TattooedSiren (tattooedsiren) wrote in triofqf,
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Fic: Seventy Days

Author: tattooedsiren
Challenge: 41: The war is over, but for the trio, life as heroes of the wizarding world is a nightmare. Even Ron has gotten tired of the constant attention and harrassment. The three of them have gone into hiding, but the isolation is doing funny things to their friendship. Fifth Wave - Subwave One.
Title: Seventy Days
Summary: See challenge
Warning: None
Word Count: 8969
Rating: Adult
Notes: Thanks to my wonderful beta, who continues to beta things that squick him. Enjoy everyone!!



Seventy Days


“I can’t take this anymore,” Ron said as he collapsed onto the couch between Harry and Hermione.

“Take what?” Hermione asked.

“This. All this stupid attention and questions and mobbing. Does it not occur to them that maybe we don’t want to talk about it? That maybe it was a traumatic experience that we don’t want to rehash? That maybe we just want to get on with our lives?” Ron was clearly worked up and upset. He took some deep breaths, attempting to calm down.

Hermione didn’t know what to say, so she simply leaned her head on his shoulder, offering him physical if not verbal comfort.

“It’ll get better,” Harry said, though he lacked conviction. “It will get easier.”

Ron turned to Harry. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over and squeezing his best friends knee.

“What for?”

“Oh, you know, complaining about all the attention you got when we were younger. Now I know how crappy it really is. So I’m sorry for giving you a hard time.”

Harry smiled at him, squeezing Ron’s hand, which was still on his knee. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hermione sat up suddenly. The two boys looked to her.

“Maybe we should just get out of here.”

“Have you not been listening, Hermione? I’ve just come from outside. They are still hanging around. Going out in public is the last thing we need right now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean maybe we should move. Leave here, go somewhere quiet, somewhere no one knows us.”

“Run away?” Harry asked, looking happy with the idea.

Hermione shrugged. “If you want to look at it that way.”

Harry and Ron looked to each other. “We could leave, quit our jobs and just relax and have fun for once.” Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron. “What do you think?”

Ron thought about it for a grand total of six seconds. Then he grinned, turning back to Hermione. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”


Day One



Harry found Hermione and Ron in the kitchen, discussing what they should have for dinner.

“Forget that,” Harry said, a grin on his face. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Hermione asked, slightly confused.

“Yup,” he replied, loving this rare moment of knowing something Hermione didn’t.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

Harry just looked at him, trying to keep from laughing. Ron, however, when he realised how stupid a question he asked, did laugh.

“Okay, we have to apparate there, so I want you both to take my hand and close your eyes and I will apparate us.”

Ron and Hermione instantly went to Harry, each placing a hand in his outstretched hands. There was no hesitation, no questions, complete trust. Harry gripped their hands tightly, scrutinizing their faces to make sure their eyes were closed.

“Okay, here we go.”

He apparated them safely to their destination.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he warned, leading them forward a few steps. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

Ron and Hermione slowly opened their eyes. They were standing in the middle of a large lounge room, comfortably furnished in creams and blues. Large glass doors led to a patio, beyond which they could see rolling hills of green grass. They turned, eyes wide, seeing a kitchen behind them. There was a small bar, stocked with wine and spirits. They could see a staircase, presumably leading to bedrooms and bathrooms and what not, next to a small hallway, leading to more rooms.

“Welcome home,” Harry said with a grin.

“Home?” Hermione replied.

“Home,” Harry repeated. “I bought this place for us. There are no wizarding communities nearby and, as far as I can tell, no wizards at all within a ten kilometre radius. This is our new sanctuary. Our new home.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, wandering around to get a better look.

“Ron?” Harry said tentatively, as his friend had still not said anything, nor moved from the spot.

“It’s amazing,” Ron conceded. “But you shouldn’t have done this. It’s too much.”

Harry said nothing for a moment. He suspected Ron might be uncomfortable with him paying for everything himself, so he had already prepared a response to the inevitable topic. “Listen to me, both of you,” he said gently, waiting for Hermione to join them before continuing. “I know you probably have objections to me buying this place. But I bought it for you. I had a heap of money just sitting in Gringotts and I wanted to do this for you, for us. You two are my best friends, my family, and after everything you have given me over the last eight years I finally feel like I can give something back. So I got us this house, which I put in all three of our names by the way, because I wanted us to have somewhere quiet and safe, as quickly as possible. But if you object that strongly, or hate the house, then we can sell up and talk about our next move.”

Ron and Hermione stood stunned. It was Hermione who finally broke their silence.

“Thankyou, Harry,” she said, moving forward and kissing his cheek before hugging him. “It’s wonderful. Thankyou.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “You are very welcome,” he said with a faint smile.

They released each other, turning to look at Ron, who was still looking unsure. Harry took a tentative step towards him. Ron closed the gap between them, wrapping his long arms around Harry in a bone-crushing hug. Harry grinned into his shoulder.

“Well come on,” Hermione said once the boys had released each other. “Give us the grand tour.”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and headed to the kitchen. Hermione just grasped Ron’s wrist in time and the three of them set off to explore their new home.


Day Eight



“Good morning,” Ron said brightly, joining Harry and Hermione at the table.

