Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Carpe Imperium	By : BirdofFire Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 17905 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I am responsible for all that you have read and enjoyed in... Oh, wait, wrong disclaimer. Ahem. All rights for the creation of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling. I do not make any profit from them or this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Carpe Imperium
- 2-II
- 1
- 2
II

“What are you two doing here?” Hermione exclaimed as Harry and Malfoy stepped forward.

“I’d have thought that was pretty obvious, Granger,” Malfoy answered lightly. But Hermione wasn’t in the mood.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to speak to either of you,” she continued, annoyed. Her eyes snapped to Harry, who looked oddly exuberant. “Harry?”

The green-eyed man darted a glance at his blond companion before replying, “We’re here to help you.”

“Help me?” Hermione snorted in disbelief. “I think I’ve had enough of people’s ‘help’ for today. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She turned to leave, only to be turned back to face Harry whose hands now clasped her bare arms.

“Hermione –”

“No, Harry. I –”

   “Just hear us out.”

“No! Do you think going over and over my broken relationship is fun for me?” Hermione’s throat closed up as she gazed at him, hurt. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

A gentle smile graced Harry’s lips as his eyes softened. “I am your friend, love. Just hear us out, then if you still want to, you can leave.” Earlier hurt making an unwelcome return, Hermione eyed him, unsure, before seeing the sincerity in his expression and nodding.

Admittedly curious as to just why she’d been summoned here (and knowing that Harry would never consciously hurt her), Hermione allowed him to take her hand and lead her over to the cushy sofa in front of the fire. Muffled footsteps sounded behind her, an indicator that Malfoy was following them. The three sank into the chairs, Hermione between them, one hand on her lap and one still in both of Harry’s. For now, she insisted on facing the dark-haired man, wanting some sense of familiarity in what had been a very strange day.

   “What’s going on, Harry?” Hermione asked when Harry didn’t seem about to talk, choosing instead to have a creepy silent conversation with the silent man behind her. Harry’s focus returned to her, and he seemed almost hesitant for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure she was going to like what he had to say. In response, Hermione drew back. If he was going to bring that up again—

   “Hermione, it’s been over a month since –”

   “Harry, we are not going to talk about this.”

   “Let him finish, Granger.” Startled, Hermione turned to face Malfoy who had spoken for the first time in almost five minutes. His gaze was fixed steadily on her, urging her to heed his words.

   “I know that you loved him, but –,” Harry started.

Without thinking, Hermione let out a bark of laughter. “It isn’t that I loved him, Harry. That isn’t why I’ve been so… It’s just that –” she broke off and turned to look at the flames, suddenly conscious of what she’d almost let slip.

   “It’s just that, what?” Harry softly prompted. She glanced over to find him looking at her. The knowledge that he had stood by her through all of this, backed her when he could have sided with his other best friend, gave her the strength to continue.

“I liked him. I really liked him,” she continued, slumping over as hurt threatened to once again overwhelm her. Determined to keep it together (it wouldn’t do to break down twice in one day), Hermione swallowed hard, blinked twice and glanced at the ceiling, before going on, “But that isn’t what hurts the most. It’s the fact that he didn’t even have the nerve to break it off with me properly before taking up with someone else. It’s the fact that I wasn’t –” another hard swallow, “I wasn’t enough to keep him.”

At that, she felt Malfoy shift behind her. A moment later, large warm hands burned into her skin and she was facing Harry again. He was almost terrifying, his face cast in intimidating shadow from the fire and his hands clenched almost painfully around her arms. “Don’t you dare tell yourself that. He’s the one that messed up, not you. He is the one at fault here. You were too good for him, notthe other way around”

Hermione snorted. “Right. That’s why he cheated on me with Cho Chang – because I’m too good for him.”

“It’s true, Granger,” Malfoy answered quietly. Hermione whirled around to face him, ignoring the unusually serious look on his face.

“No, it’s not,” she told him pityingly. “If that were the case then why is Ron having no trouble finding replacements for me, while I haven’t been asked out once?”

