Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Like the Swift	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 5427 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Like the Swift
- 1
Title: Like the Swift
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Snape/Harry/Draco
Warnings: Angst, jealousy, established relationship
Rating: R
Wordcount: 6000
Summary: A Quidditch player is after Draco, and has hinted to Harry that he wouldn’t mind sleeping with Severus, either. Harry gets it into his head to outperform the idiot on a broom.
Author’s Notes: Another Advent fic! This one is for robinellen, who gave me the prompt: H/S/D, with one of the three feeling insecure and/or jealous of the other two. Last time, it was Harry as the insecure one (a trope I truly love), but I'm happy with any of your choice. :) So here we are, with an insecure Harry. Happy Advent!
Like the Swift
            “Potter. I wanted to talk to you.”
            Harry turned around warily. The charity game he’d just finished for St. Mungo’s had ended with some hard feelings, he thought, especially with Louis Trafalgar, the current Falcons’ Seeker. Harry had snatched the Snitch literally from under his nose, as Trafalgar hovered in the middle of the pitch darting his head from side to side. And, of course, that was who was behind him now.
            But Trafalgar, leaning against the wall of the showers, only gave him a lazy smile. He was taller than Harry by several good inches, his long blond hair braided to fall to the middle of his shoulders. He had skin burned browner even than Harry’s by the wind and sun. Of course, Harry mostly saw the inside of the wards in St. Mungo’s now, as a Healer, while Trafalgar was a professional Quidditch player.
            More threatening, Harry thought, and what made his win in the game a matter of luck, was that Trafalgar was lithe and muscled, and might not have that much trouble taking Harry down in a physical fight. But Harry was reluctant to draw his wand unless Trafalgar took his out first.
            After the duels and assassination attempts Harry had been in and survived, few people would believe that Harry was only defending himself if he hurt Trafalgar.
            “What about?” Harry finally asked, when Trafalgar had leaned there and studied him for so long that it was getting weird.
            Trafalgar stretched a little and sauntered forwards. He moved like a cat, Harry thought. Like Draco. He did his best not to flush. He knew that he hadn’t put on a lot of weight, but he didn’t look sleek, either. Just scrawny, what with the worry and nights of rushing around after patients or staying by their beds.
            “I notice you’re still dating Malfoy,” Trafalgar murmured, almost into his ear. “A pity that he wasn’t here to watch us play.”
            Harry took a step back and gave Trafalgar a tight smile. “I’m dating both him and Severus Snape, actually,” he said. It annoyed him when people acted like only Draco was real or desirable. Yes, Draco was a Hit Wizard now, so the one with the higher profile career, but that was no reason to disparage Severus.
            “Hmmm. Yes. Well.” There was a spark of excitement in Trafalgar’s eyes. “I was thinking of inviting both of them to the next Falcons game.”
            “Yes?” Harry parroted back. He flushed all the more hotly when Trafalgar gave him a pitying smile. He knew that he still wasn’t the most socially graceful person around, but Trafalgar didn’t have to call attention to it.
            “I thought they might appreciate the spectacle of skilled Quidditch play.” Trafalgar studied the back of his hand, as though that was the source of his skill. “But, of course, you’ll probably be too busy working.”
            Harry folded his arms. “Probably.” He still didn’t know where Trafalgar was going with this. It wasn’t as though Draco or Severus needed his permission to go to a Quidditch game.
            Trafalgar looked at the back of his hand for precisely seven seconds more, then smoothly lifted his head and locked his gaze on Harry. “I'll give him the invitation,” he said, “and perhaps another kind of invitation afterwards. Particularly Malfoy. I’ve had my eye on him for a long time.”
            Harry knew that he had turned absolutely red, knew how ugly he looked when he did that, and did his best to bring it under control. “You know that he’s with us,” he began.
            Trafalgar moved a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I never said the old man wouldn’t be welcome to join us.” He fixed Harry with a gaze that had nothing lazy about it now. “Just not you. You don’t deserve them.”
