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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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75—Unison
“Ridin the storm out.”—REO Speedwagon
(Draco) 
The electric smell of ozone filled the air, and the hair on Draco's arms stood up as stiff as his cock. How do I let myself get talked into these things? Glaring down at his tented terrycloth robe, he mentally pointed an accusing finger. This is all your fault, Dicky. See what happens when I let you do the thinking? We wind up outside in the middle of a thunderstorm, freezing our bollocks off.
‘Don’t look at me!’ his dick shot back. ‘Just because I’m invested in the proceedings doesn’t mean I took off all your clothes and walked you out here.’
Draco harrumphed but couldn’t come up with a legitimate counter argument.
‘Admit it,’ his prick cajoled, ‘you aren’t out here for me—you’re out here for you, because you’re worried about James.’
Of course I’m worried about James! What kind of depraved psycho wouldn’t be worried about a sick baby?
‘One week, and already you’re attached.’
He happens to be a very charming child.
‘Is that why your stomach’s all tied up in knots, because you're worried about losing his charm? Come now, this is me you're talking to. We both know the truth. You're scared. It's all hitting a bit too close to home, isn't it?’
Draco kept his head down, eyes on the ground.
‘If you were Harry . . . and that was your child . . . what would you do?’
Clutching his rolling stomach, Draco mashed his lips tight to hold back the nausea that clawed at his throat. Everything . . . I'd do everything I possibly could.
‘And if that wasn’t enough?’
Draco took a deep breath and glanced at Hermione. Love is always enough. It might not give us the results we think we want, but it always gives us what we need. His gaze slid over to Severus. Sometimes more than we need. I’d never regret loving a child I had with Hermione . . . even if I couldn’t save it in the end. And I don’t regret caring about James. He’s worth it. This right now—the anxiety and the effort and the hope—it’s all worth it. I’d rather care too much than not enough.
‘Good answer,’ his heart interjected, silencing his troublemaking cock once and for all. 
Draco pressed a hand to his chest and thanked it for coming to his rescue. All the racing thoughts and worst case scenarios were wreaking havoc with his nerves, and he really didn’t want to spend the night defending his pro-James position when he couldn't even think straight. Maybe now that he’d admitted what was really bothering him, he could stop arguing with himself and focus on the task at hand.
The rain went from a misty drizzle to fast, fat drops, and the riotous wind blew a blinding spray of it into his face. Teeth chattering, Draco pulled his bathrobe tighter. “You really think we should be out here?”
Hermione’s step never slowed. “We have to hurry. These conditions won’t last.”
They all stopped in front the patch of garden where Lucius had introduced her to the power of the earth. Hermione summoned the candles with a wave of her wand, and the tapers flew from Snape’s arms and pegged out a circle around the flowers. 
Whipping off her robe, she threw it aside and stood before them in all her naked glory. The rain dotted her with crystalline freckles, and as they ran together, Draco’s vision began to swim. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of the shower, skin sparkling, nipples sharp as quill nibs. 
His erection made a break for it, reaching for all that luscious, slippery flesh, but Draco kept his hands at his sides. Cautious. While a glistening, nude Hermione turned him on like nothing else, outside in the storm, she radiated an untamed ferocity that seemed almost bestial. He was a little scared of her.
Hermione held her hand out to Snape, and when he took it, she urged him forward. “You have to be on the ground.”
“Shouldn’t Lucius be on the ground? He’s earth.”
“We’re all going to be on the ground where we can be surrounded by all the elements. Can you light the candles and cast an Impervious Charm over them for me? My wand’s in my robe.”
The beauty of her design hit Draco like a ton of Galleons; they were all being represented in this orgy of a thunderstorm, blended together as if already joined as one: water abounded, covering them all; howling winds screamed around them, almost knocking them flat; the lightning would be their fire, but as it remained intermittent, she’d wisely brought the candles as backup; and they’d be making love in the garden, grounded on the actual earth. Brilliant.
But how would that help her find the answer? Was she hoping the elemental boost would jolt her psychic abilities to a whole new level?
After taking care of the candles, Severus shed his ratty grey robe and reluctantly sat on the wet ground, grimacing when his arse hit the flooded flowers. He looked ridiculous sitting amongst the blossoms, but Hermione must not have noticed, because she jumped him in a surprise attack, pinning him flat and snogging him like a lion devouring its prey. Draco flinched and stepped back. Where the hell had that come from? Lucius mirrored his astonishment, one blond brow arched to his hairline—but then he turned to Draco and shrugged, as if to say he wouldn’t mind being mauled.