“Because they’re intimidated by you, love.” Hermione sat back in disbelief as Harry spoke, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “You’re a war heroine, ridiculously intelligent, the Greatest Witch of the Age and absolutely beautiful.”

“Ha!” Hermione snorted, laughter burbling from her throat. “Beautiful? Right.” What an utterly ridiculous notion. Beside her, Malfoy seemed to freeze as Harry stared at her.

“Wait; is that what this is about?” Harry asked, incredulous. “Tell me that isn’t what this is about.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione feigned ignorance.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” Harry asked. His lips twisted in a smile as Malfoy let out a harsh bark of laughter. Hermione’s self-esteem was so low, however, that she didn’t realise they weren’t laughing at her.

“It’s not funny, Harry,” she answered, eyes prickling with hurt tears. She’d always known it, but to have him confirm it push the subject (in the company of her former nemesis to boot), only pushed the knife in further.

“Oh, no, love,” Harry rushed to explain, wiping a hand across his still smiling face. “We’re not laughing at you. It’s just that the idea is ridiculous.”

“Right,” Hermione scoffed, eyes rolling to Heaven.

“Granger, you’re lovely and you know it,” Malfoy said, leaning back against the cushions. Startled, an embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks, Hermione stared at Malfoy in confusion, and then realised what was going on.

“There’s no need to make fun of me, Malfoy.” She eyed him, upset. “Haven’t you and your friend done enough today?” But Malfoy just rolled his eyes and smiled in a soft way she’d never seen before.

“I mean it,” he replied. He raised a gentle hand to brush away a strand of hair that had escaped from her bun. “You’re beautiful.” Unsure, Hermione leaned away, not noticing the slight hurt in his eyes at her actions.

“He’s right,” Harry picked up. Hermione turned to see him watching her in much the same way Malfoy was. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight with something different to earlier. She edged forward, fulfilling the unconscious need to create a distance between herself and the two men. Men she had suddenly just realised were beautiful in their own right.

“Is that what you called me here to tell me?” she asked, trying to return the situation to even ground. Behind her turned back, the two men exchanged a glance.

“No, actually. We called you here to make you feel better,” Harry answered. Hermione moved back into the cushions, trying to return to her more comfortable position.

“And what does Zabini have to do with this?” Hermione thought of the letter that had gotten her there in the first place.

“He helped us organise this,” Malfoy replied. His hand was now tracing the arch of her back, and a shiver ran down her spine – one Hermione tried not to let out. Judging by his smile, though, Malfoy had noticed.

Prat.

“What exactly is ‘this’?” Hermione asked, determined to ignore the sudden change in atmosphere. The temperature of the room seemed to have gone up by several degrees in only the last few minutes. The Room was clearly malfunctioning, Hermione thought. She’d have to speak to McGonagall.

“We’re here to serve you, Hermione,” Harry offered, sounding more tentative than Malfoy had.

“Serve me how?” Hermione noted that she sounded faraway; the heated trail Malfoy blazed with his fingertips was serving as a heady distraction. She was suddenly very aware of the heat radiating from both their bodies.

“Sexually.” Malfoy was typically blunt. “We will do whatever you want, however you want.” His words ended almost on a purr. Hermione felt the colour leach from her face.

“What?”

“You heard me, Granger.”

“But -”

“‘But’- what?”

Words escaped her. She was aware that she was gaping like a dying fish, knew that it couldn’t be in any way attractive, but who could blame her? Surely this was some kind of joke.

But when she turned to Harry, his serious expression told her all she needed to know.

“Both of you?” she asked, incredulous. Being civil was one thing, but – this? There was no way Harry and Draco would be willing to essentially share the same girl.

“Both of us.” Malfoy was firm. “What do you think we’ve been talking about in class all day? We’ve been planning this for quite some time.”

“But you can’t stand each other!” Hermione shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Well, we’re not the best of friends, but we’re not going to let that stop us. Besides,” Harry continued, “he isn’t that bad. Once you get past all the hair gel.”

“Don’t be tiresome, Potter. I don’t wear gel anymore.”

