The golden glow around them momentarily blinds all of us.  Good, they’re blessed, I think, looking over at Harry and Hermione.  Harry, the mostly-Muggle, doesn’t seem to know what the glow means.  Hermione, the bookworm, smiles knowingly.  After a glance at me, she leans over and explains to Harry.  He’s startled for a moment and then smiles as well.

After the ceremony is complete, the three of us give good wishes to Ginny and Neville.  She looks absolutely radiant, something I didn’t think would ever happen after she was inhabited by Voldemort – yes, I can say his name now – during the Final Battle.  Hermione and Neville helped her then, forcing Voldemort from Ginny, weakening him enough for Harry to finally kill the bastard with my help.  Neville then found his courage and admitted his feelings for my sister.

The receiving line duties complete, I look up at the window of my old room at The Burrow.

Nudging Harry, I say, “Let’s head up.”  He raises his eyebrows at me.  I jerk my head to the window.  He grins and turns to Hermione, making the suggestion to her.  She huffs and turns to me.  I grin, pleading silently with my eyes.

Sighing, she takes our hands and leads us inside.

Though Mum has made a few changes like taking down most of the Chudley Cannon memorabilia, the room is still distinctively mine.

“Why’d you bring us up here, mate?” Harry asks.

I close the door, casting locking and privacy spells as I do.  Harry and Hermione are seated side by side on the bed, both in their wedding finery and looking absolutely gorgeous.

“I always imagined having a girl in here,” I begin, loosening my formal robes.  “Then I imagined doing dirty things to Harry in here.”  He blushes and I remove my outer robes, dropping them to the floor, trusting Hermione’s ironing charms to straighten them out later.  “Then I imagined watching the two of you in here.”

Harry grins.  “You’re just a perv.”

“That I am,” I agree wholeheartedly.  “And I want to watch the two of you together on my childhood bed.”

Hermione gasps, pretending to be scandalized.  She’s more of an exhibitionist than Harry and I put together.  Some of the things she’s read about and asked us to try are downright illegal – and exciting as hell.

Harry leans over, presumably to make a move on Hermione, until I stop him with, “Wait!”  He turns, raising his eyebrows at me.  “I have a little role play in mind.”

Hermione grins, leaning back on her hands.  The position thrusts her breasts forward, distracting me.

“What’s your idea, Ron?” Harry asks in my ear.

I jump, startled.  Damn those two.

“Bastard,” I mutter, but Harry isn’t offended, just amused.

Rearranging a bit of furniture, I clear the center of the room and the area around the bed.  I settle myself in the chair I moved to the corner.  Loosening my tie and trousers, I smile at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione has tossed her hair back and thrust her breasts even higher, emphasizing the long line of her neck and the sharp relief of her collarbone.  I want to pounce on her and feast on all that skin.

Blinking, I give my head a shake.  Just watching right now.

“Well?” Harry says, interrupting my train of thought.

A quick glance between the two of them just turns me on more.

“Harry, I want you to seduce an unwilling but aroused Hermione into cheating on me.”

Harry blinks, startled, then grins.  Hermione moans softly.  The first time Hermione suggested a similar scenario but with me as the seducer, there were hurt feelings all around.  Eventually, we talked and Hermione explained that it wasn’t that she felt she was cheating on either of us but that the naughtiness and forbidden part of it turned her on.  After that, the next scenario was Harry “convincing” me I was gay to steal me from Hermione.  He was a bit too enthusiastic about that one – I couldn’t sit down for two days.  It still makes me smile.

Harry moves to the bed and holds his hand out for Hermione.  She takes it with a raised eyebrow, but follows him.  He presses her back against the door.

Glancing over at me, he asks, “What you had in mind?”

I nod absently, too distracted by Harry’s arse and Hermione’s shoulders.

“Ready?” he asks Hermione.  She glances at me then nods.

He takes a step forward, relentlessly invading her personal space.  “Just once, Hermione,” he whispers.

