Chapter Text
Chapter Two: Conflict Resolution Blowjobs
Hermione’s nostrils flared as she breathed in hard. She sat back in her chair, taking in the scene in front of her. Both men’s white counselor shirts had gone slightly translucent with sweat, sticking to their bodies. They swayed towards and away from each other, equally drawn and repelled.
Ron snuck a glance at Draco’s face, eyes fixed on his parted lips. Draco’s gaze was hovering somewhere around Ron’s chest, where Hermione could make out the faint, peaked shadows of his nipples through the damp fabric.
“Draco,” she began, voice huskier than she intended. His eyes shot to her with trepidation and relief. “Do you want to kiss Ron?” she asked.
Draco scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not fair,” he complained. “I already had to do the first confession. You’re favoring him!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Ron, will you just kiss Draco already?”
Ron stared at Hermione for so long that she began to think he would refuse, then he nodded. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. His hand came up, rested briefly on Draco’s chest, then slid up, wrapping around the back of his neck. His long, freckled fingers disappeared into the soft blonde hair at the nape of Draco’s neck. He pulled Draco towards him. He paused, lips centimeters apart. “Blimey, you’re really going to let me do this? I keep waiting for you to hex my bollocks off,” he muttered.
“Shut up and do it before listening to you talk makes me change my mind, Weasley.”
Ron grinned, then pulled hard on Draco’s neck, sending them crashing together. It was like watching two comets collide. Hermione watched with rapt, glassy eyes as they melted into each other. The tension that had been holding them rigid flowed out of them through their locked lips and into the kiss. She could see Draco’s tongue seeking entrance into Ron’s mouth. Ron granted it with a groan as his free hand grabbed a handful of Draco’s arse. Hah! She knew he liked Draco’s arse as much as she did. Draco’s hands were roaming as well, stroking down Ron’s muscled arms to wrap around his waist.
She squirmed in her seat as Draco broke the kiss to taste his way down Ron’s jaw, sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of his neck below his ear. Ron gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. Their groins rubbed together. Draco moaned, shifting his hips closer to chase the sensation.
“Wait, wait,” Ron said, pushing Draco away from him. Draco swayed back towards him, glassy eyes fixed on Ron’s lips, but Ron held him back. “Okay, so maybe you were right, Hermione, and some of our problem is… this,” he said, gesturing between them. “But all that shit I said is still true, too. Making out isn’t going to make me forget everything he did. He hasn’t even apologized!”
Draco’s languid posture stiffened, squaring up to Ron. “I have tried to apologize—multiple times. You refused to hear it!” he snapped. Draco pushed his hands through his hair in exasperation, shoving it back off his face.
Ron glanced at Hermione, blue eyes glinting with mischief. It was the look he gave her when Harry fell into a trap in chess. She groaned internally. Of course, he wouldn’t make this easy.
“Are you ready to hear it now, Ronald?” she asked, crossing her arms and giving him A Look.
He smirked at her and nodded, then faced Draco expectantly once more.
“I’m sorry,” Draco breathed, eyebrows drawn together.
Ron smirked again, drawling, “I don’t believe you.”
Hermione groaned, falling back in the chair to stare at the ceiling. Perhaps the slotted wood boards could tell her what she had done in a previous life to deserve being edged by the sexual tension of the most emotionally constipated men on the planet.
Draco threw his arms up in frustration. “I am. I’m sorry, I believed my father’s bullshit. I’m sorry I let the Death Eaters in. I’m sorry I was a twat in school. I’m sorry for all of it, okay?” Draco growled, anger overtaking apology in his voice. Hermione sat up again at his tone, tightening her grip on her wand. Just in case. Her eyes darted between them like she was watching a quaffle fly back and forth.
“You think you can just say you’re sorry and that is enough? I’ll forgive you, just like that?” Ron asked, moving closer, chest to chest with Draco again.
“What do you want me to do? Beg? Get on my knees?”
