2. Part Deux

...And Temper Begets Pleasure

part deux

~notsosaintly~

Hermione hid behind her worn-out copy of Hogwarts, A History in a corner of the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Harry had not yet returned from Quidditch practice. That was quite all right, though; she needed time to think.

Right, more time to think. That was all she had done since History of Magic class this afternoon when Ron had...well. A wave of remembrance crashed over her, filling her stomach. When Ron had...Merlin's eye teeth, she could not even bring herself to think the words.

The image of him was imprinted upon her mind, however. He was so much bigger than she would have expected, so...oh, bugger all, since History of Magic she just could not think of anything else. She hesitated and wondered: had she actually thought of him in that way before and just had not realized it?

Ron and Harry burst through the door on a breeze of spring green, bringing a taste of the outdoors into the common room. As usual, every head turned to acknowledge their presence and, as usual, the boys took no notice. Their robes were slightly muddy and their cheeks ruddy from the chill that still lingered at this time of year. They were breathless and laughing. Normally, their blustery entrance would have made her scowl in reproval. But not tonight.

Instead, she pulled her head quickly back behind the extra-large book and pretended not to have noticed their return. She breathed heavily into the thick parchment pages. All of a sudden she was very aware of the boys...as boys. They had changed so much since she had first met them over six years ago, yet in her mind's eye she had always seen them as inexperienced first years.

Now she felt like the inexperienced one. When had they grown up? For that matter, when had she?

Harry had grown to almost six feet, still shorter than Ron but just as wide across the shoulders. His tousled hair fell just above his brow in his own haphazard style and just scraped the edge of his collar, much as it always had. But the greatest change of all had been his confidence. He had started out as a lost little boy, downtrodden by the only family he had known, and somewhere along the line had grown into a solidly confident young man.

She peeked around the corner of page 1,067 to see the boys had stopped to talk to Parvati and Lavender and just found something wildly funny. A twinge of jealousy made her pull back and hide once more.

What was happening to her? Since when was she ever jealous of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown? She knew Harry and Ron held no real interest in either of them. But still...

She gathered up the courage to look once more. Their backs were turned so she was confident they would not notice. And what lovely backs they were. Strong, defined shoulders developed through hours of Quidditch practice. Mud-streaked robes tossed over their shoulders revealing that which she usually had not the pleasure to look at. When did these boys turn into men? Her eyes hungrily devoured every inch of their backsides.

She didn't notice when Ron glanced over his shoulder in her direction. She was too engrossed in her guilty perusal. She didn't even notice when Ron tilted his head at Harry directing him to her unfocused gaze.

Somewhere she had gotten lost in her thoughts and had forgotten that she was supposed to be inconspicuous.

Harry quietly broke away from the group and walked behind the table Hermione occupied, a smirk upon his face. Easing up behind his distracted friend, he lowered his mouth to just behind her ear.

As his hands made contact with her shoulders, he whispered, "See anything you like, Hermione?"

She would have jumped a metre in the air if his hands were not holding her down. Clearing her throat, she tried to think of a witty reply but failed miserably.

"Harry. Oh! So Quidditch practice is over then, I see." All intelligent thought had flown out the portrait hole apparently.

"Mm, yes," he answered, letting his large strong hands – when had they gotten so big? – massage her tense shoulders. "Still reading that great bloody book, I see."

What was he doing to her? Her body felt like it was suddenly on fire. Ron glanced back at them and grinned. Pausing only to announce his departure to the girls, he turned and lazily sauntered toward his two best friends.

Placing his hands upon the edge of the heavy book still standing upon its spine, he brought it down flat on the desk. He leaned in slowly until he was only a few centimetres from her face. Eyes flicked upward only for a moment to meet Harry's.

"Enjoying yourself, Hermione?" he whispered, only barely heard over the din of the other students.

For some reason, she could not answer. Maybe it was the combination of Harry's hands rubbing her shoulders and Ron's insinuation. Maybe it was the realization that two men had completely overpowered her. Whatever it was, all she could do was nod.

Ron looked up at his dark-haired counterpart. "Looks like Hermione won't be telling us to study tonight after all."

"Doesn't look that way. What do you think we should do about it?"

She let her eyes roll upwards and her lids fall shut. Harry knew. Harry knew what had happened between her and Ron during History of Magic and now his hands were doing the most wonderful things to her body. Sure, it was just her shoulders, but in her inexperience it felt like so much more. Yesterday, this would have been a simple massage. But today...

"I think," Ron's voice dropped to a whisper, "that we need to teach Hermione how to have fun."

Harry's hands moved down the sides of her arms, still rubbing her muscles but more gently than he had her shoulders. For some reason the change in pressure brought her attention to that part of her body. She was shocked to find that the front of her robes were peaked with her evident arousal.

