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Ramiferous	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 8826 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 1-Ramiferous
- 1
Title: Ramiferous

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

Pairings: Harry/Draco/Ginny (also Draco/Ginny, Harry/Ginny, Harry/Draco).

Warnings: Threesome, mild angst, ignores the epilogue.

Wordcount: 5100

Rating: R

Summary: Ramiferous, adj. Bearing branches. Or, in the case of three wizards, many different possibilities.

Author’s Notes: This story jumps back and forth between past and present. Expect some weird metaphors, starting with the title.

Ramiferous

            Ginny opened her eyes, and then snorted slightly. She had fallen asleep in between them again, which was one reason that sweat was sliding down her chin and gathering beneath her eyes and between her breasts. She heaved herself up and to the side, drawing out the leg trapped beneath Harry, the arm flung around Draco.

            When she had pried herself away enough to make it feel as if she was showering in cold air, she sat back, propped up on the pillows, and studied them both.

            Harry slept as if it was a competition, probably, Ginny thought, because he hadn’t got enough sleep when he was a kid, or a teenager, or even an Auror. His brow furrowed, and his hands dug into the blankets. His face looked very different with his scar hidden by his fringe and his striking eyes shut. That was all to the good, in Ginny’s opinion. She and Draco had wanted to give him a life where he would be ordinary, and it was exciting to know that they’d succeeded.

            Draco, on the other hand, slept as though his goal was to take up as much sleep as possible. He sprawled. His arms went everywhere, and his legs twisted under people in impossible contortions, and even his hair spread around him as if he had fanned it out that way deliberately. Ginny bowed her head to kiss his fluttering eyelids, and Draco snorted and woke up. Ginny knew he would deny the snort if ever asked, so she didn’t intend to.

            “Good morning,” Ginny said, and breathed the words gently into his nostrils so that they wouldn’t wake Harry up.

            Draco said it back in a breathless voice, and then ruined all Ginny’s caution by grabbing her and rolling her backwards, directly into Harry. Harry woke with a little cry and a flail of his arm towards his wand that recalled the bad old times, but Ginny ignored that, shoved her shoulders and her arse back into him, and held them there until he calmed down, while at the same time yielding to Draco’s kiss, and returning it with interest.

            It had been a delicate balancing act, learning how to keep her attention on two men at once, both of whom were prone to demand all of it.

            But it had worked.

            And to think that it almost hadn’t, because both of them were too stubborn to move for what they really wanted. That was how Ginny thought of it, stubbornness. Or she could call it pride, but honestly, she didn’t think it deserved to be dignified by that name.

            As Harry reached up from behind her to wrap his arms around her and Draco started stripping her, Ginny smiled. Her mind flashed briefly across visions of the past, branching like any tree, before Draco’s teeth found her breast and Harry trailed his fingers down Draco’s shoulder, and Ginny left the past to be itself as she was consumed in intricate bursts of watching and feeling.

*

            Ginny had seen it in the Great Hall in Hogwarts immediately after the battle. She honestly didn’t know why she’d seen it then. It wasn’t as though she had wanted to look. She was still seeing her mother destroy Bellatrix, and Fred motionless with a grin on his face, and Harry “dead” in Hagrid’s arms. She had a lot of other things to think about.

            But as she huddled in a corner of the Great Hall under a blanket, she saw the moment when Harry approached Malfoy to hand him his wand.

            Malfoy curled away from Harry as though he didn’t know why Harry would ever want to touch him. Harry bowed his head and said something soft. Ginny never knew what it was. Harry refused to tell her. Draco sneered when she asked.

            But whatever it was, it made Malfoy look up at Harry, and it changed the course of his face. It made him shiver and reach out hesitantly for the wand. Harry slapped it into his hand and walked away with his face flaming. He came straight to Ginny and put his arms around her, whispering savage nonsense words into her ear.

