Theo’s eyes softened, his hand still gently resting on Hermione’s legs. “It’s all right, love. Go. I’ll stay with Hermione.”
Draco’s eyes flicked to Hermione, who had begun to sit up, clearly preparing to leave. But as she rose to her feet, the room seemed to tilt beneath her. She swayed slightly, her hand darting out to steady herself against the back of the couch.
“Whoa,” Hermione mumbled, surprised by the sudden dizziness. “I—I didn’t realise I was this tipsy.”
Draco was beside her in an instant, his hand firmly grasping her arm to steady her. His voice was low, firm. “You’re not going anywhere in this state, Granger. You can stay here tonight.”
Hermione nodded slowly, her mind foggy. “All right, I’ll stay. Maybe I can take the guest bedroom,” she murmured, her voice trailing off as she tried to regain her balance.
Draco exchanged a glance with Theo.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, though something unreadable lingered in his voice.
With a gentle touch, he guided Hermione down the hallway, his hand resting at the small of her back to steady her as they walked. Hermione followed without protest, her steps slightly uneven, thoughts muddled from the wine. She didn’t question where they were headed—at least not until Draco pushed open a door that very clearly wasn’t the guest room.
It was their bedroom.
The master suite.
The space was warm and understated, dressed in muted tones and the deep, unmistakable green of Slytherin pride. At the centre stood a large, inviting bed, undeniably the one Draco and Theo shared.
“Wait—this is your room,” Hermione said, her voice laced with confusion as she looked up at Draco. “I can’t kick you two out of your own bed.”
Draco’s expression softened, but there was a quiet firmness in his eyes that left little room for argument. He stepped closer, cupping her jaw with hands that were gentle yet steady, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
“You’re not kicking us out, Granger,” he said softly. “You’re going to get into bed, snuggle up with Theo, and stay here until you’re warm and comfortable.”
Hermione blinked, her mind struggling to process the situation. “But… I can’t just… sleep in your bed with Theo.”
“Yes, you can,” Draco interrupted, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. “I need to go to work, but I want you safe and comfortable, and that means staying right here, with Theo. No arguments.”
Hermione felt her heart flutter at the intensity of his words. There was something in the way he looked at her, in the quiet conviction of his voice, that made her feel both protected and completely disarmed. Her usual stubbornness dissolved beneath his steady, caring touch, leaving her with no will to argue and no desire to resist.
“O-okay,” she finally agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Good girl,” Draco murmured, his voice softening as he released her jaw and stepped back. He glanced over at Theo, who was already pulling back the covers, his warm brown eyes watching Hermione with a reassuring smile.
Theo patted the bed, beckoning her to come closer.
“Come on, bella. Let’s get you settled in.”
Hermione hesitated for just a moment longer before allowing herself to be guided to the bed. She slipped beneath the covers, immediately enveloped by the warmth of the sheets and of Theo beside her.
As she settled in, a gentle wave of warmth washed over her, followed by the soft, familiar hum of magic. Theo had flicked his wand subtly, casting a spell that both cleaned her and transformed her clothes into something far more comfortable: an oversized, soft-knit sweater and loose cotton sleep shorts. She sighed in quiet contentment as the cozy fabric brushed against her skin.
Theo’s arm slipped around her waist, his body curling protectively against hers. She felt the same magic shift around him, replacing his not-so-casual-casual-attire with a snug T-shirt and soft pyjama pants. The spell wrapped around them like a warm blanket, making the bed feel even more inviting.
Without thinking, she snuggled closer, her body relaxing completely into his embrace.
"Better?" Theo whispered, his voice gentle as his hand rested lightly on her hip, holding her close.
"Much," Hermione murmured, her voice soft and drowsy. The combination of the cozy clothing, the warmth of Theo’s body, and the protective feeling of being tucked in securely made her eyelids grow heavy, the tension from the day melting away.
Draco stood by the bedside a moment longer, his gaze lingering on Hermione as her body began to relax, the pull of sleep softening her features.
Beneath the surface, frustration simmered, quiet but potent. He was angry. Angry that he’d been called into work when all he wanted was to stay here, in this fleeting moment, wrapped in the warmth of something he had only ever dared to imagine.
“Sleep well, Granger,” Draco said softly, brushing a curl behind her ear. His eyes then shifted to Theo, and he let out a defeated sigh. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Don’t be too mad, love. I’ll keep your spot warm,” he said lightly, his voice soft but laced with playful mischief.