And then that breathy voice was in her ear once more, "Want to have some fun, Hermione?"

Oh gods, yes. She wanted some fun. Her whole body positively ached for more attention. She shook her head, trying to shake her brain into taking control over the situation. It wasn't very successful.

Taking her speechless condition as consent, Ron folded her book and placed it in her book bag while Harry drew her to her feet and placed an arm tightly around her. Slinging the book bag over his shoulder, Ron led the way to the prefect's lounge.

It was perfect, really. No one suspected anything of the three to begin with, but no one would get any ideas either since both Ron and Hermione were prefects and Hermione had used the lounge for studying purposes in the past. The boys had thought this over quite carefully, it seemed. More than she would have normally given them credit for, she had to admit.

They ushered her inside and Harry turned to cast the strongest locking spell he knew followed by silencing and disillusionment charms for good measure. No one would be interrupting them tonight.

The hand still on her body, the one not needed for casting magic, tightened its grip and spun her around, bringing her body in close proximity to his.

Harry spoke over her head, his voice gravelly with desire. "What do you think we should do with her, Ron?"

Ron had not been idle. This had apparently been well-planned. The lights grew dim and candles of various sizes, shapes and colors appeared around the room. In the flicker of the light, the boys' faces took on an almost evil hue. A swarm of butterflies flew into her stomach.

Ron pressed up into Hermione from behind, sandwiching her between himself and Harry. He ground his semi-hardness into her and leaned in so she would not miss what he had to say.

"I say, Harry, that we show her just what it's like to suffer."

They simultaneously broke away from her, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, with an odd feeling of loss. Harry looked smolderingly down at her as Ron walked around to stand next to his comrade-in-arms.

"That does sound like fun, Ron," Harry answered when Ron reached his side. "Let's torture her the way she tortures us."

Harry held up a warning hand when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. The way I torture them, she thought. The way I torture them?! Her chest heaved in righteous indignation. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at her best friends but heeded Harry's warning to keep silent.

The matching maroon Quidditch cloaks flew in unison across the back of the small sofa that sat by the fireplace. Ron and Harry smirked at her, ignoring the faint glimmer of anger in her eyes. She knew they were up to something. They always were. When the shirts followed, revealing their strong, muscular chests, her brain stopped fighting. My, but they looked so good. Why had she not noticed that before?

Ron gave Harry a slight nod of the head and simultaneously their hands moved downwards, reaching the tops of their trousers and unfastening the buttons at the same time. In slow motion, trousers fell in twin heaps upon the floor, leaving only ... oh my goodness, maroon boxers with the Gryffindor logo right over their ...

Hermione shook her head and tore her eyes upward. Were they smirking at her? Oh, they were. Those little ... oh, but they were not so little, were they? Her eyes flickered back to the Gryffindor lions beckoning to her in three dimensions. She blushed.

One of the lions – boys – walked toward her and caught her about the waist in his muscular grasp. Weak legs. Fluttery stomach. Wet knickers. Suddenly, there was another body pressed up behind her. She let her head fall back against a broad chest, her eyes falling closed, giving in to their will.

"Do you see something you like, Hermione?" Harry's voice rasped into her ear, repeating his earlier question. He pushed harder into her backside, accentuating his words.

Like? If someone would have asked her yesterday what she thought about her two best friends, she would have told them that they played Quidditch too much, didn't study enough and, in Ron's case, didn't take his prefect duties seriously.

What had changed between now and then? A rather heated argument followed up by a heated display of raging teenage hormones? She felt as though a neglected switch had been flipped and now that it was on she had no desire to turn it off.

All she could do was whimper.

"Now you've gone and done it, Harry," Ron murmured in between nibbles at her ear. "You've broken our Hermione. What say we fix her?"

The voice at the other ear murmured in agreement.

Ron grasped Hermione's right hand and brought it to his familiar erection, guiding her movements, letting her feel the hardness beneath the silk. He kept his hand over hers, forcing her to concentrate her attention on him. She gasped as Harry slowly slid himself over her robe-covered bum, hiking her skirt up beneath the robe in the process. She pressed backwards, eager to feel more, feeling almost painfully empty.

Harry growled and seized her hips with his hands to steady himself.

"You all right there, mate?" Ron asked from the other side.

"More than all right. You?" he somehow managed to speak through his growing lust.

Hermione was desperate for more. She pushed back into Harry, letting him grind into her while she pleasured Ron with her hand. But her body was on fire and neither boy was touching her where she most suddenly and desperately wanted them to. She tried to speak through the assault on her body, the nibbling on her ears, the hardness cradled in her hand.