She knew they were using humour to try and distract her, but they’d have to do a lot better than that.

“You don’t have to do this, Harry.” Hermione tried to let him off, let herself off. There was no way she was going to allow them to do this. Once they saw her naked, they’d run a mile, and she couldn’t face that.

“I want to.” His eyes had that odd glow again. It was even more disconcerting now than it had been a few hours ago.

“But why?” Hermione couldn’t help the question, heart pounding and held captive by his beguiling gaze. It was a moment before Harry’s eyes dropped to her collarbone, releasing her. The reprieve was temporary, though, as his fingers followed their path, sending tingles through her system. A heated smile crossed his lips and those green eyes darted up and once again held her captive.

“How could I not?”

…

“So how exactly is this going to work?” Hermione asked a moment later, her hands trembling with nerves. Harry and Malfoy – Draco, she would have to call him Draco now that they were going to do this – were throwing some of the cushions onto the floor. Hermione was grateful for the time to recover some composure, because even now she wasn’t sure if this was such a great idea.

Away from heated touch and glowing eyes, it was a lot easier to think clearly, and her doubts had returned with a vengeance.

“However you want it to,” Harry tossed the last spare cushion across the room. Oh, and they were back, settling into the last few remaining cushions, their focus entirely on her. It was both heady and terrifying.

“Malfoy, why are you even doing this?” Hermione turned see the silver-eyed man silently watching her. The light from the fire reflected off his hair, making it look almost like a halo. Hermione could have laughed at the irony.

“After this summer, I owe you Granger,” Draco drawled, looking almost amused. “And a Malfoy always pays his debts.”

Hermione stiffened. “Is that the only reason why –?”

“No,” Draco cut her off. “That isn’t actually why I’m doing this, but you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” One glance at him told Hermione that there was no way he was going to tell her, so she gave up.

“So, what now?” Hermione’s heart seemed to pound in her ears. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, who she was about to do it with. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy; light and dark. Hermione had always found it funny that with his tanned skin, raven hair and startling green eyes, Harry had been the one fighting for the Light, when Draco looked just like a fallen angel – tussled, gel-less blond hair, pewter eyes and pale skin. Now seated in front of her, side by side, they contrasted perfectly.

And made Hermione even more nervous than before.

“Whatever you want, Hermione.” Harry’s lips had never been more distracting, full and enticing. An inexplicable urge to bite them overcame her – one she counteracted by biting her own. Draco’s focus fell to them, his eyes turning to a mesmeric quicksilver.

“You want me to tell you what to do?” Hermione asked, disbelief not the only thing making her breathless.

“Yes.” Draco’s voice was quietly hypnotic, his eyes still on her mouth, making Hermione want to close her eyes and allow them to have their way with her. “Take back your control. We’re yours to command.” At that, the temperature seemed to climb another few notches. Hermione’s scoop-necked blouse suddenly seemed too restricting, and she pulled at the right sleeve with her left hand. As Harry and Draco watched her, waiting for her to give a direction, the only sounds in the room was that of their breathing and the crackling fire.

Oh, God. How had she gotten here? In this room; about to engage in sexual acts with her best friend and former enemy? They might think she was beautiful now when she was covered up (‘might’ being the key word, here), but when she took off her clothes – would they still think she was then?

Seeing her almost crippled with nervous indecision, Harry laid a calloused hand on her jean-covered knee, only for her to jump as if she’d had an electric shock. “It’s just us, love.” Hermione looked up as Harry smiled at her. “Tell us what you want us to do.”

It’s just Harry, she thought. Okay, him and Ma-Draco, but you know Harry’d never hurt you. Taking courage from Harry’s sincerity, Hermione nodded sharply, exhaled and refocused on the two men before her. “Take off your shirts.” She instantly cringed, expecting them to refuse - to tell her that it had only been an offer; that they hadn’t actually intended to go through with it. Almost immediately, however, the two men pulled their jumpers over their heads. Surprised that they were actually doing this, Hermione blinked at them. It wasn’t until the jumpers were on the floor that she actually looked at what they’d revealed.

