challenge: EWE 10. In honor of Fred, George creates a “truth” potion and convinces the trio to drink it in honor of Fred. The trio reveals their real feelings and naughtiness ensues.
title: Something Wicked
summary: Ron knew better than to drink anything made by one of the twins, but forgot to remind Harry and Hermione of that fact. Oh dear.
genre: Humor, PWP
warnings: first time, RGTB (randomly gay Terry Boot)
word count: 3,110
author’s notes: Sixth wave (second subwave) of the triofqf.
Now, I know better than to try anything my brother forces on me, but Harry and Hermione seem to have forgotten that fact. Before I can say a thing, Harry picks up the purple flask.
“What is it?” he asks, shaking it slightly. The liquid inside sparkles.
George shakes his head slowly, making a tsking noise with his tongue. “Harry, don’t you trust me?”
“No!” I shout. All three of them look at me.
“I was asking my good friend Harry, not my lout of a brother,” George says, glaring briefly at me.
Harry snickers. “This won’t turn me into a canary or other wildlife, will it?”
I swear George’s eyes light up. “No, it won’t. Go ahead, try it.”
Hermione stomps on my foot, hard, when I open my mouth to protest again.
Harry tips the flask to his lips and drinks about a third of the concoction. I groan, shaking my head. After everything that’s happened, Harry has a death wish. That could be the only sensible explanation for why he’d voluntarily drink something from George.
Harry licks his lips, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and passes the flask to Hermione.
“How does it taste?” George asks, leaning forward.
Harry licks his lips again. “A bit like grapes. Dilute it a bit and it could be mistaken for wine.”
I groan. Now he’s done it – he’s encouraged George. Yes, I’m happy he’s inventing again after Fred’s death, but I don’t want him experimenting on me.
I don’t even protest when Hermione raises the flask and drinks another third of the liquid. She’d just stomp my toes again and they’re already sore from the last three times she’s stomped them.
“It is good,” Hermione murmurs, handing me the flask.
Harry’s expression is a bit dreamy now and Hermione’s seems to be following. What did George put in here?
I thrust the flask at him, but he refuses to take it. “Go on, finish it.” Harry and Hermione both just smile. Though I know I shouldn’t, I drink the rest.
George takes the flask from me, then sits back and watches us.
Hermione blinks and tries to focus on George. “What was that?”
His grin is more wicked than I’ve seen in a very long time. “It should be a variation of Veratiserum.” He turns to Harry. “And to see if it works. . . did you sleep with my little sister?”
“George!” Hermione and I both protest, but Harry can’t resist and answers, “No, but she wanted to.”
George grins, but I stare at Harry in a mix of horror and annoyance. That’s more than I wanted to know about Ginny. Then George turns to Hermione. “What liberties have you allowed my little brother?”
I snort as I try to stifle my laughter. Liberties? Harry snickers.
Hermione slaps her hands over her mouth, but still feels compelled to answer. “Touching. . . over clothes. . . kissing. . . damn you, George!”
If anything, George’s grin widens as he turns to me. “Since my potion seems to be working, I will ask you this: who did you fantasize about when you wanked last?”
My face flames bright red. No, he can’t have heard me this morning. He was downstairs by that time. But the urge to answer is overwhelming and I blurt out, “Harry!” Then I bury my face in my hands. Now I’ve done it.
“Really?” Harry asks, voice so high it’s nearly a squeak.
“Wicked,” Hermione murmurs dreamily.
I look up at the both of them. Neither are disgusted. In fact, they both look interested in the idea.
George just laughs, turning to Hermione. “How often do you think about watching these two kiss?” He points to Harry and I and Hermione flushes even brighter red than me.
“Hermione?” Harry says.
“A lot!” she nearly shouts, glaring at all of us.
“What did you make us drink, George?” I demand, turning to my brother.
“Moi?” he says as innocently as he can, one hand theatrically pointing to himself. “I didn’t make you do anything. You drank of your own accord in honor of our dear, departed brother.” He hangs his head in a parody of grief. It’s been a year and I reckon George is finally recovering.
