Chapter 23

The next week crept by for Hermione. She knew she was letting herself become much too affected by the other triad, but she couldn't seem to help it. It was in her nature to want to fix things, and knowing that her friends, for she considered them thus, were unhappy made her utterly miserable.

She remembered her first talk with Lucius on the subject of triads. He'd told her that no two of a triad could have a relationship without the third. So, even if Celeste left their triad, which she was very unlikely to do, Michael and Thello wouldn't be able to stay together and use their magic. Celeste did seem to love Michael, though a cool and distant love that Hermione equated with Narcissa Malfoy. Celeste and Michael were married, and as far as anyone else knew, Thello was just a friend. The injustice of that burned Hermione, making her ever surer of her own triad's decision to be public.

When exactly they would come out as a triad was another issue. Hermione didn't see the point in hiding, but people would see what they wanted to see. Hermione had been seen with each Malfoy individually on dates. She'd also been seen with both in similar situations. The public was rather slow to pick up on the nuances of such a relationship. She suspected it was because triads were so rare. Like she had at first, people probably doubted that such a thing was truly possible, outside of sexual encounters, at least.

So, while she had no idea how to help Thello's triad, she did have to work on her own. Her distance over the past week had been wearing on Draco and Lucius. She could tell in the way Lucius kept to his study and Draco wandered around a little aimlessly. Neither pressured her for her time or her attention, but she knew they were struggling to remain stoical.

She was sitting on the outdoor sofa on her patio, wondering what the wizarding world would think of her when they knew the truth. There was a certain amount of pressure in being the Golden Girl of the selfsame Trio, and the public had been outraged when she and Ron had split up. People had immediately assumed it was because she'd begun a relationship with Harry, which had made Ginny ferocious with the press. Harry had seemed surprised by the sudden influx of mail telling him which woman was better for him.

Eventually, people had gotten the idea that Ron's and Hermione's break-up had been amicable, and Harry and Ginny were happy together. So, the idea that she would have to face coming out as the lover of not one, but both Malfoy men, was a little nerve-wracking. She didn't want to be eaten alive. She didn't want to be fodder for gossip. She just wanted to live in this perfect little bubble with Lucius and Draco. It was possible that they could be very happy, never leaving the Manor.

That thought percolated for all of thirty seconds before Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

"Hermione?" a voice called from inside her room. That answered her earlier question about whether Draco or Lucius would ever feel comfortable enough to just come inside her room without formalities.

"Out here!" she called.

Both Malfoys passed through the French doors, looking a little concerned. Since she was curled up in the corner of her sofa, Lucius sat beside her, and Draco took the other end. Lucius put his hand on her knee, rubbing soothingly. And it did soothe her. She was slowly realizing that she didn't have to face things alone anymore. That she had support, if only she was smart enough to use it.

"Nice out here, isn't it?" Draco asked casually, stretching out his legs.

"I like it," Hermione answered softly. She looked out over the grounds, a flash of ginger near the trees making her dart back to see if they'd noticed.

Unfortunately, Lucius had.

"Hermione," he began slowly, not looking at her. "You had a pet, didn't you? A feline?"

"Yes," she said very slowly.

"I don't suppose you left it at that wretched apartment," he continued, still perusing the tree line.

"No..."

"And you didn't leave it with friends, did you?"

"I did not..."

"So, I would not be incorrect to presume that said feline is currently wandering near the forest?"

"You would not."

"Would I also be safe to say that said feline was the culprit in our recent rosebush assassination?"

"Now, I don't know about that," she began, but it was useless. Crookshanks had smelled of roses the other day, and the petals in his fur were pretty much a giveaway. She'd asked the animal not to cause any damage or be seen, but Crookshanks seemed to only listen when it suited him in some capacity. Despite the fact that she'd left abundant food near the back gate, he'd apparently seen fit to make his displeasure at being forced outside known.

"That's a cat? I saw that thing the other night! I thought it was a wolverine or something!"

Hermione pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. Wolverine, indeed.

"Why don't you let it inside?" Draco continued, looking puzzled.

