The young man attracted little notice.  It was unusual perhaps that he wore sunglasses in the middle of winter, but he still attracted little notice.  His clothing, though old, was non-descript.  His hair, a riotous mess, was dark and blended with his overcoat.  The cold of the ocean breeze didn t seem to faze him, doing nothing more than stirring the ends of his hair.

The couple that sat down across from him looked stressed.

“Can we go back to London now?” the woman asked.

“Did you get the information we need?”

The redhaired man grinned.  “Files.”

That shocked the dark-haired man enough to have him remove his sunglasses.  “I can’t believe they’d be so careless.”

The woman sighed.  “We’ll see if the files are of any use.  I, for one, am tired of Spanish.”

The redhead leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.  “And I thought you liked to experience other cultures.”

“Buenos Aires is beautiful, but its the middle of winter.  I want summer.  I want my own bed.  I want my mum.”

“As soon as we settle with the Argentinean Ministry we can go home.”

“You’re sure about this, Hermione?”  She glared at me.  “Right.  Why does it have to be me that distracts him?”

“Because you have the  prior experience’ with him,” Ron growled.

Hermione smacked the back of Ron’s head.  “Get over it already, Ronald.”

Ron merely snarled at her.  Coupled with his pacing, he reminded me of a caged animal.

“Ron?” I said softly.  When Ron turned to me, I took advantage of the angle of his body, forcing him against the wall.  Before Ron could protest, I tangled my hands in Ron’s red hair to yank his head down, forcing our mouths together in a heated kiss.

Hermione cleared her throat.

Ron rested his chin atop my head when we broke apart.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“You aren’t jealous of the ferret, Mione,” Ron explained.  I rolled my eyes before stepping back.  I should never have told them about my final, hedonistic weekend with Malfoy.

I straightened my clothing, ran a finger over my lips to reduce their kiss-swollen state with wandless magic, and took a deep breath.  My gaze moved between Ron and Hermione, acknowledging and cataloging their emotional and physical states almost unconsciously.  Since we became lovers, keeping track of them was something high on my list of priorities.

“Let’s get this done so we can go home,” Ron said finally.

Though I understood why I was to be the one to distract Malfoy, that didn’t mean I enjoyed it.  Whatever we’d had together was years in the past.  After Snape’s death, our mutual animosity returned with a vengeance.

Hermione gave me a quick kiss before she and Ron Disillusioned themselves to await my signal.

Gritting my teeth, I entered Malfoy’s London office.

Malfoy, blond hair loose, looked up sharply.  I registered shock in his grey eyes before they narrowed speculatively.  “Potter,” he said coldly.

I smiled carelessly, flopping into his guest chair.  I lifted my feet to rest on his desk as I greeted him with more cheer than I felt.  “Malfoy.”

A flick of his wand sent more than half the parchments on his desk into a filing cabinet.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with something close to a growl.

My smile widened.  “Can’t I pay a visit?”

His eyes narrowed.  “No.”

Despite Ron’s belief that Malfoy and I might still carry a torch for each other, Hermione and I know differently.  And she alone understood how difficult this assignment was for me.  Now came the hardest part:  signaling Ron and Hermione while seducing Malfoy.

Unfolding myself from the chair, I stood and moved around the desk.  There was no reaction from Malfoy except the arching of one eyebrow and a reflexive tightening of his hand on his wand.

He allowed me to get close enough that I could brace my hands, one on his desk – triggering the signal for Ron and Hermione – one on the back of his chair.

Allowing my grin to become predatory, I swallowed my nausea and said, “What if I said I missed you?”

He backed away quickly, wheeling his chair into the wall so fast that he nearly toppled over.

“You’re fucked in the head if you expect me to believe that,” he said after a moment.

I backed up, rested my ass on the edge of his desk and crossed my arms over my chest.  Raising an eyebrow in silent question, I frowned.

“You don’t believe me?”

He scoffed and sneered.  “No.”

Forgive me, Ron.  “Then you must think Ron’s got what you don’t.”

Eyes widening briefly in shock, a slow, malicious smile spread over his face.  “Come now, I didn’t say that.”

“That what did you say?”

His eyes skimmed me head-to-toe.  “Maybe that I don’t understand why you settled for Weasley.”

Nausea at my acting job roiling through my stomach, I pushed off from his desk to stand in front of him.

“Settled?”

He raise an eyebrow in that very Malfoy way.  “You left me and went to him.  Isn’t that settling?”

He would think so.  I took a deep breath before smiling at him.  Bracing my hands on the arms of his chair, I lowered my face until it was inches from him, close enough to smell the mint freshening charm he’d cast much earlier.