“What was in it?” I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring Hermione’s whimper.
“A little of this, a little of that.” He begins backing away. “I wanted to see if the reformulation works.”
Hermione tilts her head to one side. “Reformulation? Of Veritaserum?”
“Yes, but this one is for emotions.”
Hermione opens her mouth, almost certainly to ask about seeing George’s notes given the light of academic zeal in her eyes, but Harry leans forward and murmurs, “Damn, you’re beautiful.” She blushes bright red.
Harry then turns to me. “And you’ve got a sexy arse.” He doesn’t even look ashamed or embarrassed when he growls that. The heat flushing my cheeks has nothing to do with embarrassment on my part, either.
George scrubs a hand over his face. “This isn’t exactly what I had expected.”
I’m sure what he expected was blackmail material against both Ginny and me, not finding out Harry, Hermione and I apparently have feelings – strong feelings – for each other. I don’t know whether to thank him or hit him.
“George?” Hermione murmurs, staring into Harry’s eyes.
“Yes?” he replies distractedly.
“You need to leave now.”
He blinks, then stammers, “But, I need – you three – experiment – ”
Harry turns to him, eyes as intense as I’ve ever seen. “George, leave.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen George quite so rattled. He actually rises and leaves without another word, closing the front door behind himself. He could just be messing with us, waiting a bit so he can return and catch us out, but I think he was genuinely surprised.
I’m drawn out of my thoughts by a noise, a faint moan. My eyes widen at what I see: Hermione in Harry’s lap, hands tangled in his hair and kissing him intently. I think her wiggling in his lap drew a moan from him – I know it would from me.
I should be angry at what I see, right? Especially given that Hermione and I are supposed to be together, sort of, even though the three of us share a flat.
I bite my lip so I don’t moan. It’s suddenly too hot in here.
Harry breaks the kiss, leaning his head back on the sofa, gasping. Hermione doesn’t let up, moving her lips from Harry’s mouth to his neck.
I want to do the same but with my teeth.
A moan escapes me, drawing their attention. Hermione grabs Harry’s glasses and tosses them onto a side table before climbing off Harry’s lap.
“I want to watch you kiss,” she says, her tone just as bossy as it was when we were firsties.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Harry grins, then turns to stalk his way across the sofa and into my lap. Because of the angle, he’s more lying atop me than in my lap. As his thigh brushes over my jean-restricted cock, I moan again.
Hermione fans herself. “There must have been an aphrodisiac in that potion.”
I barely have a chance to glance at her before Harry grabs my chin, turns my face to his, and kisses me. Actually, devours my mouth.
Kissing him is nothing like kissing Hermione, or even kissing Lavender. He seems to know exactly how much pressure to use – more than Hermione, less than Lavender – and where to put his tongue, just like Hermione.
He writhes against me for a minute until, my head light with arousal, I grip his hips to stop him. Breaking the kiss, I gasp and say, “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Hermione moans. We both look over and Harry shudders. She’s unbuttoned her shirt down to her bra and hiked her skit almost high enough to see her knickers.
“Should we undress slow or just get it over with?” I ask, hoping they’ll say just strip.
Hermione’s eyes fly open so she can roll them at me. “How romantic, Ron.”
“I don’t think we’re feeling romance, Hermione,” Harry mumbles. He climbs off me and I have to bite back a groan at the loss.
Hermione worries her bottom lip as Harry and I glance at each other. A slow smile spreads his mouth. When I match his smile, it seems to be a signal to both of us. Hands flying, we both stand and strip down to our boxers.
Hermione moans again. My grin widening, I close the distance between us and unbutton her blouse. When I feel skin brush against my leg, I look down to see Harry kneeling at our feet, hands working furiously on Hermione’s skirt. Within a minute, we’re all nearly naked.
“Bedroom,” Hermione growls, the sound intensifying my arousal.
It’s a wonder I haven’t spontaneously come already.
