Categories > Books > Harry Potter


by Alorkin

Slightly AU. This is my long awaited try at a threesome, starring Harry, Hermione and Ginny. A long one-shot, starts out slow, but with much lemony goodness for all involved. Includes passing m...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: NC-17 - Genres: Erotica - Characters: Ginny,Harry,Hermione - Warnings: [X] - Published: 2009-08-17 - Updated: 2009-08-21 - 15169 words - Complete


Disclaimer. Obviously, as I cannot even afford a decent Dictionary program, I am not J. K. Rowling and therefore I do not own Harry Potter (et al). That privilege goes to the talented and lovely J. K. R. to whom I am eternally indebted, both for a fascinating read and for many bedtime stories for my daughter.

Disclaimer 2: This story is so NOT HBP compliant! it sequel, Deadly Horrible, clearly demonstrate that even talented and lovely authors can make (hideously ugly) mistakes.

A/N: I wish to thank my sister, FireLemming, for her beta work. She doesn’t even follow the Harry Potter fandom, preferring TLK, and yet, will take time to offer much needed (and often unappreciated) critical advice.

“‘Mione?” Harry ventured. Both were still breathing hard from their just-finished bout of lovemaking, and were wrapped together in a human knot. Holding his beloved warmly, he stroked her damp, chestnut hair. Hermione’s eyes were half-lidded in content, as she absently traced the numerous scars across Harry’s chest. The hundreds of scars he carried on his back were from…another time.


Harry’s last battle with Voldemort had not gone easily. The psychotic wizard was determined that he should be the one to emerge victorious and conquer the world. Harry had rather vocally disagreed, using language he was positive neither his mother nor Molly Weasley would have approved of, and the two of them had become locked into a battle from which there would be only one survivor.

The fight was brutal and bloody, with no quarter asked or given. The very existence of the magical world hinged directly on these two men.

The problem was that Voldemort had fifty years more experience than Harry. It was Harry’s friends supporting him that turned the tide. One of the dark lord’s advantages was that he could draw magical power from his minions through their dark marks. Hermione’s discovery and subsequent devising of the false Galleons in their fifth year, led Harry to understand that as long as the Death Eaters remained his was a lost cause. He decided to eliminate that advantage. He’d given orders, against Dumbledore’s strident wishes, that there would be no easily reversible spells. With each Death eater killed, Voldemort found he had less magic to draw on. Harry, as powerful magically as he was, had refused to use the same rituals Riddle had chosen, and so, had only his innate magic.

Harry had survived, but just barely. In the face of defeat, knowing that if he died, everyone he knew and loved, would die as well, Harry had, in desperation, ‘given’ himself to the magic, offering himself in exchange for Voldemort’s defeat. The magic all around him responded in a manner nobody could have predicted or even understood. In his mind, the brilliant phoenix-song he’d come to associate with Fawkes, echoed in a poignant but fortifying manner, seemingly accepting him. He concentrated every bit of magic in the area, including all of his own, into a titanic explosion. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort, which left him very nearly dead. Voldemort had been sintered. His demented soul had been consumed entirely. In the background, the voices of all his victims could be heard cheering.

As for Harry, he very nearly died of his wounds. Almost all his skin had been flayed from the front of his body. In many places, the damage went clean to the bones. In a few, the wounds were even deeper. One arm hung limply, held in place only by a bloody piece of muscle, ligament and nerve.

Through the efforts of far too many healers, and over far too many weeks, the damage had eventually been repaired, but there were some things that even magic could not correct. Harry bore hundreds of cruel scars from the wildly out of control magic that had ravaged his body. Those scars would never go away, and truth be told, Harry felt that they were a suitable reminder of the defeat of the darkest tyrant the wizarding world had seen in generations.

Hermione as injured as she had been, had insisted she share Harry’s bed in order to help him heal, citing reference after reference in the field of holistic healing. The healers agreed at the very least, that her presence was calming, and so allowed her to stay. She had never left his side, not even for an instant. For once, Madam Pomfrey didn’t argue.

When he’d awakened, Harry pulled her into his arms, kissed her tiredly and asked her to be his bride.

After their honeymoon tour around the world, they repaired to Godric’s Hollow and rebuilt Harry’s first home. They would make the required appearances, as befit their status as the heroes of the wizarding world, but both of them were happy living in the relative obscurity of the isolated town. The two had extensively modified the wards around both the town and the cottage, to allow the local people who wished, to come and see them, and to exclude those who wished them harm. There were of course, some people exempted from the open invitation; including a certain, particularly annoying wizarding reporter, and most witches and wizards simply didn’t know where they lived. Neighbors visited on a generally regular basis and simply thought of them as ‘that nice young couple down the way’ rather than ‘The-most-powerful-wizard-in-the-world’ and ‘The-nearly-as-powerful-but-a-lot-smarter-witch-that-he-is-married-to’.

During the housewarming, one visitor asked what Harry and Hermione did for a living. Harry confessed that he had been a soldier, medically retired after having been caught in a mine’s explosion. He also allowed that due to his inheritance (he didn’t mention the moneys gained through the ancient ‘laws of conquest’) he really did not need to work, but because he wanted to remain a productive member of society, so he was now a consultant on terrorist groups for certain intelligence and police agencies. Which was actually, mostly, the truth.

Hermione kept her cover rather simpler. She simply said: “I usually work from here. I’m a technical writer and I share research duties with certain institutions.” Again, mostly true, as she did research on charms for the Department of Mysteries, while also corresponding with the technomages at Cambridge, Harvard and Stanford, on modifying certain muggle technologies for magical uses.

The neighborhood kids were disappointed that such an obviously wealthy couple had only an older, but well maintained, brown Volvo 245 diesel station wagon rather than a gleaming Jaguar, or E class Mercedes. Harry replied: “Well, we really don’t use a car too often and since the Volvo is the safest thing on the road, I figured it was a better choice.” Most of the adults nodded knowingly at this. The kids remained disappointed.


“Hermione?” Harry ventured.

“Mmmmm?” Hermione sighed, in answer, sleepy and content. Their loving that morning, had been fast and hard and thoroughly exhausting, and yet, it had also been tender and gentle and filled with love. She’s had six orgasms, to his two. Hermione both loved and hated the way Harry always saw to her needs, before his own. In fact, he seemed to feel her pleasure was the only thing that counted. He was quite expert by now, and could drive her insane with lust, using only a touch here, a caress there. Although, he adored her completely, and quite enjoyed the lovemaking, he treated his own pleasure as almost inconsequential.

Hermione had argued the point many times, but he’d never ceded. She’d even resorted to some interesting techniques to ensure he took pleasure as well, but still, even after all this time; he always made sure she was happy first. She sighed. ~I guess that’s just the way he is.~ She thought to herself.

Harry’s next words made her eyes pop wide open.

“Would you like to try a threesome?”

Hermione’s eyes popped open at the suggestion. She sat up, and stared at her husband of the past three years and in a tiny voice, asked: “Harry, Are you tired of me?” Hermione’s eyes filled; terrified the answer would be “yes”. Harry knew she had some rather serious self-image issues, none of which had been borne out. He’d always tried to ease her through them. Still, the question shocked him.

Goggling at his wife, Harry stuttered: “What!?! Tired of… Hermione, I could never grow tired of you! I love you! I love you more than anything!”

“Then why…why do you want a…threesome?” Hermione queried, still frantic even after their years of marriage, that she’d be rejected. A single tear rolled down her face. Realizing he’d made a major balls-up, Harry gently drew his wife to him, cuddled her warmly and softly kissed the tear away.

“Oh, that. You brought up the subject a few weeks ago, remember?”

“Oh, Yeah. I’d forgotten.” Hermione blushed furiously. She recalled the day she’d proposed the idea to her lover.

“Forgotten? The great Hermione Potter, nee Granger, cleverest witch of the age, forgot something? Egad! Forsooth! I must needs contact the Daily Prophet, for ‘tis certes a portent of impending apocalypse!” Harry mocked gently.

“Oh shut up, Harry!” Hermione chuckled wryly, swatting him on the shoulder, and now a bit more relaxed, relieved that Harry wasn’t thinking of leaving her, snuggled into Harry’s arms.

“So, A threesome?” She whispered.

“Well,” He spoke softly. “I recall you mentioned being interested in a threesome. I’ve heard they can be exciting, and Seamus has told me, in far too much detail, about his encounters with some of the local girls, and I even understand Ginny was the centerpiece at a gang-shag!”

“Yeah. She told me about that. She took on twelve guys, one right after the other!” Hermione snuggled into her husband’s side sleepily, resting her head on his chest, and draping her knee over his legs. Harry could feel the delicious warmth of her body against his; the juncture of her thighs giving off the most heat of all. His erection stirred.

Hermione felt it and giggled. “Doesn’t that ever go down?”

Not around you, it doesn't! Are you up for another go?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

“I might be.” Hermione replied saucily. “But let’s wait until we’ve eaten. I’m starved!” Harry’s stomach chose that moment to rumble in agreement, so he announced: “I’m hungry too. I wonder if Dobby or Winky are…”

“Finish that statement and I’ll hurt you, Potter.” Hermione growled. “They’re on their honeymoon.” She paused and then added: “I wonder what elves do on honeymoons?”

“If I had to judge by the noise they were making before they left, I’d say pretty much the same thing we did. I’m still hungry.”