He knew exactly how much Draco hated being pulled away—especially now, when all he wanted was to stay and be part of this rare, cozy moment with them.
Draco’s scowl deepened, though it was more out of annoyance at the situation than at Theo. “I’m furious,” he muttered, his tone portraying just how much he wished he could stay. “I’d rather be here.”
“Be safe, Drake,” Theo murmured, his voice gentle as he gave Hermione a soft squeeze, reassurance in the smallest gesture, a silent promise that he had everything under control.
Malfoy gave a reluctant nod, his gaze lingering on them for a heartbeat longer before he turned to leave. As he stepped out, he couldn’t help but cast one last glance over his shoulder, like his magic was pulling him back into the room.
Like his magic was telling him where he belonged.
-----
Theo woke slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. He shifted slightly, feeling the familiar weight of Hermione curled against his side, her head resting on his chest. Her presence was comforting, something he had come to cherish deeply as friends, and as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, a small smile tugged at his lips.
But the empty space on the other side of the bed, where Draco should have been, was impossible to ignore. A quiet ache settled in his chest. Their night together had been peaceful, tender—but without Draco, it felt incomplete.
Beside him, Hermione stirred, her fingers lazily tracing soft patterns along his chest as she began to wake. When she looked up at him, her gaze was clear, the haze of last night’s wine now fully faded.
“Morning,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.
“Morning, bella,” Theo replied, his hand drifting to her back, rubbing gentle circles as she stretched beside him. He could feel the hesitation in her movements, the way she seemed to be holding back, uncertain of her place in this dynamic. It wasn’t the first time he had noticed it, and it made his chest tighten with the need to break through that barrier.
Hermione yawned softly, blinking up at him with a small, hesitant smile.
“I slept well, but… this still feels a bit strange,” she admitted, her voice laced with uncertainty. “I don’t want to intrude on what you and Draco have. It’s like I’m just... the third wheel.”
Theo’s heart ached at her words. After everything they’d shared, after all the time spent drawing her into their lives, she still didn’t see it. Still didn’t realise how much they both wanted her. How much Draco wanted her.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back to meet her gaze.
“Hermione, you’re not,” he said firmly. “You’ve never been that to us. You’re important to both of us...” He paused, swallowing slightly. “Fuck, bella, so much more than you realise.”
Hermione’s brow creased, doubt still flickering across her features.
“But… you and Draco, you’ve always been together. I’m just—”
Theo gently cupped her cheek, stopping her with the steadiness of his touch and the quiet sincerity in his eyes.
“We’ve always cared about you. But this—” his voice lowered, more honest than dramatic, “—it’s become something else. It hasn’t felt like just friendship for a while now, Hermione.”
Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding as his words sank in. “Theo, I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Theo said gently, his thumb brushing softly across her cheek. “But you need to understand, this isn’t one-sided. Draco wants you just as much as I do. And honestly, I imagine the only thing frustrating him more than being called into work last night is knowing he’s not here to show you that himself.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. She had spent so long believing she was on the outside—just a close friend orbiting their relationship, never truly part of it. But now, hearing Theo speak with such quiet certainty, it was as if the walls she’d so carefully built around her heart were starting to crack. Starting to let the truth in.
“But what if I mess things up between you both?” she asked, her voice small, the vulnerability in her tone clear.
Theo’s expression softened as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “The only way you could mess this up,” he whispered, “is by not letting yourself be part of it.”
Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
Theo closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand slid to her waist, drawing her in until their bodies pressed together. The warmth of him, the firm certainty in his touch, sent a thrill coursing through her. For the first time, Hermione let herself believe this was real. That she wasn’t dreaming.
Theo paused only briefly, reaching toward the nightstand. He grabbed his wand and gave it a quick flick. A silver fox burst forth from the tip, graceful and radiant, swirling around the room in a shimmering arc. He leaned in close to the glowing creature, his voice low and tinged with mischief as he spoke his message.
“Draco, I’m lying in our bed kissing Granger. You should come home before you miss out. I’m about to find out what she’s wearing beneath those tiny sleep shorts.”
The fox Patronus shot off into the air, disappearing through the wall as it carried Theo’s message to Draco. Hermione’s breath caught at the audacity of it.