            Harry stared at him. He had never met Trafalgar before this, and couldn’t imagine what the man had against him. Well, all right, losing the Quidditch game, maybe Harry could have taken the Snitch in a better way and not made him look as foolish, but it wasn’t like Harry deserved to lose his lovers because of that.
            Every trace of Trafalgar’s smile was gone. “I’ve thought that for a long, long time,” he continued, his voice soft and shaking with intensity. “A gorgeous Hit Wizard, who did so many good things for the wizarding world in his time on probation that most people forgave him? He’s braver and more beautiful than you’ll ever acknowledge, or merit. And the best Potions master of his generation, more of a war hero than you were? All you did was try to die for people. He risked his life every day.”
            Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. It was hard for him to argue when he did believe that Draco was beautiful and skilled, that Severus was a great brewer and a more profound hero than he was. But it had never occurred to Harry before this that that meant someone else would not only agree, but try to take them away from him.
            “They would never sleep with you,” Harry settled on at last, well-aware that he was several beats behind when a really secure person would have answered.
            Trafalgar’s head tilted the perfect distance; his blond braid slithered down his shoulder. “Really? With someone who looks beautiful in the air, who’s more in shape, who would have enough time, even with practice and being on the road for games, for them, where their Healer lover doesn’t?” That pitying smile was back. “Didn’t you and Malfoy get together first when you played a Quidditch match?”
            Harry flushed more deeply. That was true. Draco had technically been dating Severus at the time, but their relationship blew up more regularly than Severus’s potions, and Draco had challenged Harry to a game during a point when Harry was on enforced leave from St. Mungo’s, for magical exhaustion. He had probably thought Harry was easy prey.
            Harry had still won the game—not easily, but he’d won it. And he’d soared out of his steep dive after the Snitch to see Draco’s eyes fixed on him as though he was watching a hawk that he wanted to come to his hand.
            He had cornered Harry shortly after the game and proven to him that there were arts he was entirely proficient in, seduction being one of them. Harry had worried over what would happen once Draco started dating Severus again, but for a few blissful days, he was too happy to complain.
            And then Severus had come wanting Draco back, and shagged Harry to prove that he could handle both of them, while Draco watched. After that, Harry wasn’t allowed to go anywhere until they had explained to him what they both wanted, desired, and were determined to have.
            So the competitive edge was there, the one Trafalgar had talked about. And it was true that Harry often didn’t have a lot of time for his lovers during the week. And it was true that both Draco and Severus still admired skilled Quidditch play.
            “I could tell them what you’re doing,” Harry said, hearing his voice come out small and stupid.
            “Oh, you could,” Trafalgar said, and turned away with a wink, sauntering towards the door to the outside in a way that made his hips roll. “And all I would have to do is deny it, and you would look weak and jealous.” He turned his head to smile at Harry. “Now that I think about it, our next game isn’t until February. That’s a bit long to wait. I’ll invite them to a practice next week instead.”
            He wagged a mock-chiding finger at Harry. “I thought I’d leave you another seven days to enjoy them,” he explained, and stepped out of sight. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
            Harry clenched his hands. He was shaking, and he knew his face was still so red that one of his colleagues would probably have diagnosed him with imminent apoplexy even without charms.
            Trafalgar was right. If Harry mentioned that he was jealous, Draco and Severus would laugh, and not believe him. And then they were all the more likely to accept the invitation, to prove to him that he had nothing to fear.
            And then they would be swept off their feet, because they would be paying more attention to Trafalgar than they would have otherwise.
            Harry straightened his back. He still had one weapon, one he didn’t think Trafalgar was paying enough attention to. He had beat him at the Quidditch game today, hadn’t he? And that had been a charity game, not very serious, but the practice next week wouldn’t be as serious as a real game, either.
            That meant Harry had the chance to beat Trafalgar again, and in the same way.
            And he had a week to prepare.
*
            “What do you mean, you strained a tendon flying today?” Draco put his fork down on the table and stared at Harry. “How?”
            Harry glanced at Severus across the table, the way he usually did when he found himself in this position. Severus was the one more likely to take Harry’s side when he didn’t want to discuss something. Once he declared a subject of conversation boring and thus closed, not even Draco would dare to revive it.
