Title: The Ones You Love
Summary: see challenge
Warning: threesome, smut
Word Count: 4,241
Challenge: The Trio has a horrendous fight but two won't make up; it's up to the third to bring them back together.
Notes: For the triofqf challenge. This is my first long fic and first involving any smut, so if it's a little weird that's why. I'd like to thank my beta centerspire for all the wonderful suggestions and help with this, and so last minute too. Characters all belong to JK Rowling (as if there was ever any doubt). enjoy
Harry smiled as he walked down the street towards their flat. They would all be home tonight, the first time in several weeks. Ron had been gone for the past week playing with the Chudley Cannons; he really did make a good keeper when he wasn’t thinking too hard about it. Hermione was busy, as usual, at the Ministry working late most nights. And Harry had just gotten back from two weeks of Auror training.
It would be nice to have all three of them home before things got hectic again. Harry was looking forward to spending a lot of quality time with his friends – no not just his friends - his lovers; he shook his head smiling at the thought. Sometimes it was hard for him to imagine that they really were lovers and not just best friends; they were both of course, he just felt so lucky to be able to have the love of the two people he cared about most in the world.
He had often thought he would never be the type to end up happy, what with the prophecy and everything else that had happened in his life. He had resigned himself to living a life without love, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand losing someone he loved again.
It was different with Ron and Hermione, though. He smiled, thinking of how everything had come together. They had been together since their sixth year at Hogwarts. And even before then it had always been there, they just hadn’t acted on it. At first, people didn’t understand when they told them about their relationship. But those closest to them, Hermione’s parents, Remus, and the Weasleys, had understood and been supportive. Ron and Hermione had changed his life; Harry wouldn’t have to live a life without love because they would always be with him.
Their first time together was still fresh in his memory as he walked home. It hadn’t been planned, it just sort of happened. They were in the boys’ dormitory, lounging on Ron’s bed. Harry and Ron were looking through a Chudley Cannons magazine. Orange and black blurs would whiz by every few moments in the pictures, as the boys watched the Cannons demonstrate a Hawkshead Attacking Formation.
Hermione looked up from her Muggle Studies book and sighed as the boys flipped through the magazine. She had been trying to persuade them all afternoon to start on the essay they had to write for Snape that weekend. She, of course, had already finished hers.
“You really ought to start your essay, Ronald. It’s supposed to be two rolls of parchment. That’s not something you can just make up the night before it’s due.”
“Really, Hermione, I’ll start it later. Right now I just want to relax with my best mates and not worry about homework.”
She never did get to finish her sentence. Ron pinned her to the bed, his knees pressing her arms into the soft down of the comforter and his arms on her shoulders. He smiled wickedly down at her before looking up at Harry. Hermione struggled to get out from under Ron, speechless, for once, at what he had done. Ron wouldn’t budge as Hermione thrashed beneath him, her skirt started to rise to a delicious height exposing her smooth creamy thighs. Ron kissed her soundly as Harry pulled the drapes around the bed and whispered several charms to keep them hidden. Through hours of soft moans and gasps they came to know each other better than they ever had during the five years they had previously been together. It was strange how it happened, with no announcement or thought. They just knew that it was the right thing to do and they didn’t fight it.
They knew they would always be together.
The cool autumn wind blew past Harry as he neared their second story flat above a muggle bookstore in London. He pulled his coat tight around his shoulders to brace himself against the chill of the wind. Another chill ran through him, though this was one of anticipation, as he rounded the corner of their street. He walked a little faster as he neared their door.
As he stepped inside he heard a racket coming from the kitchen. He grinned to himself; Ron and Hermione could never wait for more than five minutes. Harry took off his coat and scarf, hanging them by the door. He walked through the apartment towards the kitchen grinning, anxious to see what his lovers were up to.
As Harry rounded the corner into the kitchen, the smile quickly left his face and his pleasant demeanor was shattered. The kitchen was a mess, there were broken dishes strewn across the floor, water overflowing the sink, smoke rising from the oven, and in the middle of the chaos were Ron and Hermione both red in the face and yelling at one another, oblivious to Harry’s entrance.
“Why can’t you, for once in your life, think of someone other than yourself,” shrieked Hermione.
“Oh, that’s rich, Hermione. This is completely your own fault!” Ron bellowed.
Hermione waved her hands around to the disaster that was their kitchen, and what looked like the ashes of a meal. “This is all my fault? I believe it was you who burnt the dessert, and you who failed to clean up this morning, and you who couldn’t help try and make this place look at least halfway decent for tonight.”
Before Ron could get started again, Harry stepped further into the kitchen. “What happened in here,” he asked calmly.