“Theo!” she scolded, her voice rising in disbelief as she gave him a playful slap on the arm.
He only grinned, reaching out to gently grasp her waist and guide her onto his lap. The motion was smooth and instinctive and before she could fully process it, she found herself straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. The intimacy of the position sent a rush of heat through her, her heart pounding as she looked down into his eyes.
“Do you feel how fucking hard I am against you? Just from one kiss. Fuck,” Theo groaned as Hermione’s hips shifted in a slow figure eight against him.
“You feel b-big,” she mumbled, grinding down again. The heat of him pressed firmly against her core, and she felt herself grow slick with anticipation.
“Mmm… Drake’s bigger,” Theo murmured, a teasing edge in his voice.
Hermione’s head tipped back, a soft moan slipping from her lips.
“Look at these thighs, Hermione. Fuck.”
Theo’s hands gripped her bare thighs, thick and golden against his own skin as she straddled him. He toyed with the waistband of her shorts, his voice lower and gentler now.
“Can I?”
Their eyes met. Hermione gave a shy nod.
Warm magic fluttered over her skin, and the cool rush of air followed as her clothes vanished—just a pair of black lace panties with delicate bows left behind.
“I saw these peeking out last night… these,” Theo murmured, lifting one side of the lace and letting it snap softly back against her skin. “They’re all I’ve been thinking about.”
“What about these?”
Theo could’ve sworn he died and went to heaven.
His gaze lifted from the lace to Hermione’s movement, stunned into stillness as she cupped her breasts in both hands, holding them out to him like an offering. They spilled over her palms, soft and full, pink nipples peeking between delicate fingers.
He groaned, hands rising to meet hers. His thumbs and index fingers found her nipples, tugging gently as he pulled her forward. He twisted until they formed perfect, peaked buds. Hermione gasped, the sound sweet and breathless, matched by the slow grind of her hips against the hard press of his cock.
“A-again,” She moaned.
Theo can’t help the mischievous smirk that settles on his lips, “oh? You liked that did you darling?” He palms her entire breast teasingly, “you will have to be more specific, what is it exactly you want me to do?”
Hermione groans. “Play with my nipples. Please, Theo.”
“Like this?” He softly rubs at the pink peaks of her chest, nothing like before.
“H-harder.”
“This?” Again, he teases.
“Theo!” Hermione wines, her head falling against his shoulder. This time he shows mercy (in a weird sense of the word), as he grasps and twists harder, more painfully, and despite Hermione’s small shriek, she follows it with a moan, rubbing the lacy black panties that cover her core against his growing erection, desperate for friction.
“Merlin, you have no idea how many times Drake and I have fucked. Talking about what it would be like to have you in this bed, between us.”
Hermione’s lips graze at his neck, sucking and biting. “Tell me what you say.”
“Just the other day, I was on my knees, sucking his cock. His words were so dirty, fuck, they had me rutting the floor like a puppy. Putting images in my head of you and him on the floor, on your knees sucking me off, sharing. Of you riding him in his office. Fuck every time I was in the hospital wing, all I could think about is you in a sexy little nurse outfit and bending you over that egregiously large desk you have. You work so hard bella, sometimes all I want to do is pull you over my knee and spank you until your arse is bright red and you’re wiggling on my lap and promising to be a good girl and go home and rest.”
“Merlin Theo.” Hermione moans.
With a single, startlingly swift movement, Theo flips Hermione onto her back. His hands begin a fervent exploration of her body, like a blind man memorising every curve, every inch, as if she might vanish with the dawn. Hermione reaches for him instinctively, but Theo brushes her hands aside with a sharp slap. Before she can react, he captures her wrists and secures them against the headboard in one fluid, commanding motion.
“Keep them here baby, I want this to be all about you right now.”
Hermione's lip’s part into a soft 'o,' and, like the good girl she is, she keeps her hands obediently above her head. Nothing physically binds them there, she is free to move if she chooses, but Theo's commanding words hold her captive, a spell of anticipation woven into her very being. The thrill of his voice leaves her eager, hanging on every word, desperate to find out what comes next.
Theo toys with the black bow on the front of her panties. It’s soft and delicate and made from silk. His thumb presses on it before dragging down the front of her panties until he reaches her clit.
“Oh baby, I haven’t even taken your panties off and your soaking wet darling, you’re going to make a mess of the bed.”