Harry and Hermione looked at him for a moment, then turned to each other, brows furrowed and eyes confused. They turned back to Ron and watched as he grabbed some toast from the pile in the middle of the table, buttering it and spreading some strawberry jam thickly over the bread. He picked up the bottle of orange juice, filling his glass and, with a smile, topping up Harry and Hermione’s glasses too.

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Harry asked.

“What?” Ron said with mock offence.

Harry grinned. “The Ron I know wouldn’t be up at,” he checked his watch, “eight o’clock in the morning and even if he was, he wouldn’t be nearly as cheerful as you are now.”

Ron laughed. “What can I say? I guess a week of peace and quiet does strange things to a man.”

Harry grinned as he watched Ron cut up his toast, giving some to Hermione and Harry before making some for himself, and replied, “Clearly.”

Hermione just sat back, watching this playful exchange, smiling contently. She knew it would sound silly to say out loud, but she genuinely believed that their friendship was growing deeper every day. And that as incredible as it sounded, it was the small, quiet moments and not the major and life threatening ones that defined who they were. And sitting there, eating a simple breakfast with her two best friends, she had never felt happier, and her heart beat heavily in her chest at the thought. And so, without thinking twice, she leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek. He turned to her, surprised at this sudden action. She merely smiled in reply.

“I’m going to shower and get dressed. Did you guys wanna go for a walk later?”

“Sure.”

Hermione grinned, standing from the table. She kissed Harry on the head as she walked past, oblivious to the confused stares of the boys at the table.


Day Thirteen



Harry could hear the screaming from upstairs. He rolled his eyes, getting up from his chair and heading downstairs to have his suspicions confirmed. There were Ron and Hermione in the lounge, bickering like crazy. He sat on the stairs and watched them. He couldn’t tell what they were arguing about, though he figured they didn’t even know what they were fighting about. He had known them long enough to be able to tell the difference between when they were fighting over something genuine and when it was just unresolved feelings getting the better of them. And this was definitely the latter.

Harry watched in silence, unnoticed by his best friends. With every few sentences they took a small step closer. And when Ron took one final step, thoroughly invading Hermione’s personal space, Harry’s stomach tightened. They just stood there, staring at each other, so close they could feel each others breath. They were breathing heavy from fighting, as well as from something else entirely, and Harry was shocked to realise he was breathing heavily too. For a moment he figured it was just concern for his friends, but with every moment he watched them, unmoving in the centre of the large room, he came to realise it wasn’t concern he was feeling. It was something else. Something inappropriate. Something that caused the blood rushing through his veins to hum.

Ron started inching his face towards Hermione’s. But then, as though suddenly realising what he was doing, he took a step back, his breath shaky. They continued to stare at each other, until Hermione turned and fled, hurrying through the doors outside. Ron turned, then froze when he saw Harry, their eyes locking. He recovered quickly, walking to the stairs. He began ascending, and when he passed Harry, Harry reached up and grasped his hand. Ron stood there for a moment, his feet on different stairs, looking straight ahead while Harry sat silently, looking at his feet, all the while their hands gripped tightly. Then Ron squeezed, briefly, then released Harry’s hand and headed upstairs.

When he was gone, Harry let out a shaky breath.


Day Twenty-Four



They sat in a triangle on the floor, laughing so hard that Ron had to grip his stomach, his muscles sore from the last hour. When he recovered, wiping away the salty water that had escaped from his eyes, he picked up the wine bottle and topped up their glasses. He managed to fill Harry and Hermione’s glasses just fine but when he came to his own, he missed, spilling it everywhere. This of course caused more laughter, from all of them.

Hermione dashed to the kitchen, coming back with paper towel.

“You do know you could magic that away,” Harry said between laughs.

“Yeah?” Hermione replied. “I’d like to see you try, given how much we have had to drink.”

“Okay,” Harry replied defiantly, reaching for his wand.

“Whoa, easy mate,” Ron said, reaching over and steadying Harry’s hand. “Hermione is right. No magic for you.”

Harry shrugged. “Okay,” he said easily, tossing his wand over his shoulder.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry for a moment, then burst out into another round of laughter.

The mess cleaned up and their wine glasses full, Ron leaned forward, raising his glass. “A toast,” he said, grinning as Harry and Hermione raised their glasses. “To our first night of getting pissed.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Harry said.

“Cheers,” Hermione added, and then the three of them tapped their glasses together and took a mouthful of wine.

Putting his glass down, Harry asked, “How come it’s taken us this long to get drunk together?”

Ron shrugged. “Too busy saving the world I guess.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied sadly. “And look what that got us. A misspent youth and the need to run away from everyone and everything we know.”

The three friends sat in silence after that. Ron knew this would inevitably happen. He had seen his brothers drink enough to know that at some point during the evening it would get serious.

Ron watched Hermione reach out and take Harry’s hand in her own. He latched onto it like a lifeline.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly. But she said nothing else, seemingly unsure of what to say to make him feel better. She turned to Ron, silently pleading for help.

Ron cleared his throat, putting his glass aside. “Harry, you need to know something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asked gloomily.

Ron reached out and took Harry’s other hand. “Look at me, Harry.”

Harry raised his head and Ron almost burst into tears at the sorrow he saw in his friends eyes.

“You need to know that Hermione and I, we don’t blame you. We know we didn’t have the easiest childhood, but we had hundreds of opportunities to walk away and we never did. And you know why? Because we love you. And yes, we have had to leave everything we know. But not everyone. There is nowhere else I would be in the whole world apart from here, because you and Hermione are here. You are the only people I need. I’ll never leave you, either of you. Harry, Hermione and I, we will never leave you.”