“Yes,” Ron crooned. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated like a cat poised to pounce. “I want you to get on your knees. You don’t have to beg. I just want you to prove it to me.” His tongue darted out, swiping across his bottom lip, leaving it glistening. His smile stretched, confident and dark as the nightfall. “You can, though, if you want. Beg.”
Draco’s eyes widened, his face flushed, and his jaw slackened. His fists clenched, corded muscle and veins standing out from his pale skin. Hermione sucked in a surprised breath at Ron’s audacity. She scrutinized Draco, waiting for his retaliation. To her surprise, his fists stayed where they were.
“Making out isn’t going to make you forgive me, but sucking you off will?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Could hurt,” Draco muttered, glancing warily down at the intimidating bulge in Ron’s shorts.
“Only do it if you really want to, Draco,” Hermione reassured him. “But I am here to mediate. I wouldn’t let him get out of hand.” Her arousal, dampened by the pause, flared back to life at the contemplation on his face.
Slowly, Draco sank to his knees next to the foot of her bed. Hermione’s mouth fell open with a shocked exhale. The sight caused the warmth in her to whip up into a roaring flame. She clenched her thighs together, craving friction.
“I don’t remember reading about oral sex as a conflict resolution technique in any of the management books I read,” Hermione said, leaning forward to get a better view of Draco on his knees, “but I can certainly see how it might be effective.”
“Is this how he apologized to you?” Ron asked, palming himself through his shorts briefly before beginning to undo his belt with shaking fingers. Draco glared up at him from the ground, fists clenched at his sides. Hermione could see a bulge tenting his joggers, but he made no move to touch it.
“No, he just freed all of his house elves,” she said, rocking in the chair as her cunt pulsed with her heartbeat.
“I’m still here, you know,” Draco grumbled, shooting her a glare.
Ron reached back and grabbed his T-shirt at the back of his neck and pulled the damp shirt off in one motion. Hermione greedily stared at his broad back and toned arms, freckles only broken by the twisting scars wrapped around his arms. She didn’t get much opportunity to admire his body from this angle, and drank in the flat plane of his stomach and the well-muscled curve of his ass peeking over his pants. Keepers spent most of the game with their hands off the broom, and that effort showed in divots of his abs and bulky muscles of his thighs.
Draco took in a shuddering breath, enraptured by Ron’s body. His eyes were also hungrily flying over Ron’s newly revealed skin reverently. His hand slid to his crotch, rubbing over the tent in his trousers as if he couldn’t help himself.
Ron lowered the zip and pushed his shorts and pants down just past his hips, just far enough to release his cock. It jutted out, red and bobbing. He reached down, stroking himself with a loose hand, smearing precum down his length. Hermione shifted restlessly in her chair, wriggling against the hard surface. Her mouth was flooding with saliva at the sight of his hard cock. She didn’t have a huge amount of other experience, but she knew Ron’s cock was pretty. Long and thicker at the base, tapering slightly before his smooth and well-shaped head. From Draco’s expression, he seemed to agree with her. He looked entranced, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed.
Draco’s hands slid up Ron’s thighs to rest on either side of his cock. Ron moved his hands to Draco’s, interlacing their fingers. Their hands twisted together, pale, lean fingers entwined with thicker, freckled ones. The sight sent an electric shock of arousal through her. Draco leaned forward, his neck stretching long as his mouth hovered centimeters from Ron’s cock, open mouth exhaling hot breath over it. Ron’s fingers clenched hard around Draco’s. Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, eyes fixed upward. He grinned, a crooked and lupine flash of teeth.
Hermione shifted in her seat, fixing the image in her mind. Ron and Draco’s sharp profiles focused on one another, Ron’s cock bobbing between them like a threat and a promise. Her heart stuttered when Draco’s tongue darted out to lick at the swollen head. She slid a hand between her legs to rub against. The throbbing in her core was maddening, but she held herself back.