Hermione’s hips buck, desperate for the friction of his thumb that ghosts over her clit. With every movement, she feels a rush of sweet satisfaction and another moan falls from her lips.
“Please touch me Theo.”
“Oh, what a good girl, and I didn’t even need to ask you to beg.” Theo chuckles, his voice low and deep.
Hermione watches as Theo shuffles down the bed. Her knees are raised, with her feet on the mattress, Theo positions himself between her legs. Like a man consumed by desperation and desire, he bends down sucking on her clit through the soft cotton of her lacy black panties. It’s both so much and not enough. The damp fabric intensifies the sensation, and suddenly a delightful tingling spreads through her entire body.
“Oh my God Theo.”
Theo pauses, a wolfish grin curling his lips as his gaze locks with hers. He looks as though he’s on the verge of saying something, perhaps a smug remark about how worked up she’s become, and he hasn’t even removed her panties yet. But a loud creak from the door interrupts him. He doesn’t turn, as if he already knows who it is. Hermione, however, startles, her head snapping toward the doorway. Her eyes meet a familiar pair of icy blue ones, and the imposing shadow of a broad, recognisable chest fills the room.
“Draco…” Hermione whispers. Her voice turns into a moan toward the end as Theo’s thumb decides that is the perfect moment to press onto her clit.
Hermione watches intently as Draco begins to shed his wizarding robes with deliberate precision. He slips off his shoes, placing them neatly on the rack at the foot of the bed. Then, he removes his outer robes, revealing a perfectly tailored black long-sleeve shirt and impeccably fitted dress pants beneath.
“Why is she wet Theo? Have you been playing with her pretty little pussy without me?” Draco asks, as if it’s the most natural question in the world.
Theo's chuckle resonates through the room, low and almost frantic, as he finally turns to lock eyes with Draco. His thumb is still pressing soft circles on Hermione’s clit, and like a desperate whore she ruts up and down begging for more in the unspoken language of gestures.
“Finally home Drake? Took you long enough.” Theo teases.
Hermione watches as Draco releases a chuckle of his own, the sound reverberating through the room, even deeper and darker than Theo's had been earlier, tinged with a hint of desperation. The blonde strides toward the foot of the bed, his shirt now fully unbuttoned and hanging loosely from his shoulders, revealing a striking display of sculpted muscle.
"I bet you're so proud of yourself for teasing me with that little Patronus message, huh, Theodore?" Draco taunts, tilting his boyfriend's jaw toward him until their eyes finally meet.
"Oh, would you have preferred we continued without you?" Theo's voice drips with faux innocence, his tone teasing and angelic.
Hermione watches the interaction unfold, a palpable clash of dominance crackling between them. It’s intoxicating, so unbearably hot that she’s nearly ready to beg Draco to touch her. But before she can, a loud bang shatters the tension, echoing through the room.
Draco's body is flung backward, colliding against the nearest wall with a heavy thud. His shirt and pants vanish, leaving him clad only in black boxers. Both of his hands are pinned above him, seemingly stuck to the wall on either side of his head, while his legs are spread slightly, equally immobilised.
Hermione’s gaze darts toward the end of the bed, landing on Theo, who’s still between her legs casually twirling his wand in one hand, a sly grin curling his lips. “Thought you were Head Auror Drake and were meant to expect an attack at any moment. Gotcha demobilised there love.”
Draco groans, straining against the invisible restraints to no avail. "Theo, darling, very funny. Now let me off the wall. You’ve had your fun, and I’d very much like to touch our girl."
"Our girl?" Theo repeats with a sarcastic lilt, his brow arching in mock challenge.
Hermione catches the playful tension between them, realising it’s a game. Curiosity mingles with her desire, coaxing her to join in.
"I think you’ll have to earn her, Draco," Theo continues, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "After all those years in school when you were so, so mean… Don’t you think, Hermione? He doesn’t just get to touch you right away."
“Fuck” Draco lets out a soft moan, and the tent in his boxers visibly gets larger.
“Bear with him Hermione, he’s not used to not being in control. Isn’t that right Drake?” Theo teases, bending forward to press a kiss to Hermione’s lips; as he pulls away, he sends a small nibble to her bottom lip, pulling it with him.
Draco’s eyes never leave Hermione’s until Theo, wand still in hand, is vanishing his own clothes, leaving him in only his boxers.