Hermione was crying now, silent tears streaking down her cheek. Harry and Ron still looked at each other, until a small tear escaped from Harry’s unblinking eyes. Hermione reached up and gingerly wiped it away. Harry looked to Hermione, needing what Ron had said to be confirmed. She held his eyes, nodding slightly. Then she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

It was a soft and sweet kiss, full of love and reassurance. It wasn’t deep or demanding or overly passionate, but it was over the line from platonic. Ron watched them embrace, mouths moving against each other slowly, and his skin tingled. But then they broke apart, Hermione wiping away one more tear before dropping her hand from his face and settling back down.

For some reason it was right then that Ron looked down and realised that he still had hold of Harry’s hand, that he had been holding his hand and watching them kiss. This thought created a whole new stirring within him, but he didn’t have much time to think about it because Hermione put a hand to his cheek and turned his attention to her. Then she kissed him, soft lips against his, her tongue tracing his lips. The kiss was short but intense and when it was over, he was still holding Harry’s hand.

The three of them just sat there in silence, looking at each other while also avoiding each others gaze. Ron released Harry’s hand and picked up his glass, drowning more wine. His heart was beating fast in his chest, from the alcohol or from something else he didn’t know. And when Hermione reached out and touched his hand, his skin burned.

Ron met Hermione’s gaze. “Go on,” she said, briefly looking to Harry and back to him.

Ron turned to Harry, who was looking between them, his face a mask. Ron turned back to Hermione, shaking his head. He knew what she was suggesting and what scared him the most was how amenable he actually was to her suggestion.

Hermione turned to Harry. “Its okay,” she said in a whisper. “We’re friends, right. We do anything for each other, whether that means going into battle or,” here she turned to Ron, “giving each other the comfort we need, whether verbal or physical.”

Ron turned to Harry and met his eyes. They said nothing, blue eyes meeting green, and then Ron leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s. It was by the far the most chaste kiss that had been exchanged that night but it lingered long enough to be more than a simple, no connotations kiss.

They pulled back, Ron absently licking his lips. They tingled and he swore he could still feel Hermione and Harry on them. He put his hands out, palm up, and said, “Together.”

Hermione outstretched her hands, taking Ron’s hand in one and leaving the other in mid-air. “Together.”

Harry looked at his two best friends for a moment. With a small smile, he took their free hands in his and in a whisper said, “Always.”


Day Twenty-Five



They awoke on the lounge room floor. Hermione had knocked a glass of wine over in her sleep, the carpet now stained red. Harry stretched languidly, his feet knocking Ron’s, waking him.

Ron sat up groggily, shielding his eyes from the bright light that flooded the room. Harry slowly sat, looking around him at the empty wine bottles and bowls of chips and chocolates.

Hermione was the last to get up, her hand over her mouth as her stomach churned.

They sat on the floor, memories of the previous night washing over them. Conversation. Laughter. Tears. Kisses.

Nothing was said. In their own time they each got up. Hermione wandered off to her bathroom to shower. Ron headed to the kitchen to make them all breakfast. Harry began cleaning the mess, until a wave of nausea overtook him and he rushed to the toilet.

They ate breakfast together an hour later. Nothing was said.


Day Thirty-One



The phone rung, startling the three housemates. In the month they had been there, the phone had only rung twice, both times wrong numbers.

Harry answered it on the fifth ring. “Hello?” He placed a hand over the receiver. “Hermione, it’s for you.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion as she rose from the chair. The only people she had given their phone number to were her parents. She had explained to them their need to run away, to cut themselves off for the world and just be, and her parents had been surprisingly understanding. So if they were calling, it must be important.

Harry handed the phone over and leaned on the back of the couch as Hermione began talking. She didn’t say much, standing in silence as the person on the other end did all the talking. Harry looked to Ron, who was sitting on the couch, and they exchanged concerned looks.

Hermione suddenly became very pale and put her hand to her mouth. She sank to the floor, shaking. Harry and Ron were up in an instant, going to Hermione and crouching beside her. She began crying, dropping the phone and going into Ron’s arms. She clung desperately to him, sobbing into his chest. Harry picked up the phone, speaking briefly to Hermione’s mum before hanging up the phone and encircling his arms around Hermione and Ron.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” he whispered.

Ron looked questioningly to Harry over Hermione’s head, but Harry merely shook his head in reply, mouthing ‘later.’

“Come on,” Ron said, shifting Hermione so he could pick her up. She put her arm around his neck and allowed him to carry her away. Ron took her to his room, as it was closest, and he placed her gently down on her bed. She instantly curled, crying into his pillow. He lightly brushed away her tears and kissed her forehead before joining Harry in the hallway.

“It’s her cousin,” Harry whispered, his eyes still on Hermione. “She died, car accident. She was the one person in their whole family Hermione was really close to.”

“Oh God,” Ron whispered.

“I’m going to get her some water. You stay with her.”

Ron nodded. Where else would he be? He lay down beside her on the bed, unsure of how best to comfort her. He had never lost anyone, not like this, and he didn’t know what to do. So he just lay there, his hand on her back, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

Harry returned not long later. He put the glass of water to her lips, helping her to drink it. Then he put it on the bedside table and got into the bed beside her. Harry tucked her hair behind her ear and took her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hairline as she mourned.