They were both so achingly beautiful that she wasn’t quite sure who to look at first. Strongly muscled, ridged abs, acres of flawless tanned and pale skin, dusky nipples that just begged for – she stopped her hungry perusal. Begged for what, Hermione? A thought like that had never crossed her mind – not even when she was with Ron. She’d never itched to touch something the way she wanted to touch those two bare chests. Clearly, this power over them had gone to her head, she decided.

Yep, that was it. A case of absolute power corrupting absolutely.

Refusing to ponder it any longer, Hermione looked up to find them both watching her with what could only be hunger and the bottom of her stomach fell away. She flashed a nervous smile in the hopes of distracting them. “Okay, my turn.” She hesitated before forcing her hands to pull off her blouse, leaving her in her lacy purple bra. She’d only put it on this morning to in an attempt to boost her confidence, but when she saw how Harry and Draco’s eyes locked onto it, she was glad she had.

The heat in their gazes gave her the confidence to beckon them. “Come here.” They did so without a second thought, shuffling forward on the cool silk duvet and coming to a stop right in front of her. Hermione couldn’t help but noticed that they were close enough to touch now.

Not that she was going to touch them, she assured herself. Not just yet anyway.

“Would you let us kiss you, Mistress?” Harry asked. His eyes were aglow, the green deep enough to fall into. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat at his deferential tone. Mistress? A light pulse started up in that area between her thighs. Hermione was quite sure that the word shouldn’t be turning her on quite as much as it was. What kind of deviant was she?

Deviant.

Then something crossed her mind – something she hadn’t considered before. Ron had always been slightly vanilla when it came to sex, reprimanding her whenever she suggested something new for them to try. Could it be that those would have been his words – his criticisms?

No, she decided. She wouldn’t allow Ron to spoil this for her. She’d already allowed him to spoil almost everything else. Two gorgeous men catering to her every whim? Hermione deserved this and was giving herself permission to enjoy it.

“You may,” Hermione told Harry firmly, eyes fixed on Draco to let him know that she was addressing them both.

Harry leaned forward, and… a moment later… soft, warm lips brushed gently against her own.

Hermione sat enthralled as they seemed to whisper across her mouth, her lids falling shut. Warmth flooded through her limbs as the drugging kiss continued, as every millimetre of her mouth was explored from corner to corner. Harry pulled away every few seconds, seeming intent on trying to tease and pull her lips into an unconscious pout. A moist tongue lightly swept across her upper lip, as if Harry was helpless but to taste her. His answering groan vibrated through her and a moaned sigh left her in response.

Too soon, he pulled back. Hermione tried to follow him only to find empty air. Her bones seeming to have turned to jelly, Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open. Harry and Draco were once again side by side, though the former’s mouth looked even more full and swollen than it had a few minutes ago. The blond, eyes darkened to a stormy grey, moved even closer to her, cupped her chin in one large calloused hand and took her mouth.

There was no other word for it. His mouth plundered, ravaged as if it were a pirate ship seeking its next great treasure. The two kisses were so different. Where Harry had teased and taunted, Draco’s kiss seared its way into her. Helpless moans sounded in her ears and it took several moments for her to realise they were her own. Draco nipped and nibbled at her, her mouth bruising from his efforts, and at last Hermione threw out a hand from where it gripped the duvet to clench around his broad shoulder, needing the support. At her touch, he let out a moan, pulling her onto his lap. Under her, she felt an unmistakeable hardness and needing relief, ground on it. Draco groaned this time, his kiss deepening, his tongue darting past her lips. A shiver racked her body as it stroked the roof of her mouth, but before things could go any further, Draco was pulled away.

“What?” Body reeling from two sensational kisses in as many minutes, she shivered from the sudden change in temperature. Draco had been so hot, his skin burning into hers. Harry, too. How was it possible for them to be so warm? How was it possible for her to be so warm?