“She’s so wet Draco and I have barely touched her.” Theo pauses, his hands toying with the sides of her panties. “Can I take these off darling?”
Hermione’s cheeks pinken and with a silent nod she raises her hips to allow Theo to slide the fabric from her legs. With her knees spread it leaves her entirely exposed. It’s as if she’s a delicate diamond, a rare and priceless treasure, commanding attention without uttering a word. Both men’s gazes lock onto her core, their desperation seemingly amplified.
Theo’s lips curl into a slow, predatory grin. “Look at this perfect pussy baby.” He turns toward the wall just behind them, “can you see Drake? Look what you’re missing out on.”
Draco's chest heaves with sharp, uneven breaths, the strain of his predicament etched across his face. He’s unaccustomed to this, to the loss of control, to being forced to watch rather than act. Everything he’s ever desired has always fallen effortlessly into his hands at his command.
Except her.
The one girl he’s been craving for months now… fuck… years really… the one who’s occupied his every thought, is finally within his grasp. And yet, she remains just out of reach, tantalizingly close but still untouchable.
His frustration simmers beneath the surface, a volatile mix of longing and envy as he watches her, left only for Theo, who revels in his moment of triumph.
“Fucking touch her Theo. Just look at her, wiggling around all pretty and desperate. Yet you’re leaving her needy.”
Theo’s large hands massage the back of her thighs, pressing them toward her chest as he pulls her down the bed and closer to him. A soft squeal falls from her lips at the sudden movement. Theo’s thumb caresses the side of her cheek, his body hovering over her slightly.
“Can I taste you baby?”
Hermione nods, almost desperately, hips bucking. “I want your face between my legs Theo.”
As Theo’s head dips toward her core, the warmth of a wet tongue laps at her clit and a finger pushes into her desperate hole. She’s so close, so fucking close to cumming as he keeps sucking and lapping like she’s the water a dehydrated man has been looking for. She could cry because for how wonderful it feels, its not enough. She wants more.
Hermione’s eyes lock onto Draco, who’s now tugging at his invisible restraints.
"Let me off this fucking wall, Theodore," Draco growls, his voice low and taut, teetering between a command and a plea. It’s rough, laced with frustration, yet softened by an undertone of raw desperation.
Theo for the first time lifts his head, Hermione’s cheeks pinken as she takes in the sight of Theo’s face, glistening with her own juices. Theo slides off the bed with a casual indifference, leaving Hermione frowning, her body immediately aching for more. She shifts onto her knees on the bed, her gaze fixed on him as he strides toward Draco, still pinned against the wall.
Draco stands slightly taller than Theo, not by much, but enough to make the difference noticeable. Theo tilts his head up just enough to meet Draco's lips, his movements deliberate and unhurried. One hand drifts to Draco’s bare chest, fingers tracing the defined muscles sculpted by rigorous Auror training.
Their lips meet in a fight for dominance, Theo’s fingers gripping at Draco’s jaw. As they pull away, both smirking, their eyes flutter to Hermione whose been left as a voyeur on the bed.
“How’s she taste Draco?” Theo asks, his wandering hand drifting lower until it is rubbing at the blonde’s tenting boxers.
“Fucking amazing.”
Theo begins to walk away, back to the bed when Draco scoffs, “Theodore, unstick me from this fucking wall. Now.”
Theres a mischievous glint in Theo’s eyes, and he tilts his head in mock thought. “I don’t think so.”
Despite his earlier words, a wave of magic ripples through the room, and Theo's expression shifts to genuine shock as Draco’s wrists and legs are suddenly released from their invisible bindings against the wall. Turning toward Hermione, Theo’s eyes widen further when he sees her holding his wand, a guilty but defiant look etched across her face.
Draco chuckles, stalking closer until he and Theo are chest to chest.
“You’re going to regret that little stunt.” Draco whispers into Theo’s ear, completely dismissive as he leaves a shocked Theo standing at the end of the bed and crawls toward Hermione.
“Hello darling.”
Hermione’s eyelashes flutter, “hi.”
“Can I taste you darling? Let me finish what Theo couldn’t.”
Theo joins Draco on the bed, watching the scene play out between them. He wants to scoff…to argue that she was so close to cumming. But before he can, Hermione is shaking her head in disagreement.
“No…. I want to fuck you.”