In keeping with his social status, not to mention that the elves would die of magical depletion if he hadn’t, Harry had bonded both Dobby and Winky to his household, which included, Hermione. When he did so, he also asked them to bond with each other, if that was their wish. It was, and they did. After having taken Hermione aside and explained very carefully why elves must bond or die, they all lived quite happily together

Harry grinned wickedly then and shouted: “Last one to the kitchen has to cook!” as he flipped himself from the bed, snagging his robe on the way out, and swirling it around his scarred shoulders.

“You cheat!” Hermione howled, scrambling across the bed on order to catch up. She also grabbed her robe, a beautiful blue silk kimono Harry had bought in Japan on their honeymoon cruise. She ran full-tilt out the door, caught Harry at the top of the stairs, and gripping his robe tightly, hauled him back onto his arse. She vaulted over him, offering him a very nice view, and slid down the banister squealing in pure juvenile joy.

Harry quickly regained his feet and pursued his naughty wife down the stairs, though he didn’t slide the rail. He simply apparated to the foot.

“Hey! No apparating!” Hermione shouted in outrage that anybody would cheat so…and that she hadn’t thought of it first, of course.


The final battle against Voldemort had not been kind to him. Yes, he’d destroyed the dark lord, but the cost to him had been hideous.

When the battlefield healers had brought him in, Madam Pomfrey, though severely injured herself, had stridently insisted that none were as qualified to look after her favorite patient as she was. Nevertheless, she nearly fainted in shock when she saw the barely alive, human wreckage that was Harry Potter.

Many had despaired of his survival.

The remaining Aurors, citizens who had fought, his teachers, and surviving schoolmates held vigil for him.

Magic had prevailed. It seemed the universe wanted him alive. Through the efforts of far too many healers, and over far too many weeks, the damage had eventually been repaired. Dobby and Winky both, had given of their magic, almost to the point of depletion to restore his arm, and his skin, but there were some things that even magic could not correct. Harry bore hundreds of cruel scars from the wildly out of control, raw magic that had ravaged his body. Those scars would always remain, but truth be told, Harry felt that they were a suitable reminder of the defeat of the darkest tyrant the wizarding world had seen in generations.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t bitter about the almost constant pain he endured because of them, pain that was sometimes so intense he frequently walked with an intricately carved dragon bone cane, gifted him by the goblins of Gringotts.

Instead, he reveled in his life!

Hermione had hardly been better off than Harry. Her own battles with the Death Eaters, particularly Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco Malfoy, had shown the world exactly how determined, ruthless and deadly she could be.

Her injuries were not as extensive, as his, but that was only a matter of degree. She had insisted she share Harry’s bed in order to help him heal, citing reference after reference in the field of holistic healing. The healers agreed at the very least, that her presence was calming, and so allowed her to stay. She had never left his side, not even for an instant. For once, Madam Pomfrey didn’t argue.

When he’d finally awakened, Harry pulled her into his arms, kissed her tiredly and asked her to be his bride.


Harry moved just fast enough to make her think he was serious. Truth be told, Harry was a much better cook than Hermione. Not to say that she was a poor cook, because she was not. Hermione continually strove for excellence in all things she did, and so, put forth the effort to do everything she did, at the very least, correctly. She could competently prepare a full meal, that would satisfy any sort of company, but it was more her point of view. Hermione felt that cooking and eating was something to be done in as efficient a manner as possible, and didn’t really care if it was a bit scorched around the edges. Despite her excellence in almost every other aspect of her life, she just didn’t have the artistic flair for creating a truly involved meal. So Harry did. Of course, Harry did have the dubious advantage of having been a human house-elf for a good portion of his life.

Harry thought it odd, that she did so very well in potions. Under the tutelage of Hogwarts’ former potions master, Severus Snape, she had attained her own mastery in a remarkably short time.

Snape had been grateful Harry had destroyed his former master and, in one of his few moments of passion, he’d unthinkingly promised him anything he wanted. Harry had later taken him up on his ill-advised offer, and before the old curmudgeon had died, he’d had him tutor Hermione to her mastery.

Snape had so hated that! Not that his pupil was Hermione Granger, for she had a keen intellect, a drive to learn that rivaled his own, and an attention to detail, that he had always found to be quite refreshing. No, what he despised; was that he, Severus Snape, Master of Potions, undisputed expert in all of Great Britain, was beholden to Harry Bloody Potter!


Hermione bounced off the seat springs and vaulted over the back of the sofa, bumped Harry aside and raced triumphantly past him into the kitchen.

Harry picked himself up again, and stumbled into the kitchen, to find his beloved dancing around like a four year old, as she twirled her kimono around her head.

Even for a man of Harry’s control, this was too much. His naked wife, gyrating in such an erotic manner and swinging her clothing around in the air, was just too much for mortal man to take. Wasting no time at all, he slipped under the path of the silk, and kissed her passionately. Within moments he had her locked in his arms and flat on the table. Immediately, he forced her thighs apart and pushed into her, eliciting a strangled moan of outraged desire. Hermione gave as good as she got, meeting his every thrust with her own. Her passionate cries could be heard throughout the house.

All too soon, it was done. Both combatants lay panting on the sturdy table, reveling in the post coital glow that literally surrounded them. Their melding magic actually enhanced the wards surrounding the house. It was fortunate that no wizarding folk lived nearby, because they would surely know what was happening in the quiet house at the end of the lane.

Unfortunately, it happened that on this day, there was one magical person in the village. Just one, but for them, it was the absolute worst one it could possibly be.

The past-her-prime blond woman stepped into an alley in the nearby town, and became an ugly beetle with strange markings on its forward carapace. She rose into the air, turned and began to fly toward the magical glow.

This morning, Harry set to, on breakfast and within a short time, had French toast, sausage and sliced kiwi fruits and oranges on the table. Hermione had made their coffee, for they had both gotten used to the vile brew during their hunt for stray Death Eaters before Voldemort made his final strike, ,nd truth be told, they had come to enjoy the stuff. Harry drank his black, with as she described: ‘far too much sugar’, while Hermione drank it with milk and some honey. They both tucked in, with relish.

Breakfast was eaten in a homey quiet, with Harry or Hermione sometimes feeding the other bits of this or that, and discussing inconsequentials, until Hermione broached the previous subject.

“So, Harry. What do you think?” Hermione inquired, seriously, sipping her coffee. Their plates stacked and set to the side.

“About what?” Harry asked, rather confused at the turn in conversation.

“A threesome.” She was calm, but Harry could tell she was worried about his reaction.

Harry finished chewing and swallowing, followed by a sip of his coffee.

“Well…I’ve never been in one. I’ve heard about them, yes, but… Well, as I said, you are all that I could wish for. I really didn’t have much experience when we got married…”

“Hah!” Hermione laughed. “Make that: none!’ One kiss with Cho and some snogging with Ginny don’t count.”

“This coming from miss: ‘I’m sorry Ron but I won’t do that until I’m married!’? I’m afraid reading ‘The Single Witches Guide to the Kama Sutra’ doesn’t exactly count either.”

“I’ll have you know, mister Potter, that Ron and I were intimate, on several occasions!” Hermione snipped.

Harry chose not to reply to her challenge, knowing that she was right, and focused on the question at hand. “So, a threesome, hunh? Who would you suggest? A man or a woman?”

“Well, I’m not certain. I’m really not used to the idea, you know. What do you think?”

“I’d say, that that was entirely up to you.” He returned.


“Why what?”

“Why would it be up to me? Why wouldn’t you want to have a say?”

“Hermione, I love you with all my heart and all my soul. I need no one but you. If this experiment would make you happy, I will do anything I can to ensure you are. Besides, I might like it too.” Harry stretched over the table and gave her a soft and loving kiss.

Hermione smiled sweetly at this, silently promising him ‘something extra’ their next go. Harry, knowing his wife’s heart, returned the smile and went on.

“If you were sure you wanted to try this, I would do it even if you chose Hagrid or Snape…or Trelawney…” He shuddered. “…Well, maybe those were poor examples, but you take my meaning.” He smiled. Hermione giggled.

“Good God, Harry! Hagrid would split me in half! And Snape, even if he wasn’t dead, isn’t even worth considering…and Trelawney? Ewwwww!” She waited a minute and then added: “So who would you consider?”

“Well, if you’re serious, I think it would have to be someone we both trust implicitly. There aren’t many in that group.” Harry replied.

“Yes, that does shorten the list a great deal. First in line would have been Ron, but since…” Hermione trailed off. Ron’s valiant death in the final moments of the ‘Last Battle’, as it was called, had shaken them all to their very cores. Even now, after three years, she still missed their temper prone friend.

She ventured: “Padma?”

“She and ‘Vati are sharing Dean. Last I heard, they were in Calcutta.” Harry replied.

“Pancot. The new School for the Arcane Arts there, remember?” She reminded him. It was frustrating sometimes how Harry could forget how many schools and foundations there were, especially seeing as how he had endowed quite a number of them. They remained automatically funded through the endowments, but it seemed to him as if they were simply incidentals to life, rather than the important institutions for learning that they were.

“Oh, yeah.” He flushed. He’d finished signing the papers to found that school just a few weeks before.

“Hmmm. I think you’re right. How about…Luna?” Hermione almost snorted at their odd friend’s name.

“She’s a wonderful girl, Hermione. You don’t give her enough credit. But she’s with Neville in Norway hunting Snorkacks.”