Draco circled the tip with a pointed tongue, then took it into his mouth. Ron groaned at something Draco did with his tongue, and Hermione desperately wanted to be closer. But this wasn’t about her; she was just here to mediate. She rubbed at her throbbing core again, sighing at the slight relief.
Draco’s head bobbed up and down, and Ron moaned again. He lifted their joined hands, stretching them up, then slowly stepped forward, pulling Draco further back by his arms. Draco shuffled on his knees, shifting to adjust, and allowed himself to be stretched back, hands and head pinned to the bed behind him. His back was arched, knees spread. Ron stood between them, weight balanced on his hands on the bed. Ron was bent over Draco, his cock angled to slide down Draco’s throat. He was holding himself back, panting with the head of his cock between Draco’s swollen lips.
Hermione’s restraint crumbled under the weight of her longing. She wrestled the button of her shorts open and wiggled her hand into her knickers, finding a flood of slickness waiting for her. Her cunt was throbbing and slippery, and she gathered wetness to bring it up to circle her clit.
“Can you take more, Draco?” Hermione asked. Ron’s head swiveled to her, smirking when he saw her hand. Draco’s eyes darted to her, and Ron gasped as Draco moaned, long and helpless, around his cock. He pushed his head up off the bed, taking as much of Ron’s cock as he could from his pinned position. Hermione groaned, low and feral, as her fingers circled faster.
“You know what my real problem is with you, Malfoy? You’ve always thought you are above me. Just because of your daddy’s money,” Ron growled. He began to slowly pump his hips forward, pushing Draco’s head back against the bed. “And the worst part is, all that shit you say, about me not being good enough– ah,” his voice broke as Draco let his jaw go slack, taking more into his mouth. Hermione could see his throat and jaw working as Ron let out a garbled moan.
“What is the worst part, Ron?” Hermione prompted gently. Ron tipped his head towards her, but his eyes were fixed down, locked on Draco.
“You just say what I’m already telling myself,” he groaned. “You take my worst thoughts right out of my head and throw them in my face. And it hurts even more because, despite all that–” he stopped, panting as he bent even further over Draco, sliding achingly slowly in and out of his mouth. Hermione barely caught his next words. “Despite all that, I’ve always wanted you.”
Hermione’s heart swelled, warmth filling her. He was being so vulnerable. Pride flushed through her. Then Draco made a garbled noise, trying to speak around the cock in his throat. She couldn’t understand what he said, but she knew from his expression and experience that it was something snarky. Harry was right. He couldn’t help himself when he thought of a quip, even when it would make everything worse. Ron just whimpered at the vibrations around his cock. Hermione noted another benefit to this conflict resolution method; having Draco effectively gagged definitely made it easier for Ron to be honest about his feelings.
Hermione watched greedily as his length disappeared behind Draco’s stretched lips. She swirled her fingers around her clit harder, barely stifling a moan as Draco swallowed down Ron’s cock. She clenched around nothing, eyes fixed on the straining bulge in Draco’s trousers, one he was helpless to soothe.
“That was before, Ron. He doesn’t think he’s above you now,” Hermione said. “Look at him. He loves being on his knees for you.”
Indeed, Draco’s hips were pulsing futilely in the air, seeking relief, attention. His head chased Ron on the withdrawal, cheeks hollowed and tongue working. Ron groaned, staring down with rapt attention at where Draco was wrapped around him.
“Fuck, you really do, don’t you? You look so good like that.”
Hermione couldn’t help herself. She slid out of her seat, dropped to her knees, and crawled towards them. Draco’s hips bucked in the air as she slid her hands up his thighs, avoiding touching his length. She worked the button open, struggling a little with the tension of the fabric, then carefully lowered the zipper and worked his trousers down. His cock pushed up his black pants, a wet spot starting on the fabric. Draco bucked again when Hermione tugged down his pants, letting his cock bob free.