A chuckle rolls from Draco’s lips, his eyes flashing briefly toward Theo. Theo kneels next to him on the bed, curling his body around Draco’s back. Hermione can’t help but notice how perfect they are for each other. Like two people meant for one another, the concaves of their body perfectly shaped for the other. Theo’s hands explore Draco’s body with familiar confidence, his plump lips sucking marks against his neck that leave a scatter of pink and purple.
“Oh sweetheart, I don’t think you have the facilities to fuck me. That’s something Theo does.” Draco taunts.
Hermione chuckles softly, her gaze flicking toward the empty space beside her on the bed. Her fingers, adorned with a delicate coat of pink nail polish, trace a teasing path over Draco’s shoulder, light and deliberate. Under the warm glow of the room, her lashes flutter playfully.
“You misunderstand. Lie down,” she murmurs, tugging gently at his arm. With a quiet surrender, Draco lets her guide him, his body sinking against the headboard at her insistence.
Theo watches on as she crawls toward Draco, thick golden thighs straddle him - a stark contrast to Malfoy’s pale skin. Draco’s hands immediately grip at the curve of her waist, pulling her forward until she is directly seated over him. He lets her rock against him, her bare core finding friction against the heat of his clothed member.
Hermione throws her head backwards, but it is Draco’s strong hands that pull her eyes back toward him. In that moment, the world stops. As they stare at one another, with Draco’s thumb grazing over her jaw in soft motions, everything feels complete.
“You have no idea how much… how long I’ve wanted this.” Draco mumbles, almost shyly.
Theo, who has been peppering Hermione’s shoulder with kisses interrupts, “how long we’ve wanted this.”
“Kiss me?” Hermione offers.
At long last, their lips meet, and it feels as though the universe itself sighs in contentment, completing a celestial loop that had been waiting to close all along. As they pull apart, Hermione’s eyes flash toward Theo.
“Well, Theo… why not make that wand useful? You’ve been showing off all night… Vanish Draco’s boxers, let’s see if he truly is bigger as you suggest.”
Theo chuckles, “oh Drake – little lion has claws.” Despite his taunt, he follows Hermione’s instruction.
For the first time, Draco is left just as nude as she is. His thick cock springs upward and presses against his stomach. And fuck, Theo wasn’t lying. Draco is big – really big – not just that, he’s pretty and…. Merlin… he’s leaking pre-cum already.
Hermione almost drools at the sight of Draco fucking Malfoy desperate for her of all Witches.
“You going to ride me baby?” Draco’s voice is husky, a groan echoes the room as her hand finds his cock. Slim fingers wrap around it as she slides her hand up and down slowly.
“Come on darling, don’t tease me. I’ve had enough of that from Theodore.”
Theo, now sitting next to Draco, looks on at the scene. His eyes blackened with a sense of desperate desire.
“I still don’t know if you deserve me.” Hermione teases. She shuffles forward in Draco’s lap, tilting her body backwards until her hands grip at Draco’s thighs. The position accentuates her breasts and her pretty pink nipples harden under the exposure to crisp air.
Draco’s hands find her hips, pulling her forward until her pussy touches the length of his cock. Both men watch as she visibly shivers with anticipation. The heat offered from Draco’s cock spreads a warmth throughout her entire core. Draco holds his cock at its base, rubbing the tip of it teasingly against her clit.
“Fuck Hermione... There is no universe where I deserve you. But I am a selfish, selfish man. With you laid out all pretty, like an offering on a golden platter for the taking, best believe you can expect me to take everything you offer.”
As Draco pulls his cock away from Hermione, leaving it to stand to attention against his stomach, there is no hiding the affect she’s had on him. The tip of his cock is bright red, desperate for release and drips of pre-cum fall down the shaft.
Theo groans from the side. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around Draco sucking him clean, leaving his cock shining with a layer of wetness.
“Want a taste Hermione?” Theo offers. The kiss between them that follows is primal, each devouring each other with a sense of depravity. Hermione barely registers that Draco is pulling her forward until she is firmly seated on his lap, his cock prodding at her entrance.
The warmth at her entrance surprises her, the head of Draco’s cock teasing. He doesn’t push into her, no, he lets his cock ghost over her hole pushing and pulling just slightly at the tight muscle.
“Oh!” She squeals, softly pulling away from Theo.
“You said you were going to fuck me Hermione…” Draco whispers, his fingers gripping at her nipples – toying with them softly, “so fuck me.”