She opened her eyes again to see Harry’s mouth had thinned into a white line, while Draco’s pupils were so dilated, his irises appeared almost black. Hermione’s breath hitched. She’d affected them like this. Just that morning, she wouldn’t have thought it possible. Hell, she laughed mentally. Just an hour ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“What would you have us do now, Mistress?” Draco’s gaze burned into her. His voice was enviably steady, but his flushed skin and trembling hands gave him away.

Yours to command, Hermione. Yours to do with as you will.

Hermione shivered as her pussy gushed at the thought. It already felt like warm melting chocolate down there; this certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“May we touch you?” Harry asked, eyes just as dark as Draco’s.

“Mistress,” Hermione corrected firmly then winced at how she must have sounded. Had she have gone too far? Apparently not, for Harry’s white teeth flashed in a sly smile as if her assertion of control had been his intention.

“May we touch you, Mistress,” he repeated, his voice quavering a little. At that, Hermione frowned. It was almost as if her words had turned him on. Could her taking control be as erotic for them as it was for her?

Seemed that the famous Harry Potter and infamous Draco Malfoy had a kink no one knew about.

“You may.” When they moved to do so, she held up a finger and they halted. “But only with one hand.” A glint entered Draco’s eye and a smirk twisted Harry’s lips, making Hermione briefly wonder if her suggestion had been such a good idea.

Before she could really think about it, though, Draco stroked her neck and Harry brushed her thigh, sending tingles spiralling from both places. They edged forward, even closer, invading her space with the scent of smoke and sandalwood. It was intoxicating and made her want to lean closer. So she did – because tonight was for doing whatever she liked, with whoever she liked, however she liked.

Hermione buried her face in the space between their necks where their shoulders met. She placed her lips on a damp stretch of skin, not caring whose it was, just wanting to pass on some of the pleasure she was feeling. A hitch of breath was her reward when she traced her tongue along that velvet, tasting the salt left behind by their earlier kisses. One last press of her lips then she moved onto the one beside it, letting out a puff of air and kissing the goose bumps that rose in its wake.

Her men were by no means idle, though. That hand on her thigh was creeping upwards inch by inch as the one on her shoulder swept along her collarbone. When Harry’s hand teased its way along her inner thigh, a gush of liquid flooded her pussy and her nipples tightened almost painfully. Hermione was finding it harder and harder to breathe, puffing air all over the shoulder she was leaning on. Harry and Draco weren’t faring so well, either. She could feel the rise and fall of their chests, so closely were they pressed to her.

But it wasn’t enough.

Needing to get even closer, she mindlessly placed one thigh over Draco’s and the other over Harry’s. A gasp escaped one of them as she pressed her torso against theirs as best she could, her bra-clad breasts finally finding purchase against two solid, damp chests. She moaned at the slight relief of their damp velvety skin against hers, the exquisite pressure of their hardness against where she needed it most.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Remove my bra,” she commanded, too far gone to be self-conscious. Two groans were her reply and a moment later, the bra was expertly unclasped and removed. Hermione had arched her back and pressed her tight nipples against them before the bra had even joined the two jumpers already on the floor. Another shiver racked her body and she moaned helplessly as the ache in her nipples only worsened.

How could it be, she wondered? How could this be making things worse? She needed more – so much more. Uncaring now, she grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled it down to her breasts where a fingertip fluttered across an aching point. She shuddered in reaction.

“What do you need, Mistress?” Draco’s voice sounded choked.

“Touch my breasts, Draco,” she stuttered, breathless. “Use both hands – both of you. Pinch them, pull them - just – just touch them.” Without delay, he cupped both breasts and oh, sweet relief. Calloused thumbs rasped across her aching nipples and Hermione’s breath was released in sharp gasps. She bit down in reaction and Harry let out a loud groan, stroking those large warm hands of his up her inner thighs.

She couldn’t stop shaking now. It was almost like she was in bed with the flu - only the flu had never felt this good, else it would have been a sickness one would hope never to recover from.

Even as her breasts were roughly handled, pinched, pulled, tormented, what was happening below her waist was just as cruel – just as perfect. Gasp after gasp as her lower lips were gently pulled apart, air only slightly cooler than her body whispering across it. Hermione groaned so loudly she was sure she’d be heard in the Dungeons. She couldn’t help it; it was just too much.