            Ginny could still see over his shoulder, though. Malfoy continued to watch them, and his face worked through the weirdest contortion. He wished Harry had stayed there and talked to him, Ginny thought. And she could tell from the tension in Harry’s shoulders that he already regretted walking away from Malfoy the way he had. But, stubborn git that he was, he would never go back and apologize. That would be weak.

            It was a day of wild resolutions and wilder miracles. Ginny hadn’t killed Bellatrix herself. She hadn’t defeated Voldemort. She hadn’t even stolen a wand and handed it back, which seemed like one of the smallest things she’d seen that day.

            But she was tired of people shutting her out of things, shoving her away because they were convinced she was just too little to handle it. If anything should cure someone of being a child, she thought, it was a day like this.

            And she was going to have what she wanted. And Harry should have what he wanted. And maybe that would even involve granting Malfoy’s wishes. She didn’t know yet. Ron had mumbled something about Harry saving Malfoy’s life and Malfoy trying to capture him and take him to Voldemort. Ginny didn’t know the full story of that yet.

            But she would find it out.

            And for the rest of their lives, no one had better get in the way of what she wanted without a bloody good reason. And likewise for Harry. If he wouldn’t ask for it himself, he would have Ginny behind him.

            Then Harry turned to kiss her, and it was the kind of hard and desperate kiss that made Ginny squirm on the bench, and involved them sneaking off for far more than a moment of privacy, and when Ginny thought to look for Malfoy again, he was gone. But she remembered that yearning look, that longing stamped on by convention.

            And she remembered the way Harry had wanted to stay longer.

            It would happen. They had the rest of their lives now.

*

            Draco drew Ginny’s attention back with a pinch. “Which one of us is going for you first?” he murmured into her hair, bowing his head until his face was smothered in the reaching strands of it. Ginny had grown it long at first to irritate him, and then because he wanted it that way, no matter how much he complained about “furry ginger mouthfuls” when they were in bed together.

            “Harry,” Ginny said, to see the way Draco’s eyes widened and he pulled back to look at her, and to hear the rumble of Harry’s agreeing laughter over her shoulder. She turned to face him and opened her legs, reaching between Harry’s own. His laughter turned to a sigh, and he rocked forwards, pulling her down, gently forcing Draco to roll out of the way if he didn’t want to be squashed. Ginny guided Harry into position by the simple expedient of wriggling her hips until he fit, and then she gripped his shoulders and rolled him beneath her in turn.

            Draco sat beside Harry’s head, touching both of them by turns and himself when his hands weren’t otherwise occupied. Harry was panting, staring up at Ginny and blinking as sweat dripped into his eyes. His face was wild again, recognizable, Harry’s face, seen across the Gryffindor common room couches and by the firelight in the hearth for so many years.

            Ginny shut her eyes and focused on the pleasure in her belly, tightening her muscles, making her thighs quiver. She had to do more work like this, but she’d never been afraid of work. That was what her mother hadn’t understood. If Ginny wasn’t a good warrior, or a good lover, she would work to make herself that way. She didn’t want to be held back and told that she was too young, or too girlish, or whatever.

            And if she thought that way for too long, she would let old memories spoil a perfectly good morning. She bore down with her inner muscles, squeezing, and Harry groaned and thrust faster. It was a riotous combination now, Ginny bouncing and Harry pushing, and Draco clasping their necks and their backs and leaning in for a kiss whenever their mouths went past him.

            Ginny timed her movements precisely, and squeezed Harry at the same moment as she managed to reach out and stroke Draco.

            That got her two very good groans, and she smiled and rolled her head right around on her neck, listening to the popping noises, feeling the shift of her muscles, reaching up with her other hand to feel the weight of her own breasts.

            It hadn’t always been like this. But Ginny had fought and argued and struggled until it was.

*

            “I know what you think of Malfoy.”

            Harry tried to drop his drink. Ginny had been prepared for that, though, and had learned a useful little charm that Hermione used whenever she made startling announcements to Ron. She Levitated the glass before it hit the floor and floated it back into Harry’s hand, enjoying his stare and smiling back.