The three friends lay in silence for hours. Night fell. Hermione cried herself to sleep. Harry and Ron would not abandon her, and ended up falling asleep with her in Ron’s bed.

Ron awoke after a few hours. Opening his tired eyes, he could see in the faint light of the room that the space between him and Harry that had been occupied by Hermione was now empty.

“Harry,” he said, reaching over and shaking his friend awake.

Harry woke with a start, taking a moment to realise where he was and remember what had happened. He noticed Hermione’s absence from the bed and looked wildly about the room. He looked to Ron, who shrugged.

They got up from the bed and began searching the house. They found Hermione sitting on the couch, her head in her hands and a suitcase at her feet.

“Hermione?” Ron said tentatively.

She turned to face them. She was pale, her eyes red, and she stood slowly. “I have to go back home.”

“We’ll go with you,” Harry said.

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I need to do this by myself.”

“No,” Ron said firmly. “You need us. We don’t leave each other, remember?”

Hermione smiled faintly. “I remember. But I need to do this by myself. And I need for you to be here when I get back. I’ll be gone a week at the most.”

“Hermione-“

“Please, just let me do this the way I need. Don’t follow me.”

She walked up to Harry, kissed him on the mouth, then moved to Ron and repeated the action on him, then went back to her suitcase, picked it up and apparated away.


Day Thirty-Seven



Harry sat in bed, attempting to read but not getting very far. He stared at the pages but couldn’t register the words in his mind. There was a soft knock on the door, so he called for Ron to come in. Ron gently pushed the door open and padded into the room.

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light on,” Ron said, sitting next to Harry on the bed and handing him a glass of wine.

Harry put the book aside and took the glass from Ron. “What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

Harry took sip of the wine then placed the glass on his bedside table. The two old friends just sat there in silence, leaning against the wood headboard of Harry’s bed, Ron with his eyes closed.

“I miss her,” Harry said softly.

“Yeah. Me too.” Ron turned to Harry. “Do you realise this is the longest we have been apart in nearly three years.”

Harry looked to Ron. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Is that weird?”

Ron grinned. “Would it matter if it was?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No.”

Silence overtook them again. Ron downed the rest of his drink, putting the glass aside.

“Can I tell you something?” Ron asked, his voice hesitant.

Harry looked at him, his brow furrowing in confusion. Surely he knew he could tell him anything. “Of course.”

Ron shifted his body to face Harry, inching slightly closer to him. “I don’t feel like myself. Since Hermione left and the three of us haven’t been together … its like she took my true self with her and I feel fragmented. I know this doesn’t make any sense-”

“No, it does make sense. I feel it too. But Ron, you are still you. I wouldn’t let you be anything else,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood between them.

Ron smiled, absentmindedly reaching out and putting his hand on Harry’s. “I shudder to think what would happen to me if you left me too, even for a bit. Without you and Hermione, I…” Ron trailed off, not able to verbalise the hundreds of terrible scenarios he had in his head if he were apart from his two best friends.

Harry put a hand atop Ron’s. “Well, lucky for you that’s not something you have to worry about.”

Harry smiled at Ron, who found himself returning the smile. They looked at each other for much longer than necessary, seemingly unable to tear themselves away. Harry became aware that he was stroking his thumb back and forth on the top of Ron’s hand. His heart began beating hard in his chest. Ron could feel the sudden tension in the room, he could feel it engulfing them, he could feel it spread throughout his body.

Without warning, Harry grabbed Ron’s face, pulling him forward and kissing him. Ron opened his mouth to him, thrusting his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Ron shifted without breaking the embrace, sitting on Harry’s lap, straddling him. He began grinding against him, his hands in Harry’s hair, and they both moaned.

Harry broke the kiss, grabbing the bottom of Ron’s t-shirt and roughly pulling it over his head. Ron repeated his action, throwing Harry’s t-shirt over his shoulder and crushing his lips back to Harry. Harry wrapped his arms around him, pressing skin to skin, not being able to get close enough.

Ron felt like he was drowning. All he could feel and think was Harry. His skin was sensitive to every touch. He had never felt passion such as this, kissing so desperate he thought he might stop breathing and if he did he wouldn’t care.

Harry broke the kiss, both of them panting as they looked at each other. Holding Ron’s gaze, he lightly traced his fingertips from Ron’s back, around his side, and under his pyjama shorts. Ron groaned at the contact. Harry began pumping, their eyes still locked. Ron started moving, grinding into Harry’s lap, thrusting into his hand. He threw his head back, his eyes closed as the sensation of him and Harry together washed over him. Harry increased his rhythm, Ron panting as he got closer. He put his lips to Harry’s and kissed him as he came, spilling over his clothes and Harry’s hand.

Ron pressed his forehead to Harry’s, both breathing heavy, Ron still shaking slightly.

“Harry,” he murmured, voice throaty and low.

“Hmmm…” he replied, moving his hands to Ron’s hips.

“Lie down.”

Ron leaned back to look Harry in the eyes. He got up onto his knees and shifted down the bed, giving Harry room to move under him. Harry silently slid down from the headboard, lying down underneath Ron.