Draco wouldn’t mind either. He was just worried she was getting too worked up. What if this didn’t work? All her hopes were riding on this one “experiment,” and Draco didn’t like those odds. What if the magic didn’t bring any enlightenment? How would she deal with that? Hermione didn’t take well to failure. He couldn't imagine what would happen if that failure involved a helpless infant—her own godson no less.
The wind whistled over the grounds, and the precipitation picked up speed. The top layer of Hermione’s hair had gone dark and heavy, weighed down by rain, but the under layers remained voluminous with frizzy curls. She looked as if she’d escaped Bedlam for a night of mad fucking. Dropping her soggy head, she whispered in Snape’s ear, all the while grinding into his groin with a sinuous but determined rhythm.
Draco’s eyes slid along her bare back, watching as the rain merged into thin rivulets that slithered over her skin like luminescent snakes. Draco shuddered as one crawled down her crack.
Seemingly unaware, Hermione lifted her head and peered over her shoulder. “Lucius, I need you to bugger me. Are you ready?”
Lucius pulled the lube from his robe pocket and held it up for her to see. “Just for future reference, I am perpetually prepared to bugger you, princess.”
She smiled and held out her hand to him. “Come over here.”
Lucius went to her side, and when she parted the panels of his robe, he yanked open the sash to give her the full Monty. Hermione’s head bobbed into the shelter of silver silk, and she moaned hungrily, as if she’d discovered a bowl of Snape’s custard in there.
Severus’s hands sluiced up her wet torso, palming her breasts and catching her nipples between his fingers. He scissored them so they torqued in opposite directions, and Hermione’s yummy humming swerved to a guttural groan. Her hips went into overdrive.
Mesmerized by the sight of them writhing together as one, Draco could only stare, his jaw practically on the ground. While it would be lovely to be a part of the action, he couldn’t help thinking how marvelous it was to just watch. Even with his father there, the tableau made him want to take his cock in hand and wank himself stupid. All he had to do was let his eyes go blurry, and it was like watching himself star in the hottest pensieve memory ever saved.
“Okay,” she panted, pulling back to give Lucius a nod. “I’m ready.”
Lucius smoothly shrugged off his robe and then reached out with both hands to cup her face, brushing away the water that streamed down her cheeks. With a tender smile, he bent to kiss her lips, and the frenetic energy surrounding her quieted.
Draco heaved out a sigh, grateful his father had found a path through her panic. Maybe Lucius should have been the Calming Captain all along. Grounding might do them all a world of good.
Lightning lit up the trees that bordered the western edge of the property, and a deafening crack snapped through the air. Giving the surroundings a wary glance, Lucius knelt down behind her and removed the lid from the lube. Once he had her arse gleaming, he bent one knee to the side to work around Snape’s outstretched leg, and Draco saw a brief silhouette of erect flesh bridging the gap between his body and Hermione’s. 
He must have entered her then, because her spine arched, and the curve of her back scooped all the way up so her face was thrown to the sky. 
“Draco!” she shouted, her hand shooting toward him.
Draco lunged to her side and clutched her fingers. “What is it, love?”
“Put your feet on either side of Severus’s head,” she choked out. “I’ll suck you till you come so I’ll have your semen, but then I have to see Severus.” Her eyes rolled back as said Potions master plunged into her depths.
“Did you say you have to see Severus?”
She nodded drunkenly. “The answer is in his head. I have to find it.”
Snape’s thrusting skidded to a halt. “That’s your plan?” he asked in a tight voice. “Why would you think the answer is in my head?”
“Because,” she said, licking her lips and taking a deep breath, “you’ve read everything ever written on potions and Tentaculas. The information is in your brain, it’s just not coming together. But the Quartet magic will know what to do. I’ll try to search for the answer with my . . . eye power, or whatever it is. Or at least guide you in the right direction. But I have to be looking in your eyes while we’re shagging. And we all have to be touching.” She squinted up at Draco. “So after you come, you have to keep touching me in some way. And you should touch Severus and your father too. Everyone needs to be touching everyone.”
“I only have two hands, love.”
“You can do it. Put your hand on my back; Lucius put your hand over his when the time comes, and then try to touch Severus in some way.”
“Legs and balls already touching, princess.”
A small smile flitted over her face. “Good. Okay. Everybody ready?”