She looked quickly at Lucius, who was looking at her the same way.

"You wouldn't have minded?" Hermione was beginning to feel pretty foolish. She'd made her poor half Kneazle, who was used to being indoors and indulged, stay outside because she'd just assumed that they wouldn't let a creature such as hers inside their home.

Lucius sighed, leaning back. He looked to Draco, who said, "Hermione, this is your home now. If you're with us, you have to realize it's going to be for a long time. Hopefully forever. Did you expect your cat-thing to remain outdoors forever? Or do you really see this arrangement as being temporary?"

"No!" Hermione cried. But she could easily see how he could think that. "I just... I should have asked. I'm really sorry. I want to be with you, Draco, Lucius. Really. I love it here. Please don't think that I don't want this forever."

"All right, pet," Lucius said. "Your cat can come inside. I'll have a house-elf tend to its food and... other necessities."

The look of extreme displeasure on Lucius' face was almost enough to make her transgression worth it.

She snuggled into Lucius' side, reaching an arm across his middle to take Draco's hand in hers.

Draco squeezed once before pulling on her hand, causing her to sprawl over Lucius' lap and halfway onto Draco's.

"Hey!" she cried, squirming around so she was at least lying on her back. Both Malfoys suddenly looked very predatory, and she wondered for a moment if this was what Crookshanks' dinner felt like, right before...

Draco put a hand behind her head and pulled her up into his kiss. She melted immediately, relaxing into his hold. She felt Lucius' hands on her ankle, her thigh, and kissed Draco harder in reaction. He groaned into her mouth, breaking the kiss to bite at her lower lip. With every bite came a soothing lave of his dedicated tongue, until her mouth was swollen and her mind mush.

But then a hand slid between her thighs, which parted quite without her express permission, and Hermione knew she was truly lost. Having spent time alone with each Malfoy, she knew that, while amazing solitarily, together, they were a force.

"Perhaps we should move this to a location more conducive to such activities," Lucius suggested in a thick voice.

Draco leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "That's Father's way of saying, 'Get your pretty arse in a bed!'"

Hermione shivered at the words, but a low heat flared when Draco said, "Father." There was just something so deliciously depraved about being intimate with Draco and Lucius at the same time. It was taboo, forbidden, and Hermione wanted it very, very much.

Since the majority of her weight was still on Lucius, he picked her up and let Draco hold open the doors for them. Hermione curled into the embrace, remembering back to the time by the pond where they'd been together for the first time. She wanted that again; she wanted that always.

"Hermione?" Draco said in a soft, questioning voice. He looked toward the door and back at her with a raised eyebrow.

She shook her head. "Both," she whispered, biting her lip.

Draco grinned, Lucius growled, and Hermione quivered.

Lucius placed her on her feet near her bed. Suddenly it seemed very small. Both men undressed her, Lucius her top half, Draco her lower. They worked in such perfect tandem that, if Hermione didn't know better, she'd have thought they'd done it before.

But she knew she had the honour of being the first thusly shared.

She set her hands to undressing Lucius, who did nothing to help except lean in and steal kisses. She saw Draco undress himself from the corner of her eye and moaned when his fully erect cock came into view. He moved to recline on the bed, sitting up by the headboard and watching her and Lucius avidly.

When Lucius' pants finally fell to the ground, he pulled her body against his, his arousal pressing into her belly in a way that brooked no denial. It felt scorching hot, and her hand moved of its own accord to encircle it.

Lucius leaned in to kiss her, a kiss that skipped subtlety and dove into devouring. His tongue slid against hers, his hands smoothed over her arse, pressing her even more insistently against him.

Hermione was dazed when Lucius gave her a little push toward the bed. She clambered up and crawled toward Draco, who watched with hooded eyes, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"You like being on your hands and knees?" he asked in a sensual whisper. He pulled her in for a kiss without waiting for an answer, though she was sure he would have like hers if she'd given it.

Her hand unerringly found his cock, and she felt quite victorious at the noise her steady stroke elicited.