She sat back on her haunches, watching the slide of Ron’s cock into Draco’s mouth as his pace increased. He was muttering praise now, telling Draco how good he was taking it, how tight he felt. Draco’s hands were still pinned, knuckles white against Ron’s. From this close, Hermione could see the distension of Draco’s throat as Ron bottomed out in his mouth, the spasm as he suppressed a gag. She swallowed hard, in sympathy and lust.
Ron released Draco’s hands and dropped a hand to Hermione’s head, shaking fingers caressing her. One of Draco’s hands flew to his own cock, stroking over the weeping tip of it, then squeezing the base. His other went to Ron’s cock, wrapping around the exposed length. Ron pulled back, straightening up and groaning as Draco chased his cock, pumping and sucking as he went.
“Fuck, Draco, I can’t… I’m not gonna last, so good… Where… where should I…?” Ron panted. One of his hands was in each of their hair, anchoring himself.
Draco pulled his mouth off Ron with an audible pop. “Right here, Weasley. I’ve wanted to know what you taste like for years.” Draco sat forward, settling his weight onto his knees and toes. He tipped his head back, pumping Ron’s cock against his closed mouth. Slowly, he opened his mouth and extended his long tongue, resting Ron’s cock on it as his hand glided across the shaft.
Ron groaned again, breath fast and fingers tight in Hermione’s hair. His eyes were focused on Draco’s mouth, open and waiting, tongue caressing the underside of his shaft with every movement of Draco’s hand. Hermione’s eyes were fixed there too, her hand inside her shorts again, working fast circles over her clit to match Draco’s pace. The tension was rising, spiraling upwards as she climbed higher and higher, watching Draco’s sinful tongue and decadent expression.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ron moaned, drawing out the last word as he shuddered and ropes of cum burst out. He painted Draco’s tongue and mouth, pulses of white splashing onto his lips and cheeks, dripping into his waiting mouth. Draco fastened his lips around Ron’s head and sucked, causing Ron to buckle over him, clutching his hair.
Hermione broke then, watching the cum drip down from Draco’s lips as Ron moaned over him. She pressed hard along her clit as all the tension pushed her higher and higher until she shattered. She plunged down, quaking and shivering as pleasure flowed through her body.
Hermione panted, stroking herself softly through the come down as Draco released Ron and sat back. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away most of the cum that had missed his tongue. A droplet still clung to the corner of his mouth, and Hermione’s hand moved on its own. She gently cupped his cheek, and he turned to look at her, eyes bright and feverish. She gently smoothed her thumb down his cheek, catching the droplet. Draco leaned into the touch, his head heavy in her hand. She brought her thumb to the center of his lips and pressed gently there.
“Suck,” she whispered.
Draco groaned, his still-hard cock twitching in his hand. He parted his lips, and she slid her thumb into his warm mouth. His tongue laved at the pad of her thumb as he sucked it clean. She shuddered, cunt pulsing, at the clever undulation of his tongue. No wonder Ron hadn’t been able to hold on. She longed to find out what else he could do with it, but restrained herself, pulling her thumb from his mouth and dropping her hand back to her lap. She reminded herself of her role in this. She was just here to facilitate Ron and Draco working out their issues. She couldn’t let herself– or them– get distracted by her desires.
She looked at Draco’s plush, swollen lips, the sharp line of his jaw, his grey eyes dark. His pupils were wide, stormy irises merely a thin ring around the black, as he stared at her mouth.
Just a mediator, she reminded herself.
But still, just one kiss couldn’t hurt, could it?
She leaned towards him, and he moved to meet her. Their lips pressed together, slotting together and moving so naturally it could have been their thousandth kiss, not their first. His kiss was electrifying, consuming her mind, narrowing the world to just him. Her tongue swiped over the seam of his lips, and he parted them. His clever tongue met hers. She could taste familiar salt and musk– Ron. She broke the kiss, chest hot and tight with want.