Hermione trembled, hands trying to grip her men’s sweaty shoulders, as Harry’s fingers softly stroked her outer folds, her swollen neglected clit pulsing away. A moment later, when Harry finally rubbed his thumb across it, a sob tore itself from her throat.

Fuck, oh fuck.

“More, Harry, more,” she begged, already so close she could taste it. It was almost as if they knew just how to touch her – roughly above and softly below. If only she could –

But she lost all thought when Harry deepened his caress, fingertips roughened by years of Quidditch rasping their way across her clit as it was gently pulled and released. Pulled and released. Her nipples were on fire, seeming to pulse in Draco’s expert touch. She was only slightly aware of the way her fingernails were digging into their necks. They didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, if the way they were moaning sweet nothings and pressing kisses to her overheated skin was anything to go by, they were actually enjoying it.

Suddenly, Harry pushed two fingers into her, curving all the way up, and Hermione keened. Her head fell back, eyes blurred by the sweat falling into her eyes. The lethargic heat from earlier had reached boiling point, searing through her bones. It rushed from where Harry’s fingers were buried to the hilt inside her, from where Draco’s talented touch tormented her aching breasts, all the way up… to…

“Oh, FUCK!” With that shout, the rush of heat overwhelmed her, taking her under and throwing her over at the same time. It was incredible, terrifying and bewildering all at once. Like a leaf in a storm, she felt weightless, yet buffeted by something infinitely more powerful than herself.

Oh, God.

Surely she was dying? But what a way to go.

She came for what felt like an eternity before she finally felt the warm silk beneath her buttocks, slightly damp from the sweat dripping off her body. Still panting, she finally opened her eyes to find Draco smirking proudly and Harry beaming. Hermione couldn’t help noting the differences between them and Ron. He’d never seemed to care much about her orgasms, always acting as if they were something to get out of the way before he got his.

It made a nice change not to feel as if you were under pressure to come before an unstated deadline. As if your pleasure was a mere pit stop on the way to a destination where your partner would be the only one getting off (pun intended).

Underneath their apparent pleasure at her pleasure, however, was an undercurrent of unsatisfied need and Hermione was reminded that they hadn’t come yet. Not that it was possible to ignore the huge erections still tented beneath their boxers.

And speaking of unsatisfied need, Hermione was shocked to find that she was still turned on. That her clit still pulsed a desperate beat, demanding satiation. That, if anything, that orgasm had only served to whet her appetite by taking the edge off.

How is that possible? I’ve never been like this before.

Is this what sex was always supposed to be like? Was it the discovery that she liked taking charge in the bedroom, that it had felt like she had finally taken back the control that was ripped from her on Ron’s betrayal?

Or maybe this was just what sex was like when you were doing it with people who found you attractive. Because there was no longer any doubt in Hermione’s mind that Harry and Draco found her attractive. There was no way you could fake the massive erections they’d been sporting for the last fifteen minutes.

Seeking to reward them and also looking to scratch that persistent itch, Hermione crooked her finger, with a smile so naughty it had surely been expelled from three schools. Their own smiles turned positively wicked as they once again shuffled forward.

“Did we please you, Mistress?” Draco asked, pewter eyes sly.

“You did,” Hermione answered, the waves from her climax still vibrating through her body. She finally gave in to something she’d wanted to all night and stroked her hands through their soft hair. They leaned into the touch, a sound almost like a purr erupting from their chests, and Hermione only just managed to keep herself from giggling at how like cats they were in that moment. “Good boys. But now I want more.” She shifted in delicious discomfort as her pussy pulsed again, reminding her of what she needed next. “I’m going to fuck one of you.”

“Which one of us, Mistress?” Harry swallowed at her words, fists clenching the duvet. She already knew who she wanted to be first, but she had to be sure of something first.

“Do we have the rest of the night?” she asked, rubbing her thumbs against the scalps. Groaning, Draco nodded.