Hermione sniggered.

Harry sighed in mild irritation at his wife’s prejudice.

“Hermione, don’t you think that with a name like Snorkack, they’d have to have been seen, at least once? After all, doesn’t ‘snor’ translate to ‘curled’, and ‘kack’ into ‘horn’?” Besides, it seems to me, that she’d jump in with both feet. Neville’s told me about a few of their ‘encounters’! Apparently Luna’s quite the randy little wench!”

Hermione was thoughtful, but as has been noted elsewhere, she could be more than a little bit stubborn. She did what any girl would, in similar conditions…she changed the subject.

“Fred and/or George.”

“Not a bloody chance! Too much to go wrong there!” Harry shook his head rapidly.

“Too right! They’d bring along some kind of wonky prank!”

“How about Lavender?”

“Oh, honestly, Harry! The girl’s an airhead! Even Dean couldn’t stand her, big boobs ad all. She’d never be able to keep her mouth shut about shagging the ‘Great Harry Potter’! Can you imagine the gossip once that got out??”

Harry shuddered at the thought. Lav wasn’t his type anyway.

“Tonks?” He ventured. Remus had been killed by Pettigrew, but had managed to return the favor before he died. He’s also taken almost all of the dark aligned werewolves including the infamous Fenrir Greyback.

“It might be interesting to see if she can mimic me ‘completely’. Whaddya think? Two Hermione’s at once?”

“I think that would be doing her a great disservice. Tonks has been used all her life for that ability. It would be so wrong to ask her to become someone she’s not, just for our enjoyment. She’s really a sweet girl, and she deserves much better.” Harry scolded lightly. Hermione flushed.

“I’m sorry, love. You’re absolutely right. That would be wrong, and was rather thoughtless of me.” She whispered. Before rising and bracing her hands on the tabletop as she leaned over to kiss her life-mate.

Harry took her face in is hands and returned her kiss gently. “Everybody makes mistakes, luv. Besides, she’s in Canada just now, providing security for the World Cup. We should keep her in mind, though, if we ever want to do it again.”

With a playfully outraged glare, she sat again. Harry began once more.


“He’d bring that ruddy camera! Besides, he’s gay. He’d probably love to have you shag him, but I think I squick him!”

“I didn’t know that!” Harry was surprised. He’d known Colin for almost ten years, yet didn’t know of his sexual orientation.

“Yep!” Hermione grinned. She always loved it when she knew something Harry didn’t. It happened less frequently than back at Hogwarts, but it did happen. She took advantage of the event whenever it occurred. “Why do you think he was always following you everywhere?”

“Um…Hero thing?”

“Partly.” She allowed. “But when he realized he was gay, it was more so you’d have to notice him. Give you a chance to get into his knickers, so to speak.”

“Well, I really don’t think I swing that way. On the other hand, if Bonny Prince William were to give me the nod, I most likely wouldn’t turn him down.”

“Mmmmm! Neither would I.” Hermione agreed with a dreamy look in her eyes.

Harry gave her a mock-scowl, and continued. “Seeing as you’ve discovered my deep dark secret, shall we move on?”

Giggling, Hermione nodded, sipping her own coffee.

Sounding nervous, Hermione advanced the next name: “How about Seamus?”

“Much as I like him, the guy’s got an ego problem.”

“Yeah. I’m afraid you’re right. He really is no better than Lavender. He’s got so many notches in his bedpost I’m surprised it isn’t wood shavings by now. Besides, he’d boast all over the wizarding world that you shared me with him. Hell, he might even make it out that you weren’t enough for me, and that you had to invite him. He does rather think a lot of himself.”

“Well, I don’t think he’d quite do that, he is rather scared of me. I put the fear of God into him when he was dating Ginny. Alright, then, how about…Pansy or Millie.”

“Ewwwww! Come on, Harry! Be serious!” Hermione instantly clapped her hands over her mouth, knowing she’d made a ‘Sirius’ mistake.

“Naah! Sirius is with Moony and Slippery Red…” Harry was referring to Ron’s animagus form of a red weasel. “…chasing all the heavenly kitties!” Harry grinned. After years of mourning, Harry had finally gotten past Sirius’ death, but Hermione could swear that sometimes he was channeling the dead Marauder. She was fortunate this time. He’d left it at a lame joke.

“I expect the only one we really can trust that much is Ginny.” Hermione forwarded her friend’s name gingerly. “She’s adventurous enough.” In truth, Ginny Weasley was the most adventurous and sexually experienced woman Hermione knew. Following her breakup with Harry, much to Molly’s chagrin, she’d gone from bed to bed, in an attempt to experience as many different kinds of pleasure as she could. Her sexual exploits were the stuff of legend at Hogwarts. She and her many lovers, of both sexes, had discovered more places to shag than any other people in the history of the school. During her sixth and seventh years, she had developed a reputation as someone who was knowledgeable and skilled, at pleasuring her partner, yet demanding of the same. Those few of her lovers, who had decided it would be a one-way street, ended up rather quickly, by the side of the road.

Those few who tried to use her amorous leanings against her, found themselves in dire straits, in the form of her lovers and Harry. With the exception of Draco Malfoy…one of the first to be dropped by the wayside, the warnings…or in a few cases beatings, were enough to keep them from mentioning it again. Even Snape discovered, after an especially offensive epithet, that his potions ingredients and the like had a nasty tendency of mysteriously exploding when he was nearby, until he understood that the ‘hands-off’ rule included him.

She’d even given Hermione a few lessons in pleasure. In fact, after the war, when she’d heard she and Harry were going to marry, she’d taken Hermione aside, once her friend had been released from the hospital wing, and over the next few nights, had taught her how to teach Harry, what to do, to please her in bed. Hermione would always love her for that. She missed Ginny’s soft lips on her body, and although Harry was well trained…a master even, if she did say so herself, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Ginny?” Harry repeated the name. “Do you think she’d be willing?” He asked, almost afraid Hermione would say ‘no’.

“Actually I was seriously considering her. She’s always loved you, you know, and she definitely has the experience. Like I said; the month before last, she was the centerpiece in a gangshag. She took on twelve men, including three of her brothers, and had each one of them at least twice. She said it was the best sustained orgasm she’d ever had, being taken by that many guys!” Apparently sex between siblings isn’t unusual in pureblood society, as long as precautions against pregnancy are taken, although sometimes I think Ginny pushes the boundaries of acceptability, really, really hard. She told me she enjoyed it immensely but she was quite sore for days afterward! I don’t think a simple threesome would be much of a problem for her.”

“I suppose not. You know, it’s funny. I don’t see Ginny as a…well, as what Molly would call a ‘Scarlet Woman’. She’s not a slag; she’s just someone who has come too close to death, too often. She’s responsible, has a good job and keeps her affairs carefully controlled. I think she just realizes that her time on this Earth is limited and simply wants to experience all the pleasure in life that she can. I can easily understand that! I can’t think of her as bad, or wrong, or anything like that. I just think of Ginny as, well…Ginny!”

“I like that! It’s poetic.” Hermione leaned across and kissed Harry softly. “That’s one of the things we both love about you, Harry. You never judge. You just accept people as they are.” Then, she glared at Harry. “Just don’t you ever expect to see me doing that, Mister Potter! I am quite happy with you, thank you very much!”

“Then you don’t want to try the threesome?” Harry grinned. Hermione blushed and swatted him again.

Harry winced and dramatically rubbed his shoulder, earning himself another swat.

Hermione paused, than asked: “So, do you want to?”

“Yeah. I think I’d like to try this. How about you?”


“So, Ginny’s the best choice?”

“Better than Malfoy, anyway.”

“Oh God! Now you’ve ruint my appetite. I still can’t believe you did that!”

“Don’t remind me!” Hermione groaned ruefully. “He was ruddy awful! You’d think that with all his training in aristocratic control, it would have lent itself to his bedroom performance. I think, he still thinks he was doing me a big favor by shagging me!”

Harry pushed his plate away. “Well, that’s done it! Now, I can’t eat at all!” He bowed his head into his hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Harry…” Hermione laughed. “Now you’re just being silly! Eat!” She gently pushed Harry’s plate back in front of him. Even now, he still didn’t eat enough. “Besides, he’s safely locked up in Azkaban, where he belongs!”

“He belongs in the bloody ground!” Harry growled. Now, Hermione thought he was channeling Remus.

Draco’s participation as a Death Eater had placed Harry’s friends in grave danger. In fact, it was he, who had killed Ron and laid Hermione low! Fortunately for her, she’d just killed Bellatrix Lestrange with a reductor curse to the chest, and hadn’t seen it when Draco had struck her from behind with a cruciatus curse. Malfoy had wanted to ‘play’ with her for a bit before he killed her, otherwise, she’d be very dead.

What Malfoy hadn’t known, was that during their sixth year, Harry had taught both Hermione and Ron, how to shift aside much of the pain of the cruciatus curse, and function almost normally. She’d cast a curse at him that had blasted him into a tree, and as the cruciatus had lifted, she’d conjured ropes and had bound him to the trunk. Then, she had taken his magical wand for use in court, and broken his organic one, for Draco had become quite aroused by his actions and had grown an erection. Hermione had smiled sweetly, reached into his pants and whispered, nastily: “I figured you wouldn’t need this, because you’re shit in bed anyway!” then viciously twisted it just right, breaking open the blood vessels there, and ensuring him both a lifetime of agony, and the complete loss of any potential sex life…of any sort. Draco had shrieked in agony, and passed out.