Ron and Hermione started at Harry’s sudden intrusion into their argument. They both looked at him for a moment, still seething with rage. “I said what happened in here,” his voice rising slightly. Harry hated raising his voice, but he was starting to get upset. This was supposed to be a special night and they couldn’t even try and get along for more than five minutes. Sometimes they were just too passionate for their own good. If they weren’t screaming at one another they were snogging.
They both started at the same time each blaming the other at the same time.
“Just stop both of you. I’ve had it. Really, I have. If it’s not one thing, it’s something else with you. Can you at least act like we’re all still in this relationship and not teenagers anymore?” Harry was trembling now, the anger building up inside of him. “Bloody hell, this was supposed to be a nice night for the three of us. We haven’t all been home in more than a month. Couldn’t you have at least tried to get along, is it really too much to ask?”
“Honestly Harry, I’ve tried, you know I have, but every time I try to do something nice he has to mess it up.” She turned back to Ron, “can’t you for once try to think with your big head rather than your little one? Can’t you for once try to be considerate of other people rather than simply concerning yourself with getting off?”
“Well maybe if you weren’t such a know-it-all twit I wouldn’t have to Hermione; that seems to be the only time you listen to me. You won’t shut your mouth unless I make you and you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
“Will you both shut your mouths! I’ve been looking forward to tonight since I had to leave two weeks ago! But you two would rather act like a bunch of kids, rather than the adults I thought you were. Sod it, I don’t want to deal with this tonight. If you two decide to start acting like the mature adults that I love then you know where I’ll be,” said Harry.
He turned on his heel and left the room. He stormed up the stairs to his room and slammed the door. He hated being in there, the small one-person room was lonely, but he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Ron or Hermione at the moment. He had wanted to spend the night in their room, not his. He wanted to rediscover them all over again, to find the places that made them sigh and arch in pleasure. But tonight he was alone in his room. He would not get to feel them beside him, nor hear their lust-fraught pants and groans.
Harry heard someone tromping up the stairs. The door across the hall slammed shut; it was Ron. Hermione was still downstairs.
He imagined her alone in the kitchen, cleaning. She would never be able to leave that mess and simply go to bed, just like she never used to be able to put off an essay when they were in school. Harry saw her moving in his mind -- her cheeks still flushed from yelling, her bushy hair down around her shoulders, a halo around her face. She would be leaning over the sink scrubbing a pan; she always did things the muggle way when she was upset. She said it gave her time to cool down and get her aggression out. A light sheen of sweat and water shone on her skin as steam rose from the sink. Harry could see her sultry curves swaying slightly with her efforts. Soon Harry felt that familiar tingling that went all the way to his core. He let his hand move down his stomach to rub over the front of his pants, imagining Hermione as she wiped her brow, still furrowed with frustration as she continued to clean.
His fantasies were lost, however, when he heard Hermione come banging up the stairs. Her door slammed shut a moment later, and his frustration returned, that pleasant tingle all but a memory. Harry slammed his fists against the bed and screamed into the dark silence of his room.
The next morning was strained. Nothing had changed since last night, and a cloud of anger hung thick in the flat. They didn’t speak to one another, simply moving about their morning routines; Ron and Hermione wouldn’t even look at each other. Of course this morning there would be no usual shag in the shower, no teasing grabs as they passed each other in the kitchen, or the kisses before they left for work.
That day, Harry sat at home wondering what to do. He was still upset and very frustrated with Ron and Hermione, and this morning hadn’t helped, either.
He spent the first afternoon cleaning up; their flat was a wreck. The kitchen, however, was clean. He was right in guessing that Hermione couldn’t go to bed with it looking the way it did. Instantly it brought the thoughts from the previous night flooding back into his mind. He felt the familiar twitch in his groin, and quickly banished the thoughts so he could get some work done.
He spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through the papers that littered the den, and straightening the general chaos that had come to reign in their home.
That evening Harry tried to talk to Ron and Hermione. They refused to even speak with Harry and left the room.
This continued for three more days. They barely spoke to one another and all slept in their own rooms. Harry was emotionally drained. He watched the two people he loved most walk around like they couldn’t see each other.
One afternoon, Harry walked upstairs and opened the door to their shared room. Nothing had been moved since they had last been up there. There were clothes strewn across the floor and the sheets were a mess. He smiled sadly for a moment as he remembered the last time they had been up there together.
It had been the morning he left for his Auror training. Ron and Hermione had woken him up. He had been annoyed at first; he wanted to sleep in that morning since he knew that training would exhaust him. But he quickly quieted his protests when he realized what had actually woken him. Both Ron and Hermione were under the covers and were nuzzling against his morning hardness. Soon he felt them kissing around him, their lips and tongue playing over his length as they kissed. His breathing turned shallow as they slowly brought him towards the edge. Hermione moved up his body slowly letting Ron take over beneath the covers. She licked and nibbled her way up his fluttering stomach and trembling chest, letting her skilled tongue flick over his hardened nipples, biting them gently as Ron took him into his throat.