“We have as long as you want, Mistress.” His eyes seemed to hold some kind of hidden meaning, and they held Hermione captive for a moment before she recovered and gently pulled them towards her using their heads. They came willingly, leaning into her soft touch.

“Then I want Harry first.” She glanced at Draco but, thankfully, he didn’t appear hurt. Once again, she couldn’t help comparing Ron unfavourably to him. For someone who clearly hadn’t cared one whit for fidelity himself, he’d had one hell of a jealous streak.

But enough about that ginger-haired prat, she thought, and returned to the infinitely more pleasant present.

“Lie down, Harry.” She motioned further up the bed towards the pillows, before turning to Draco and continuing, “Strip.” His smirk managing to become even more wicked, Draco went to his knees and removed his black knit boxers. Over by the pillows, Harry did the same, peeling his own boxers from his leanly muscled body. And in the presence of two tumescent cocks (because being as swollen, heavy and exciting as they were had made them into just that - not penises, not dicks - cocks), Hermione wasn’t quite sure which to stare at first.

They were both oddly beautiful in a way she’d never before considered the male genitalia to be. Swollen, huge, pink and dripping with pre-cum that she so desperately wanted to touch, they were enticing and she had the sudden urge to sit on one… or both.

Maybe later, Hermione. She almost clutched herself in delight at the thought.

She crawled up the bed, breasts swaying beneath her, then realised that at some point during the last half an hour, her knickers had been ripped off, for the purple scraps lay on the gold pillow behind Harry’s head. Huh. She hadn’t even noticed.

Smiling to herself, she straddled Harry’s legs and came to a rest just before his erection, which seemed to tremble under gaze. “Come, Draco.” A moment later, the blond was lying beside Harry. As if in a trance, Hermione reached out both hands and touched the tip of their cocks. They were hot and jumped at her touch, their owners releasing heavy groans. Another stroke and more groans. A small smile came to her lips as she moved her hands to grip them. Harry clenched the duvet as if to keep from reaching from her, while Draco bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Oddly fascinated, Hermione watched as a small bead of blood stained his lips red. She had made him do that. Draco Malfoy, icy Prince of Slytherin, was writhing under her touch.

It was seductive, dangerously addictive.

If she’d been an observer, she’d have told herself to be careful, that nothing good could come from this. But she wasn’t. And this was the night for her to do as she pleased, so…

“Do you like that, boys?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mistress,” they answered breathlessly, arching into her touch. She gripped and pulled, alternating between slight twists and pressing into the seeping slit at the point of their cocks. They seemed to love when she did that, Hermione noted with a flush of pride. She could have spent all night pleasuring them like this, having found that touching them was almost as good as being touched herself, but she had something else in mind.

She went to her knees and without warning, lowered herself onto Harry’s erection in one swoop, the force pushing the air from her lungs. His cock, heavy and full, sent tingles from where it pulsed inside her, flushing her system with an unbearably itchy heat.

“Oh, that’s so good,” Hermione sighed, squirming in pleasure as Harry’s eyes bulged from his head and his abs rippled in reaction. Wanting to make Draco feel as good as she did, she twisted his erection hard, the blond panting and arching his back for more as sweat dripped off his forehead. And with that, she started to move, up and down, pushing onto and propelling herself off of the swollen cock trapped in her moist heat, giving her such pleasure. On one particularly hard downward thrust, she hit that sensitive place Harry had found earlier and continued at that angle, her passionate moans hitting the ceiling every time the hardness within her pressed against that spot.

Oh, why hadn’t she and Harry done this before? Why hadn’t she tracked Draco down and pounced on him after class ages ago? To think she’d been moping after Ron when she could have been doing this.

What a waste.

Harry was thrusting up now, biting his lip, his cock pounding into her with so much force that his hot swollen balls pressed against her buttocks. Draco was spluttering, groaning, his pale skin red with exertion and face screwed up in ecstasy. Hermione was almost delirious, riding high on the crest of the heated waves rocketing through her system.

Slaps.

Groans.