Harry had been engaged with Voldemort at the time and moments later, Hermione had been blasted into the very same tree, when the wild surge of magical energy Harry had released, had exploded through the forest, sending violent waves of scintillating energy in every direction.

She’d awakened in the hospital wing, and as soon as Mme. Pomfrey had turned her back, she’s climbed form her bed into Harry’s, and refused to leave. She fell asleep holding Harry’s remaining hand in her own.


Suddenly a tiny flare of magic near the window alerted them to the presence of their least favorite reporter. Harry whipped up his hand and within a second, the forcibly transformed Rita Skeeter flew across the room, bouncing painfully from the wainscoting. Before she could recover from either the spells or the nasty knock she’d received, Harry had reached her, and punched her hard, in the forehead, snapping her skull back into violent contact with the wall. While she was stunned, he pulled open her ugly green handbag and snatched up her infamous ‘Quick Quotes’ quill. Snapping the offensive thing in half, threw it into the fireplace, where Hermione cast an Incendio. Within an instant, the quill was nothing but ashes. Hermione banished those ashes up the chimney.

“Hello, Rita.” Harry growled. “I see you’ve found my little hidey-hole.”

“My…my…my quill!” Rita stammered.

“I told you what would happen if you ever tried to use it on me again.” Harry snarled. Skeeter had caused him enough trouble in the past, and the only reason she hadn’t had a ‘fatal accident’, is that Hermione had convinced him that he’d regret arranging one. He’d accepted her thoughts at the time, but just then, he was reconsidering. Hermione placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve destroyed my quill! That…that was an original, first issue, ‘Quick-Quotes’ quill! It was customized to me!” Rita shrieked. “I’ll sue you, Potter! That quill was irreplaceable!”

“And I can put your pseudo-insectoid arse in prison for invading my home. Since I did not invite you, I believe that’s called burglary, or at the very least, Breaking and Entering. That combined with your being an illegal animagus should get you at least a few years in Azkaban.”

“Shows what you know, Potter!” Rita snarled. “Quite by accident, of course, I recently discovered I was an animagus, and I went directly to the ministry to register.” She smiled in a predatory manner.

“More like, someone highly placed caught you out, didn’t care for your spying, and threatened to expose you…Hmmm, that sounds like…” Harry broke off thinking for a moment, then shook his head and shrugged.

“Alright. How about this, then? I can still chuck you into Azkaban for the B&E charge, and if that doesn’t work, I can use my ‘influence’ to ruin any chance you have of ever working again…or better yet, I can simply publish what I do know of how you managed to get so many exclusives. How long do you think you’d last then? Remember, Rita, there are still a lot people out there who really don’t like you. Imagine how they’d react when they find out just how you’ve been spying on them. On the other hand, maybe I should just set a bug zapper field into the wards around my home, and suggest everyone in Britain do the same. Have you ever seen what happens to a beetle animagus who runs across one of them? It’s the same thing that happens to any other beetle who does.”

Rita paled. Even she knew what a bug zapper was, seeing as how there were now a couple at the Burrow. Still, she hadn’t earned her position as Wizarding Britain’s ‘top investigative reporter’ by being timid. She went on the offensive.

“I’ll ruin you, Potter! I’ll dish up so many rumours, which I won’t have to prove, that you won’t be able to show your pathetic face in public ever again!”

Obliviate!” Hermione snarled, putting enough power into the spell to ensure Rita’s memory for the last several hours had been thoroughly erased. She spoke softly but urgently: “You really should get over there immediately, Rita. After all, imagine the scandal a Fudge, Umbridge, Malfoy tryst would cause! It would probably be the biggest news of the year. Your publisher might even give you a nice, fat raise! Now, why don’t you re-assume your beetle form, and land on my hand. I’ll see you through the incredibly dangerous wards here in Lincolnshire, to safety. There’s a nice little pond nearby, you can use to take off from.” The dazzled Skeeter did just that, and Hermione raced out the door, down the path and through the wards. Just incidentally, she appeared to be headed in the direction of the large pond, in which they’d seen a number of large green frogs, and a couple of ducks, just the other day.

She returned several minutes later, looking smug.

“Do I want to know?” Harry asked with a bemused smile.

Probably not.” She returned. “In fact, I think it’s better if you didn’t.” Now Hermione’s smile was distinctly evil!

“Fudge, Umbridge and Malfoy?” Harry shuddered in disgust at the mental image that evoked. “Eeewww!”

“Hey, I was rushed.” Hermione smiled again, sat at the table, and sipped her coffee, then ventured: “Well?”

“I guess Ginny is our best bet?” Harry ventured. He’d never made love with the fiery redhead. They’d grown apart after their aborted affair in sixth year.

“Looks like.”

“Alright, then. Let’s invite her over for dinner on Tuesday and ask her then. If she agrees, we can make it on a Friday. That way we’ll have time to rest…”

“Or recover!” Hermione snarked. Harry’s sexual prowess was not ‘quite’ legendary, but he was still very inventive, and both his staying power and recuperative capabilities had resulted in Hermione’s waking up tender and achy on many ‘mornings after’ during the past three years.

She chalked it down to his trying to recover form a lifetime of abuse, neglect and feelings of worthlessness…and enjoyed the ride.

“Or recover.” Harry grinned back.

Hermione was nervous at the prospect of sharing her husband, but having made up her mind, she was determined to see it through. “Do you want to ask her, or shall I?”

“I think it would be best if the invitation came from both of us.”

“Alright, then. We’ll ask her on Tuesday.”

Together, they cleared the table and then stood side to side washing and drying the dishes, touching each other, exchanging kisses and just generally being in love. When the dishes were done, a kiss became a hug which turned onto a tickle-match cum grope-fest, and that devolved into the two of them chasing the other around the room and shrieking with laughter like a couple of kids.

“Last one to the bed has to look at the ceiling!” Hermione shouted, shoving Harry aside and racing past him. He sped along behind her, thoroughly admiring the silk-covered arse in front of him. He grabbed the robe in order to slow her, but Hermione had remembered her own actions. She’d yanked on the slipknot, and slipped out of the kimono, bolting up the stairs wearing nothing but a smile. Harry gave chase. He knew that in a few hours, his battered body would demand payment in full, for the abuse he was putting on it at this morning, but decided that it was far more important to pleasure his beautiful wife in any, and every way he could.

He crashed through the closing door, grabbing Hermione in his arms and literally flying the both of them to the bed. He rotated them in midair so that he landed on the bottom and Hermione plopped down on top of him.

“Hey!” She squeaked. “That’s no…” The rest of her objection was smothered in his kiss, as just then, he had a beautiful, loving wife he had to render blissfully unconscious.

Over the next few hours, Harry did his job very well, indeed.


Tuesday evening:

“This is delicious!” Ginny gushed. “What is it?”

“Basically it’s minced lamb and couscous and some spices rolled in grape leaves.” Hermione replied, then went on: “It’s a Greek favorite. The whole dinner is Greek. Red potato salad in balsamic vinegar, Blanched asparagus, with sour cream and shallots, Boiled quails eggs…”

“Hermione. I didn’t know you cooked so well.”

“I don’t. I can do tea and toast, and that’s about it. I’m afraid I cook about as well as I fly.” Hermione admitted blushing.

“But you’ve gotten loads better at flying. If you wanted, you’d make a fair chaser!” Ginny protested.

“She’s a much better cook too.” Harry interjected. “She can do far more than tea and toast. She just prefers to have a husband who caters to her every whim.”

Hermione slapped Harry’s shoulder. He affected a deeply injured mien, and whinged: “You’re so mean to me!”

“Awww!” Hermione cooed, and leaned on to kiss it better. Lingering, she applied her lips in such a fashion that Harry knew there would be an enjoyable evening on the way.

Ginny laughed at the foolery and then added: “So you like to cook?”

“Well enough. It’s more than that, though. I’ve had done with destroying. Now, I want to create. Harry shot a loving look at his wife, and added: “When Hermione gives me the go-ahead, I intend to help to create a new life.”

Hermione blushed and smiled happily. “Only two more years, Harry. When I’m tenured, I’ll stop the prophylaxis. I promise.”

Dinner done, Harry turned to cleaning up while Hermione escorted Ginny to the lounge and sat her down on the settee. In the background, Mozart’s ‘concerto 11 for piano and harpsichord’ played from invisible speakers.

Hermione waited, until she felt Ginny was relaxed enough.

Then she voiced her invitation.


Ginny Weasley couldn’t believe she’d just heard what she’d just heard. What she thought she’d just heard was an invitation from the wholesome twosome, to join them in a threesome!

Seemingly reading her friend’s mind, Hermione snickered. “Yes, you heard me correctly, Gin.” Hermione, the queen of the repressed, blushing heavily, repeated her invitation. “Harry and I would like you to join us in a threesome.” She’d joined Ginny in the lounge while Harry had cleaned up and prepared some tea. Ginny thought she was adorable when she blushed. She also knew Hermione could be a firecracker in bed, having experienced her before, so she was more than a bit intrigued. Having heard rumors from Dean and Seamus, during school, about Harry’s ‘natural endowment’, she was becoming even more so. She could actually feel her knickers getting damp. She’d wanted Harry since well before their aborted affair in her fifth year.

