Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Biding My Time: Our Way	By : watchyerback Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Disclaimer: Harry and
company are the creation and property of JKR. I'm just borrowing them
for a bit. Thanks for the reviews!

CHAPTER TWO:

The Burrow was in an uproar
the second Harry and Hermione appeared in the fireplace. Harry was
quickly whisked away to the bedroom he was sharing with Ron.

Five minutes later, Remus
Lupin and Tonks were on the scene, bringing a slightly confused Madam
Pomfrey with them. As soon the Hogwarts matron understood that a
student was injured and that Hermione was unharmed, she headed
upstairs to tend to Harry.

Lupin and Tonks questioned
Hermione closely about what happened, but all she could tell them was
the bit she’d seen. She had arrived just in time to see the
stranger looming over Harry, but as to how the fight began or who he
was, she had no idea. Hermione had had enough presence of mind to do
one thing though.

She presented the icepick,
carefully wrapped in a bundle of cloth, to Lupin and Tonks. The tip
of it was stained with what must be Harry’s blood.

The former Defense Against
Dark Arts teacher gently placed it on a table and uncovered it
gingerly, as if it might explode. He heaved a sigh of relief when
nothing happened.

Tonks cast a spell to expose
any enchantments on the makeshift weapon, but it revealed nothing.
“That explains it,” she said. “It’s an
ordinary icepick, not even charmed. No wonder it got through the
Aurors. We’ve set up alarms to screen for weapons in Diagon
Alley,” she explained as Hermione looked confused, “but
since an icepick is a common household item, none of the alarms went
off.”

“So it’s safe?”

Lupin looked at the weapon
suspiciously. “I doubt it. It doesn’t make sense. Why
attack Harry with such an awkward weapon?”

“It almost worked,”
Tonk said darkly.

“Yes, but still. Why
not do something to make it more dangerous?”

Hermione suddenly gasped.
“Poison!”

“Of course!”
Lupin took out his wand, muttered a word and tapped the icepick.
About an inch of the tip began to glow with a sick greenish sheen.
“We need someone to identify this right away, and find an
antidote,” he said grimly. Wrapping it up again, Lupin handed
it to the Auror.

Tonks grasped the slim
bundle firmly and apparated out of the Burrow.

Lupin turned back to a
clearly worried Hermione. “Tell Madam Pomfrey to watch for
signs that Harry’s been poisoned. I’ll talk to the
Weasleys.” He softened his voice as he spotted the barely
restrained fright in the girl’s eyes. “We’re not
sure it’s poison. And even if it is, they can’t have
brewed it too strongly, or the Aurors would’ve sensed that,
too. We’re just being careful, okay?”

Biting her lip, Hermione
nodded and sped upstairs without another word.

Lupin sighed. Why did this damn
war have to be fought by children?

Harry dreamed. Whether it
was from the events of the day or the herbal brew Madam Pomfrey had
given him to dull the pain as they healed his wound, he had fallen
asleep almost immediately.

In his dream, he was with
Ginny again at Hogwarts during his sixth year, in what he had come to
think of as the last carefree days of his life. They were in his
Gryffindor room, and somehow he had arranged it so that none of the
others were there. It was just him, in his dark muggle sweatshirt and
jeans, and Ginny, in her Hogwarts robes, sitting on his bed.

Soon they were in each
other’s arms and kissing, Harry hungrily attacking Ginny’s
lips as her hands buried themselves in his hair.

He fumbled his glasses off
so it wouldn’t get it the way, letting it fall to the floor.

He traced her lips lightly
with his tongue, and when Ginny opened her mouth to let him in and
her tongue slipped out to meet his, Harry lost it. He leaned forward,
pushing Ginny down with his weight until she was lying on the bed
with him partly on top of her.

Oh Merlin, she felt
incredible beneath him! He could feel her breasts and soft curves
pressing against his chest and stomach. He broke their kiss
momentarily so he could tug the ties of her robe open, revealing a
thin cotton blouse and short skirt ensemble underneath.

That was when it started to
get weird. To his blurred vision, Ginny’s red hair gradually
seemed to darken, until it was more a chestnut kind of brown. He
ignored it and kissed her again, his tongue snaking in to tryst with
hers again. He was surprised when she squirmed, and risked a quick
glance. Had her hair always been as wavy as that? Her features seemed
sharper, a little more knowing and stubborn.

Still, he couldn’t
stop now. They were so rarely alone, and his dream-self knew that
these days wouldn’t last. His strong Quidditch-roughened hands
held her arms down to keep her in place. He pressed a kiss near her
ear and then trailed open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, nipping her
with the edge of his teeth a couple of times. She wriggled a bit at
that, and he took the opportunity to move into a better position,
scissoring and tangling with her legs until he was resting between
them.