            But Severus was watching him with his chin propped on his hand, apparently having finished eating. Harry swallowed a little and turned back to Draco, who at the moment was the less dangerous of the two options.
            “You’re a Seeker,” Harry said, and shrugged. “You ought to be able to imagine it. It was swinging around to get the Snitch that did it. Stupid thing, but it does mean that they don’t want me back to work for a few days, until I can walk properly.”
            He had made sure to limp as he came into the house, and Draco frowned but looked as if he would believe him. Harry had firecalled St. Mungo’s and lied his way through a conversation; he would have gone back if they had truly needed him. But apparently he’d earned some goodwill for winning the charity game, because they told him cheerfully to take two days off.
            During those two days, Draco would be doing bodyguard work, and Severus would be buried deep in his Potions lab, researching a new way to modify Wolfsbane. Harry would have all the time he needed to practice on his broom without being caught.
            “Fine,” Draco said, leaning back in his chair and picking up a glass of wine. “Just make sure that you don’t do anything else that will strain it further.”
            “Do you need a Painkilling Draught?” Severus’s voice was quiet. It could sound passionless, until you listened to it more closely. Trafalgar must have, Harry thought. It would be one reason that he wanted Severus.
            “No, thanks,” Harry said, and would have continued, but an owl flew through the window, a showy black one with streaks of brown on its wings. Harry ground his teeth. He had never seen the owl before, but that didn’t prevent him from knowing exactly who it came from.
            Draco accepted the owl’s landing on his arm and fed it a piece of beef before slitting open the envelope. “Oh,” he said, a bit of surprise coloring his voice. “It’s an invitation to watch the Falmouth Falcons practice next week.”
            “Who is it from?” Severus was at least looking at Draco now, which pleased Harry. Out of the two of them, Severus was much harder to fool with a lie.
            “Louis Trafalgar,” Draco said, and Harry bit his tongue. Did Draco’s voice have to linger over Trafalgar’s name, as if he was caressing it? “The Seeker you beat today, isn’t he, Harry?” There was an edge to his voice that Harry couldn’t understand.
            Harry leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I’m sure the invitation is genuine,” he said. “He must just want to reassure some of his fans that he can still play well.” Draco had been a Falcons fan for a long time, and Severus took note of them sometimes when he permitted himself to care about Quidditch.
            “Mmm.” Draco stroked the edge of the envelope, and then went back to studying it. “I notice there’s nothing for you, Harry.”
            “He came up to me after the game,” said Harry, which had the advantage of being true. “He can’t hold the win too much against me.”
            “But he must if he didn’t invite you.” Draco was back to apparently trying to scoop out the inside of Harry’s skull with his eyes.
            “I’m sure he knows that I have a heavy work schedule, as a Healer,” Harry said calmly. He was proud of himself, of how he sounded, like an adult instead of the child screaming imprecations against Trafalgar that this calculated move had threatened to turn him into. “Maybe it’s even just for Severus, if you can’t go, Draco.”
            “He does mention that Severus would be welcome to come along,” Draco murmured, and went back to perusing the letter.
            Harry sighed and stood up from the table, barely remembering to limp. “I’m going to bed early,” he said. “I ought to let myself rest. I haven’t been on a broom in a long time, and I’m a bit battered.”
            “How strange,” said Severus, whose eyes were smoldering when Harry looked back at him. “After all, you are hardly a stranger to riding a shaft.”
            His eyes were so sharp that Harry badly wanted to tell them the whole truth, and explain the reason for his lie, too, and beg them not to leave him. But that competitive edge was still between them, after all, and blazing away when he thought about it. Draco and Severus loved him, he had no doubt, but how they had come to love him in the first place…
            Someone might take his place in the same way, if they could prove that they were better than Harry. Better at something like flying, which mattered so much to Draco, and had been the pathway to Severus entering Harry’s bed, too.
            Harry had to show that he could fight for them, and by bettering Trafalgar’s game.
            He smiled at them and shook his head. “Yours are harder,” he said lightly, and escaped the room while they were still preening.