“But…but…” Ginny was flabbergasted. Was there something wrong in Happyville?
“Why would you want to have a threesome in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, Ginny, you gave me the idea. As much as I love making love with Harry, neither of us had much experience when we got together. Harry was a virgin and I’d only had sex a few times.”

Hermione took a breath as if steeling herself for a difficult task.

“We want to try this, and you are both the most experienced person we know, and one of very few we trust this much. We know our sexual experimentation won’t end up a disaster, or on the front page of the Prophet. Neither of us has ever tried anything…unusual. You have.”

“Threesomes aren’t that unusual, Hermione, but I can see where you’re coming from. Experimentation can be fun. Now, why me?”

“Well, quite honestly, there aren’t many people we would trust in such an intimate setting. Ron, of course, was one, but since he’s…”

“Yeah.” Ginny sighed sadly. Ron’s death in the final minutes of the final battle against Voldemort, had hit them all hard. None of them had been able to fully recover from it. Molly had, for the first two years, blamed Harry, forbidding him to come within miles of the Burrow. It had taken a combination of efforts on the parts of all the males of the Weasley family plus the sole girl child, to finally convince Molly that she’d been both wrong and cruelly unfair to the one who had saved them all. Visits there were still more than a bit tense.

“We discussed Neville and Luna, but they’re busy in Norway.”

“Snorkacks?” Ginny asked, knowing of Luna’s obsession.

Hermione nodded and went on. “We also briefly considered one or both of the twins but…”

“Oh HELL no!” Ginny’s eyes had widened at that. “Those two would pull some awful prank…”

“Precisely. We discounted them pretty quickly.” Hermione went on.
They do have their reputation to uphold, but really, I want Harry to let them live. They’re too valuable to us, alive, as we’re the primary shareholders of W3, and all.”

“On the other hand, they are very good. I’ve had them more than a few times, you know.” Ginny returned.

“Sorry, Gin. That’s a bit close to home for my liking.”

“Oh, Hermione. I keep forgetting. Being muggleborn, you wouldn’t know. In the wizarding world, this kind of thing goes on all the time. It’s simply considered to be a great stress reliever. As long as pregnancies are prevented, no one really cares. I’ve had all my brothers at one time or another…well, except Percy, but you know he’s a prat. Even Penny used to say he was seeking for the other team.” Ginny explained the facts of life to her friend. Then, she mused: “I wonder how she got preggers?”

"Colin Creevy…?” Ginny ventured. She’d always had a soft spot for the infamous photographer.

“Is gay, and would most likely bring that blasted camera and then try to sell the pictures. We also considered Seamus.”

“The man-whore? Not bloody likely! He’d probably sell his story to one of the rags, and make it sound like Harry ‘needed his expert help’ to keep you satisfied.”

“Yeah, that’s about what we thought too.”

They both agreed that Daphne Greengrass, while she was pretty nice, and relatively trustworthy, having supported them against both her own family and Voldemort, was not in their close circle of friends. During the war, she’d played both sides against the other. She’d survived, and made a ton of gold at it, but anyone who knew her, knew, that like Snape before her, the only side she was on, was her own.

One or both of the Patils might have been willing, but they were in Pancot, India, with Dean, teaching at the newly established School for the Arcane Arts, there.

“Anyway, to put this as indelicately as possible, you’re the only one I know with this sort of experience. If I’m not mistaken, you just finished doing a twelve-man orgy. A threesome shouldn’t be too new.”

The silence surrounded them, broken only as Mozart became Prokofiev.

“So…ummm…you wouldn’t mind?” Hermione ventured.

Ginny gazed at her friend’s anxious eyes, and answered: “Not at all. As a matter of fact, I think I’d quite enjoy it. I’m just surprised that you’d share. You are rather possessive, you know.”

“I can be. And if it weren’t you, I probably wouldn’t even consider this. But you’re my very best girlfriend. We’ve made love before, and I’ve never gone unsatisfied, and I really think it was the same for you.”

Ginny agreed that it had been.

Harry walked in with tea and biscuits. “I see you two have had a chance to chat. What do you think, Ginny?”

“Well, I’m willing to admit, I’d like to see what I missed out on five years ago.”

“Then you shall.” He poured each a cup of tea, and they spent the next few minutes in an awkward silence, fixing their tea to their tastes.

Harry broke the silence. “So! When?”

Well, I can’t just now. I have a date tomorrow, and from what Dean’s told me, if I spend the night with you, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!” She grinned evilly.

She was shocked when Hermione muttered: “Too right!”

Harry spoke, seemingly unaware of his wife’s comment. “How about Friday, then? That way, if you are too tired afterwards, you can sleep in. We have a big enough bed.”

“That sounds perfect.” Ginny agreed.


Friday evening:

Harry had given Dobby and Winky the weekend off with the instructions: “Unless it is an emergency of Earth-shattering proportions, please don’t contact us until Monday!”

When Dobby had fearfully asked if Harry wanted to give them clothes, Harry took him aside and explained very carefully what was to take place that weekend. By the time he was done, Dobby was as flushed as it’s possible for a house elf to get. He practically dragged a protesting Winky from the house and into the darkness.

Harry was busy in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Hermione opened the door to reveal a positively glowing Ginny Weasley wearing a bright yellow summer dress and brandishing a bottle of white Zinfandel.

“Lafayette! I am here!” She piped, wriggling her body in an uninhibited and decidedly erotic manner. She finished up with a drawn out: “Let the shag-fessst begin!”

To Ginny’s surprise, Hermione gave her both her traditional all-engulfing ‘Hermy-hug’, and a full-on, open-mouthed kiss, the like of which Ginny hadn’t enjoyed in such a long time. She remembered these! Hermione’s lips were as soft and gentle as ever they were. She probed insistingly into Ginny’s mouth, sweeping and massaging her own tongue with barely controlled passion. It seemed to her that Hermione put her entire soul into that kiss. She’d missed this from her later years at Hogwarts. She and Hermione would occasionally ‘play’ during the long nights of winter. Ginny moaned in remembered and renewed pleasure.

“Not just yet.” Hermione whispered. “We’ll eat and relax, first.” Then with a naughty grin, added: “We’re going to need the energy.” Ginny felt herself grow weak.

Behind Hermione, Harry rescued the bottle of wine as it dropped from Ginny’s nerveless fingers, and set it aside.

When Hermione finally broke away, leaving Ginny rather breathless and her knees weak, there was a suspicious dampness in her knickers. Then Harry took her place.

His hands wrapped around her, one rested on the back of her neck, drawing her to him, and the other gently cupped her arse. Gently, he drew her mouth to his.

If the kiss with Hermione had been intense, this one with Harry was absolutely electrifying! In her mouth, his talented lingus touched her teeth and brushed across her tongue with more force than his wife’s had, yet he was just as gentle, just as caring and most importantly, just as insistent as Hermione had been. This was so much better than the last time they’d kissed.

Ginny’s senses were once more overloaded, as the sheer power within Harry enveloped her. As Hermione had, Harry put everything into the kiss, dueling and teasing Ginny’s mouth with his extremely skilled tongue. His kiss was as deep and as penetrating as Hermione’s had been. She could well feel each ridge of his muscles as he pressed his slight frame against her body. Ginny writhed into Harry’s embrace as closely as she could, grinding her pelvis against what she could feel as a rather remarkable shaft of flesh. Her condition could almost be described as a state of euphoria. Her knees again grew weak, her belly trembled, and her heartbeat raced, pounding so hard against her ribcage she was certain Harry could feel it. She almost lost her entire being in that kiss.

Ginny’s knickers, which had dampened appreciably from Hermione’s passionate kiss, were now thoroughly soaked!

Too soon the kiss ended with Harry practically supporting the lithe red-head.

To her intense disappointment, Harry slowly disengaged. “Welcome, Ginny.” He said softly, sending tremors up and down Ginny’s spine.

“Damn you, Harry Potter! Now, I have to change my knickers!” She added in a sultry sotto voce: “I’m dripping wet!”

Both Harry and Hermione laughed. Harry slipped his hand under Ginny’s dress, and pressed his palm against her knickers. Instantly, a warm, tingling sensation filled her skin. Ginny gasped in pleasure, before realizing the panty had vanished entirely!

“We won’t be needing these, anyway, will we?”

Ginny instantly felt the dampness begin anew.

“I most certainly hope not, Mister Potter!” She answered. She grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand firmly against her skin, rocking her hips so that her folds rubbed against his fingers. When she’d said that she was wet, she hadn’t been joking. Her excitement had grown since the invitation, and now, she just couldn’t stop!

Harry stiffened his middle finger, parting her nether lips, and sending flashes of lust throughout her body.

When she let him go, Harry smiled, withdrew his hand and slowly licked the moisture from his fingers. Ginny’s knees gave out.

Harry caught her, and together with Hermione, steered her to the couch. Easing her down, Harry whispered: “It won’t be long, sweet!” He smirked naughtily in a way that got Ginny even wetter, then turned and sauntered to the kitchen.

The kitchen and dining room in their home, was open to the lounge. Only an archway separated the room from the rest of the house. Ginny could see him cooking with a flair that would rival her mother! And he did it without magic!

Hermione sat beside her, and offered a glass of white wine. Ginny sipped gratefully, still rather breathless.

“How do you keep him under control?” She asked the lovely brunette.