It was when he instinctively
thrust against her, his face buried against her neck, that her hands
came up between them and scrambled to push him away. He lifted his
head. I must be moving too fast. He opened his mouth to
apologize.

But she spoke first. “Harry,
what are you doing?” Hermione protested. “I thought we
came up here to talk.”

“I’m sorry, I -
” he started, bewildered. Hadn’t he come up here with
Ginny? And then he realized that he didn’t mind that it was
Hermione here and not Ginny at all. This felt so right somehow,
his body pressed intimately against THIS girl. “It’s just
... Hermione, I’ve wanted you for so long ...”

She was staring at him in
shock. “Let me go.”

He couldn’t. How could
he? He had held in his feelings for years. He had felt a jolt the day
she had come down to dance with Victor Krum, and then had looked
across and seen the same sort of daze on Ron’s face. “I’m
sorry,” he repeated, and he took her hands and pulled them up,
pinning them above her head. He groaned as the movement brought
Hermione’s breasts flush against him.

“We shouldn’t do
this!”

He couldn’t answer
her. He had no arguments against her, because she was right. But that
didn’t stop him from grinding against her. Her skirt had ridden
up, and he felt the hardness in his jeans bump into the
barely-covered promise of her core. “Please, Hermione,”
he breathed.

Just then he did something,
hit some spot that made her breath hitch for a second. It excited
him, justified what he was doing somehow. Quickly he encircled both
of her upstretched hands in one hand so that his other hand could be
free. With his right hand, he unzipped his jeans so that it was just
his boxers and her knickers between them. Then he grabbed her left
leg and forcibly hitched it around his thigh, so that he could settle
more firmly against her.

Experimentally he moved,
angling his erect cock against her, watching her face closely. He
knew he’d found the spot again when her eyes momentarily
fluttered shut. “What’s the harm?” he asked
hoarsely. “I just ... I want to feel you. No one will ever
know.” By no one, they both knew that he mostly meant Ron.

In his dream, she seemed to
be swayed by his argument. She opened her eyes, and he saw the
knowledge and pity in them, and realized that, just like his
dream-self, this Hermione knew. Soon Dumbledore would die, and their
last safe shield against Voldemort would be gone. It was with this
foreknowledge that she allowed him.

He moved to kiss her, and
this time she let him, parting her lips to let him in. His right hand
caressed her cheek and her neck – he still didn’t dare to
let her hands go - and then, emboldened by her willingness, he
trailed his fingers lower. He kissed her long and hard, thrusting his
tongue into her mouth at the same moment his thumb swiped over a
nipple. When Hermione made a sound in her throat, he cupped her
breast through her blouse and rubbed and kneaded until her nipple was
standing stiffly beneath his fingers.

He had never been so hard in
his life! All this time he hadn’t stopped rubbing against her.
He began rolling his hips a little as he thrust, watching her
reaction. To his delight, the sensation made her screw her eyes shut.
She arched against him, making him groan at the added contact.
Experimentally, she began moving her hips to meet his.

Harry couldn’t stand
it any longer. He let her hands go and used both of his hands to
raise and brace himself a little above her. This angle was better,
and only the wet thin cloths of their underwear was preventing him
from penetrating her now. He rocked against her faster, calling her
name over and over, like a mantra. He was so close, and there was
only one thing missing to make it perfect...

“Harry,” she
whispered, without even a trace of protest in her voice.

In his sleep, he smiled.
Yes, that was it.

“Harry.” Her
breath lingered near his ear.

He opened his eyes and saw
her hovering over him, and gave her an intimate smile.

Hermione smiled back, but
there was a puzzled look to her, because there was a quality to her
raven-haired friend’s smile that she’d never seen before.

Harry blinked. Wait a
minute. She was looking down at him? Wasn’t she supposed to be
... Then it all came crashing back. He wasn’t at Gryffindor
tower. The year with Ginny was over. Dumbledore was gone.

A quick glance confirmed
that he was at the Burrow, and across the room was the other bed
where Ron had fallen asleep. Obviously Ron hadn’t planned to
sleep, because he was still in the clothes he’d been wearing
earlier and his position was awkward, his legs dangling over the side
of the bed.

Harry scrambled for his
glasses, thankful that it was so dark that Hermione couldn’t
see the physical effects the dream had had on him. What the bloody
hell was that? He’d had wet dreams before, of course, but
seldom that intense.