            Two days, Harry thought grimly to himself as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom where each of them could sleep if they wanted to be alone or had an early work shift. Two days to fly and get better at that, and then a few more days to plan the exact strategy that I want to use when I burst onto the field.
            It would have to be something graceful, eye-catching, wonderful, Harry decided. Something like a bird, something better than a falcon. Trafalgar had bragged before the charity game that he had deliberately learned to imitate the bird his team was named after, and he had showed it, in those stooping dives he was fond of, going faster than Harry would dare, now that he was no longer a stupid teenager.
            You don’t have the body Trafalgar does, either.
            But there were other birds that he could imitate. Like the swift, who was so graceful and so fast that it rarely even came back to the ground. Harry could imagine enjoying that, for its own sake as well as because he wanted to best Trafalgar and impress Draco and Severus.
            And if I’m impressive enough, maybe they’ll stay with me a little longer, Harry decided, and fell into bed.
*
            “Asking for this many days off is unusual for you, Harry. Are you sure that you’re all right?”
            Harry winced a little. His superior was Lucinda Hartshorn, and there was sharp concern in her eyes as she studied him. She was a good teacher as well as a good Healer, and had taught Harry most of what he knew. He couldn’t ask for someone better to work under.
            He took a deep breath and told part of the truth. “There’s—a big threat to my relationship with Draco and Severus right now. I think that I can deal with it in one day, for better or for worse. By tonight, we should have a better understanding. It’s a day that Draco and Severus are both taking off. We’ll talk.”
            By tonight, it’ll have ended, one way or another.
            Lucinda nodded slowly and looked over the list of patients. “Very well. Since you’ve been so good about it this year, no one minds covering your beds today. I hope one day is all it will take.”
            Harry smiled. He could see why people took Lucinda too seriously and thought she was being threatening when she spoke like that, but he was one of the people who knew better, who could hear the barely-buried concern.
            “Thanks, it is,” he said, and waved goodbye as he hurried down towards the Floo that would take him home. He had his Quidditch gear—Transfigured to fit him since the last time he wore it—and his broom waiting there. He had bought another Firebolt not long ago, although it was no longer the best broom on the market, purely because of the pleasure it gave him while flying.
            And Trafalgar’s Windburst, while a better broom for a professional Seeker in some ways because it allowed for tighter turns and it would rise better, was still not faster than the Firebolt.
            Harry was smiling as he tumbled out of the Floo into the house, and checked around briefly. He was safe, though, as he had known he would be. Severus and Draco had already left to watch the practice. Harry leaped into his Quidditch gear and hesitated, broom in hand, wondering for a moment if his plan to Apparate to the Falcons' practice field was silly, if it would be more dramatic if he flew there.
            Then he snorted and shook his head. He knew the Apparition coordinates of the field, but he had no idea how long it would take to fly there by broom. By the time he reached it, the practice might well be over.
            And Draco and Severus would have seen how slender and attractive Trafalgar was, and already left Harry for him.
            Harry swallowed a little. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He was going to fly in, and that would be enough of a dramatic entrance. He didn't need to make the long flight. That he'd even considered it, he thought, was a sign of how disordered his thoughts had become around Trafalgar, how impossible it was to consider things rationally because of the threat of losing Draco and Severus.
            He stepped outside the house's wards and Apparated, his hand tight on the broom and his heartbeat tight in his ears.
*
            "Louis Trafalgar, ladies and gentlemen!"

            There was clapping and whistling and hooting from the audience. Harry, concealed with his broom on the top row of the stands where the audience wasn't big enough to sit, snorted a little. It seemed there were lots of people here who would have liked to fuck Trafalgar. Why couldn't he stick to them and let Harry have what he'd earned?
            Then Harry's jaw tightened. He'd only got Draco and Severus in the first place because he'd beat Draco at Quidditch. He could lose them, he thought, just as easily, if someone else could show that he was fit to take Harry's place, more skilled in the air.
            And probably in bed, too. Harry liked to think he was better now, but he hadn't been very experienced when he started sleeping with Draco and Severus, and they might be interested in replacing him with the better model.