“I don’t even try.” Hermione replied smugly. “I respect him too much, Ginny. Besides, he’s had enough with controlling, what with Dumbledore and those…creatures, he lived with!” Hermione wouldn’t even say the Dursley’s name for contempt. She went on. “Almost everyone I can think of, has tried to control Harry for their own purposes. Dumbledore, Snape, Fudge, Voldemort, oh honestly, Ginny!” She added, in exasperation. “He’s dead! You shouldn’t fear his name anymore! You helped to kill him! Anyway, who else…oh yeah! There’s the Prophet, and ‘dear’ Rita, of course, though she’s not a problem anymore, and well, honestly, Ginny…your mum. Even Ron. They’ve all tried to control him in one form or other. He hates the idea of being controlled. I decided in the hospital, that when we got married, I would never try to control him. My mum never tried to control dad. I believe it’s the wrong way to do things, and I also think it makes for a happier marriage this way. So far, I’ve been right.”

Ginny wanted to defend her family, but she really didn’t have the heart to. She knew Hermione’s accusations were true. In fact, when Molly Weasley had discovered Hermione’s engagement to Harry, she’d tried to get Harry to reconsider, insisting that Ginny was much better suited for him. When Harry had refused, she’d gone as far as to ask her husband to interfere at the ministry. Arthur had also refused, but Molly had continued to press.

Ginny herself, had brought that to a screeching halt! She’d confronted her mother, with her father present, and had informed her that if she were to try to force Harry and Hermione apart, she would disown the family, and go to work as a muggle prostitute! That had gotten an outraged gasp from her mother. When Molly looked into her daughter’s furious eyes, she realized Ginny was serious. She’d very reluctantly desisted.

“She was only trying to protect him.” Ginny’s family loyalty was too strong to just let this go without any defense. She had to give one last try.

“I know she was, luv.” Hermione replied softly. “But she just never realized that Harry wasn’t the child she thought he was. I think that she thinks of all of you, as permanent children. She doesn’t want any of her babies ever to grow up, and that includes Harry and me, by the bye. She thought he needed her protection, but he didn’t. What he needed was acceptance. He needed to be loved, unconditionally. I think you and I were the only ones who ever did that, Ginny. Everyone else always wanted something!”

Harry chose this moment to enter the lounge. “Hey, ladies. There’s no reason to get maudlin. ‘Sides, supper’s ready!”

Grinning, Hermione stood, followed by Ginny. Impetuously, Hermione raised her hand. “Ave Caesar!” She began. The other two raised their own hands and continued the quote. “Morituri, te salutat!” Laughing merrily, they adjourned to the table.

Harry served up a light but delicious meal, beginning with a wonderful tossed fruit and pasta salad in a sweet vinaigrette. The main course was Salmon Almandine on couscous, seasoned with saffron and scallions, with a variety of exotic vegetables in a light glaze, and buttery, flaky, pastry breads. Both courses were accompanied by wines. The salad, with the bottle Ginny had brought, and the salmon with a white Merlot.

After eating, they returned to the lounge. Harry turned on some music. An interesting selection of unfamiliar strings and woodwind instruments, that Ginny had never heard before. It sounded like the very air was softly singing to them!

As she and Hermione relaxed on the comfy, overstuffed couch, Harry returned with a coffee service on a tray. He set the silver on the low table and served. Placing two pieces of Baklava on each plate, he handed them out. Following this, he poured a rich dark coffee into each of three silver chased, ivory demitasse cups. He handed these out as well.

“Ginny, “ He began. “I don’t know if you’ve ever tried espresso coffee before. It’s extremely strong. If you don’t like it, I have our regular coffee in the kitchen. Or, I can brew us some tea.”

“Don’t worry, Harry. I do like espresso. I developed a taste for it when I was with Andreas. His family owns a coffee company near Athens.” Eyes twinkling fit to do Dumbledore proud, she added mischievously: “Are you trying to keep me up all night?”

Refusing to be outdone, Harry returned: “Actually, I think I’m the one who’s going to be up all night!” He waggled his eyebrows independently. “I just want to be sure you can keep up!” Hermione almost choked.

“OOOHHHH! You are so gonna regret those words, Mister Potter!” She yelped, grinning.

“I certainly hope so!” He shot back.

Ginny closed her eyes, replete. The dinner had been fabulous, the afters were exactly what she needed to settle her nerves, and now, with the soft talk between her friends, she began to fall into a dreamy near-sleep.

Hermione shifted her position on the couch and put her hand behind Ginny’s head, absently running her fingers through Ginny’s flame colored hair. Ginny sighed and leaning into the caress, closed her eyes in pleasure. She barely missed the satisfied smirk that briefly graced Hermione’s face. She felt Hermione’s other hand begin to stroke her arm.

The couch settled on her other side and a new set of hands appeared. Harry took the demitasse from her and placed it on the table, which floated to the other side of the room, where it nestled gently up against the wall.

Her dream was interrupted by a soft touch of lips…just the merest brush against her own. Ginny sighed and allowed her own lips to part. The lips brushed again, this time, more demanding. Before she could lean in to the kiss, the lips were replaced by another pair. These were different. She had recognized Hermione’s touch, but Harry’s kiss was a far cry from his previous one. Then, it had been mind-blowing. Now, it was gentle, soothing, passionate and intensely erotic.

Now Ginny felt the other hand begin to stroke her other arm. Hermione’s hand had reached her shoulder, and was now inching down her chest. Harry’s hands began the journey up to her shoulder. Ginny’s nipples, already hard, began to ache. Knees touched her legs, and she dropped her own hands and began to gently stroke the fabric-covered thighs.

A hand brushed against her thigh, soon joined by another on the other side. Soft stroking, along and over her legs, and Ginny felt herself begin to respond. One hand cradled her neck while another brushed across her nipple.

Ginny moaned in pleasure. The hands running up and down her thighs, began to move in different ways. One would stroke the outsides of her thighs (?) while the other would caress the inner surfaces.

Ginny moaned again. She’d never been treated this gently before. Not by any of her lovers, not even her brothers, although Bill, being her first, and Charley, her second, had been very gentle. Certainly not by any of the others, and most definitely not by Draco. His seduction technique could be most accurately be described as brutal! He’d undress as quickly as possible, often just unzipping, push her clothing to the side, if she hadn’t taken it off, and just start. He’d finger her until she had wetted, then figuring she was ready, would push into her. A few dozen strokes later, he’s climax, pull out quickly and go to wash himself off. He never even considered her pleasure. He insisted that she climax, even if she hadn’t. Ginny had learned to force it, or fake it, but she knew it was not what she was seeking.

When Draco had been imprisoned after the battle, she’d said her goodbyes without regret. He’d cursed her family name as she stood, holding Dean Thomas’ hand. Dean had considered himself fortunate to have Ginny Weasley, although his tastes ran more to larger breasts. After a few months together, Ginny got tired of it, and introduced him to Lavender, who’d eventually lost him to Parvati and her twin.

Ginny’d been drifting from one man to another for the past few years.

Ginny felt Hermione’s hand cup her right breast, followed moments later by Harry’s covering her left. The touches were light, teasing, inflaming her even more. Suddenly, two mouths covered her own, in an interesting, three-way kiss. Ginny opened her mouth to receive them. A wave of pleasure coursed through her, and she felt a flare of magic.
A sudden slight chill caressed her skin, and opening her eyes for the first time since Hermione had begun her caress, Ginny realized she now wore nothing. Her own wandering hands no longer felt the texture of cloth, but the smooth bareness of skin. On her right side, her hand rested on a light curl of hair. On the left, she found herself first touching, then encircling Harry’s shaft.

Her eyes popped wider as she got her first look at his cock. “Oh Goddess! Harry! You’re fucking huge!” Hermione smirked. Harry grinned.

She gasped in shocked pleasure as both Harry and Hermione lowered their heads to her nipples, drawing them into warm, wet mouths. Closing her eyes again, she sighed as they both suckled her. Licking, suckling, and gently biting her oversensitive nipples, almost as one. Hands began to slowly trace down her belly to the wisp of soft red curls that guarded her core. A finger touched her wetted folds, stroking lightly until they opened. Another circled her clit, gently just avoiding the bud of highly charged nerves there. She felt a finger ease itself into her. The finger began to slowly, gently push in and pull out. Soon, it was joined by another. Ginny flexed her hips, moaning in pleasure as the digits stimulated her. She was not expecting it when the other finger touched her clit. It was enough.

Ginny had her first orgasm then and there. She did not have to seek it. She did not have to force it. She most definitely didn’t have to fake it! Her climax erupted full-blown, flashing through her, setting her nerves on fire. The only thing Ginny could compare it with was the unrelieved agony of the Cruciatus curse, gifted her, through the courtesy of her at-the-time lover, Draco Malfoy. The difference was, that while then it was agony, here, it was purest pleasure!

Ginny cried out loudly, crunching her belly, which left her in the perfect position for Harry and Hermione. They continued to suckle on her nipples, as they mounted their assault on her. Hermione now stroked her clit, as Harry now drove three fingers into her.

Ginny cried out again and flailed as her next climax ripped through her. Her hands gripped soft skin on her right and the hard column of flesh to her left. Latching on, she held tightly, almost desperately as the orgasm shuddered through her.

As her second orgasm faded, they eased up and allowed her to sink back into the couch. Panting, Ginny slowly opened her eyes.

“Oh, Goddess!” She gasped out. “That was…” Her eyes almost popped from her skull when she saw what she’d been holding so tightly. He’d been half hard before, but now he was as stiff and rigid as a steel bar.