Harry let his mind wander for a few more minutes before closing the door dejectedly and going back downstairs to clean.
He was exhausted as the evening drew near, but he decided to cook dinner. He had always been a bit of a wiz in the kitchen; living with the Dursleys had ensured that. It was one of the few things they’d let him do. But he had come to enjoy cooking as he’d grown; especially for those he loved most.
He spent all evening cooking. The meal was simple but nice. Something they all really loved. He had everything finished shortly before Ron and Hermione were due to come home. Harry began setting things up for a nice quiet dinner so the three could talk, plating the dinner and setting up some candles.
He sat alone at the dinning room table for hours, letting the candles burn down to nothing, watching as they gradually extinguished themselves in the pools of wax that had dripped down onto the table. As the clock on the wall chimed 11 o’clock, he stood, and with a wave of his wand everything disappeared.
Sometime later Ron walked in, his cheeks red as he walked quietly through the dark flat. He fixed himself a small plate of bread and cheese before sitting down at the table to eat. Hermione walked in thirty minutes after he did, and walked past Ron without so much as a second glance. Four days and they still weren’t talking to one another. She waved her wand and lit a fire; the soft red-orange flames slowly illuminated the flat.
Hermione started as she looked up seeing Harry sitting in the shadows.
“Sometimes I think I am the only one who actually wants this relationship to continue. And if that’s the case then why should I bother at all? Why not just let it fall apart like you two seem content with doing,” he said quietly.
Hermione just started at Harry as he looked past her sadly to Ron, who had just noticed that Harry was there.
“Don’t we love each other anymore,” he asked sadly. “You two can’t be in the same room with each other with having a go at it. It’s tearing me up watching us fall apart.”
He waved his wand and his bags appeared beside him, obviously packed.
“Is this what you want?” He looked back and forth between Hermione and Ron. They stared but didn’t say anything “I’ve already talked to Remus; I’m going to go and stay with him at Grimmauld Place for a while, until I can find my own place.” Tears were brimming around the corners of his eyes. “I just can’t stay here anymore.”
Ron opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but just as quickly closed it again. Harry let his tears flow freely now as he gathered up his bags and started towards the door. He would walk to Grimmauld Place so he could gather his emotions before seeing Remus. The last thing he wanted was for his old friend to be worried about him.
Harry gave one last look back towards Ron and Hermione; they seemed frozen. They hadn’t moved since they had realized he’d been in the room. He saw their backs as he opened the door and walked out in the cool night air.
The door closed quietly behind him. It was a cold night; every night had seemed unseasonably cold recently. Harry walked torpidly, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t let this get to him. They would come back, they would realize what they had lost and everything would go back to the way it had been. If he waited long enough, the door would burst open and Ron and Hermione would come running after him. He wouldn’t even get to the end of the street before they called out to him.
The street sign loomed over him as he reached the corner. He slowed as he approached it, turning to look back towards their flat. He could hardly make out their front door through the fog. But the door was closed. Harry sighed. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost those he’d loved, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He had been foolish to think this would last; he wasn’t the type to end up happy. His heart ached as he turned the corner and continued towards Grimmauld Place.
He opened the door to Grimmauld Place quietly. It was late and he was sure that Remus would be asleep. He walked upstairs slowly, towards the room he and Ron had shared over the many summer and winter holidays, and again every other time they had been there.
As he climbed the stairs he sighed and wondered how long he would have to stay here. It always reminded him of Sirius, just one more loved one gone because of who he was. He hated that the people he loved died simply because of the scar on his forehead. Using his foot, Harry pushed the door open, ready to simply drop his bags and pass out on the bed.
He stopped just inside the door. He wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right or not, but on his bed sat Hermione and Ron, both smiling expectantly at him.
“‘Bout time you showed up, Mate. We were about to give up on you.” Ron rose from the bed and crossed the room to where Harry stood and grabbed his bags, bringing them into the room and setting them down at the foot of the bed.
Hermione followed behind Ron, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the bed. She laid him in the middle of the bed and curled up beside him. Ron followed suite on his other side after he had put the bags down.
“You really scared us, Harry, but you were right.” Hermione laid her head against his steadily rising and falling chest. “We really were acting childish, weren’t we?”
Ron snorted slightly before getting himself back under control. Hermione shot him a warning look before turning back to Harry.
“It took us a few minutes for what you said to actually sink in.” She let her hand trail idly over his chest as she spoke.
“I don’t want to lose you Harry,” she said, and then looked to Ron pointedly. “We don’t want to lose you Harry.”
“She’s right, Mate. You’re one of the best things in my life, apart from Hermione that is.” He grinned mischievously.