Whines.

Calls for God and Merlin.

And finally, three shouts to the sky. Two hot, creamy releases of cum. One suddenly silent room.

…

Hermione finally floated back to earth to find that someone was covering her with the silk duvet. Her mind arrived a few moments later, reluctant to leave the ecstasy it had so recently revelled in. Her breaths were still quicker than usual, but her skin felt pleasantly fresh – an indicator that someone had cast a Scourgify. The sheets beneath her were also thankfully cool and she opened her eyes to see Draco and Harry lying on either side of her, beneath the covers.

Harry’s lips tilted in a hesitant smile, his black hair messier than she had ever seen it, while Draco eyed her, face carefully expressionless. Their clear apprehension over what she was about to say next chased away any encroaching insecurities and doubts, the ones that had haunted her for almost two months.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt at peace. And it was all thanks to the two men lying beside her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, a small smile gracing her full-lipped mouth. Instantly, Harry’s smile widened and a look of relief fleeted across Draco’s aristocratic features.

“It was our pleasure, Granger,” Draco replied. Hermione fixed him with a jokey glare.

“I think, after that, you can call me Hermione,” she told him, amused. He tilted his head in acknowledgement, his expression warming.

“Hermione.” His oddly fervent tone gave Hermione pause, as did the glow in his eyes. But she didn’t dare to hope. There was no way they could want more – could they? Knowing her luck, probably not. But she had to ask. She’d spent too much time allowing others to determine her destiny, and they had just helped her take back that control. Time to exercise it.

“So what now?” she asked nervously, though she forced herself to look Harry in the eye as she turned over. He shared a look with Draco and the two seemed to communicate in that creepy silent way again, before he answered:

“It’s like we said before, love. Anything you want, however you want – for however long you want.”

Excited, now, happiness she hadn’t felt in so long making a welcome return, Hermione grinned. “Well, can we –”

“Oh, no, Hermione,” Draco laughed and to her dismay, tucked her in. “Sleep first, then we can do whatever you have in mind, you minx.” Hermione let out an unwitting pout.

“But -”

“Trust us, love,” Harry took up, dropping a soft but heated kiss against her neck that made her want to squirm. “It’ll be worth it.” When Draco playfully bit her shoulder, she rolled her eyes.

“Ugh fine.” Feigning annoyance, Hermione closed her eyes.

“What have we created, Potter? I blame you.”

“Me? You’re the one who –”

Hermione didn’t catch the rest of what Harry said for, at that very moment, Sleep decided it was time to pay her a visit.

…..

“SO it worked?”

“Like a charm.”

“Thank Merlin -”

“Our git of a brother didn’t deserve her anyway. Those two will treat her right, and if Malfoy messes up –”

“Don’t worry, he won’t. He’s been infatuated with her for months now.”

“And Harry wasn’t much better. Don’t know how he managed to hide it from dear little Ronniekins.”

“They won’t suspect our involvement will they? Between hexing Ronnie’s dick off, we’re in big enough trouble with Mum as it is.”

“They won’t suspect a thing.”

“Excellent. Well done.”

“Yeah, absolutely brilliant. We have high hopes for you.”

“I told you this last time, gentlemen. This was a one-time thing.”

“Of course it was. Say hi to our little sister for us, would ya?”

“Excuse me? Why would I –”

“Just say hi to her.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.”

…

Glancing around, Blaise Zabini dowsed the fire, before rushing quickly out of the Slytherin common room and up the stairs to his bedroom. A moment later, a door slammed shut and all was silent in Hogwarts once again.

Fin.

Thank you all for your gracious reviews (I can’t believe that no one gave me a telling off. LOL). I have truly missed all of you…

This is the end of Carpe Imperium – which I can only hope you enjoyed -, but keep an eye out for my Draco/Hermione one-shot ‘Under the Table Assault’ which I will post either tomorrow or Sunday.

IX of The Gauntlet will be out sometime next week (most likely Tuesday or Wednesday), and I hope you all enjoy that too.

Till next time!

TBOF
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Carpe Imperium