Looking down, she finds Theo holding Draco’s cock for her to sit on. The movement is so smooth and instinctive that one might mistake it for the simple act of pulling out her chair at a table. But, this isn’t a table, nor was this a seat.
Yet, Hermione would treat it like one.
In one fluid motion, that leaves all three of them groaning in pleasure, she sinks onto Draco’s cock. In that moment, nothing but the sound of their deep breaths filled the room.
“You’re overdressed Theodore.” Draco grumbled, his eyes flashing to his partner who still had his boxers on. Hermione wanted to move, to sink up and down, yet Draco’s grip on her hips held her firmly in place…as if she was nothing more than something to warm his cock.
“Drac-” Hermione began, only to be cut off as the blonde shushed her.
“Shh Hermione, we’re talking.”
Theo smirks, watching as the she grows impatient, her hips rut back and forward in little figure eights. He knows he could easily vanish his boxers, just as he had Draco’s and Hermione’s clothing – yet the idea of making her wait was delicious.
Making both of them wait.
Standing from the bed he slowly, deliberately removed his boxers. A groan fell from both Draco and Hermione as he proceeded to neatly fold them, walking toward the dresser and placing it neatly atop its surface.
Draco had seen him naked hundreds of times, each time was as glorious as the last. Like Malfoy, he was pure muscle, thick thighs, large biceps and a V line that led toward a cock that rivalled Draco’s. His Italian heritage was evident in the glow of his olive skin.
As he crawled back on the bed, Draco’s grip loosened on her hips as Theo’s nakedness distracted him, Hermione began to move herself. Slowly, up and down.
“Ah ah ah…” Draco chastised, stilling her hips once again. “No. You’re our princess now darling. Let Theo do the work.” Draco motioned toward the other man, and with a shared glance, Theo seemed to understand the command.
Theo’s strong hands gripped her hips firmly, his impressive muscles flexing as he knelt behind her on the bed, effortlessly guiding her up and down.
“Fuck Hermione.” Draco groaned, his fingers finding her nipples and twisting softly
“She likes it harder Drake.” Theo mumbled, only briefly puling his lips away from her neck where he left a barrage of marks.
She moaned again as Draco’s fingers pinched harder. Theo lifted her up and down faster, impaling her onto Draco’s cock again and again. A soft blush of pink bloomed across her chest.
"Now this is a fantasy I've replayed over and over again," Draco murmured.
"Me riding your cock?" Hermione asked. "My tits bouncing in your face?"
"Fuck yes," Theo groaned from behind her, answering for them both.
“Merlin, she’s squeezing me so tight. You want to cum baby?” Draco groaned.
“Touch her clit Drake, let’s make her cum”
Hermione expected for Draco's fingers to find her, but instead, a sudden chill made her jolt. Glancing down, she caught the glimmer of silver—the unmistakable M of his family signet ring gleaming boldly.
She shivers as Malfoy rubs it against her clit, the friction increasing as Theo lifts her up and down.
“Look at you dirtying my famiky ring baby, making my fingers all wet.”
“Theo!” Hermione yelps as he drops her harshly onto Draco, the brush of his cock against her G-spot has her cumming, her walls tightening against Draco as she falls against his torso. Her bare breasts press against his broad chest.
Theo lets go, offering control to Draco who holds her hips tightly as he pushes into her a couple more times. It’s only moments later that Draco is following suit. Hermione whimpers as he fills her with cum.
“Fuck” Draco whispers, letting his forehead fall against Hermione’s as they catch their breath. His eyes slowly move to meet Theo’s whose are still darkened by desire.
“Look Hermione, did we forget somebody?” Draco teases, eyes flicking toward Theo who was palming his leaking cock.
“Is this you getting back at me Drake?” Theo is quick to retort.
Hermione finally turns to face Theo, crawling toward him on the bed. Draco groans at the sight of her ass, gorgeous and thick.
“Remember that dream you told me about? Us on our knees?” Hermione whispers, her small fingers making random shapes against his chest. Theo nods, almost nervously under the stare of a pretty girl.
Their girl.
“Let’s make that dream a reality.”
It doesn’t take much direction for Theo to find himself sat on the bed, with his legs dangling off, Hermione and Draco both kneeling before him either side. The sight of Draco on his knees is always mouthwatering, but a naked Hermione Granger next to him looking almost nervous is sinful.