            “What—what do you mean?” Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set his glass down hard on the table in front of him. The bustle of the Leaky Cauldron was such that no one paid any attention, any more than they had to Ginny’s initial speech. “I mean, you know that I think he’s an evil git, and sneaky, and a Slytherin.”

            “How can you think that about him when you know it?” Ginny asked, but Harry’s blinking showed her that he didn’t much appreciate her pedantic distinction right now. She sighed and stroked his shoulder. “I mean that I know you want to spend more time around him, Harry. And that you wish you’d said something else when you gave him back his wand, but I don’t know what.”

            Harry firmed his mouth up and glanced away. He thought that made him look less stubborn and more righteous, but Ginny had already told him that it didn’t work, and he had given her permission to tell him when he was being ridiculous. She tapped her fingers sharply against his knuckles now, and Harry swallowed and looked at her sheepishly.

            “I don’t know that I can change anything,” he whispered. “And I don’t know what to do with some of these dreams.”

            Ginny smiled. I was right. It remained to be seen whether she was right about the way Malfoy had been staring at the two of them all through the last year, but she thought she was. “What kinds of dreams?”

            Harry’s face turned scarlet. He buried his nose in his drink for a long moment, but Ginny was still waiting when he looked up, and he sighed and bowed his head as though he was going to bury it in his hands in turn. “It’s so embarrassing,” he whispered. “And at the same time, it’s nothing, so I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed.”

            Ginny nodded understanding, and signaled for some more butterbeer. She was glad that she had decided to drink that instead of Firewhisky, because otherwise she might not be able to approach this the right way. “What are they about?”

            “Flying with him out of the fire,” Harry said, focusing on her and blinking. “The way that he held me, as though I was the only thing keeping him from dropping into the flames. And that’s all it is. We just keep flying forever, through an endless fire, and part of me doesn’t want to wake up. Do you know how fucked-up that is?”

            “I don’t think it’s fucked-up.”

            Ginny just spoke the truth, but from the way Harry’s eyes focused on her, wide and bright with wonder, he hadn’t thought that simple acceptance was at all what he would get. “You don’t?”

            Ginny shook her head. “For one thing, I think there are lots of more fucked-up things you could dream, after the war.” She reached out and took Harry’s hand, and he squeezed back, silently. They had spent a lot of time talking about Hogwarts during the war, and the Horcrux hunt, and Ginny was glad they had; it led to this moment of flowing, quiet warmth, when they didn’t really need to talk again. “And second, I think Malfoy feels some of the same way about you. The way he’s been watching you.”

            Harry’s mouth tumbled open. Ginny smiled at him fondly. Since the war, Harry had changed a lot; he was less oblivious, more caring, he tried harder at other things than just defeating Voldemort. But he still didn’t really notice when someone was paying him attention, or at least he always assumed it was because of his hero status.

            “But that’s…also wrong,” Harry said in a small voice a minute later. “Because you know what dreams like that mean, Gin.”

            Ginny nodded. “I was sleeping beside you when you had some of them.” Harry groaned and tried to hide his red face again, but Ginny shook her head, strongly enough that he looked at her. “I think that we should all have what we want. I wanted you. I have you. And you and Malfoy should have each other, too, if that’s what you want.”

            “That doesn’t make sense,” Harry said in a low, urgent voice, as though he thought this was something Ginny might not have considered. “I mean, where does it leave you? And how can I date him and you at the same time?”

            Ginny smiled. This was the part where she really hoped that she hadn’t misjudged just the fervor in Malfoy’s gaze but its direction. “I think there’s a way we can fit me in.”

*

            It was always a surprise when she reached her peak, even after five years with the two of them. Ginny gasped and arched, and heard Harry muttering beneath her, the rough syllabus and nonsense phrases she never understood and thought were just a step away from Parseltongue. She bent down and kissed Harry, and Draco burst in from the side, bending her head back and making her shudder again as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, greedily absorbing as much of her pleasure as he could.