“Baby,” Ron said, tipping her head back with the hand still in her hair and leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. His kiss, though familiar, never failed to send a pulse through her. “Was that your first kiss?” he murmured into her mouth. He groaned at her nod. He broke the kiss and pivoted to Draco. His hand left Hermione’s hair to cup Draco’s face with both palms, pulling him up and pressing a searing kiss to his mouth. “You don’t know what it does to me to know that my cum was still in your mouth the first time you kissed her. No matter what happens now, I’ll always have that,” he spoke into Draco’s mouth.
Draco surged up, hands flying to tug at Ron’s hair as their mouths clashed, tongues dueling and teeth nipping. “You’re such a possessive bastard,” he growled into Ron’s mouth.
“You like it. So does she.”
Hermione used their distraction to shimmy out of her shorts, her ruined knickers sticking to her legs as she dragged them down. She returned to her chair, crossing her legs primly at the ankle, knees together.
“Ronald,” she said, voice firm. They broke their kiss, turning to look at her. “Are you satisfied?”
Ron looked like Crookshanks after a big meal and a nap in a sunbeam. Lazy, smug, and deeply pleased, smiling with a crooked grin down at Draco. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants, pulling them and his shorts up. He offered Draco his hand, pulling him to his feet.
“Yeah, that was brilliant,” he said.
“So you forgive him? Is there anything else you need to get off your chest?” Hermione asked, adopting the soothing-yet-firm tone that her conflict mediation book recommended.
Ron’s smile twitched. “Yeah, I reckon I can forgive him now. Though I might need another reminder later about how very sorry you are,” he teased, nudging Draco with his elbow.
Draco didn’t share his playful attitude. His cock was still bobbing, trousers and pants just below it. Tension radiated from him, shoulders tight and jaw set. His gaze moved between Hermione and Ron, hot and hungry.
Hermione smiled warmly at them. “That’s great! We’re making such great progress. Now, Draco, it’s your turn. To say your piece–and get your satisfaction.”
A lupine grin spread across Draco’s lips. Ron’s Cheshire grin widened, eyes bright with anticipation.
“So, what do you need to say, mate?” Ron asked confidently, his hand meeting Draco’s stomach and trailing down to circle his cock. He stroked him lazily, fingers gentle and teasing. Draco’s head dropped back, groaning and thrusting into the loose ring of his fist. He grabbed Ron’s wrist, stilling it and pulling his hand away. He yanked off his shirt and slid his joggers the rest of the way down, stepping out of them.
Hermione drank in his naked form, relishing in the hard lines of his pale body. The obscene vee of his broad shoulders narrowing to his waist. The round, tender swell of his arse. His pale skin, chest painted with even paler scars. A marble statue, Hermione thought again. He should be in a museum. He climbed onto the bed and settled against the headboard, legs spread and cock standing rigid.
“Go on, Ron,” Hermione urged. She unsubtly scooted her chair so that she could still see as Ron crawled onto the bed and stalked towards Draco. He looked over at Hermione when her chair screeched against the floor. She nodded down at Draco’s cock. Ron smirked at her, then leaned over Draco, his bare chest and stomach dragging over the weeping head of Draco’s cock as he kissed Draco. Draco groaned as he slid back down, settling on elbows and knees between his thighs.
She had never seen him in this position before, not from this angle. Ron’s back was arched, the smooth curve of his bum prominent. She wanted to sink her teeth into it. She sat on her hands.
Hermione could feel wetness pooling on the wooden chair under her, but resisted touching herself. She could ignore the pounding in her cunt for a while longer, needing to focus on what was happening on the bed. To mediate, of course.
Ron’s head lowered, pressing wet kisses down Draco’s shaft. He wrapped his lips around the base, sucking, before moving back up to the head with a broad, flat-tongued lick. Hermione chuckled, recognizing her signature opening move. Ron glanced sideways at her, winking before swirling his tongue over the head and closing his lips around it. Draco groaned, fisting her pillows.