“Harry!” She cried out, then whispered, not without a healthy bit of fear. “How can you possibly stand up!?” For Harry, as short and thin as he was, was truly impressive!

Hermione fell off the couch, laughing hysterically! Harry growled at her, and then turned back to Ginny, who had not yet released her prize. Ginny stroked him as best she could, given that her fingers didn’t reach all the way around him.

“Oh, Hermione! I’m soooo…bloody…jealous!” She breathed, her voice husky from her screams and now…this!

“Call it an incentive.” Hermione whispered mysteriously. She grinned wickedly.

Harry was rock hard, and ready. Ginny was still wide open and dripping from her last climax.

“How do you want it?” Harry asked quietly.

“On my back. I think every girl’s first time, should be on her back.”

“Ginny,” Hermione slipped in, while caressing her best friend’s nipple. “This isn’t your first time.”

“It is with Harry. It’s also my first time with the both of you.”

Rather than move from where they were, Harry simply knelt between her thighs and pressed the tip of his organ into her.

Ginny cried out as she felt Harry’s impressive organ again press it’s way into her. He stopped an inch or so in, pulled out, then pushed back in. Over and again, he slowly teased her, pulling out, then pressing a bit further in. Ginny was in heaven! She’d never felt so stretched before! Harry’s cock was even better than Dean’s, and he was well built.

Ginny squirmed as Harry thrust his member into her. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, but it was certainly more than she’d been used to.

“Why don’t we take this into the bedroom, Harry?” Hermione suggested. She was no stranger to making love on the couch, but felt Ginny might be more at ease in a bed.
Harry leaned to the side and kissed his lovely wife.

Without even withdrawing himself from Ginny’s body, Harry picked up his best friend’s sister, and carried her, Hermione walking alongside, from the lounge, up the stairs and into the bedroom. The unfamiliar sensations of being carried in such an unusual manner, came very close to making Ginny come again. Alas, ‘twas too short a time before they reached the bedroom door.

Inside, Harry set her on the large bed, and Hermione crawled onto it beside her. Harry braced his knees against the edge of the bed, held Ginny’s legs wide apart and again began sliding into her.

Hermione, no shrinking violet, immediately straddled Ginny’s mouth. Ginny took her cue and fought the urge to abandon herself to the overpowering sensations from her core. She inhaled the light musky scent of Hermione’s pussy, and sighed in pleasure before easing her tongue in between the now distended folds of flesh.

“How do you want it, lover?” Harry asked. Ginny pulled her mouth away from Hermione’s opening long enough to pant: “Fuck me hard, Harry!” Then she returned to her own chore.

Never one to refuse a lady, Harry did just that. He slid out then pushed back in. Pulling out once more, he began. He stroked smoothly but quickly. Ginny felt herself begin the rise to orgasm far sooner than she had expected. Of course, the entire evening so far had been outside her expectations.

Hermione leaned back, turned her head, and wrapping an arm around Harry’s neck, drew his mouth to hers. Harry stroked over and over, filling Ginny’s inner recesses as she’d never been filled before!

Hearing excited murmurings behind him, Harry twisted his upper body to face the portrait of Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'artangion, and growled: “Another sound out of you lot, and you’re in the car-park!” before returning to the most pleasant task at hand.

Behind him, the musketeers did their considerable best to cooperate. They turned away to preserve the modesty of the three before them, but soon enough, their curiosity got the better of them. Stifling any potential outbursts, they quietly pressed their faces against the inside of the portrait, and in doing, learned a whole new definition of sexual pleasuring. Even Porthos, who considered himself quite the expert learned several tricks over the next few hours.

Increasing his pace again, Harry began to drive hard. Ginny lost it then. She howled as she came, her body shuddering as the waves of pleasure ignited her nerves yet again. Harry never stopped. He just drove faster, harder.

Ginny tried to continue her assault on Hermione’s pussy, but this was just too much for her. Harry just kept on plowing into her, relentlessly. Soon he was pounding into her aching body. Ginny was becoming exhausted, but Harry showed no sigh of stopping. Ginny screamed as she climaxed yet again. Suddenly her belly was filled with warmth as pulse after pulse erupted into her pussy, some overflowing. Harry groaned harshly as he came, his body shuddering in release.

Hermione noted that he’d not come so intensely with her, in quite some time. Trying not to be jealous, she pivoted on one knee, and turned to sit beside her girlfriend, facing her husband.

Harry fell on top of Ginny, panting hard. His abdominals were aching. He turned his face to his wife, and found concern there. He understood at once, for despite what Snivellus thought, Harry was a bright boy. He reached out with one hand, and pulled his wife down, joining her mouth with his own.

Hermione relaxed into the kiss, enjoying Harry’s devotions. She knew then, that Harry would never betray her. Breaking the kiss, he husked “It’s your turn next!”

From underneath him, Ginny groaned: “Gerroff!”

“What’s that, luv?” Harry asked, although he’d heard perfectly.

“Gerroff, Harry! You’re comfy warm, luvvie, but you’re too damn heavy!”

Harry eased over onto her side, his gradually softening cock still within her. Hermione sighed, as she knew the pleasure Ginny was now experiencing. As Harry rolled his cock came free. Ginny winced at the sensation of loss.

Harry looked down at the exhausted and nearly spent woman on his bed.

Hermione smiled softly and with much love. “How do you feel?” She asked.

Ginny smiled weakly up at them.

“I’m so deliciously sore. My body aches…and I think you broke something!” She gave Harry a mock-glare at this. He laughed. Hermione whispered: “I have just the thing that will set you right!” She slid off the bed, and walked to the bureau in all her natural glory. Finding what she sought, she returned to the pair.

“Drink this. Those hurts will be gone in a half hour.”

“Better living through chemistry!” Ginny snarked, before taking the phial.

Ginny was about to tip the potion into her mouth when Harry intercepted her hand.

“Hold on, Ginny. I know a faster way. Do you trust me?”

“Ginny didn’t even have to think. “Well, of course, I do, Harry. You’ve saved my life too many times.”

“OK. Open your legs.”

“Harry! That’s why I’m so tender now.” She giggled. “I opened my legs to that monster you carry!” Hermione joined in the laughter.

“One bloody track minds, the both of you!” He growled. “Ginny, this is something I learned while we were in Japan. It’s healing magic, but it requires skin-to-skin contact. Now, open your legs!”

Ginny opened her thighs; wincing at the pain that movement caused her. She was sore! She winced again, as she felt Harry’s hand press against her inflamed pussy and hissed in pain as he inserted his middle finger into her, as deeply as it would go. Then she felt the warmth of magical healing. The glow suffused her entire core, easing aches she’d not known she had, as well as those she knew, all too well! Within seconds, the healing was done, leaving behind only the pleasant ache from a really good shag. Harry withdrew his finger from her body, popped it into his mouth. Sucking it, he pulled it out, and held it before Hermione. She wrapped her tongue slowly around his digit, ensuring she got every remaining bit of Ginny’s essence. Ginny began to wet, right there.

Harry noticed. “Oh, no! It’s Hermione’s turn.”

Hermione chuckled. “It looks like she can’t get enough of you either, Harry!”

Harry answered by joining his mouth to hers.

Ginny looked up at the two of them, and sighed. She so wished that she had something like this! Hermione heard her. She broke the kiss, and leaned over to press her mouth against Ginny’s.

As she did, Harry eased behind her, lowering his mouth to her own dripping pussy. He tongued her experimentally. Hermione growled as she felt Harry’s tongue probe her inner folds. Closing her eyes, she sighed into her kiss with Ginny. Ginny, being no one’s fool, realized what Harry was doing. She met Hermione’s kiss with passion. Her other hand wandered, gracing her girlfriend’s breast and pinching a nipple. Hermione groaned as she experienced the two of them stimulating her simultaneously. She’d never been in this situation before, and intended to enjoy it thoroughly!

Shifting around, Ginny lay back, legs spread widely, offering her core for Hermione’s inspection. Hermione rested on her elbows, and applied her mouth to Ginny’s pussy, not incidentally raising her arse upwards for Harry’s pleasure.

Seeing that she was more than ready, Harry knelt behind his wife, and eased his aching organ into her. Hermione pulled her mouth away from Ginny’s wetted core, and then let out a pained squeak as Ginny’s hands pulled her hair in protest. She sighed deeply as she felt Harry’s cock invade her, and returned her tongue to Ginny’s pussy. Ginny cried out, as Hermione began again, to apply loving attentions to her clit. Harry began to stroke slowly and fully, the way he knew Hermione loved.

For long minutes, the only sounds that could be heard were the gentle creak of bedsprings, and the panting of the combatants. It really wasn’t a fair contest. Hermione had become so aroused by Harry’s treatment of their flame-haired friend, that she was very close to climax anyway. Ginny didn’t help any. At a signal from her, Harry withdrew from his beloved’s body and rolled her over onto her back. Lifting her arse, he stuffed their ‘very favorite’ pillow, a hard block of dense foam, under her, then pulled her legs up and out as far as he could. Ginny spat upon her hand and took Harry’s cock in her grip, wetting it with her saliva. Together, they eased his shaft back into Hermione’s enflamed pussy.

As soon as Harry had reestablished his rhythm, she lowered her head to their joined sexes, liberally laving them both with her tongue. Gentle nibbles and the nearly constant flickering of her tongue against Hermione’s overheated clitoris, as Harry’s shaft slid in and out, ensured this would come to a very powerful end…very quickly.