"What was that, love?" Ron crooned, nipping her earlobe, running his tongue along the edge and licking just inside the shell.

He forced her hand harder against him, wrapping her fingers just the right way, smoothing her thumb around the tip where suddenly it got a little slicker. Ron breathed heavily in her ear, Harry in the other.

Hermione wanted more...gods, how she wanted more. She wanted their hands on her body, exploring, making her feel good. How did they work this so they got all the attention anyway? She tried to pull her hand away in protest, but Ron held it fast.

"Where do you think you are going?" Ron asked challengingly. "Had enough? Harry, maybe Hermione doesn't want this...doesn't want us. Maybe we should leave."

"No!" A word finally escaped from her pleasure-induced haze.

Both boys laughed and broke away from her, leaving her standing in between their bodies but not making a move to touch her. Amusement shone in their eyes. Hermione looked at Ron, then turned to look at Harry.

"What do you want, Hermione? Tell us," Harry asked, obviously hoping she was not going to just walk out and leave them hanging.

She stepped back. She could not see them both from where she was and she wanted to see both of them at the same time. Yes. Their broad chests, their mussed-up hair, their flat stomachs – a miracle, considering how much food they managed to shovel in at every meal – their tented boxers. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

"I want..." She couldn't speak. She knew what she wanted, but it was too much. She wanted everything. She wanted both of them. The fire burned hotter within her chest at this realization.

"I want..." She stumbled backwards a little, trying to grasp onto something.

Harry and Ron dove for her at the same time, reflexes finely honed by hours of Quidditch practice. Gently, they carried her over to the sofa and sat down on either side of her.

Ron cupped her face in his large hand, running his thumb over her jaw line, looking into her cloudy eyes. "Yes, Hermione. Tell us what you want."

"Kiss me," she begged.

Ron's full lips descended upon hers suddenly and with demanding urgency, breathing heavily through his nose as though it were the only way to keep control. He only allowed his lips to touch her. His hands remained clutched in his lap.

Breaking away as suddenly as the kiss had begun, he shook her out of her stupor, "Is this what you wanted?"

"No. I mean, yes. Oh, gods, Ron, yes. I want more," she moaned, grabbing each of their hands and directing them to her body, pleading. "Touch me."

The boys needed no further prodding. All control flew out the window.

Ron growled and attacked her mouth, kissing her hard. His mouth ground into hers, his lips opening and demanding, not asking, her to allow him further access. Forcing his tongue inside, searching for hers, tracing all her teeth, tasting her flavor. He groaned.

But his hands still had not moved and neither had Harry's. In fact, all Harry was doing was watching when he should be doing oh so much more. Hermione took Harry's hand, which she still held – and tightly at that – and placed it on top of her breast. The sudden intake of breath coming from the mouth not currently occupied with her own was enough to tell her that this move was indeed most welcome.

Harry fondled her through her robes, feeling the fullness of her breasts. She smiled into Ron's mouth, knowing that both boys would enjoy how much she had filled out in the last year. She was more than a handful. Both breasts were suddenly the recipient of eager hands, roughly being pressed into each other and kneaded mercilessly.

The twinge of pain at her right nipple made her yelp. Four hands held her tightly to the cushions beneath her. Gods, Harry was sucking her straight through her bra, blouse and robes, taking as much of her and her clothing into his mouth as he could. Off. The clothes needed to come off. Now!

She mumbled into Ron's mouth and pushed against his unyielding shoulders, squirming against his body. Breathless, Ron broke the kiss again.

"Off. Take it off. My robes. I want them off," she moaned deliriously.

Harry and Ron obliged. Unfastening her robes, they were left with her white uniform blouse. Ron unbuttoned from the top while Harry unbuttoned from the bottom until their fingers met at the middle. Glancing at each other and feeding off the other's lustful gaze, they turned back to the girl beneath them and opened her shirt.

Her bra was mostly white lace, but modest. Just a film of satin, no padding needed, held together by a small clasp in front. Ron's heavy fingers fumbled the clasp for a few agonizing seconds before Harry pushed him aside and took over. With a flick of his finger the offending material fell away from her body, leaving her milky skin exposed to two pairs of extremely hungry eyes. Like one, both heads dipped to feast.

How...why was this happening? She threaded her fingers through their tangled hair, holding them against her, losing herself in the sensation of each mouth pulling at her breast. Ron sucked on her with wild abandon, as though she may Disapparate at any moment. Harry swirled his tongue around her nipple and gently drew her bud into his mouth. Hermione arced her back, needing more. More, damn it! It wasn't enough.

"Patience, love," Ron said, in between alternating kisses and nips. "Harry, I do believe she wants more. Shall we give it to her?"

