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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
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Disclaimer:
Harry and company are the creation and property of JKR. I'm just
borrowing them for awhile, and I'm sure not making any money doing it.

CHAPTER
THREE:

The next day, Harry felt
well enough to get on his feet. The first thing he noticed was that
someone had taken the trouble to clean and press his robes. It hung
neatly from a hanger, the new Gryffindor pin winking brightly on the
dark cloth.

There was an awkward moment
when Ginny stepped in to greet him. She’d obviously been
worried, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched.

At the same time, he could
feel a barrier between them now. It had been self-imposed at first,
but now it was simply there. And though they both regretted it, he
sensed that she felt it, too.

Harry hit the showers as
soon as Ginny left. She was on her way to the wedding rehearsal.
She’d told him that, in case he didn’t feel up to joining
them, Mrs. Weasley had left some food in the kitchen.

The teenager was still
groggy, probably an after-effect of Madam Pomfrey’s brew, and
it was only when he finished his shower that he realized he’d
left his clothes and even his glasses in the room. Good thing
everyone was gone, he thought, else it’d be embarrassing. He
wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into the hallway.

Right in front of Hermione,
who was just entering the hallway. She gasped and stared at the
green-eyed youth in shock. Because Harry wasn’t wearing his
glasses, he didn’t notice her right away. She stood rooted to
the spot as he approached.

If she’d never really
noticed how Harry had changed and grown over the years, she certainly
got an eyeful now. The boy who used to be about her height now
towered over her by at least a head-span. He was lean and toned,
probably from Quidditch, if a little pale, and the unruly dark hair
on his head was now sprinkled lightly on his forearms and legs and,
most intriguingly, in a line that arrowed down from his navel into
the depths of the white towel.

“Her-hermione!”
Harry stammered, as he finally focused on the girl who stood frozen
in her bridesmaid’s dress. He clutched at his towel in equal
shock. “I thought everyone was gone!”

Hermione finally came to her
senses. She averted her eyes. “Um, sorry. Ginny said you were
awake and I wanted to tell you about what Tonks and Lupin ...”
she trailed off in embarrassment. The Gryffindor prefect wasn’t used to
the sight of scantily clad young men. She had no brothers, and at
Hogwarts the uniforms and robes covered just about everything. Now,
thanks to this incident, her first real, live
not-from-a-book-or-telly image of a nearly starkers man was that of
her best friend!

Harry didn’t let her
finish. “Give me a minute. Meet you in the kitchen!” He
ran past her and slammed into his room.

For a moment he just stood
behind the door. He relaxed only when he heard Hermione’s steps
turn and fade away. Harry sighed in relief. Had she noticed? Because
the moment he’d gotten over his shock, he’d felt himself
stir under the towel.

For the first time, he was
absolutely grateful to Fleur. The dresses she’d chosen for the
bridesmaids had left Hermione and Ginny spluttering. Even after those
two had insisted on some changes, they were still low-cut, strapless
affairs that left the girls’ arms, shoulders and most of their
backs bare. If you were taller than the girls – and Harry and
most of the boys were – you could even see a bit of cleavage.
Which, as Fleur said, was the point.

Now what? He could hardly
greet Hermione with a hard-on. He decided, not very rationally, to
just take care of it quickly. He picked up his wand and cast a
silencing charm. Then he dropped the wand and the towel and reached
for his shaft. He already had the image in mind ...

... The girl’s look
of shock turned into something else as the half-naked boy, after a
second’s hesitation, continued his approach. He stopped only
when he was right in front of her.

“Harry ...?”

“Shh.” He
reached out and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. After a
few seconds she got over her surprise and started to respond. When
she opened her mouth, he brought his arms around her and maneuvered
them until Hermione was sandwiched between him and the wall.

He was still dripping wet
from the shower, and now the water from his body was turning her thin
bridesmaid’s dress into little more than a sheer veil over her
body.

Hermione gasped as
Harry’s hands found her breasts and gently squeezed. Her
nipples hardened as the boy rolled them between his fingers through
her dress. His green eyes were dark as they stared at her half-seen
breasts. Then they rose again to meet her flushed gaze. “Let me
see you,” he asked hoarsely, as he continued to play with her.

When she didn’t
answer, he dove down and captured a nipple in his mouth. His tongue
licked and thrust at it so roughly through the gossamer material that
Hermione was afraid it would tear. She wove her hands into his hair and
tugged. “Harry, wait!”

Reluctantly, he broke off
and gazed up at her, all his desire in his eyes.

Hermione’s face
softened the way it had last night, only this time it was directed at
him. “We don’t have time,” she said regretfully. “I
came back early to see you, but the rehearsal might finish any
minute.”

“You came back for
me?” he asked, marveling.

The girl nodded and
looked around nervously. “There’s no time for what you
want,” she repeated, “but there is time for something
else.”