            Then Draco pushed her out of the way, and Ginny laughed and flopped on the bed. Their rule was one orgasm and then they could switch, unless two of them decided to spoil the other one. But this wasn’t one of these times, and she lay there with her arms and legs useless and watched Draco sink down onto Harry, his eyes shut and his breath hissing between his lips with the force of it. He’d prepared himself when she wasn’t looking.

            This kind of thing was the surprise to Harry. He caught Draco’s hips a moment later, though, and rolled them over the way Ginny had rolled Harry. Ginny was grateful that they’d bought an extra-large bed after the third time Draco ended up on the floor with Ginny piled on top of him.

            Draco panted smugly beneath Harry, staring up at him and clasping his shoulders with hard hands that would leave blood later. He closed his eyes and arched his neck as Harry pounded into him. Ginny liked to watch him like this, when he left every expression behind except one of pleasure.

            And there was another thing she liked to do, so she persuaded her draggy limbs to move and crawled slowly across the bed towards them.

            They didn’t notice her, totally caught up in each other by this time, and Ginny didn’t blame them. Harry’s hair was flying, his eyes were blazing. Draco glowed as if lit from within, and he smelled of sweat and working muscles and high exertion. Ginny slid in beside them and lowered her head, extending her tongue and holding her face carefully at just the right angle.

            Her tongue touched Harry where he entered Draco’s body, and slid up and down for a few taunting, teasing moments.

            Draco cried out desperately, the way he did when it hurt, and grabbed for Ginny’s head. She let him hold and tug her hair as he came, his whole body raised, straining, and then collapsing in a profound relaxation. He turned his head and kissed her, lazy as anything, as rain streaming down a window, his hands tightening on her chin and cheeks for a moment.

            Meanwhile, Harry finished with a triumphant cry, shoving so hard into Draco that his neck bounced, and then keening under his breath as he shuddered. Ginny waited until he was completely done, and then dragged him back and laid him out on the bed, kissing his throat and nipping at his chin. Harry opened his eyes and smiled hazily up at her.

            Draco helped arrange her and Harry until Harry was lying up on the pillows and cradling her against his chest. Then Draco cast a few Cleaning Charms—he was gentle with them, and with a lot of other things, as Ginny had found—and then bent down and touched his tongue to the flesh between her legs, gentle, there, too, and questing.

            Ginny let his head make its way between her thighs, too lazy to help, and listened to Harry grunting in arousal as he watched.

            If not for her, none of this would have come to be. And wouldn’t that have been a waste?

*

            “You must be joking.”

            Malfoy stuttered out the words as rapid as Muggle gunfire, his arms folded and his head lowered as though he wanted to protect his throat. His gaze shot accusingly back and forth between Ginny and Harry, and he turned his head the next minute, staring over his shoulder, undoubtedly searching for the other Auror trainees who were in on the joke and would be along in a moment.

            “No,” Harry said, much calmer and quieter in the presence of someone else’s fear than he would have been if Malfoy was perfectly arrogant. He had always been like that, Ginny thought, while also being able to appreciate strength. She leaned her arm against his as he reached out and caught Malfoy’s hand. “I know that you’ve looked at me like that. And I’ve had all these dreams about our escape from the fire.” He flushed, and a moment later, Malfoy did the same thing in echo, so they both stood there looking at each other with red faces. Harry cleared his throat and looked away. “And that’s the way it is.”

            “Fine,” Malfoy said, and he clipped the words off now. “So you and me. Then what happens to the She-Weasel?” He turned his head and stared at Ginny, and she knew she hadn’t imagined any of the dislike in his eyes, either.

            Ginny met his eyes calmly. “The deal is me and Harry, not just him,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. He can date you, and you can be with him.” It was hard to say the word “dating” in the same vicinity as Malfoy, and from the way his lip curled, he agreed with her. “But I don’t leave, and I don’t ignore it. I’m always going to be right here.”

            “I don’t share,” Malfoy said.

            “That’s what little kids say when someone steals their favorite toy,” Ginny said, and rolled her eyes. “And I did think that you’d become a bit more of an adult in the years since the war, Malfoy.”