Ron lay beside Harry, kissing him. The feeling of their tongues touching was like nothing he had ever felt and he could feel his body reacting. He had a hand to Harry’s cheek, which he slowly ran down his neck. He lay his palm flat on his chest, brushing his hand over Harry’s nipple, then down to his stomach, which trembled beneath him. He reached Harry’s pyjama pants, which he removed, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing Harry.

Then Ron shifted, lying over Harry. He broke their kiss, kissing and licking and nipping his way down Harry’s body. He looked up, briefly locking eyes with Harry before taking him into his mouth.

Harry moaned. It felt incredible. Ron was clumsy and uncertain, but smart enough to connect Harry’s groans and thrusts to particular actions, which he repeated. It didn’t take long for Harry to put a hand into Ron’s hair, grinding out, “Ron … coming …”

Ron released him, quickly capturing Harry’s mouth, his hand taking over, only breaking the kiss when Harry came.

Ron collapsed beside Harry on the bed. They were both still breathing heavy and trembling. After a minute or so, Harry slowly and weakly got his wand from the bedside table and spelled them both clean. He pulled his pants back up and went to Ron, who was laying face down, his head in the pillow. He threw an arm over him, kissed his shoulder, and they fell asleep without a word.


Day Thirty-Nine



Harry and Ron were sitting in the lounge playing a game of chess. Ron was winning, though not as easily as he would have been five years previous.

“Hi.”

Ron and Harry looked up at the noise. Hermione was standing in the centre of the room, a bright grin on her face.

The boys were up in an instant, grinning fools. Hermione rushed forward to them, reaching Ron first. She kissed him and threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly and burying her head in his shoulder. They released each other and Hermione moved to Harry, kissing and hugging him tightly.

“I’ve missed you both so much,” Hermione said when they had released each other. “You have no idea how much.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Ron said. Harry and Ron glanced briefly at each other.

“We’ve missed you too,” Harry added.

Hermione stood there, looking at her two best friends. Something was different. She didn’t know what, but she knew something had changed in her absence. But then they were beaming at her and she shrugged it off, figuring it was just because this was the first time she was seeing them in a week.

“So, how are you doing?” Harry asked, guiding Hermione to the couch.

“Okay,” Hermione replied as she sat. “You know, all things considered.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Ron as he and Harry sat on either side of Hermione.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m home now. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, putting an arm around Hermione. She leaned into him, Harry placing a hand on her leg as he rested his head on her shoulder. “That’s all that matters.”


Day Forty-Four



Ron did a double take. He moved into the bathroom, looking with concern at Hermione, who was leaning over the sink.

“Are you alright?”

She looked up at the mirror, connecting with his eyes in the reflection. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a stomach ache.”

Ron moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, rubbing her back.

“No,” she replied.

Ron stood there in silence, rubbing her back in soothing motions as she remained immobile over the sink. He closed his eyes, tired at this late hour. Hermione glanced up and saw him, half asleep, and couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Go to bed, Ron.”

He shook his head, opening his eyes. Hermione stood and faced him, her hands on his sides.

“You’re half asleep. Go.”

He shook his head, looking down at her. They stood there for a moment before Ron leant down and captured her lips with his own.

Hermione instantly opened her mouth to him, meeting his tongue. Ron grabbed a fistfull of the hem of her top as he backed her up against the closed door. He snuck a hand under her singlet, reaching up and caressing her breast. She moaned into his mouth, running her hands through his shaggy locks.

“Ron,” she breathed between kisses. “Need you. Want you.”

He needed no further encouragement, pushing her top over her head before removing his own and kissing her again. An absent corner of his brain thought fleetingly of Harry, of how kissing Harry and kissing Hermione made him feel almost the exact same thing, but then Hermione pushed his pants down and he thought no more.

They sunk to the floor. Ron grabbed a nearby towel and laid it on the tiles before lowering Hermione onto it. He kissed his way down her neck to her breasts, taking a hard nipple into his mouth. She squirmed beneath him, arching her body up to his. He pulled her pants down her slender legs, kissing her lips as he settled himself over her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, gasping when he entered her.

He stilled inside her, letting her adjust. Then when she was ready, he started moving. Their eyes locked, breaths coming in shallow gasps, skin glistening. They kissed, Hermione meeting his thrusts. And when he felt himself close, Ron reached down between them and stroked her clit. Hermione shuddered as she came, Ron’s face buried in her neck, and he came a moment later, her name on his lips.

He collapsed, careful not to crush her under his weight. After taking a moment to collect himself he withdrew, lying beside her and gathering her in his arms.

They said nothing; just lay wrapped in each others arms. In the end, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

“Don’t tell Harry,” she said in a whisper.

Ron kissed her hairline. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I can keep a secret.”


Day Forty-Seven



Ron stretched his legs, resting them over Hermione and Harry’s laps. “I have to say the best one was in Potions, second year.”

Harry thought for a moment. Then he grinned. “Defence Against the Dark Arts, fifth year.”

Ron considered this for a second, then laughed as the memory washed over him. “Good call.”

“Have you two gone mad?” Hermione said with a grin. “Have you forgotten fourth year History of Magic. Sitting there while Binns droned on and then the bang as Seamus accidentally blows up his books. No contest.”

The boys were in hysterics. “How could we have forgotten about that?”

“Well, he did blow something up about once every three months. There were a lot to choose from.”

The trio eventually calmed down. Hermione rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, yawning.