Severus and Lucius both nodded, albeit with an air of uncertainty. Saying a silent prayer—Holy fuck, please let this work—Draco added his nod to the consensus and peeled off his damp robe. 
Merlin's shriveled nutsac! Who knew a thin bit of cloth offered so much protection? Raindrops dive-bombed every inch of his skin, and he shivered as the wind whipped around him like a cyclone. Nothing like a nice arctic chill to cap off a night of frolicking about in the mud.
Careful that he didn’t slip, Draco arranged his feet on either side of Snape’s head, and Severus flashed him a small smirk before bracing one hand around his calf. The touch seemed so innocent, yet Draco’s entire body prickled, a rush of lust surging through his veins. Bloody hell!
Hermione arched up so she was somewhat vertical and guided Draco’s rain-chilled erection into the safety of her mouth. Ah! Sweet heat! It felt as if he’d stretched out on the hearth to warm his cock by the fire. Except everything was so fucking wet and soft. Soft.
He sighed all the tension from his body. Soft.
Soft.
Soooooft . . .
The rain exploded in a sudden deluge, snapping Draco from his sensorial trance. Bollocks! How long had he been rolling through the slick suction of her lips? A minute? Five? He couldn’t even hazard a guess.
Enough time had passed that the raindrops no longer spattered his skin—they beat him like mini-clubs—and his hair had gotten so waterlogged it dribbled down his cheeks in thick streams. Pushing it back with one hand, he wiped the water from his eyes. Lightning touched down close by, illuminating the scene, and he saw both the stark concentration on his father’s face and the mindless bliss on Hermione’s. She looked totally out of it. How in the hell was she expecting to concentrate enough to find an answer in Snape’s head?
Severus slid his hand up Draco’s knee, fingers creeping along his inner thigh. Draco didn’t know if it was the storm or because they were all together, but his body felt unreal. Amazing. Without thinking, he began to thrust into her face.
Lightning struck again. Closer. The electricity in the air skittered over his body so that every hair follicle puckered in excitement and he was swaddled in a sheet of gooseflesh. Snape grazed his scrotum, and the ghost of his middle finger trailed along the valley of Draco’s arse. What a dichotomy: Hermione sucking out his soul like a dick Dementor, and Severus attempting to tickle him to orgasm. 
And fuck was it working! 
Grabbing Hermione’s head in both hands, Draco turned her face up to his and growled at her over the rumbling thunder, “Are you ready to swallow me?”
Her gaze darted to the side as if debating her answer. Merlin! He didn’t know it was a trick question. Wasn’t that why they were out there in the first place? 
Hermione met his eye again and nodded, humming around him in agreement.
Draco’s relief lasted all of two seconds, just until he felt the press of Snape’s rain-slick finger between his cheeks—right at his opening—stroking, teasing, the remainder of his fingers tugging gently at his sac to resist its ascension. 
One wizard could only take so much. 
Draco's cock went rock hard, and he grunted as his balls contracted, preparing to heave all they had onto the manic muscle dancing around his knob.
A clap of thunder rattled his bones, and the first jet of jizz burst from his balls with blinding power, spurred to new heights by the overdose of adrenaline. Heart pounding, he milked his release into her mouth, and Hermione opened wide, providing him with a memorable view of his pearlescent seed melting on her tongue like sugar.
With a sweet smile, she pushed on his hip, and it took him a second to figure out what that meant. Right . . . the plan. Draco pulled his foot over Severus and knelt at their side, watching blankly as she pressed her lips to Snape’s. That sneaky minx was passing off his seed—or maybe she was sharing it: a little for her and a little for him. 
Severus grunted, his mouth slanting against hers in search of more, and Draco grinned. I think we both know there’s more where that came from, you damn glutton. Wrapping his fingers around Snape’s bicep, he gave him a knowing squeeze before placing his other hand on Hermione’s lower back. You’ve only wanked me off in the tub every night this week. Don’t pretend I’ve been starving you.
Lucius pressed his palm to the back of Draco’s hand, and Draco went still, all thoughts of the bath vanishing.
He couldn’t remember the last time the his father had held his hand. Circa 1983? Despite the awkwardness, Draco was distressed to find Lucius's touch oddly comforting. Like when Severus rubbed his head at night.
Except Lucius wasn’t Severus. He didn’t go out of his way to show Draco affection. Or even approval. He hadn’t made any effort to repeat what he’d said the week before—and Draco didn’t know what to make of that. Had Lucius only said he loved him so Hermione would feel better? That seemed a little cruel, even for the old man. And it had felt genuine at the time.