“You think I shouldn’t have left you?” I murmured.

His eyes widened slightly in shock when he understood what a submissive position he was in.  He tried to rise but my hand on his chest prevented that.

“You think I shouldn’t have left you?” I repeated.

He was very uncomfortable, annoyance screaming from every pore.  And fear, underlain with arousal, edged through as well.  I found dark amusement in his reaction.

“I could have accepted anyone but Weasley after me,” he finally admitted.  “That you have him under you horrifies me.”

After moving my hand back to the arm of his chair, I leaned further down, close enough for our breath to mix.  I was never the bottom for him, so I knew why he assumed I was the top between Ron and I.

A faint smile on my lips, I murmured, “What if I said I’m under him?”  He choked.  “Or that it’s not Ron I went to but Hermione?”

He turned a very unflattering shade of magenta.  As though the words were written in the air between us, I knew he couldn’t decide which was worse:  bottoming for the Weasel or fucking the Mudblood.

He stared at me long enough for my intimidating position to become uncomfortable, but I didn’t dare move.  At last he quirked an eyebrow up in his insolent, supremely Malfoy way.

“So that’s the way it is?” he murmured.

Thankfully, rescuing me from myself, the electronic pager Hermione outfitted me with at the small of my back buzzed insistently.  Ron and Hermione had found the artifact we’d been hunting.  I could be freed of Malfoy.  Relief flooded me.

Easing back, I let my wand slide from my wrist holster.  Malfoy’s expression grew more arrogant and I knew he thought he’d won this round.

Right up until the point I stuck my wand against his forehead and murmured, “Obliviate.”

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing Hermione’s hand as we crashed through the front door.

“But Harry –” she began.

“Later,” I interrupted.

“But –”

“Later.”  My voice must have held a note of warning that time because she didn’t press any further.

Ron said nothing, merely guided us through the labyrinth of streets to our safe house.  He’d tried to teach Hermione and I how to get there without Apparating but we were both hopeless at the directions.  Once inside the door, inside the safety of our temporary home, I allowed myself to relax.

With a growl, I pushed Hermione against the wall, distantly registering the crashing of a picture frame to the ground.  My hands tangled feverishly in her hair while I savaged her mouth with my tongue.  I needed to rid myself of being near Malfoy, needed to absolve myself by drowning in Ron and Hermione.  I was helpless before them and I loved it.

Hermione’s moan drowned Ron’s approach.  I had only the barest hint of his towering presence behind me before he gripped my hips, tugging them backward to snug his erection against me.  What undid me was his sinking his teeth into the back of my neck.

“Damn, Ron,” Hermione breathed against my mouth after I broke our kiss.  She didn’t help matters when she began to writhe against me.

Trapped between hard male and soft female, I only wanted to sink into them, falling under their spell.

Hermione slid a hand down to cup my erection.  With a minimum of pressure from her and a tightening of Ron’s teeth against my neck, I came in my trousers like a randy teenager.

“Naked,” Ron growled and I could only moan in agreement.

He stepped back to allow Hermione and I room to move.  She only allowed me a few steps back, though, before grabbing the waist of my trousers to tug them open.  She made a disgusted face at the mess I’d made, but Ron just laughed and cast a cleaning charm.  She rolled her eyes before continuing to strip me.

It didn’t take long for me to be nude between them and even less time for Hermione and Ron to shed their clothing.

The scent of Malfoy still lingering in my nose, I grabbed Hermione and pushed her to the ground.  With all the finesse of the randy teenager I’d accused myself of being earlier, I shoved her legs apart and thrust my face between them.

Her scent, wet, aroused and female, threaded through me like a spell, erasing all thought of Malfoy.  Bracing my hands on either side of her hips, I slid my tongue between her folds to feast upon her.  Hermione repeatedly accused Ron and I of having an oral fixation, but never seemed to mind when it came to this.

I felt her hand on the back of my head, forcing it down.  “Eat me, Harry,” she ordered.  Who was I to resist that order?

I traced her clit with the tip of my tongue before dragging it downward and gently fucking her with it, driving it in and out of her wet center.  Her arousal coated my lips and chin.  It was just one of the things I needed from her.  Driving my tongue as deeply into her as I could, I rubbed her clit with my nose as I did so.  Her trembling grew more pronounced.

“Harry ... Ron ... please,” she moaned, hand falling to her side.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to see Ron suckling her.  Our eyes met and he grinned, moving a hand down toward me.  I moved away slightly, allowing his fingers to slide over Hermione’s very wet clit as I wiggled my tongue inside her.