She felt the bed shift, and she moved between Draco's widespread legs to accommodate Lucius behind her. She knew what she wanted.

Lucius' hands caressed all over the stretch of her bare back, fingertips lingering over her bottom and moving down her thighs. Behind every touch trailed fire.

Then, without warning, Lucius grabbed Hermione's hips and yanked her backward. She was torn off Draco and forced to brace her hands on either side of his hips to avoid falling face first onto his cock. As it was, it left her in a perfect position to do what she desired.

Lucius' hands continued to explore her body, stopping every few moments to dip into her wetness and linger there, while she moaned in anticipation.

Hermione bent her head and took Draco deep into her mouth, learning his length the way she'd learned his father's. She kissed the rounded tip, licking the pre-come off her lips slowly, relishing the salty taste. She knew Draco was watching her every move, and that flooded her body with more heat than she could bear.

As Lucius' fingers slipped into her, Hermione sucked on Draco's straining cock. His hand was lightly resting on the back of her neck, his other one clenching the bedclothes. Triumph was only her secondary emotion as Lucius continued to work his magic on her throbbing pussy.

When Hermione broke her suction to lick teasingly around the head of Draco's cock, he gasped and said, "Father!"

Hermione inhaled sharply, feeling her fingertips go numb with that first sign that her orgasm was imminent. Her pussy was clenching, desperate to be filled, and only a second after Draco's exclamation, Lucius' thick cock impaled her.

"Don't think I can last," Draco added, apparently having said that forbidden word in an effort to get Lucius to hurry before he came.

It still made Hermione think about what it might be like to hear Draco cry out that word in different circumstances.

Hermione backed off Draco's cock, resorting to teasing. She wanted him and Lucius to come at the same time, filling her together....

"Hermione, you feel so good," Lucius moaned, his fingers digging into her hips with every inward thrust. His cock stretched her so deliciously that Hermione was moaning wantonly, which made Draco tense as the vibrations assaulted his cock.

Draco's hand slipped under her chest, seeking out a nipple and pinching the tightened nub. Only a moment later, making her think yet again that they had some sort of communication that she couldn't begin to fathom, Lucius began to lightly press her clit. The dual-assault brought stars to her eyes, especially when, every few moments, a thrust and a press and a pinch would all coincide to turn her completely inside out.

"Gods," she whimpered, breaking contact with Draco to speak. She licked a long line from his base to tip, using the moisture to stroke him a little easier, fingers tightening over the vein on the underside. "Need to come," she finished, her words nearly drowned by Draco's hearty moan.

Lucius began to move faster inside her, his finger rubbing her clit with perfect precision. When his pounding movements became frenzied, Hermione began to suck on Draco in earnest, her own body responded to the additional stimulus by racing toward climax.

Draco cried out first, hand tightening on her neck without holding her there, and Hermione's mouth was flooded with his essence. She swallowed eagerly, the taste somehow familiar, as he fucked her mouth until he had nothing left to give.

She rested her head on Draco's sweaty thigh, letting Lucius take her to where she needed to be. Only a few more moments of merciless pounding passed before she felt her blood begin to roil in waves. She knew she wanted to scream out names, but that required more coherency than she was capable of. A hoarse scream was enough, and it was echoed seconds later by Lucius, louder than she'd heard him before. He plunged into her one final time and stiffened, his shout fading to a drawn-out groan as he rocked into her until he, too, had nothing left.

"Holy fuck," Draco drawled, his language a sure sign of his ineloquence.

"Indeed," Hermione said in a perfect imitation of Lucius' polished tones. She heard his teeth click behind her, and she knew he'd been about to say just that.

"Quite," he said instead, releasing her hips and laying on his back beside her.

Draco moved from beneath her head, stretching out of her other side. Despite the night air flowing in through the open patio doors and the distinct lack of coverings on her and her lovers, no one felt the need to draw the blankets up.

Lucius turned onto his stomach, facing Hermione. He rose up on his elbow to give her a lingering kiss, whispering, "Perfect," in her ear. His hand smoothed over her abdomen and rested there, thumb lightly caressing.