Harry looked up and grinned. The cool air that replaced their mouths blew across her wet nipples, tightening them into hard little peaks.

"Oh yes, Ron," Harry responded. "She definitely wants more."

A hand slithered up her skirt and came to rest on her dampened knickers, rubbing through the barrier. Her hips pushed upward to meet it.

A voice she no longer recognized, thick with need, groaned, "Yes, more."

Thoughts lost coherence. She fell back into the cushions, giving in to the boys' desires. A mouth reattached itself to a breast, a pair of hands caressed and thrust them together into the waiting mouth. Two hands grasped her trembling thighs below and pushed them slowly apart. She felt more than heard the rending of the fabric covering her wetness.

And then stars exploded across her lidded vision as a second mouth latched upon the very bundle of nerves that would bring her release. Their tongues teased and touched, quickened and sucked, bringing her higher. The boys squeezed and kneaded and rubbed and didn't stop no matter how hard her hips bucked or her hands pulled or her moans grew louder.

And then...and then...oh, but could there be more? She needed more. She felt empty. She wanted to be filled. She couldn't stand it. Her head thrashed from side to side and she cried out as a small pressure slowly filled her and felt her and pushed inside of her and, oh! but it was the best thing she had ever felt and their tongues never gave up but instead gave more and she felt as though she were about to die at any moment, her heart would give out, and she couldn't take it!

She cried as the boys brought her over the top and down hard, letting the waves crash over her again and again. She never wanted the feeling to end. A little higher again; gods, those tongues! Where did they learn such a thing? Swinging her up and over once more. Oh gods oh gods oh gods, but how she wanted all that they were willing to give! The tears spilled from her eyes at the intensity of the pleasure.

The mouths pulled away from her body, but a hand still worked below gradually bringing her down but keeping her passion at a steady level. Hermione panted heavily, almost begging for them to continue their task. Ron stood above her and removed his boxers, erection standing proudly just centimeters from her open mouth.

"Hermione," Ron said, urging her to focus on what he placed before her. His hand worked slowly over his considerable length, his head falling back slightly as he pleasured himself for her once again, making himself harder. Harry watched from his place on the floor, stroking himself through his boxers with one hand while his other still worked inside of her.

"Hermione," Ron almost choked as his desire mounted.

Hermione saw what he offered and took the bait. Leaning forward, she drew his cock into her mouth as far as it would go. Groans from above and below urged her on. She sucked and swallowed, grabbing Ron's hips with her hands and pulling him into her deeper.

"Gods, Hermione," he begged. "Don't stop."

Hermione had no plans to stop. The finger thrusting into her mimicked Ron's cock as it plunged into her mouth over and over. One finger became two, stretching her even farther, causing her to breathe slightly harder over the double intrusion. She alternately impaled herself on Harry's fingers and Ron's cock, listening to Ron mumble incoherently above her, feeling him fasten her to him with a hand on the back of her head as he got louder and louder until...Ron's hips jerked unevenly and a fountain of fluid poured into her waiting mouth. She swallowed and swallowed as Ron emptied himself within her.

Fingers thrust faster in response, and her mouth fell away from Ron's wilting cock. Ron stared at his two best friends, one pleasuring himself while trying to give the other some relief.

"Harry, take her. She wants it. Give it to her, Harry," Ron urged, wanting more than anything to see Hermione give in to another orgasm.

Harry quickly pulled his boxers down to his ankles and poised himself at the point where his fingers entered the girl splayed open before him. He looked questioningly into her drugged eyes, asking, pleading for relief.

In response, Hermione grabbed Harry's hips and pulled him forward. His fingers left and his cock entered. In one fluid move, he buried himself completely within her.

She screamed. It wasn't so much the twinge of pain she felt as the thrill of finally being filled. He stretched her to her limits. She was no longer empty.

Once within, he could not stop. Holding on to the back of the sofa, he pulled and thrust, again and again, diving into her tightness, struggling to hold on, to last a little bit longer.

"Oh fuck! Oh gods! Ron, she's so tight. So beautiful. I can't...oh, this feels too good!"

Ron slid behind Harry and reached between the two bodies. Placing his thumb firmly on Hermione's clit, he rubbed in small circles.

"Come, Hermione. Come for us," he chanted over Harry's groans.

Hermione screamed. It was too much, the combination of Harry's cock and Ron's thumb, their voices mingling in pleasure. She was close to losing it again. Harry yelled out over Ron's encouragement.

"Oh fuck! I'm coming, Hermione! Come...for...me.........." He pushed a final time before the explosion came and Hermione thrashed and convulsed around his cock, drawing every last bit from his spent body.

Over Harry's collapsed body, Ron claimed Hermione's mouth and slowly eased her back down to earth.