“What –
Hermione!” he rasped, as she traced the hard ridge of his penis
through the towel.

“Let me see YOU,
Harry.”

He nodded frantically.
The towel dropped and pooled around his feet. Harry bucked as
Hermione carefully took him in her bare hand. He braced his hands
against the wall as she began to stroke him with her soft, warm
fingers.

Suddenly his legs felt
weak. “`Mione, I’m too excited, I’m not going to
last long.”

“You don’t
have to,” she said, as her hand started to move rhythmically
over his length. “Sometimes, Harry, people just want to do
things for you. You have to accept that.”

In astonishment, Harry
watched the proud, brave Gryffindor sink to her knees. “You.
don’t. have. to,” he managed to get out, unintentionally
mimicking her words as his hips began to rock to the rhythm she set.

She smiled,
and it was brilliant. “I think that’s one of the reasons
why I want to.” She took him in her mouth and flicked her
tongue over the swollen head of his cock ...

... “Hermione!”
Harry bucked and cried out as he came. He tugged madly until the very
last spurt. By the time he finished, he was panting for breath.

Grabbing his wand again, he
cast a quick cleansing spell. The whole thing had taken about five
minutes, and if he didn’t hurry, Hermione would start wondering
what was taking him so long.

He hastily opened a drawer
and grabbed a fresh shirt and khakis. At the last moment he decided
to bring the cloak for cover, in case he had any more embarrassing
reactions to his best friend. He was still straightening the shirt
when he got into the kitchen.

The way Hermione was
bustling around told Harry that she was still embarrassed by the
episode in the hallway.

“Um, sorry `bout
that,” he mumbled, raking a hand through his unruly hair. These
days it seemed he had a lot to apologize for.

The girl shook her head. “My
fault. I should’ve knocked or shouted or something.” She
placed the sandwich and bowl of soup Mrs. Weasley had left for Harry
on the table, but remained standing a few feet from him.

Harry realized how hungry he
was. “What about you?” he asked, draping his cloak over
the chair as he sat down.

“They served food at
the rehearsal.”

The teenager began to wolf
the sandwich down. Hermione had thoughtfully reheated the roast beef
and the soup, and after an entire night of Madam Pomfrey’s
brews they tasted great. “So, you were saying? Lupin and
Tonks?”

“Tonks passed by the
Ministry. They’re holding your attacker, but they haven’t
identified him yet. He wasn’t a Death Eater, though. No mark,”
Hermione explained. “Lupin took a sample of the stuff on the
icepick to this old potions professor, Snape’s predecessor at
Hogwarts, actually. He says it’s definitely Snape’s work,
but he doesn’t think it’s a poison, either.” She
bit her lip in that way that said she was worried.

Harry looked up from his
soup. “Well, at least it hasn’t killed me yet,” he
tried to joke.

Hermione’s head
snapped up and she actually glared at him. “That’s not
funny!”

“No?” Suddenly
he was ticked off. The attack and everything else had ruined the last
normal thing he’d been looking forward to. The teenager could
no longer pretend that things were normal, or that they would go back
to the way they were. Dumbledore was gone for good and, just when he
was about to set off for the horcruxes and Voldemort, things were
happening to him that he couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t even talk
to anybody about it. Normally he would tell Ron, but in this case
that was impossible. And who else could he approach? How would he
explain the fact that he was suddenly wanking off to images of his
best friend, who was also his other best friend’s probable
girlfriend?

“Guess you’re
right, as always.” His voice was cold. “I mean,
Dumbledore’s dead, in no small way thanks to me, and I’m
supposed to get this powerful wizard that killed him, right? Only
I’ve got no idea where the horcruxes are, and now I’ve got
this thing running around inside me that could explode any minute.
You’re right, Hermione,” he repeated, “it’s
not funny. But then, nothing’s been funny for a really long
time.” He stood up. He’d lost his appetite.

Hermione looked stricken.
“Harry, I ...”

He whirled away from her,
grabbing his cloak from the chair. He had to leave before he gave
into the urge to shake her ... or else kiss her hard, spill
everything and try his best to wrest her from Ron. The only thing
stopping him from giving into either impulse was the sure knowledge
that he would lose her. And probably Ron, too. “I’m going
for a walk.”

Harry wasn’t sure how
much time had passed before he decided to turn back. He only noticed
that the sky was getting dark and that it was starting to get chilly.
He drew his robes around him to ward off the cold. However pissed he
was, he knew it wasn’t right to make people worry. The Weasleys
had always been good to him, and this was Bill’s wedding after
all.

He had already decided not
to go. It was pointless now, and besides, he didn’t think Bill
and Fleur deserved to start their life together by being pawns in
some stupid Death Eaters’ plot.

For several years now, Harry
had lived with the knowledge that Voldemort had him marked, but this
time it felt like someone had painted a big red target on his back.

“... I can’t
help it. I’m worried about him, Ron.”