Harry beats us both to his room – he has a larger bed then either Hermione or I do – and jumps onto his bed, landing on his back and bouncing once. I crawl up from the foot to lie beside him on my left side, propping my head up with my left hand. I can watch both of them from this angle. Hermione shudders with a sigh then climbs onto the bed between Harry and I.
We all lay still for a moment, hyper-aware of each other but trying not to touch.
When the tension gets too much, Hermione huffs and sits up. “Honestly,” she exclaims, then wiggles out of her bra. As she lays down again, Harry and I look at each other over her body; my expression of stupid delight is mirrored on his face.
I look down and can’t stifle my delighted sigh. It doesn’t matter how crude it is, but I have to say the first thing that comes to mind: “Damn, your tits are perfect.”
Hermione blushes furiously even as Harry smacks the side of my head.
I don’t know if it’s the potion or just my desire, but I must touch her, suckle her. Bending my head, I shift on the bed until I can take one of those pebbled dark brown nipples into my mouth. Her resulting moan vibrates through me and when she tangled her hand in my hair to hold me in place, I moan as well.
When Harry begins suckling her other breast, I only notice because our heads bump. Hermione is writhing in earnest now, restless enough that Harry throws a leg over her left and I throw one over her right to still her. That we pin her legs spread widely enough apart to stroke her once we’re ready doesn’t escape me.
My cock is demanding attention, demanding I rub and thrust against Hermione, but I resist. I want to savor the moment.
Hermione’s moans suddenly turn into something even more guttural. She arches upward, trembling, her hands tangled painfully in our hair, and comes.
I didn’t know women could come just from breast play.
Harry and I release her at nearly the same time. Hermione’s eyes flutter open, a bemused smile on her face. Then she gasps, arching her back again. I’m startled until I look down her body and see Harry has peeled her knickers off and is stroking her clit. She comes again, though not as intensely as the first time.
Trembling slightly, she grabs Harry’s hand and shoves it away. “I need a minute,” she murmurs, then smiles slyly. “Kiss each other.”
I rise to my knees, startled. My eyes dart to meet Harry’s. He’s surprised as well, but lust burns strongly in his gaze. The need to kiss him is suddenly as strong as the urge to suckle Hermione had been. Thrusting my right arm forward, I snake it around the back of his neck, pull him up and pull his mouth to mine.
Our lips meet in furious challenge. He shifts on the bed to face me fully, tangling both hands in my hair, pinning me to him.
“Fuck, you look good together,” Hermione purrs.
Harry and I break apart, gasping. Our foreheads resting against each other’s in the aftermath. Glancing down, I moan. Hermione has one hand between her thighs stroking herself as she watches us.
“How are we going to do this?” Harry asks hoarsely. He’s watching her, too.
“What. . . what do you mean?” Hermione asks, fingers stopped for the moment.
I can almost feel the heat of Harry’s blush. “One of us watch the other two or all three at once?”
At the image my brain conjures at the words all three at once, I collapse onto the bed next to Hermione, nearly paralyzed from arousal.
They both call my name worriedly. I open my eyes.
“All three,” I croak.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters as Hermione moans.
Hermione licks her lips, then looks at each of us. “How?”
Harry moves back to sit next to Hermione’s knee. His blush intensifies, embarrassment warring with arousal on his face. “Have you done this before?” he asks us.
“No,” Hermione murmurs and I echo her.
Harry now looks nearly as red as my hair. I sit up and stare at him. Hermione’s eyebrows shoot up into her hair.
“You have?” My voice squeaks on the last word. Harry mumbles something. “What?”
He buries his face in his hands then says, “Terry Boot.”
“Terry Boot?” Hermione repeats.
“A one-off the night you two had your first official date,” Harry says softly.
Hermione sits up, shifting so she can cup Harry’s face with one hand. “Oh, Harry.”
He pulls his hands away, that overwhelmed-by-arousal look back on his face at her touch. “I’ll be in the middle, then,” he growls, pushing Hermione back on the bed, positioning himself between her knees, spreading them wide.