Draco is the first to engulf his member, the head of his cock slips into Draco’s mouth like candy, his tongue toying with the tip as if he was desperate for more.
Draco lets go of Theo with a small pop.
“He likes to be teased Hermione, he’s very sensitive on his tip.” Draco pauses, his eyes fluttering between both lovers, “like this.” He proceeds to lick from Theo’s balls up his shaft before dipping his tongue into his slit as if offering the girl a lesson.
A bubble of pre-cum slides down his shaft. For the first time, Hermione’s lips find Theo’s cock as she laps at the drips of cum like a shy kitten drinking milk. Theo’s fingers find her hair, gripping it softly, he guides her with practiced precision to match Draco’s movements, each side of his member now stimulated from their mouths.
The sight was sinful, between each suck they would share a kiss, saliva dripping between them. A loud groan echoed through the room, marking Theo's enjoyment.
Draco smirked, pulling off and letting Hermione take him fully into her mouth. “Don’t enjoy this too much Theodore. I’m still mad at you for sticking me to that wall.”
Theo groaned. As Hermione went to slide off his cock, he gripped her hair pulling her nose back toward his pubic bone. She let out a small chocking noise from shock, eyelashes fluttering as she looked up at him. Her hands gripped each of his thighs as she found her rhythm.
“Shit. Just don’t hex me until after I cum Drake.” Theo joked.
“Who said anything about you cumming?” Draco baited, pulling Hermione off Theo’s cock and slapping Theo’s hands out of her hair.
“Don’t get greedy Theodore. Let the poor thing breath. I could just as easily tie your wrists or bind them like you did mine.”
Draco, despite being on his knees eluded power and authority, it made Hermione moan in anticipation. “You should say thank you that I’m letting you touch her at all.” Draco offered, motioning to Hermione.
He turned toward Hermione, pushing a stray strand of her behind her ear as he whispered to her, “tongue out.”
It took seconds for Theo to fill her mouth again, pushing inside with an almost animalistic desperation. “Fuck. Thank you thank you.” Theo practically begged.
“I’m going to-” Theo finished his sentence with a moan.
Draco knew that look on his face, his actions were swift as Theo began to cum. Draco’s own fingers found Hermione’s hair and pushed her further onto Theo’s cock. Again, small chocking noises could be heard as Theo released into her greedy mouth. Her eyes never left his and as Draco slowly let his grip on her hair go and she pulled off Theo’s member, small beads of cum ran down her chin, which were quickly licked up by Draco.
“Mmmm, I’m almost jealous Hermione. I do love the taste of him.” Draco mumbled, before sharing a kiss with the Witch.
Hermione squealed as Draco swept her into his arms, effortlessly lifting her and tossing her onto the bed with a playful grin. Theo, still catching his breath as he sat on the edge of the bed, watched them for a moment before leaning forward. Without hesitation, he reached for Draco, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with raw passion, the taste of himself still painted on Draco’s tongue. As they pulled away, Theo pressed a soft kiss onto Hermione’s forehead, pulling her into his arms.
Hermione lay sprawled across Theo, her small body completely draped over his, her chest rising and falling in sync with his laboured breaths. The faint sheen of sweat glistened on her skin as her face rested against the firmness of his chest, her curls slightly dishevelled.
Draco lay beside them, stretched out on his back, an arm lazily thrown over his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling, his own breathing still uneven. A faint smirk played on his lips, though his icy blue eyes seemed soft, as if he still thought he were dreaming.
With her face pressed against Theo’s chest, Hermione’s voice came muffled, both men turned their attention to her. “I think I might keep you… both,” she murmured, her voice teasing yet it held a tone of sincerity, the faintest hint of vulnerability lacing her words as a blush graced her cheeks. Then, after a pause, she lifted her head just enough to meet Theo’s gaze and then Draco’s. “If you’ll have me.”
For a moment, the world seemed to pause, suspended in the delicate intimacy of her confession. Theo’s hand moved instinctively, trailing lightly up her back, his touch reassuring as his lips curved into one of his infamous smiles.
“Like you even need to ask.”
Draco propped himself up on an elbow, his smirk turning softer. “Hermione… we’ve been yours this entire time.”
With a blush, she burried her face back into Theo’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was fate, or perhaps magic but everything felt like it was falling into place. Like this was where she had belonged the entire time.