Hermione came first, with a mewling cry, as Ginny’s tongue circled her clit. Followed by Harry, who sped up, seeking his own release. Ginny had to pull her head back to avoid being hurt. Faster and harder he plowed into his beloved, until with a grunt of satisfaction, he thrust mightily forward, burying his length into her and erupting.

Hermione cried out as she received his seed.

Harry slowly let his body relax, leaning forward until he rested on his wife’s slighter form.

They lay like that for the longest time, panting and whispering gentle protestations of love.

Ginny watched with a longing smile, as the two lovers exchanged gentle, tender and loving kisses.

Separating, they both reached out arms, and guided Ginny into their little nest, touching, kissing, caressing, until the three off them slipped into the arms of Morpheus.

An hour or so later, now rested, the two young woman decided to return to Harry some of the loving tribute he’d given them.

Harry woke, to the feeling of two mouths sliding up and down the sides of his engorged organ. Tongues flicked as lips nibbled. His cock couldn’t get harder! He reached out only to find that he’d been bound to the bed.

With mischievous eyes, Hermione smiled naughtily at him, before returning to her most pleasant occupation. Ginny took that opportunity to look up with exactly the same kind of smile.

Harry groaned. He knew he was in trouble!

Hermione shifted position to lay one side of him, and resting an upper arm over his thigh, returned her mouth to the fleshy purple head of Harry’s cock. Ginny, being no slouch in the oral skills department, maneuvered herself between Hermione’s thighs, and ensuring Harry could see the entire process, proceeded to gently assault Hermione’s nether lips. He could actually feel himself grow harder yet!

With fingers and her extremely skilled tongue, Ginny showed Hermione a few tricks they hadn’t gotten ‘round to in the seventh years’ dorms. Hermione began to shudder as gentle waves of orgasm coursed through her body.

When she’d recovered, she mock glared at Ginny, who smiled innocently back. Then she turned once more to her task.

Long and slow, Hermione bobbed up and down his shaft, until he thought he would surely die! Then she eased her mouth off him.

The cool air shocked him to the point he actually spurted a bit of come into the air. ‘Naughty Hermione’, as he had once named her, carefully and slowly licked the white fluid from the tip of his glans, and drew her tongue into her mouth. Swallowing and then grinning, she licked her sparkling teeth. Harry nearly lost it entirely then!

Ginny rose up and elbowed Hermione, who shifted to the side. Ginny took her friend’s place, while Hermione positioned herself between the redhead’s thighs. Hermione applied her tongue much like Ginny had, and Ginny, lowered her head onto Harry’s cock.

Slowly then quickly, she lowered her head before raising it. Slowly then fast, ten times each. Harry felt himself getting ready to blow.

Fortunately, so did Ginny. She popped her mouth off him, and squeezed hard around the base of his shaft.

“Oh no, sweetie!” She scolded. “I’m not quite done with you yet!”

She gasped as Hermione touched a particularly sensitive spot, Ginny squeaked and had to clench Harry’s cock almost painfully, as she scrunched her eyes shut in orgasm and gave out with a most undignified squeal.

When she relaxed, she glared at Hermione, who smiled innocently back, and returned her attentions once more to Harry’s erection.

Hermione smirked. She’d felt that! Happily, she turned to again and in a few seconds, had Ginny panting once more.

Trying to distract herself, from the lovely things Hermione was doing to her, Ginny first licked all the way around Harry’s swollen head, then began to blow gently onto the overstressed head of Harry’s cock.

He shuddered in agonizing pleasure, as the cool air brushed the wet skin there. Before he could think, Ginny engulfed his head and plunged her mouth down as far as she could. The intense heat and suction of her mouth was far more than merely ‘too much’.

With a harsh cry, he let go.

Ginny suckled on his head as he spewed into her mouth. Ginny mentally swore as she felt the pulses at the back of her throat, because she’d over stimulated him, then swallowing every drop of his essence, made him come all that much harder. Harry’s eyes crossed, and he passed out.

“I think you broke him!” Hermione opined wryly as Ginny released Harry's spent member. “He’s never done that before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Ginny pulled her girlfriend down onto her and probed her mouth deeply. Hermione moaned in pleasure. Breaking the kiss, she murmured: “Hmmm. I think we’re going to have to invite you over again!”

Ginny smiled brightly at the prospect. She asked: “One more?”

“OK. Oral or manual?” Hermione replied with a gleam in her eyes.

“Oral, of course! Let’s see if we can time it so we go over together.”

They didn’t quite make it, as Ginny was already primed, so she came first, but it was close. Hermione came only a minute later.

After releasing the binding charm on Harry and checking to make sure he was still breathing, they curled together around him, drew a light cover over them and drifted off to sleep.


Ginny woke on Saturday afternoon to the gentle rocking of the bed. Opening her eyes, she stretched hard, popping loose many knots of tension. Knots she hadn’t felt the night before. Looking to the left, she watched as Harry and Hermione were curled together, so tightly, Harry on top, that they seemed to be a single creature. They rocked back and forth slowly, and from the muted sounds Hermione was making, she knew Harry was shagging her deeply.

Ginny rolled to her knees, and crawled across the stained sheets to the coupling couple. Carefully, she lay beside them, kissing and nibbling Hermione’s shoulder. With her right hand, she reached down and tentatively stroked Harry’s scrotum Harry arched his head and moaned.

Ginny set to with a will, gently squeezing and rolling Harry’s testicles in her hand. Pulling her hand away, she muttered a spell to lubricate her fingers and returned to the task at hand.

Now, she eased her middle finger across Hermione’s little anus. Hermione gasped now, as Harry plowed her steadily. As she felt the little ring of muscle tense, then relax, Ginny carefully, probed her finger into the little hole. Hermione squealed as Ginny gently forced her finger into the brunette's body.

Soon enough, her finger moved in and out in time to Harry’s cock. Hermione was in heaven! She’d never been this stimulated before! She felt her climax wash suddenly over her, not like it usually did. She erupted, crying out harshly as she came, shuddering around Harry’s cock. Harry was close anyway, and as Hermione’s vaginal muscles clenched around him, he surrendered to the inevitable. Harry let go with a groan, spilling himself into his wife like he hadn’t in some time.

Ginny felt the tight ring of Hermione’s ass clamp down on her finger, trapping it where it was.

Spent, they fell into a sated tangle.

“Good morning, lovers!” She chirped as they recovered. “Bathtime!” She eased herself from the bed and staggered across the carpet to the bath. Harry and Hermione reluctantly untangled themselves and rose from the bed, to follow her. The huge tub was already filling as Ginny turned on the shower. Aromatic herbs lay heavy on the air.

“No peeing in the tub. You have something to do, do it!” She pointed to the toilet behind the waist high rock wall. “And shower before you climb in. This is for soaking, not for cleaning!” Harry stepped forward only to receive a heavy shove to the side, as Hermione elbowed past him, snarling: “Ladies first!”

Ginny snickered as Harry muttered something uncomplimentary about ladies.

Moments later, after a loud sigh of relief, Hermione returned, wearing a huge smile. She entered the shower and quickly scrubbed down, grimacing at the tender places. Harry turned to the toilet and took his turn.

Done, he showered and then stepped into the tub where the girls were soaking.

By mutual, unspoken consent, they decided that their sexual exploits were over for the day…at least.


Late that afternoon, the three of them sat in the kitchen having a light brunch.

“Well.” Ginny began. “Was that everything you imagined in a threesome?”

“And more!” Hermione grinned. Harry nodded his head rapidly in agreement. “That was one of the most exciting experiences I’ve ever had, Gin. I think I can say the same for Hermione, too.”

This time, Hermione did the nodding. “Absolutely the best time!” She stretched languidly, showing her body to it’s considerable best. “What about you?”

Ginny flushed in pleasure. She was used to sexual shenanigans, but had never been anyone’s ‘best time’ before.

“It was absolutely lovely.” She replied. “So.” She asked hopefully. “What now?”

“Well, we can’t promise any permanent arrangement, as most of the villagers aren’t aware of the peculiarities of the magical world, but…” He broke off.

“But?” Ginny prompted, knowing she was being baited.

“If you ever want to share our bed again, you are more than welcome.”

Ginny blushed brightly, erupted from her, chair and flung herself into the arms of her two best friends.

“Thanks guys!”


AN: “Ave Caesar! Morituri te salutant!” “Hail, Caesar! We who are about to die, salute you!”

I prefer white wines and rosé’s to the heavier reds, particularly white Zins and Merlots, both white and red.

I also prefer simple meals. Unlike most of my friends, I do know how to cook. And yes, I can make each of the meals I describe in my stories. I am trying to teach my daughter, but so far, she seems to think cooking consists of ‘open and heat’.

I appreciate classical music, with Mozart, Prokofiev Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich being some of my favorites.

The unusual music Ginny heard is from one of my favorite CD’s: ‘Sariri, Nukashungo’, which is Andean folk music.

Harry is not all that big…given that the national average in Britain is five and a half inches in length, and about one and a half in diameter. ‘Fucking huge’ could refer to anything over six and a half inches to eleventy seven. I have been called ‘huge’ by my lovers, and yet, I’m only 12% over the American average. Everything is relative.

That three way kiss is possible...and quite pleasurable.
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