Harry ducked behind an old
oak tree and some bushes just as his friends came into view. Even in
the failing light it was impossible to mistake the bright fiery head
and that mass of wild curls. As quietly as he could, the bespectacled
teenager crouched down and watched them.

Away from everyone else, the
couple was holding hands once more.

“He’s probably
walking around, like he said. You shouldn’t worry so much.
Harry’s a tough bloke. He’s gone through worse than
this.”

“I know, but
something’s different this time. I can’t put my finger on
it. Before the attack, Harry was touchy, but now ...”

“I’d be touchy
too, if someone tried to stick me,” Ron stated reasonably.
“What happened when you came back, anyway? You never said what
set him off.”

Harry was sure that Hermione
was blushing, though Ron might not notice in the half-light of
approaching dusk. “Nothing,” he heard her say after a
short pause, “he made a joke about not being dead yet and I
sort of got on his case.”

Ron actually laughed.
“That’s all? I thought for a sec it might’ve been
because you told him about us.” He said it lightly, but there
was a question somewhere in his words.

Hermione stopped abruptly.
“What is there to tell?” she asked quietly. “We’ve
been going around like this” - she held up their linked hands -
“and we’ve snogged a few times but ... well, what are we,
exactly?”

It took Harry a few seconds
to place the expression on Ron’s face at that point. Then he
had it. It was the same look that Harry had seen a dozen times on his
teammate right before a serious Quidditch match.

The redhead was completely
nerve-wracked. He started a couple of phrases, tried to start over,
bungled it and finally threw out his hands in frustration. “Oh
dammit, I am just absolute rubbish when it comes to words!”

“Try, Ron,” his
companion urged, but she was smiling at him.

“Alright, alright.”
The tall boy fidgeted. “I know I’ve been a jealous,
half-witted prat this last year. Ginny says she can’t even
understand why you like me. But you know how much you mean to me,
right, Hermione?” Ron took a deep breath. Oh to hell with
it, just spill it, you wanker! “You know I ... I’d do
anything for you.”

For a moment Hermione was
silent. Then she called Ron’s name in a voice that Harry had
never heard before, husky and soft and impassioned. She looked open
and vulnerable as she pulled the redhead to her, so different from
the girl who’d stood toe to toe with the most discriminatory
purebloods at Hogwarts, who wasn’t content until she’d
beaten those who’d called her mudblood in every way that
mattered.

But that wasn’t what
was on Harry’s mind right then. As he watched their two shadows
meld, saw Ron’s arms wrap around Hermione tightly, watched the
girl stand on tiptoe so she could better meet the boy’s eager
lips, something in him came to life. Oh yes, it was his old friend,
that large and scaly creature that erupted in his stomach and clawed
at his insides. Only it was much bigger now than it had been with
Ginny. This time it seemed to practically take over his whole body.

Harry clutched his wand so
tightly that his knuckles turned white. Blood pounded in his brain.
There was a savage urge to tear those two apart, to strike Ron
senseless and take his place.

It shouldn’t be like
this, he thought wildly. It should be my arms around Hermione, my
lips ravaging hers, my hand slowly moving up her hips to her side to
...

Just as Harry was about to
hurl himself at them, Hermione broke the kiss. “Wait, Ron,”
she whispered, her hands dropping to his arms, stopping him.

The lanky redhead let her
go. He was breathing hard, too, and he looked just as surprised as
she was at the sudden intensity of it all. “Too fast?” he
finally managed, sounding a bit sheepish.

“A little,”
Hermione answered honestly. “I wasn’t expecting ...”

“Me neither,”
Ron admitted, but there was an extremely pleased expression on his
face. “So, should we tell everyone?”

“Tell everyone what?”
she asked innocently.

“Hermione!” He
sounded slightly hurt.

She smiled, and went into
his arms. “I’m just teasing,” she reassured him,
hugging him around the waist. “We should probably tell Harry
first. If we’re going after the horcruxes soon,” her voice
turned serious, “he has to know. But first we have to find
him.”

“I bet he’s back
at the Burrow already,” Ron quipped, nuzzling her one last
time. “Let’s go. It’s getting chilly. Phle - Fleur
will kill me if you start sneezing tomorrow.”

Harry waited for the pair to
disappear before he got slowly to his feet. Neither of his friends
would’ve recognized him then, the iron set of his jaw and the
blazing anger in his eyes. It was a face he had shown to only two
people - Snape, and Lestrange when he realized that she had killed Sirius.

“I won’t lose
you,” he whispered to the darkness. He clutched his robes
closely as a particularly cold wind blew. What he had seen had wiped
out all questions and doubts from his mind. Now all that existed was
the primal need to act. As Harry stalked off, a plan was already
forming in his mind.

========

I gotta admit
I'm discouraged by the lackluster response. If this story's no good
I might as well stop here. Please review if you'd like this to
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Biding My Time: Our Way