            He intensified his glare, but then his eyes went back to Harry, and softened in that way they only had when he was looking at him. No, Ginny thought, holding her breath in hope while she watched him watch Harry, really not imagining it.

            “If this is to work,” Malfoy said, his voice as delicate as crumbs of broken chocolate, “then there are to be rules.”

            “Of course,” Ginny said, and leaned back comfortably along the wall. They had decided to ambush Malfoy in the corridor outside the Potions Training Labs; he never came near the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where Harry and Ginny trained, for understandable reasons, and this way, Ginny could set up those neat little privacy charms she and Harry had worked on during their last years at Hogwarts.

            “For example,” Malfoy said, and now he was staring at her harder than he’d looked at Harry. Ginny wondered if he realized yet that he hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand. “I don’t want to share him with anyone other than you.”

            “And are you going to be dating someone on the side?” Harry asked.

            Malfoy turned to look back at him. “No, Potter. Your girlfriend’s clever enough. Pathetic as it is, I only want you.”

            Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Since the war, Ginny thought, he’d become a lot better about realizing when he really didn’t need to talk about. He nodded. “That sounds good,” he croaked.

            Malfoy took a step nearer, a fluid motion that ended when he raised his hand and rested it on Harry’s cheek. Harry’s eyes widened. Ginny thought he might have tried to back away except for a fear of looking childish in front of Malfoy. For once, Ginny could bless those stupid competitive schoolboy instincts.

            Malfoy’s kiss made Harry clench his hands in his hair, and his legs fall open. Malfoy immediately pressed in, moving his hips sideways, kissing him so hard that Ginny saw a trickle of blood start. She didn’t know whose mouth it had come from, and she didn’t care.

            She folded her arms and watched them, not looking away even when Malfoy gave her a single flat stare. Harry was still hers, and although that might change with time, for now both she and Malfoy were just going to have to learn to share.

*

            Draco’s tongue was so deep by now that Ginny was sitting up and then falling back, unable to help herself, but supported and cradled by Harry’s arms around her waist. He was licking the back of her neck, nibbling now and then, and that helped even more. Ginny turned her head to kiss him, and then cried out as Draco got so deep that it seemed as if his tongue was digging up into her like Harry had.

            Then came the moment when Ginny knew that she was going to fall over the edge whether or not she wanted to. It was a quiet moment, because her heart going that fast drowned out the noise from everything else. She tightened her thighs around Draco’s head to let him know, but all he did was bob it faster, and his tongue curled and lashed and urged her on in place of words.

            She fell.

            The warmth bloomed inside her, and rushed out. Draco pulled his head back so his ears wouldn’t get crushed and watched her from a short distance away, sticking his fingers inside in place of his tongue, his smile so sweet that Ginny knew he enjoyed watching her come apart. She would get him for that smirk later.

            But then her head sagged back, and she finished coming. For now, she had better things to worry about.

            Draco curled up on top of her when she was done, and kissed her, sour-sweet. Then he pressed both of them flat into the blankets and closed his eyes as though he had every intention of going back to sleep. Harry, trapped beneath the two of them, grunted happily and arranged them some more.

*

            “Weasley. I have to talk to you.”

            Ginny glanced up, and blinked. It was unlike Malfoy to come visit her in her cubicle at the Ministry. Most of the time, he showed up at their flat after work, furtive enough, and went into the bedroom with Harry as though he assumed she would have changed her mind each time. She set down the mock memos she’d been assigned to scan for mistakes, wondering if he had a problem with Harry.

            “What?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him from the side when the front view didn’t reveal any reason for his folded arms and the tight grip his teeth had on his lip.

            Malfoy waited some more, but being around Harry had been good for him, as had getting what he wanted from Harry for once in his life. He took a long step forwards until he was in front of her desk. Ginny met his eyes and said nothing, but was aware of the tension stretching between them, further and further, like a string of toffee.