            He watched, narrow-eyed, as Trafalgar circled the pitch, his braid blowing behind him. He had the Snitch cupped in one hand, He tossed it out into the air, and it fled from him, wings beating frantically. Trafalgar hovered in one place instead of chasing after it, his eyes searching the stands.
            Harry tensed for a second, wondering if Trafalgar had somehow divined his plan and was looking for him, but then he saw the direction of Trafalgar's gaze, and knew that wasn't it. Trafalgar had locked on Draco and Severus, who sat in one corner of the pitch, not that far beneath where Harry crouched. Trafalgar winked and blew them a kiss with a waggle of his fingers.
            Harry tried to peer down and check their reaction, but they sat with their backs turned to him and he couldn't. The only thing he was absolutely sure of was that Draco and Severus were both staring intently up at the air.
            Paying attention, of course. Harry took a deep breath and clutched his broom. Well, good. They would see him, for better or worse, the minute he emerged.
            Then Trafalgar turned back to regard the Snitch, a wide smile curving his mouth, and kicked his broom. He rose, and Harry slung his leg over his Firebolt and waited a second, until Trafalgar had ascended to a nice point above the pitch and he sensed most people were watching.
            Then Harry kicked up, calling on all the Firebolt's speed.
            He rose dizzingly, with wind blurring his hearing. He thought people might be shouting. Whether they recognized him or not, he had no idea. He knew that the two people he wanted most to impress, the one who had shared his bed and his life for three years now, would know him, and that was enough.
            Well, that and one other thing. Harry had to admit that the way Trafalgar turned around, his mouth opening and one hand reaching out as if he could hold Harry back and down somehow, was also very satisfying. Harry gave him a wink of his own as he sailed by, and into the path of the Snitch.
            For the next few moments, it was plain that Harry was as good as he had ever been in the games at Hogwarts, and he could do no wrong. He stretched out his hand, and the Snitch thumped into his palm like a homing pigeon. Harry threw it out and up again, and the Snitch soared in an arc like a juggler's ball and settled into his opposite hand. Harry smirked. The Snitch hadn't wanted to do that; Harry's instincts and his timing had worked together, and that was the way it had to be.
            Harry swirled in a spiral, and the Snitch was above him. Then it was below him, but Harry tilted back on his broom and caught it with his feet. He hadn't known he could do that, but hey, he had once caught a Snitch in his mouth, and been told it counted. Why not count this one?
            Of course, there was no game here, no Slytherins to beat, no one playing against him and complaining that it couldn't count because he did something unusual. There were only Slytherins to win, and Harry thought he could do that.
            He still didn't look down towards the stands, but this time it was because he knew he wouldn't be able to spot the expressions on their faces because of the distance.
            He let the Snitch go again and set out in a flat circle of speed, the Snitch running ahead of him like an animal so panicked that it had forgotten it could dodge from side to side. It simply circled and ran and ran, and Harry whooped at it and kicked his broom as hard as he could, surging up and down, outperforming the Snitch at being a Snitch.
            When he tired of that, and thought the audience might be getting tired as well, he dropped beneath the Snitch and neatly scooped it up. He knew right where it would be at the very moment that he wanted it to be. His instincts hummed gently in his head like the wings humming in his hand.
            Harry turned his broom and came down, towards the center of the pitch, aiming his face towards the place in the stands where he had seen Draco and Severus.
            Who were no longer in evidence.
            Harry's heart abruptly felt heavy enough to drag him off the broom all by itself. He opened his hand, and the Snitch took off again. It flew straight at an irate Louis Trafalgar, who was roaring threats at Harry to sue him under nonexistent laws about disrupting a Falcons practice.
            Behind him was his manager, on a broom, who seemed to be trying to offer Harry a contract without attracting Trafalgar's attention.
            Harry didn't care about any of it. What had this been for, the lying to his superiors and the ridiculous showing off, if Draco and Severus didn't care back? Perhaps they wouldn't sleep with Trafalgar, but they could only have left in disgust.
            Perhaps they were at home now, packing their things up.