But Draco knew better than to get his hopes up when it came to Lucius. He’d been disappointed too many times before. And besides, who needed to hear that sort of thing anyway? Draco had managed just fine for the past twenty-seven years of silence. Words were cheap. Especially from a miser like his father. 
Draco preferred proof. A hug maybe. Hell, Draco would settle for a clap on the back. A smile.
Or even just a day without any personal attacks on his character and manhood . . .
Draco paused, thinking back on the past week. It took him several run-throughs to be sure, but he couldn’t remember his father throwing a single critical barb in his direction. 
Not since that night. 
Fucking hell. 
Why hadn’t he noticed sooner?
Perhaps Lucius really had meant what he'd said . . . and maybe he had been trying to say it again.
Draco studied his father’s face, searching for some indication that he’d purposely forgone that week’s aspersions. The curved sneer-lines at the crease of his cheek had faded, and his brow seemed smoother, no longer furrowed in a fierce glare of ridicule. 
Something in Draco’s chest unclenched. He remembered that face. Didn’t he? Lucius looking relaxed, his eyes . . .
Hermione moaned, and Draco lost the thread of his foggy memory. But he couldn’t deny the contented glow that remained in his gut. Even though he was scared and cold and confused, it felt like Christmas in his stomach—warm and happy.
Lucius wound his free hand through her wet hair and gently drew back her head. Whether he did it to help or just because he wanted a fistful of her hair, Draco couldn’t be sure; but he could see Hermione’s face better, so he deemed it a gift.
Her expression appeared fairly serene for a witch stuffed full of cock, but it was hard to tell if her slackened jaw was due to arousal, awe, or just plain bewilderment. Which made Draco wonder what she might be seeing. What was in Snape’s head? A library of potions books? Pornographic scenes involving teddy bears and enema bags? Memories of Death Eater revels and espionage? Gods, he hoped she didn’t find anything too disturbing; that might ruin the whole night.
“I’m going to come,” Lucius hissed, his jaw tight with restraint. “Are you close?”
The dazed look on her face cracked. “Unnnnnnnh!”
Snape remained silent, which was unusual for him. His breathing had gone ragged and short, and the line between his brow deepened to a trench. Was he seeing something in Hermione’s eyes, or was he just trying not to blow his load?
“Do you want it harder?” Lucius asked, stroking her skin between Draco’s fingers.
“Mmmmm!”
Lucius turned to him for clarification, and Draco shrugged. Sounds like a yes to me. 
Another arc of lightning lit the sky, stealing their attention, and Draco gripped Snape’s arm to brace for the gut-clenching CRACK-boom! that followed.
Hermione shouted, presumably in fear, and Severus lifted his hand, calmly sliding his index and middle finger over her tongue. With a shuddery moan, she accepted his offer and sucked as if she were dying of thirst. Her body trembled from head to toe, and Draco knew they were moments away from an orgiastic meltdown. She only shook like that when her body couldn't hold any more sexual energy.
Four flashes of lightning came in quick succession, and the sky crackled, deafening him to her initial climactic shouts—but he didn’t need to hear a damn thing to know she was coming. The convulsions made it abundantly clear. Her body tossed back and forth between his father and Snape, boneless as a rag doll, and when the rumble of the thunder died down, Draco heard Severus grunting through his teeth, obviously overcome by her wild ride. Lucius was no better off; his growls blended with Snape’s and his mouth stretched into a grimace of pained joy. Everyone had hit their peak, and Draco felt a wave of shared bliss ripple through his body like an orgasmic echo.
Out of nowhere, Hermione went stone still. Draco could see her profile clearly: the water like glass beads on her eyelashes, the pink flush of her cheeks, the dry pucker in the center of her lips from breathing too hard. Something sparked in her eyes, and Draco gasped as her irises turned solid gold. Just like the last time.
Rotating his hand, Draco wove his fingers through Lucius’s so they were locked together. 
His father gave him a curious look, but Draco couldn’t tear his eyes from her metallic stare. “Don’t pull out,” he rasped, holding Lucius's hand tighter. “Don’t even move. I think she’s found something.”
Unison—performing all at the same time, together as one.
“Ridin the Storm Out” by REO Speedwagon. Written by Gary Richrath (REO’s lead guitarist). Released in 1973 on the album of the same name.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HTBv4kAdk_w
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