            Then Malfoy uttered a sound that was more like a gargle than anything else and gripped the back of her head, drawing her forwards into a kiss the same way he so often did with Harry.

            Ginny rose so that she wouldn’t throw her back out, and returned the kiss with interest. Malfoy hadn’t acted so much like a git since the war, and he was beautiful with Harry, and he wanted Harry for the same reasons Ginny did. (Well, some of the same reasons, anyway. Malfoy seemed far more orally fixated than Ginny ever would be). That was enough reason to try to get along with her lover’s lover.

            Malfoy stepped back and stared at her in shock. Ginny watched him, and then grinned. “You’ll only be in trouble if you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, or tell me that you did it on a dare,” she said.

            “But why would you want me?” Malfoy asked.

            Ginny shrugged. “I’ve watched you and Harry together. You’re fit.” She moved around the desk, watching him with eyes that she knew were beaming and bright; Harry always told her they were, when she was aroused. Malfoy, ridiculously, looked as if he wanted to retreat, as he never did with Harry. She reached up and looped her arms around his neck. She had to reach further than she did when she was embracing Harry. Then again, Harry never stood this stiffly next to her, as though he resented the very idea of a kiss. “And I know it would make Harry happy if we got along.”

            Malfoy would have made a good Gryffindor lion right then, with the way his hair tried to stand on edge like a mane. “I’m not doing this for him,” he said.

            “But partially for him,” Ginny said, and smiled at him. “Just the same way that I’m doing this partially for him, and partially for me, and partially for you. That’s the only way to do something like this, isn’t it?”

            Malfoy blinked, then blinked again. “You mean—you went into this thinking we could end up this way? That it wouldn’t just be you and me sharing Potter until the end of the world?”

            Ginny snorted. “You mean you never thought about it?”

            He looked her in the eye, and she discovered that in some ways, he was still younger than she was, and still caught up in the mess of the war. She sighed at him, and turned to cast a Stasis Spell on her desk so that no one else would change the size or shape of the piles, and none of them would fall to the floor.

            “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “There’s a supply cupboard on this floor that no one ever uses. I think we can take a good ten minutes to see if we fit together the way I suspect we will.”

            He followed her out, dazed, but with his eyes already lingering on her. Ginny smiled and strutted a bit. She almost hoped someone else saw them on the way to the cupboard, and gaped after them. Then the rumors would begin circulating about how she was cheating on Harry, the way they’d already started circulating about Harry and Malfoy despite all their caution, and that would push them one step closer to the day when Ginny could come out and declare everything—which was what she wanted.

            I do, in fact, have two hot blokes in my bed. I think that’s worth bragging about.

*

            Ginny opened her eyes, and blinked a bit, and yawned a bit. She would have stretched a bit, but Draco was asleep on top of her, and Harry was asleep beneath her, and she had to struggle to get her wand free. The Tempus Charm she cast told her that it was eleven in the morning, an hour when normally they would at least be up and lounging around the fire in their dressing gowns or in nothing, if not at work.

            But it was Sunday. And Harry and Draco wanted to sleep. And Ginny had decided, from the very beginning, that although everyone should go after what they wanted, the desires of people outside their tight little circle were considerably less important to her than the desires of those inside it.

            It was one reason, she was sure, that they had survived her family’s inevitable discovery and disapproval. She had just walked through it all with calm deliberation, gently surprised at their shock, and they had given up yelling at her because it had no effect. It was a little harder on Harry and Draco, but they drew close to her when they saw the united front she wanted to present, and they were so much harder to crack when they were three together.

            The firecalls had turned softer by turns, the yelling had ceased, and the acceptance had come flooding in when Harry didn’t run away with Draco and Draco didn’t leave Ginny pregnant and grieving. They had what they wanted now.

            Their lives had grown together as gently and imperceptibly as a great tree thrusting new boughs out into oblivion, testing leaves at new heights as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and always, always branching.

            And for right now, Ginny thought, closing her eyes, what we want is more sleep.

            The End.
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Ramiferous