With a sound somewhere between a moan and a squeal, Hermione came, arching high off the floor and using her thighs like a vice to capture my head between them.  From the prison of her thighs, her orgasm seemed to last forever; in reality it was probably only a minute.  When she finally relaxed, releasing me, I pulled back from her just in time to have Ron grab my head and kiss me, sharing Hermione’s taste.

He pushed me back and I allowed it, allowed him to overpower me.  What I said to Malfoy earlier was true:  I rarely topped Ron.  I had never bottomed for Malfoy because I never trusted him.  I trusted Ron implicitly.

Once he laid me flat on the floor, he ground our cocks together, making me moan deeply.  Arousal spiked through me once again.  I wanted to be taken, to be cleansed.

“Ron, please,” I whispered.

“Hmm, not often I get both of you to beg,” he teased.

Hermione moved around him, shoved him upward and straddled my chest.  Ron merely pushed her hair aside and began sucking on her neck.  Her neck and mine are both erogenous zones Ron exploits mercilessly.

I arched upward, silently begging.  Ron relented, moving back and raising my hips.  Hermione distracted me by grabbing my hands and lifting them to her breasts, encouraging me to toy with her nipples.  A whispered lubrication spell startled me – Ron’s were always cold – but I parted my legs further, wrapping them around Ron’s waist.

As he entered me, torturing me by entering me more slowly than necessary, Hermione moved further down.  I merely closed my eyes and groaned as she seated herself on my cock, burying me to the hilt.  Ron reached around and began toying with her clit once more, then backs of his fingers against my abdomen.

It never took long for us to come when we were tangled together like this, but I wanted this time to last.  Gritting my teeth, I held off my orgasm.  Ron, seeming to notice my determination, met my eyes, grinned, and stilled his movements.  Apparently he thought I was playing a game of who could hold out the longest.  For Hermione, though, that didn’t factor in:  one of the things we envied about her were her multiple orgasms.

As she clenched tightly around my cock, caressing it with her inner muscles, she tensed above me.  Her head dropped back onto Ron’s shoulder as she began chanting under her breath, “Yes ... fuck me ... yes ... oh please ... harder ... more ... yes ... oh sweet Merlin ... fuck me.”  It took me pinching her nipples to send her over the edge, nearly screaming with the force of her climax.

She slumped a bit between us, her curls cascading forward to curtain her face.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her near-panting for breath, but I didn’t mind the feel of those jiggling breasts in my hands.

Only when Ron began moving again did I flex inside her.  A shuddering moan escaped her before she began moving atop me once again.  I slid my hands to her waist, intending to direct, but she was having none of it, forcing my hands to her thighs instead.

Ron bent his head and began rasping in her ear loudly enough for me to hear as well.  “Do you like having us inside you, Hermione?  I think the only thing you like more is being in the middle, having one of us buried in your arse while the other is buried in your pussy.  Or public sex.  Harry told me how you wore no knickers, lifted your skirt and sat in his lap at the last Order meeting, fucking him in front of everyone.  I’ll bet Moody got an eyeful that night.”

She whimpered helplessly.  Only by gritting my teeth could I keep silent.  I enjoyed Ron’s dirty talk as much as Hermione did, but remembering that particular Order meeting wasn’t conducive to staying power.

“Maybe one day I can take you out, you can wear a long skirt and no knickers.  You can lean over a railing, I’ll ruck your skirt up, leaving it to fall on either side of your waist, and I’ll drive my cock right into that tight, wet pussy of yours.”  Ron and Hermione both shuddered at the image and it was all I could do not to come.

“Then there’s the Quidditch fantasy,” I whispered, reminding them of Hermione’s fantasy of “finding” Ron and I in the Quidditch showers and fingering herself while she watched.

That image was all it took for Ron to moan deeply, drive hard into me and come.  Hermione shuddered again above me, clutched me tightly with her pussy, and came again.  Between the two of them, I had no choice:  I arched upward and poured myself into Hermione.

Several minutes later, after we’d Apparated upstairs into our bedroom, Ron propped his head on his hand and began idly tracing patterns on my chest.  Hermione snuggled against my other side, resting her head on my shoulder and throwing a leg over mine.  I was where I belonged.

“Not to complain or anything, but what brought the possessiveness out?” Ron asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling.  “Needed to rid myself of Malfoy.”

Hermione lifted her head.  “I really am sorry you had to do that.”

I grinned.  “You made up for it.  Both of you.”