“Tired?” Ron asked.

“No,” she said sleepily.

Harry smiled, resting his head atop Hermione’s. “How about … favourite school moment ever?”

“Well, there are a lot to choose from,” Ron replied. “Nearly being eaten by a spider, nearly being killed by a troll, being put into a freezing lake in an enchanted sleep…”

Harry chuckled. “Okay, so we had some intense moments.”

“Indeed we did,” Ron said with a small smile.

“But we had some good times too, didn’t we?”

“No, not good times,” Ron said. Harry lifted his head to look at Ron. Ron grinned. “Some great times.”

Harry and Ron shared a smile before Harry put his head back down on Hermione’s.

“I think …” Hermione said softly, “my favourite school moment ever was … in our fifth year. We snuck out and went to the Astronomy Tower, remember?”

Ron nodded. “We took some food from the kitchen, went up the tower, cast some warming charms, and just talked all night.”

“I think it was my favourite moment because it was just the three of us, hanging out and having fun. For one night we forgot about everything and just sat together and ate food and laughed and acted like everyone else.”

Harry smiled. “Kind of like now.”

Hermione grinned, snuggling up to Harry, her hands on Ron’s legs. “Exactly.”


Day Fifty-Two



It was late afternoon when Harry and Hermione wandered down to the river at the side of their property. Ron had elected to stay at home, saying he wanted ‘a lazy day,’ though they all knew the real reason was him burying himself in his room, not wanting to tear away from the Cannons/United Quidditch game.

The air was warm around them as they jumped from rock to rock. Hermione watched, trying not to laugh as Harry struggled to keep his balance. Arms out, he wavered from side to side, finally grabbing her hand and standing up straight. Fingers entwined, they made their way to the bank of the river. They happily moseyed along, that is until Harry waded into the water and splashed Hermione from behind.

She turned, shocked. Then with a grin, she bodily pushed him deeper into the water and when the water was above their knees, she used all her strength to push him into the water.

Harry resurfaced, dirty water plastering his hair to his forehead, spluttering slightly. Hermione felt a bit guilty as she looked down at him, but then he grinned at her and she laughed. He held a hand out to her.

“How stupid do you think I am?” she said, taking a step back. “No way am I helping you up. You’ll just pull me down.”

“Where is the trust, Hermione?” Harry said with mock hurt, putting his hand back down. He grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at her, laughing when it landed on her stomach.

“Okay, come on mister,” Hermione said at last, wading forward and holding out a hand to him.

Harry looked at it for a moment, the temptation to pull her into the water overwhelming. But he did the right thing, putting a muddy hand in hers and allowing her to help him up.

They splashed out of the water to the grassy bank. Hermione brushed the mud from her jumper and washed her hands in the cool water. She turned her attention to Harry, smiling at how adorable he looked, standing there all waterlogged. She reached up and removed some sticks and leaves from his hair, Harry casually placing his hands on her hips. He couldn’t help staring into her eyes, her big brown eyes, until all he could think about was her.

Hermione met his intense stare. Her hands rested on his neck, fingertips playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“Hermione,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Do you feel that?”

She slid her hands down to his chest, her right hand over his heart, which was beating hard in his chest. She nodded, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

It was instantaneous. Their mouths opened and tongues met as they fell to the ground. Hermione undid his jeans, roughly pushing them down his legs. She arched her back so Harry could push up her skirt and slide her knickers down her legs, leaving them around one ankle.

Hermione wrapped her legs around him. They stopped kissing and looked at each other for a moment. Harry softly pressed his lips to hers and when Hermione grasped his throbbing cock he pressed his forehead to hers. Hermione guided him to her and when he thrust into her they both moaned. Harry buried his head in her neck, repeatedly whispering her name. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts. They kissed, only ever breaking it to groan or whimper or say each others name.

Hermione climaxed with a cry. Harry came with a shudder, breathlessly collapsing onto her.
They lay there in silence, trying to get their breath back. Harry rolled off Hermione, gathering her in his arms. He placed feathery light kisses all over her face and Hermione couldn’t help but smile. She put a hand to his cheek and pressed her lips to his.


Day Fifty-Three



Harry and Hermione were already at the table when Ron came downstairs for breakfast. He walked past them, lightly trailing his hand across their backs as he headed to the kitchen. He made some toast and poured some coffee and joined them at the table, sleepily mumbling, “Good morning.”

Harry and Hermione looked up and grinned at him. Ron narrowed his eyes at them after they went back to their breakfasts and newspapers. Ron watched them in silence, sensing something in the air. And then he saw them glancing surreptitiously at each other as Harry handed Hermione the salt, their fingers brushing. And that’s when realisation hit.

“Oh my God,” Ron breathed, dropping his toast to the plate.

Harry and Hermione looked up at him, each wearing matching expressions of concern and confusion.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“You two slept together.”

They froze, Harry with his fork halfway up to his mouth. The three of them sat staring at each other for who knows how long. Harry put the fork down on his plate, the noise echoing loudly in the room.

It was Hermione who broke the stalemate. “How do you know that?”

“I can just tell. You have the same aura about you that we had the day after we slept together.” And then he looked to Harry. “And you have the same look in your eyes you had the day after we fooled around.”

Harry and Hermione looked to each other, shocked. They looked to Ron, stunned. Then they both started talking, words being spoken so quickly and questions being cut off mid sentence as they talked over each other.