            Harry closed his eyes. He rarely allowed House distinctions to matter anymore, now that he was dating and working with people of other Houses, but no one could say that a Gryffindor had never been ready to face the worst. He Apparated home, broom and all, while Trafalgar was still ranting at him.
*
            Harry stepped into the house, and paused. It was oddly quiet. Perhaps Draco and Severus hadn't come back here after all, but went to some pub where they could complain about him over their pints without Harry hearing.
            "Hello?" he called.
            Only the echoes answered him.
            Harry swallowed, then trod up the stairs to the spare room, ignoring the temptation to call out again. Perhaps Draco and Severus were here, but ignoring him. He could hear no sounds from the kitchen, or their shared room, but that meant nothing. Severus's Potions lab had soundproofed walls, after all.
            The more he thought about it, the more disgusted Harry got with himself. He had been jealous over Trafalgar? For what? The worst that would have happened was that Draco would have been attracted, the way he had been to Harry, and they might have had a short fling. Trafalgar might have tried to turn it into a longer one, but Harry knew Draco's stubbornness. He wouldn't be content with someone who tried to hold onto him.
            Severus would probably never have stirred at all, except that Harry had just had to show off how jealous and insecure he was.
            Harry sighed again, and opened the door to the spare room. Maybe it would be for the best to take his clothes to Ron and Hermione's house for a few nights. At least, until he could work out exactly what Draco and Severus had thought, and what they were going to do now--
            Hands seized his shoulders and spun him around. Harry reached immediately for his wand, conditioned to do that through the little bit of Auror training he'd received as well as wrestling with some difficult patients. It was always best to cast a spell, no matter how disconcerted you were by someone stronger than you were trying to take you to the ground.
            "Harry."
            Harry let his hand drop away from his wand in shock. It was partially through recognizing Severus's voice, but partially through--well, not recognizing it. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard Severus sound that husky and aroused.
            "What?" he asked, trying to twist his head over his shoulder. Severus bent down (he must have been standing in the shadows behind the door) and fastened a greedy mouth over his, sucking so hard that Harry could feel his lips swelling.
            "Harry," Draco whispered at his shoulder, stepping out from near the bed's headboard and fastening his hands on Harry's waist and spine. "How could you think that we would leave you for that Seeker?"
            Harry wanted to laugh at the disdain Draco poured into the word, but he was still being thoroughly kissed. When Severus finally dropped him down and tore at his clothes, he twisted to look at Draco as best he could. "You weren't tempted?" he whispered.
            "Do you know how easily you made him look a fool?" Severus's voice was still heavy, bursting with desire like a grape with juice, and Harry realized that his hands were shaking where he ran them up and down Harry's arms. "How well you flew?"
            "Yes, let's concentrate on that part," Draco whispered, and slipped his hands into Harry's pockets, and bowed his neck to suck on Harry's shoulder. Then he reached further down Harry's chest, bared by the way Severus had pulled most of his shirt off, and flicked Harry's nipples.
            Harry tilted his head further back and closed his eyes. "I--I wanted to impress you," he whispered. "I--I knew how much you were impressed by me when you first saw me fly, and I thought--"
            Severus's mouth stole words and air and thought again, but Draco was nodding when Harry managed to open his eyes. "You thought he would impress us enough to make us sleep with him?" he asked, and dropped to his knees so that he could tug Harry's trousers off.
            Harry gasped and moaned, spreading his legs for a second, until Draco tapped him sharply on the hip. Harry reckoned that was making it difficult to get his trousers off, and put his legs back together apologetically. Severus had stepped back from sucking on his mouth, and was letting his fingers play over Harry's hole.
            "It could have," Harry whispered, his head whirling so fast that he was no longer sure what he had thought, and when he had thought it. "I mean, it might have. You--you slept with me because of the way I flew, and there was no way--there was no way to be sure that you would have--"
            "I think someone needs to be reminded," Draco said, sitting back on his heels and staring up at Harry as he dragged off Harry's trousers at last, "that while we may have slept with him because of the way he flew, we've stayed with him for lots of other reasons."