Ron leaned over Harry and caught Hermione’s lips with his; starting gently, lightly brushing his lips over hers before becoming more insistent. Harry could see his tongue pressing against her lips, forcing its way past them into her warm mouth. Harry shifted beneath them as he remembered the way Hermione tasted; that mix of the mint, from her toothpaste, and toffee. He suspected it had something to do with growing up with dentists for parents, but Hermione loved the rich taste of toffee and had it as often as she could – probably making up for all those missed years of it living at home. Ron tasted differently; his was a stronger taste, rich and heady, with a hint of chocolate frogs. He never had managed to collect all the cards, but was still trying even now.
Hermione whimpered softly, bringing Harry back to the moment. Ron had his hand tangled in her bushy hair, pulling her more firmly against his mouth. Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione parted, breathing deeply, their faces flushed. Ron turned his attention back to Harry.
“What do you say? Want to give it a go again? Or do you really want to stay here?”
Harry shook his head. He knew that he wanted them. They were the only people in the world who knew everything about him and still loved him. They had been through hell and were still together and there was no way he was letting them go now.
Hermione’s lips brushed over Harry’s neck, slowly moving across his jaw line and towards his ear. Her breath was hot on his skin, making him tremble. At the same time, Ron was letting his hand move down over Harry’s chest slowly.
“Come home, Love.” She let her tongue flick over his earlobe, nipping at it softly as Ron let his hand move down over the front of Harry’s pants.
He nodded jerkily before apparating out of the room. Ron and Hermione let their lips brush one another’s one last time before following Harry.
They were in their room once more. Everything was right with the world as they all piled onto the bed. Their clothes joined the others that still littered the floor and they slowly began to reacquaint themselves with one another.
They were a tangled mass of hands, arms, mouths, tongues, and legs. Ron and Hermione both took care of Harry that night, finishing what they had started at Grimmauld Place.
They laid Harry back on the bed and Hermione straddled his naked hips, his breathing was ragged with desire. She leaned down, her pert breasts pressing against his rising and falling chest and breathed against his ear, “do you trust me Harry?” She pressed her lips against his neck right behind his ear, her tongue moving rapidly back and forth over his exposed skin.
He nodded quickly, swallowing hard.
“Tell me Harry; tell me that you trust me.” Her warm entrance was poised right over Harry’s painfully erect cock.
“Oh God, Hermione you know I trust you, I trust you with my life,” he moaned breathlessly.
She smiled wickedly as she lowered herself down onto him and at the same time, whispered a spell that caused Harry’s arms and legs to be bound to the bed. He arched his hips up, driving himself further into Hermione’s warmth, barely aware of his silken bindings. Harry reveled in her, memories flooding back to him as he learned every soft twist and turn of her again.
While Hermione rose and fell against Harry settling into their familiar rhythm, Ron laid beside them. He captured Harry’s mouth, driving his tongue past Harry’s lips forcefully. Ron knew that Harry loved his rough touch, while Hermione’s movements were smooth and gentle. While Ron claimed Harry’s mouth, his hand moved down between his lovers, spreading the abundant moisture there. His finger joined Harry’s cock inside Hermione causing her to arch her back and grind down against Harry hungrily. Ron moved his wet finger unhurriedly from Hermione’s tempting wetness; he teased over Harry’s swelling balls, rolling them in his hand, gently squeezing before he continued moving his finger lower.
Ron’s finger moved between the cleft of Harry’s cheeks circling and pressing against the tight ring of muscles there. Coaxing his lover to relax, his finger pressed rhythmically against Harry, in time with Hermione. Slowly Ron eased his finger into Harry, pushing past that first ring of muscles, working his finger in and out, moving in a little further each time. Ron was biting down on Harry’s lower lip as he pushed a second finger inside of him. Ron knew exactly what Harry liked. Years of experience, even before that night in the boy’s dormitory with Hermione, had given him the knowledge of what would drive his best friend over the edge. Harry writhed on the bed beneath his lovers, his senses threatening to overwhelm him. Ron’s harder touches combined with Hermione’s gentle love making built the fire in him gradually. Harry’s mind reeled as he felt himself getting close.
Hermione leaned forward once more, and whispered in his ear, “let go, Harry. Stop trying to hold back and let go.”
Harry cried out as the last of her words breathed over his ear. Arching his hips up and driving into Hermione once more, he began to fill her. Stars burst behind his eyelids as spurt after spurt coursed through him and into Hermione.
Harry collapsed against the bed, his breathing ragged. He barely felt Ron slip his fingers from him, or Hermione move beside him, or the restraints disappear from his wrists and ankles. He only truly became aware of the world around him when his lovers laid down beside him.
Harry slipped into a dream world as his two lovers pressed themselves against him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to lose the ones he loved again; once was more than enough for any person. Maybe he really was the type of guy who would end up with the ones he loved.
As he fell asleep he smiled; they still had 2 more weeks to spend together before he had to leave again. He would relish the time they had to spend together, showing both of them how much their love meant.