It had felt so real. Even
now, as he glanced at Hermione, standing next to his bed in her robe
and flannel pajamas and a blanket thrown around her shoulders to ward
off the cold, Harry felt the urge to pull her down to the bed with
him.

“Sorry to wake you,
but Madam Pomfrey said you should take this every four hours.”
The girl handed him a steaming mug of what smelled like very strange
tea.

“Thanks,” he
said hoarsely, gulping the potion down. As he had hoped, the sheer
nasty taste of it killed whatever lingering effects the dream still
had.

As Hermione put the mug
away, Harry surveyed the room again and noticed the chair that had
been drawn up next to his bed. “Have you guys been watching
over me?”

“Just for tonight,”
Hermione said as nonchalantly as she could. She knew that these days
Harry was sensitive about being made a fuss over. “We’ve
been taking turns, even Ginny,” she added carefully. To her
surprise, Harry barely reacted.

“Tonks came back while
you were asleep,” she continued. “It’s not poison
or at least, nothing they can identify right now.” She tried to
hide how troubled she was. It was a potion, which meant that Snape
must be involved. However much the Gryffindors disliked him, any
Hogwarts student would attest to the former professor’s mastery
of potions. If this was his work, anything could happen.

She needn’t have
worried; Snape was the last thing on Harry’s mind right now. He
sat back with a guilty sigh, still trying to figure out what had just
happened. He was really grateful to have Ron and Hermione. They were
two of the best friends a bloke could ever have. He couldn’t
believe he’d treated Hermione like that, even in a dream. If
he’d hesitated before about going after Ginny because she was
Ron’s sister, Hermione was off-limits twice over. Things had
been brewing between Ron and Hermione since they were thirteen.

“What’s wrong?”
Hermione, having noticed how her friend had gone silent, came and sat
next to him on the bed. She was plainly concerned.

Just like a sister or a
long-time friend, Harry told himself firmly, but his heart still sped
up a bit. “N-nothing.”

“Are you feeling
feverish?” It was one of the symptoms Madam Pomfrey had told
her to watch out for. She wished fervently that the Hogwarts
matriarch hadn’t gone to help Tonks identify the substance on
the icepick. Anxiously she felt Harry’s forehead. She was
surprised at how warm he felt, not feverish exactly but there was a
sheen of sweat on his brow.

“I’m fine!”
Harry snapped, grabbing her hand. She shouldn’t touch him like
that, not after that dream and these new impulses he was trying to
sort out. He felt even guiltier when Hermione threw him a bewildered
look that was also a bit hurt at his sudden vehemence. “Sorry,”
he mumbled, and he didn’t even realize that he was still
holding her hand. “It’s just ... I wanted this to be a
normal day.”

She understood his
frustration perfectly. “I know,” she sighed “I was
hoping for the same thing.” Instinctively, she squeezed his
hand for comfort. “It was fun going around for a while. It felt
like we were kids again, shopping for school supplies.”

Harry wondered how long he
could hold her hand like this without her thinking it strange. “Guess
I owe you one.”

To his surprise, she nearly
laughed. “Oh Harry, none of that! We’ve been doing this
for so long, it would get really confusing if we started to keep
track.”

Her smile was so infectious
that he found himself grinning back at her. And that was the
difference, Harry realized. He’d loved Ginny, but he’d
had to break their relationship off to keep her safe.

There would be no such
consideration with Hermione. Even if he tried to keep her away, she
wouldn’t stand for it. There had even been times, like with the
basilisk, that she’d gone off on her own for her friends’
sake. They were in this together, all three of them. It was that
thought, finally, that made him release her hand.

Just in time. Ron stirred
and slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Oi, nice to see you
awake. What’s so funny?” he asked, as he caught their
matching smiles.

Hermione stood up. “Nothing
you wouldn’t have missed if you’d kept awake. Think you
can take your turn this time?” she asked archly.

Ron had the grace to look
embarrassed. “Sure.” Then, more softly, “Sorry,
`Mione.”

Harry quickly looked away as
Hermione’s expression softened at the rare apology. `I should
be happy for them,’ he told himself fiercely.

But that wasn’t what
he felt as the girl walked towards the redhead and gave him a swift
peck on the cheek. “Good night, Ron. Harry,” she nodded,
and left.

Ron blushed wildly at this
display of affection in front of Harry. “What?” he asked
belligerently, as he felt the other wizard’s eyes on him.

“Nothing,” Harry
said tiredly. “I’m going back to sleep. You don’t
have to stay up, just set an alarm or something.” He ignored
his friend’s protests and threw the blanket over his head. The
last thing he wanted, he realized, was to find out exactly how things
lay between Ron and Hermione.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Biding My Time: Our Way