Oh, fuck, that’s hot. Hermione rakes her fingers up Harry’s back, leaving angry red marks in her wake. It doesn’t seem to bother Harry at all, but the contrast of the red marks and his white skin is erotic.
Turning, I dig in the drawer of Harry’s bedside table, searching for the lube. On the second try, I find it, holding it aloft in triumph. When I turn back to Harry and Hermione, I have to bite back my moan. Hermione has wrapped one leg around Harry’s waist, encouraging him to enter her, and Harry is both suckling her breast and stroking her clit, much as we did earlier.
Kneeling between Harry’s legs, I set the lube on the bed so I can pull Hermione’s leg down. She whimpers, but I don’t know if that’s from being moved or Harry’s actions. Smiling, I stroke Harry’s back, sometimes tangling with Hermione’s fingers.
Harry releases Hermione’s breast and demands, “Get on with it, Ron!”
Startled, but so very willing, I coat my fingers in the lube. It’s a Muggle brand, so I hope it works. Biting my lower lip, I part Harry’s arse cheeks with my left hand. He moans and tries to relax. When I slide my fingers over his hole, he groans and shudders.
“Stop fucking teasing me, Ron,” he barks, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes are damn near glowing. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood. “Just lube me and your cock and fuck me!”
Though I would have thought he’d need more prep than that, I won’t argue. I slick his hole and my cock quickly, then position myself. Before he can tense up, I grip his hips and push in.
Fuck. . . tight. . . hot. . . fuck. If I don’t think of something else, I’m going to come. McGonagall in lacy knickers. That helped.
Hermione gasps, moans, and whimpers in distress as Harry enters her. I feel a pang that I wasn’t the one to actually be her first, but, given that it’s the three of us together, I don’t think it matters much. Once Harry is fully inside her and I’m fully inside Harry, he sighs.
“Brilliant,” he murmurs.
“How do you feel?” Hermione whispers.
“Fucking amazing,” he replies, leaning up and back against my shoulder.
Then I thrust. Both of them moan deeply and Hermione’s eyes roll back in her head. I only manage to thrust three more times before I come, pouring myself into Harry, biting the cord of his neck at the same time.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, then thrusts erratically into Hermione, coming.
We pull apart, Harry flopping onto his back, spent. Hermione whimpers and I realize she hasn’t come. Though I know it’s dirty – or, perhaps, because it’s dirty – I bend to lick her clit. Her hands slam against the mattress as she gasps and arches against my mouth. I can taste something I know is her as well as another flavor. With a jolt, I realize I’m tasting Harry. Bloody brilliant.
With more enthusiasm than skill, I lick and tease her with my tongue until she grips my head with one hand, holding me in place, as she comes.
“That was hot,” Harry hisses. I pull my head free, amused when Hermione collapses, boneless, and look at Harry. I only get a glimpse of his hardened cock before he pulls me to him to lick my lips and chin clean. When I gasp, he kisses me.
“The damn potion will kill us,” Hermione groans.
Breaking the kiss, I look down to see Hermione stroking herself as she watches Harry and me through narrowed eyes.
“But what a way to go,” Harry says, grinning. “Your arse is mine this time, Weasley.”
I can live with that.
George doesn’t return until the next evening. The potion finally wore off just before dawn, leaving us more sore than healing charms could fix and thoroughly sated.
George seems surprises to find us all sitting gingerly at the kitchen table.
Before he can even ask, I point a finger at him and say, “It’s an aphrodisiac as well, you git.”
George’s grin changes to a frown. “That’s not right. Those ingredients have nothing to do with love potions.”
Hermione’s eyes widen and she gasps. Harry can only groan – we discovered he’s even better with his mouth than I am, which is surprising given my oral fixation, and his jaw is sore.
“So we. . . it wasn’t. . . bloody hell,” I conclude.
It was a little truth and us all along.
George props his chin in his hands and grins gleefully at us, noting the bite on my neck. “Confess all to Brother George.”
Harry throws a towel at his head.