            Severus moaned into his ear, and dragged him over to the bed. Harry opened his mouth, wondering again whether this should be something they stopped and discussed. He'd doubted them. Didn't that matter to them?
            Severus planted his hands on Harry's shoulders and held him flat, staring into his face. Harry stared back. Passion could transform Severus, but he had almost never seen it happen this deeply.
            "You tricked him," Severus whispered. "Humiliated him. You, the perfect Gryffindor. You wanted us enough to do that. Do you understand what that does to me?" And he bent Harry's legs open and reached for his wand before Harry could answer.
            Harry shut his eyes as he felt Draco drop down near his head and bend to kiss him. So that was it. It made sense. It fit with the way that Severus had always regarded Harry's heroics, exasperation mingled with acid remarks on the regular exhaustion and heartbreak that Harry got from being a Healer.
            To see Harry act differently, the way that Severus would consider "sensible," for his own sake, had to be intoxicating.
            And then Severus finished casting the spell to prepare Harry, since he was apparently too impatient to use fingers, and slid into him, and Harry's brain shut down. He thrashed under Draco's mouth, bringing his hands up to try and grip Severus's shoulders, until Draco pinned his wrists to the pillow. Severus thrust hastily in and out, his mouth open and his cheeks flushed when Harry did open his eyes to look up.
            Draco sat back on the bed, wanking lazily, catching Harry's gaze and winking far more sensuously than poor Louis Trafalgar could ever have managed.
            "Do you want me to--?" Harry whispered, and reached for Draco's cock. It took him three tries, between the mindless pleasure of Severus's thrusts and the jouncing of the bed, but he did try.
            Draco leaned back a little, so that Harry got nothing more than a teasing brush of Draco's curled fingers across his own. "Mmm," Draco said. "No. Not right now. This is the kind of thing I like to watch."
            Then he bent down to kiss Harry again, still working himself furiously with one hand, and whispered into Harry's ear, "Not that you can't do something for me later, when you're a little recovered."
            Harry closed his eyes and fell into the relentless pattern of Severus's thrusts, riding as he was ridden, making the bed creak. Draco whispered more words to him, but Harry could hardly hear them, so thick were they, so choked, and he kept turning his head in that direction and opening his mouth, and Draco's lips met his when they could.
            He felt the wet shudder and tremble of Draco's coming, followed in a few moments by Severus's, and whined. He hadn't minded until then that no one was touching his cock, but now he did, and he kept on arching, trying to get someone's hand to slide into that direction. His own hands were still on the pillow, where Draco had put them.
            Then someone touched it, pulling lightly at his balls, fingering towards his hole, and Harry gave in and came without even opening his eyes to see who it was.
*
            When he opened his eyes again, Severus was stretched beside him, tracing one finger over Harry's chest as though the pattern of his muscles would contain some esoteric Potions knowledge. Severus raised a brow and half-nodded. "Welcome back," he murmured, and bent to kiss Harry, before murmuring into his ear, "Pray tell us, the next time you are jealous, instead of simply thinking we would leave you."
            "He's handsome, though," Harry muttered, content to whine now that he knew he was loved.
            Draco moved beside him and flung a leg over both of his, kissing Harry sloppily on the side of his face. "And so are you," he said. "And patient, and gracious, and compassionate, and kind, and a good flyer, and someone who can take revenge when he wants to."
            Harry looked at him in wonder. "You really like that, don't you?"
            Severus snorted beside him. Draco's eyes half-lidded, and he said, "Oh, yeah," and moved down Harry towards his groin. "That part I said about later? I think it's later enough now, don't you?"
            Harry groaned happily and spread his legs, and felt Draco's fingers slip between them, while Severus's tongue flickered over his lips, in the lazy way that said Severus wouldn't be joining in as much this time, but still appreciated watching.
            Perhaps he had been silly to believe at one and the same time that Draco and Severus loved him and that they would glance at the first person who came along.
            But between them, and his own notion of revenge, Harry thought that things had worked out rather satisfactorily for everyone.
            Except Trafalgar, but who cares about him, anyway?
            The End.
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Like the Swift