And then the noise stopped. The three of them just sat there in silence at the table and for the first time since they met, they didn’t know how to handle each other. Their world was turned upside down in a moment, their relationships and feelings changed in a split second, and everything was different.

Hermione was the first to leave, standing from the table and walking outside without looking back. Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment and then Ron stood from the table and went upstairs. Harry remained at the table and put his head in his hands.


Day Fifty-Four



Hermione placed the dinner on the table, the pan of lasagne still steaming from the oven. Harry was finishing setting the table and sat down in silence. Ron came into the room, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

Hermione dished up dinner and they ate in silence. Total silence. Not one word had been spoken between them since breakfast the day before. They had avoided each other for two days, leaving a room if someone was already there, eating meals in silence, averting gazes.

It was so uncomfortable. The tension in the air was suffocating. The sounds of scraping cutlery echoed loudly in the room.

Harry loudly gulped down his water, looking at his best friends, who were carefully avoiding his gaze. Ron idly played with his food, sneaking glances at them as they ate their dinner. And Hermione, she refused to let this go on another moment.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, throwing down her fork. “We’re supposed to be best friends. Is this what our friendship has come to? Is this what our lives are going to be like from now on?”

Harry and Ron gave no reply, though they did briefly glance at each other under hooded eyelids across the table. Hermione stood from the table and fled the room.

Harry sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “She’s right you know.”

Ron looked up, a small grin on his face. “She usually is.”

Harry laughed, leaning forward and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. “We’re friends, Ron. We’ve always been friends. We can’t let this come between us.”

“No,” he agreed. “We can’t.”

“So we can be friends, right?“

“Absolutely,” he grinned.

Ron stood from the table and went around to Harry’s side. He held out his hand, which Harry shook. Then they went upstairs to seek out Hermione.

She was sitting on her bed, her head in her hands. She looked up at the sound of the bedroom door opening and hastily wiped at her eyes. They joined her on the bed, Hermione all the while averting her red eyes, and only when they both took a hand in hers did she looked up at them.

“Friends,” Harry said in a whisper.

“Friends?” asked Hermione.

Ron grinned. “Friends.”


Day Sixty



It was a brilliant plan. They would forget what had happened and go back to being the best friends they always were. But like many brilliant plans, it all fell apart when it came to the execution.

They never spoke of it, but their house became flooded with tension.

Ron would be mesmerised by the details; a flash of flesh when Harry reached up to the top shelf in the kitchen, exposing his stomach, or the creamy white of Hermione’s neck and wrists. Harry found that whenever he was talking to Ron or Hermione he couldn’t stop staring at their lips. Hermione would find any excuse to touch them; a lingering hug or kiss, a hand to a knee, legs resting on their laps.

They pretended it wasn’t happening. They pretended that everything was fine and things had gone back to normal. But pretending can only last so long and it’s simply a matter of time before it gets too much and the tension snaps.


Day Seventy



Harry sat on his bed, staring at the blue blanket at the foot of his bed but not really seeing it. His mind was full of Ron and Hermione. He realised now that almost his whole life his head and heart had been filled by them. For as long as he could remember his world revolved around theirs and he didn’t ever want that to change.

But he didn’t know how he could go on like this.

Harry was torn from his thoughts by the sound of a soft knock on his door. “Yeah?” he called, and Ron opened the door, poking his head around it.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Harry replied.

Ron entered the room, leaving the door open, and joined Harry on the bed. They were both leaning up against the bed headboard and when Ron shifted to get comfortable his arm accidentally brushed Harry’s, making them both recall the last time they had sat together like this.

There was a tense moment but then a clap of thunder exploded from outside. Thankful for the distraction, they both looked out the window to the heavy rain beating down on the windowpane.

“Damn storm woke me up,” Ron muttered, running a hand through his hair.

There was a flash of lightning, briefly illuminating the room.

“At least you got some sleep,” came a voice from the doorway.

Harry and Ron turned to see Hermione standing in the threshold in her pyjamas. There was a serious determination on her face, so at odds with her playful mood during the evening.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Harry asked.

She nodded her head but did not move into the room. She was biting her lip and Harry suddenly realised that she was nervous. He sat up straighter and leaned forward, brow furrowed with confusion, and said, “What is it?”

She stepped into the room and softly closed the door behind her. She walked around to Harry’s side of the bed, acutely aware of the boys eyes on her, and climbed onto the mattress at the foot of the bed. She looked at them both for a moment, then crawled up to Harry and straddled his lap, pressing her lips to his and kissing him. Harry responded in an instant, settling his hand on her hips and deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

Hermione broke the kiss and leaned over and kissed Ron. Their mouths instantly opened to one another as Hermione trailed her hand down Ron’s chest before slipping her hand into his.

The kiss ended and they pulled back from one another. Hermione looked between the two of them, breathless from nerves and anticipation. Harry and Ron said nothing, both still in shock about what had just happened. They glanced briefly at each other before Harry grabbed a fistful of Ron’s t-shirt, pulling Ron to him and kissing him. Ron moaned at the touch of Harry’s tongue, breaking the kiss at Hermione’s sharp intake of breath.

Hermione grasped the bottom of Harry’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head, resting her palms lightly on his chest. Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck before looking in her eyes and asking, “Are you sure?”