She looks around, trying to find a way around Harry.  In response, he braces his hands on either side of her shoulders, boxing her in.

“No, I can’t,” she replies in a choked voice.

Harry, relishing the role I cast him in, leans forward.  “Yes, you can.  Ron will never know.”

She bites her lip.  “Yes, he would.  He’d find out.”

Harry bends forward, his wild black hair tangling with Hermione’s barely-tamed curls.  “How would he find out?”  He closes the small bit of distance between the two of them.  “You want me.  I want you.”

Hermione shudders once but I can see the flush rising on her cheeks.  I pull my shirt from my trousers so I can rub my hand over my stomach, not because it hurts but for the tactile sensation.

Harry tilts his head the other way in order to press a kiss to Hermione’s neck.  She shudders again.  Her neck is extremely sensitive.

“All I could think of when I saw you in these robes was about how I could get them off you,” Harry says into her neck.

Hermione manages to reign in her arousal.  Bringing her arms up, she shoves Harry away.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Ron like that, Harry,” she exclaims.

He crosses his arms over his chest.  His forearms, all that’s visible under the cut of his robes, are taut with tension and arouse me further.  Hermione always teases me about having a thing for Harry’s arms.

“He’s always been by your side.”  Harry clears his throat.  “Except about the Tournament.”  Harry nods.  “And you’d betray him by doing this?”

Harry incongruously grins.  “I think that if you and I were together, he might try the same thing.”

Hermione huffs and stomps her foot.  “I am not a toy train to be fought over!”

“I never said you were.”

I swear she growls in frustration.  “But you seem to think I can be fought over between the two of you.”

Harry rolls his eyes.  Dropping his arms, he stalks toward Hermione again.  She backs up, running herself into the door.  Without a word, Harry tangles his hands into her hair to grip her head.  Before she can say a thing, Harry covers her mouth with his own.

I don’t know if kissing her into compliance will work for the scenario, but it’s doing wonders for my arousal.  When Hermione’s hands twitch, halfway to clutching Harry, I stand long enough to shove my trousers to the floor.  I don’t touch myself yet but am no longer in pain from being constricted under trousers.  I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

He drags his mouth away from hers so he can kneel in front of her.

“Harry,” she begins, his name a curse and moan, “you need to stop.”

He slips his hands under her robes, gripping her claves.  “You can’t tell me you don’t want me.”

“I don’t,” she protests, but the breathlessness of her voice belies the words.

“Liar,” Harry answers.

In a swift move, he tosses her dress over his head.  She tries for only a moment to push him away, but then shudders.  Harry has a wicked tongue.  Hermione never lasts long when he decides to feast upon her.

Sure enough, Harry’s hand emerges a moment later with a torn scrap of lace that used to be Hermione’s knickers.  She’s trembling slightly, eyes closed, lips parted, her chest rising rapidly.

I love to watch Hermione lose control.  She does it so infrequently that every time is treasured.  With a stifled moan, I wrap a hand around my cock and stroke lightly.

Hermione gasps loudly then chokes out Harry’s name, shaking.  He emerges, hair even worse than before, lips and chin glistening.

“Like I said,” he says, standing, “you can’t say you don’t want me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you,” she whispers.

Harry takes her hand and leads her to the bed.  Bearing her back onto it, he murmurs, “Then let’s do something about it.”

Her hands find their way to his shoulders.  “We shouldn’t.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry agrees.  That doesn’t stop him from shedding his robes.

Hermione has apparently been won over in this scenario – which, were it true, I’d be furious at how quickly Harry seduced her – because she sheds her own robes, leaving her in a black lace bra.  Harry pauses in removing his shirt long enough to kiss her.

The more skin revealed, the harder I stroke my cock.  Just seeing each of them arouses me.  Knowing they’re going to shag on my childhood bed is so many types of wrong that it appeals to me even more.  Once they’re both naked, I have to shed my own shirt for fear I’ll stain it if I keep it on.