Draco was more verbal, explaining in explicit detail how much he'd enjoyed himself, and how he intended to have his father's role the next time. Hermione listened with the sardonic patience she'd learned to deal with Draco's different moods. Finally, he, too, kissed her solidly on her swollen mouth before pulling back and planting a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Another hand stretched across her stomach. The last thing she was aware of before blissful sleep stole her was two pale, flawless, aristocratic hands linking together, fingers interlocking on top of her belly. She smiled.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted into the Floo, hoping to goodness her friend was home. It was very rare that both of her men were gone while she remained at the Manor, and she intended to make very good use of her time.

"'Mione? What's up?" came Harry's reply, sounding suspiciously sleepy.

"You weren't in bed, were you?" she admonished, taking in his bedraggled appearance. But that was no real clue; Harry always looked a little dishevelled.

"Yeah, but I'm up now. Is everything okay? Do you need to make a fast exit? Do I need to find you an alibi?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, Harry. I want you to come over for a bit."

Harry looked as if she'd asked him to, for fun, AK an orphanage. "Um, now's not a good..." he hedged.

"Harry!" she said, exasperated. "They're not here. I want you to set up the television and my other stuff. They won't be back for hours. Draco's at a meeting and Lucius is stuck at work. Trust me."

"Are you sure they won't come back? I love you, but I don't want to get thrown in the dungeons for besmirching your honour or something."

Secretly, Hermione wondered if there was anything left to besmirch. Aloud, she said, "I'm sure. And they are perfectly harmless. Now, come through!"

Mumbling something about muzzles and leashes, the latter of which gave her very interesting visuals, Harry came through the Floo. Hermione caught him before he fell flat on his arse, and he thanked her sheepishly.

"Come on," she said after she'd hugged him. "I have everything in my room."

Harry followed her through the maze of corridors to her room, which he entered behind her.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. This room is bigger than your apartment!"

"My old apartment," she corrected. Better get him used to the permanence of her situation.

"Yeah," he said agreeably. "I didn't think..."

"What?" she prompted. Again, he looked sheepish, and Hermione knew.

"You thought what? That they'd have me staying in some tiny, out-of-the-way guest room with no space for my things? Or that it would be decorated in red velvet and black leather, with whips and chains? Or maybe you thought we'd all share a bedroom with a great, round, porno bed with tassels!"

She was panting at the end of her outburst, and Harry looked more impressed than chastened. Harrumphing, she walked over to the bureau where her electronics were still in a box. Restoring them to their normal size, Hermione waved Harry over.

"I wasn't thinking what you thought I was," Harry started, and then he grinned. "Though now I am!"

"Yeah, me, too," she muttered. Especially the chains bit. Yikes.

Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh, for Merlin's...yes, Harry, we have sex. Yes, we have it together. Yes, it's bloody amazing! Anything else, or can we be adults now?"

Harry was nodding dazedly, his eyes inexorably moving toward her bed. He gulped before visibly shaking himself. Turning back to her, he said, "Okay, I'm good."

And he was. Only light-hearted banter followed, punctuated occasionally with Harry's frustrated cussing at the difficulties of spelling a television to work within a place as heavily warded as Malfoy Manor. But if anyone could do it, it was Harry.

Eventually, he had it all set up. He even charmed the armoire in her sitting area to contain the television behind a Disillusionment spell that would only deactivate if she pressed an appropriate button on the remote control. When pressed, the armoire's doors would open, the television appear, and everything would be ready for her viewing pleasure.

The PlayStation took a little more finesse, but Hermione thought that might be because Harry kept wanting to try out a new game she'd picked up. She denied him, though, until the job was finished.

Lastly, her beloved stereo system and surround sound were installed. The former was fitted into the armoire as well, on a lower shelf, and the latter was magically placed at strategic points in her room, invisible to the eye but incredibly powerful. The subwoofer was installed directly by her bed, so that if she was watching a movie while lying there, the vibrations would make it seem as though the action was happening to her.

Harry was, in short, a genius.

"You could do this for a living," she marvelled, lying on the bed across the room while Harry battled zombies, each explosion sending an answering shockwave through her body.