Hermione smiled nervously. “Yes.”

They both turned to Ron, who instead of answering got up and positioned himself behind Hermione, pulling the strap of her top down and kissing her shoulder blade. He trailed his fingertips down her arms and slid his hands under her top, caressing her sides and stomach. He pushed her singlet over her head and tossed the material aside before pulling his own top over his head. He pressed his chest forward against Hermione’s smooth back, kissing her neck. Harry leaned forward, kissing Hermione and pressing their bodies together as the boys wrapped their arms around each other. Harry and Hermione broke the kiss and Hermione pressed her lips to Harry’s shoulder as Ron and Harry kissed.

“I can’t believe we’re about to do this,” Harry whispered.

“Me neither,” Hermione replied. “I’ve wanted you both for so long…”

Ron was too busy kissing any piece of skin he could reach, both Harry and Hermione’s, though Hermione thought she heard him say, “Me too.”

Hermione leaned her head back onto Ron’s shoulder. Harry took advantage, pressing his mouth to the pale column of her neck while Ron claimed her mouth. Harry leaned back, giving more room between them, and Ron covered her right breast with his large, calloused hand while Harry kissed down her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. Her moan was caught by Rons lips and she writhed between them as they overloaded her with sensations and feelings. She moved on Harry’s lap, grinding against him, and his body was reacting quickly to the sensation. He grazed his teeth over her nipple and Hermione groaned.

Harry pulled back; content to watch Ron and Hermione for a moment. They were kissing, Harry catching flashes of their tongues when they moved, and Hermione had an arm behind her, caressing his back as Ron kneaded her breast.

When they realised Harry had stopped they broke their kiss and looked at him, dazed, with blurry lips. Harry grinned at them, nodding his head briefly to the bed. They climbed off him and the three of them lay down, Hermione in the middle.

They were instantly a tangle of limbs as they tried to get as close as possible, mouths kissing any piece of skin within reach. Harry and Hermione kissed while Ron ran his tongue lightly over Hermione’s breast. With one mind, Harry and Ron pulled Hermione’s pyjama pants and knickers down in one smooth motion, Hermione impatiently kicking them away when they were at her feet. Ron took a moment to appreciate her form, hypnotised by Harry and Hermione and the way their mouths moved together. He lightly trailed his fingers over Hermione’s chest, stomach, sides and thighs, carefully avoiding the place he wanted to touch most.

Hermione broke their kiss, sitting up and straddling Harry’s legs. With a grin she ran her fingertips lightly down his chest, then slowly pressed open mouthed kisses on his stomach before hooking her fingers under the band of his boxer shorts and pulling them down his legs. Ron took advantage of the vacated space, shifting next to Harry and putting his mouth to his chest, running the tip of his tongue over Harry’s nipple, making him squirm.

Harry grabbed Ron’s face, pulling him up for a searing kiss. Ron rubbed himself against Harry as their tongues thrusted violently against one another, until Harry broke the kiss from pure shock as Hermione rang her tongue along the length of his cock.

Ron edged back for a moment, watching as Hermione locked her eyes with Harry as she slowly took his length in her mouth. Harry moaned as she applied more pressure, putting his hands in her hair, and Ron quickly removed his pyjama pants and boxers, freeing his throbbing erection.

Ron moved to behind Hermione, gently holding her hips and raising them up. He slid a finger into her folds, warm and wet, and she moaned, the vibrations making Harry inhale sharply. Ron positioned himself behind Hermione, leaning forward and kissing her spine as he eased into her.

The three of them stilled for a moment, taking a moment to just be still and connected. It was a feeling like no other, knowing they were connected so intimately, just as they always were meant to be. Then Ron started moving, slowly pushing in deep and withdrawing almost all the way, the repeating the process at increasing speed. Their bodies rocked together, Hermione sucking and licking in time with Ron’s thrusts.

It didn’t take long. The weeks of sexual tension in their house had left them all on edge and when Hermione curled her tongue around the head of his cock, Harry came with a grunt. After taking a few seconds to get his breath back, Harry locked eyes with Ron as he pumped into Hermione. Hermione came with a scream when Ron exploded in her, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Ron and Hermione collapsed onto the bed with Harry, a pile of sweaty limbs and skin, breathless and exhausted. Minutes passed in silence, still aside from the occasional touch or soft kiss. It was Harry who reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his wand, spelling them clean.

A clap of thunder rumbled throughout the house. Ron laughed to himself, reaching to the foot of the bed and grabbing the blanket, covering the three of them with it. They took a moment to get comfortable, Hermione resting her head on Harry’s shoulder, and Ron spooned behind her.

No one had yet spoken, but they couldn’t stop touching each other; Harry running his fingers along the top of Hermione’s hand, which was on his chest, Ron pressing soft kisses to Hermione’s shoulder, six legs entwined together.

“So,” Hermione said at last, voice soft as she broke their silence, “should we talk about this?”

Ron shook his head. “Sleep now, talk tomorrow.”

Harry grinned sleepily, snuggling closer to his two best friends. He let the silence be for a moment before whispering, “I love you. Both of you. So much.”

Hermione and Ron both shifted, raising their heads to look at him. Harry smiled shyly at them before he leaned forward and kissed their lips.

“Me too,” Hermione said after they had settled back down.

There was a pause before Ron whispered, “Me three.” Then he added, “Now sleep.”
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