After removing her bra, Harry pushes Hermione back flat on the bed before kneeling between her spread legs.  From my angle, I can see that she’s more than ready; she’s wet and glistening and I want nothing more than to bury my own face between her thighs until she comes.  The other option would be to kiss Harry right now and taste her on him.  Did I mention I have a bit of an oral fixation?

Hermione’s moan draws my attention back.  Harry is suckling her left breast, left hand kneading her right breast and his right hand toying with her clit.  Harry is talented like that.

I smear the pre-come on my cock with my thumb, biting my lip to stifle my moan.  Something close to a whimper escapes, to my embarrassment, when Harry easily slides his fingers into Hermione.

“Ron,” she whispers, arching upward.

Harry lifts his head and grips a fistful of her hair with his left hand.  “No, I’m Harry,” he growls before kissing her almost brutally.

She writhes in apparent delight, her thighs parting further, especially after Harry slides a third finger into her.  I see her hands clutch at his back and leave raised, reddened trails behind.  Harry moans at that, enjoying the violence of the gesture.

When Hermione begins to tremble and gasp, Harry ruthlessly pulls his fingers from her.  Repositioning himself before she can protest, he grips her hips and drives fully into her with one stroke.

I have to shove my hand into my mouth to stifle my moan.  To watch Harry’s cock disappear inside Hermione never fails to turn me on.  My hand freezes on my cock as I watch Harry hammer himself into Hermione.  She appears to be enjoying it, especially after she wraps her legs around Harry’s waist, opening herself completely to him.

She clutches at his back, the furrows created by her nails a livid red.  Harry shifts his grip, moving his hands to Hermione’s thigh.  He pulls her legs from his waist and shoves them upward, forcing her ankles to his shoulders.  The movement dislodges her hands from his back.  In reaction, she reaches over her head and braces her hands on the wall.

I begin panting at the sight of Harry fucking Hermione mercilessly – and her enjoying it.

“Harry,” she moans.  “Please.”

“Please what?” he demands, halting his thrusts.

She whimpers restlessly.  The sound shoots straight to my cock, nearly driving me over the edge.

“I need to come,” she whispers.  “Harry...so close.”

“Say my name again,” Harry orders, thrusting once.

Hermione and I both shudder head to toe in response.

When Hermione answers, he voice is breathless and tense.  “Harry.”

“Good,” he growls.

I watch him twist his hips slightly with each renewed thrust, stroking every part of Hermione each time he drives inside her.

“Yes, more,” she begs.  I moan softly when she moves her hands from the wall to Harry’s arms, her fingernails once again digging into his skin.

Harry shifts again, bracing his hands at Hermione’s sides.  He nearly bends her in half when he dips his head to suckle her.

Apparently that’s all it takes for her.  With a sound somewhere between a moan and shout, Hermione comes.  Her legs tremble against Harry’s chest even as she grips his arms tightly enough to break the skin in at least two places.

Imagining myself in Harry’s place, imagining Hermione’s sheath gripping my cock tightly, is all it takes for my orgasm to crash over me.  One quick stroke of my cock, four pulses later, and I’ve made a mess of myself and the chair.

I could care less.

Distantly, I hear Harry groan Hermione’s name as he comes.  Slitting open my eyes, which I hadn’t realized I’d closed, I watch Harry thrust twice before stopping buried deep inside her.

“Did that work for you, Ron?” Hermione asks, turning toward me.

Opening my eyes further, I smile lazily.  “Oh, yeah, but you’re too easy.”

She laughs, making Harry groan.  He pulls out of her and collapses face-down beside her.  She spares him only a withering glance.

“I think next time Hermione has to convince me I’m straight,” I suggest.

A wicked grin lights her face.  Harry even lifts his head.

“How long do you need to recover?” she murmurs, hunger in her voice.

“Five minutes.”  By that time Harry will be ready to watch.