"Maybe one day," Harry said, groaning as a zombie got a little too friendly. "When I burn out as an Auror."

"Harry! Don't you like what you're doing anymore?"

He shrugged, a mockery of nonchalance that she'd learned many years ago. "It's okay, for now. I just thought I'd be helping more, you know? Less drudgery, less paperwork."

Hermione knew exactly what he meant and told him so. "At the end of the day, only a tiny fraction of what I do actually does any good." She sighed. She hated being pessimistic about her job, but it was hard not to be.

"But at least people are grateful for your help. You know, most of the time when I arrest someone for domestic assault, the changes are dropped a week later and the happy couple are back together."

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, coming to sit on the floor beside him.

"Golf?" he offered, obviously trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood.

"I get to be player one, though!" she cried, snatching his controller.

"It's your house!" he laughed agreeably, switching out the discs. Then he paused for a moment. When he settled back down next to her, he looked at her, really looked. "It is, isn't it? This is your home now. Your life."

Hermione nodded. "This is it, Harry. And I'm happy."

He took a deep breath. "Then I'm happy," he declared.

She attacked him with a hug, happier than she expected to be by his easy (comparatively) acceptance. All the pressure and anxiety she'd felt the last week about coming out as a triad settled into a faraway thought. Of course everything was going to be fine. She had Lucius and Draco, Harry and eventually Ron, and everyone else's opinions weren't worth worrying over.

Harry, blushing, gestured toward her controller, indicating that she had the power to begin the game. Using said power, she promptly annihilated Harry's arse at golf, though he was, admittedly, very good-natured about it.

Almost two hours later, Hermione and Harry both started at the knock on her door. Though huge and bearing thick walls, there was no way the noise of their game, nor of their laughter, had not reverberated throughout the house. Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes bulging. Hermione laughed at his horror, rising to open the door.

"Hermione!" he hissed as she went to open it.

"What?" she whispered back. "They're going to find out eventually! I don't think they'll be mad, Harry."

"What am I to find out?" an arch voice called from the other side of the door.

With a reassuring smile at Harry, who sat frozen with the controller in hand almost like a wand, she opened the door. Draco strode through, barely looking at her.

His mouth was open as if he wanted to say something, but then he frowned. He took in Harry, sitting on the floor, apparently having decided that glaring at Draco was the best way to deal with the situation. Then he looked at the television screen, where a computerized golfer, complete with plaid clam-diggers, was frozen in mid-swing. His gaze settled on the other remote on the floor. Walking further into the room, Draco nudged the innocent controller with his foot. Lastly, he looked at Hermione, clearly needing answers.

"It's a television. And a game console. And a stereo. You watch... things... on the TV... or play games. And you can listen to music."

"It's Muggle stuff, right?" Draco asked, crossing the floor to finally greet his lover. He leaned in for a slow kiss, moaning for his audience before Hermione pushed him away, laughing. Harry flushed, eyes on the floor.

"Yes," she answered his assertion primly, raising her chin stubbornly.

He held his hands up, palms facing her. "Only asking! I've never seen it better. Hey, Potter. So, who's that?" he asked, indicating the golfer.

"That's Hermione," Harry answered helpfully after returning Draco's half-hearted greeting. Draco looked at Harry as if to say that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, raising an eyebrow to add that coming from Harry, that was saying a lot.

"It's my player. I press buttons and make the player... play. Try it!"

Another hour later, Harry was begging off, citing a home life of some sort. Draco walked him to the Floo, the two deep in conversation about the Quidditch video game they were going to invent, with real people as the players, starring themselves as the Seekers, of course.

Hermione was graciously offered a face in the audience, which Draco amended to include a "Muggle pom-pom lady outfit." Hermione didn't want to know where he'd seen that. Harry looked a little sceptical as well.

After Harry left, Draco helped her clean up the mess the three of them had made of wires and refreshments and game boxes.

She was so grateful that he'd been human to Harry that she rewarded him vigorously while the bed vibrated away to Muggle music.