“Draco, you’re supposed to be telling Ron about your feelings,” Hermione reminded him, and he dropped his head back against the headboard, huffing a helpless laugh.
“It’s just– Oh fuck, do that again– I grew up getting everything I wanted, being told I deserved it,” he panted. “Then I got to Hogwarts and you had what I wanted and I couldn’t take it from you.”
Ron moved off his cock and locked eyes with Draco, working his jaw. He opened his mouth and let spit drip from his tongue onto Draco’s cock. Draco groaned loudly as Ron used the spit to ease the glide of his rough fist as he worked Draco up and down.
“What did you want that Ron had?” Hermione asked, giving in and finding her sopping core with her fingers again. She dipped them into the entrance, working them in as her muscles clenched down on them.
Ron’s head bobbed as he took Draco into his mouth again. He hummed encouragingly. Go on. Draco’s head fell back against the headboard with a loud thunk, eyes on the ceiling.
“First, it was just Potter’s friendship. Then it was the whole trio. Friends, not cronies. And your family. Everyone loved you.” His hands found Ron’s hair, holding him as his hips started thrusting up off the bed. “Then in the war, you were always on the right side, it wasn’t even a choice, you and your whole family. Then– Oh god Ron, your mouth is so tight, fuck– then you had Hermione.” His thrusts grew wild, erratic.
Hermione’s fingers delved deeper, straining to reach deep inside, pressing against the place that made stars burst behind her eyes. Her name from Draco’s mouth made her clench hard around her fingers and she moaned.
Draco continued, voice ragged, “And you, it was you, I wanted you and you wouldn’t even look at me, would never even consider… hated me… wanted so bad…” he sobbed. His words were becoming garbled now as Ron’s hand and mouth worked up and down.
Hermione was close, but wouldn’t let herself come before Draco. She tore her eyes from his cock to check his face and saw that he was still staring at the ceiling, red-faced and panting.
“Draco,” she gasped, “Look at him. You have him now. Both of us, if you want.”
Her voice was syrupy thick, but Draco’s eyes flew to her, locking on her fingers buried in her cunt, then down to where Ron was wrapped around him. He moaned, low and broken, and his whole body buckled as he came. Hermione followed suit, crumpling in on herself as she spasmed around her fingers.
Ron swallowed, releasing Draco with a noisy pop and crawling forward to kiss him again. Draco’s arms wrapped around Ron, pulling their chests together. Hermione smiled, heart fluttering at the sight.
She did it.
Conflict mediated.
Perhaps not the most orthodox method for the workplace, but it got the job done.
“Hermione? C’mere, baby,” Ron said, hand outstretched to her.
Hermione stood, legs shaking, and walked to the edge of the bed. Draco’s arms wrapped around her, hauling her onto the bed. She laughed, crawling the rest of the way towards them. Ron kissed her, his hands stroking down her back. Draco’s eyes were locked on her bare thighs, and he ran his fingers through the wetness gathered there.
All three of them jumped at a loud rap on the window. Heart pounding, Hermione scooted off the bed to peek through the curtains, holding them tight to prevent anyone from seeing into the cabin. There was an owl there. Tied to its ankle was a scroll bearing the Ministry Seal. Hermione frowned, carefully letting the owl in and untying the scroll.
“Come back here, Hermione. You can read your mail later,” Ron said.
“Just one minute, I’ll be right there. I need to see what this is.” A knot of worry formed in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting anything from the Ministry. She popped open the wax seal and began reading, then blanched and rolled the scroll tightly again. She grabbed her knickers and shorts, wriggling into them.
“Love, that doesn’t look like you’re going to be right here,” Draco said, sitting up and patting the bed enticingly.
“I just have to do something in the office. It’s fine!” Hermione’s thoughts were racing, her mind already far from the cabin. “Just lock the door after you when you go, okay?” she said over her shoulder as she slipped out, the door closing with a click behind her.
She didn’t pause to see them look at each other, crestfallen.