“You need a shave.”

Ron looked up from his paperwork.

“I do?” he asked, running a hand thoughtfully over his jaw.

“You do,” I answered.  “The assignment you needed a beard for was completed last week.”

Ron grinned.  “Think I could get Hermione to do it for me?”

I just stared for a long moment before groaning and dropping my head to my desk.  I did not need the image his words called forth.

“Your hair’s thinning.”

I looked up sharply.  Balding?  “What?” I exclaimed, horrified, as my hands shot to my hair.  I felt the top of my head, couldn’t find a thinning spot, then glowered at Ron.

“I couldn’t very well tell you your hair was turning grey, could I?  Used that on Hermione on her last birthday.”

I dropped my hands, my glare turning to a grin.  “And how long did it take for the hex to wear off?”

Ron rolled his eyes in response, muttering, “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

I’d warmed to my subject though.  “Had to sing Dancing Queen with every hard-on, didn’t you?  For a month, wasn’t it?”  Ron glared, making me laugh at his attempt to subdue me.  “They still tease you about that staff meeting when Hermione had her hair in a bun, don’t they?”

“If I didn’t love you, I’d hex your balls, you prat.”  I grinned innocently.  “Oh, come off it, Potter.”  I whistled.  “Bastard.”

Over dinner that night I mentioned that Ron needed a shave.  Hermione glanced sideways at Ron, a smile creeping slowly across her face.

“But it’s your birthday, Harry,” she protested.

I pushed my plate away before leaning back in my chair, hands behind my head.  “And watching you and Ron isn’t present enough?  It’s not as if 37 is a significant milestone.”

Hermione tilted her head to one side.  “I’d think that any birthday beyond 17 would be a milestone for you.”  Ron chucked a roll at her head.  “Hey!”

“And you tell me I’m the one with the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Hermione huffed, annoyed.  With a frustrated wave of her wand, she cleared the table.

Ron glanced over at me.  I rolled my eyes in response.

Hermione stood suddenly.  “Harry, do you trust me?”

Ron scoffed.  “When she asks, the answer should be no.”

“Do you trust me?” she repeated.

I looked up, meeting her eyes.  The fanatical gleam in them frightened me – it usually never boded well – but I answered, “Yes.”

That was how I found myself thirty minutes later nude and tied spread-eagle to the bed the three of us shared.

Ron sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door while Hermione moved about, collecting things and humming softly to herself.

Just as my arms started to go numb, Hermione stopped humming.  With the precision of a surgeon, she laid out several things on the bed next to my hip and out of my line of sight.

Ron looked at what she’d gathered, then at my face.  “You sure you trust her?”

Hermione glared briefly at Ron before returning her attention to her collection.

Well, if you keep asking, no, I’m not sure.  I swallowed hard, the arousal I’d felt since being tied up beginning to dim.

Hermione huffed again.  “That won’t do.  Ron, keep Harry interested.”  Ron raised his eyebrows.  “But don’t kiss him.  I want to hear him.”

I swallowed hard, again, for an entirely different reason this time.  I closed my eyes and listened to Ron strip off his clothing.  The edge of the bed dipped again under Ron’s weight.

I groaned and tried to arch upward when Ron wrapped his mouth around my cock.  The unexpectedness of it, despite Hermione’s order, drove blood south, making me light-headed.

“Just on edge, Ron, don’t make him come,” Hermione ordered.  Ron hummed in acknowledgement, making me gasp and moan.

I heard Hermione shift, then felt something cool on my balls, startling me.  Her fingers spread the cool substance all over my balls, perineum and the base of my cock.  I worried about it for a moment until Ron reached up to tweak my nipples, thoroughly scattering my thoughts, which he knew it would.

“Hold him still,” Hermione said.  Ron lifted his head, snickered, then took my cock into his mouth again.  I was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of what I’d agreed to when Hermione, grinning, disappeared behind the bulk of Ron.

Since Ron was pinning my hips with a forearm, I knew it was Hermione’s fingers pulling my skin taut.  I yelped at the first scrape of the razor against my balls.

“Hermione!”

She tugged my balls nearly to the point of pain.  “You said you trusted me.”

Never argue with a woman who has you by the balls.  Literally.

“I do!” I protested.

“Then hush,” she ordered.  Ron chose that moment to oval his mouth around me and suck me to the base.

My eyes involuntarily rolled back in my head.  Ron was close to what Hermione was doing, so he’d stop her if she went too far.  I hoped.

The scrape of the razor on the next pass, now that I was expecting it, was almost erotic.  The slide of it over my skin made me shiver – but not too much or Hermione’s hand might slip.

Ron slid a hand up my stomach to my chest again, his other arm still pinning my hips.  I was helpless between them and didn’t mind one bit.  He took one nipple between his fingers, twisting it and making me moan, simultaneously sucking hard on my cock.  I had to grit my teeth to keep from shuddering under his assault.

Hermione lifted my balls and began to shave underneath, dragging the razor up.  I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood at the sensation.  Just one stroke a bit lower with her finger and I could come.

Sweat beaded my forehead with the effort it took not to come.  Ron backed off, flicking his tongue against my slit rather than sucking me, and it was more torturous than before.

“Please,” I rasped, not sure which of them I was begging to finish me off.

“Patience, Harry,” Hermione murmured.  She shifted away, then moved back.  I felt the tip of her wand against my balls – which worried me more than the razor, truth be told – and felt her cast a spell more than heard it.  Water ran over my now-smooth skin, but didn’t puddle underneath me due to a spell cast by Ron.

Hermione moved again as Ron backed away, the two of them leaving me alone on the bed.  I lifted my head and moaned when I saw they were removing each other’s clothing.  Dropping my head back to the pillow, I closed my eyes and listened to the whisper of their clothing and their soft moans.

When they climbed back on the bed again, I felt Hermione’s fingers stroking me, her nails against my skin.

“Mmm, bare,” she murmured before shifting.

About the same time Hermione sank onto my cock, I felt Ron suck my bare balls into his mouth.  I arched hard against my bonds in response, panting desperately.

Hermione leaned down, nearly flattening herself against me, her nipples hard against my chest.  Ron shifted.  I felt his fingers against my cock, gathering moisture from where Hermione and I were joined.  His fingers slipped lower, one over my perineum, then to my entrance.  He slowly worked two fingers into me as Hermione clenched tight.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, arching again against my bonds.  My shoulders hurt, but it felt good.

Hermione straightened, then lifted herself just enough for Ron to lift my hips a few centimeters off the bed.  He pulled his finger out, whispered a cleaning spell, then braced himself to enter me.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered.

I looked up at her.  It put me in mind of a picture of a pagan goddess with Ron barely visible behind her and her hands playing with her own breasts.  She smiled and I groaned.

Don’t come.

“Happy birthday,” she rasped, clamping down on my cock just as Ron entered me.

The wicked, delightful burn of his entry took the edge off my need to come for the moment.

“Fuck,” I moaned again.  Apparently I have a limited vocabulary when in the midst of sexual ecstasy.

“Yes, Harry, that’s what we’re doing,” Ron said, laugher in his voice.

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to ignore the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.  If I concentrated, I would come and then it would be over too soon.

Ron moved first, holding my hips with one hand and snaking his other around Hermione to toy with her clit – I felt the back of his fingers against my abdomen.  Hermione panted heavily, leaned forward to brace her hands on my shoulders, and began to move.  The sensation of her nipples brushing my chest with every motion was intense.

“I think he’s holding out on us,” Ron growled, thrusting hard enough to move the three of us on the bed.

“Mmm, I think you’re right,” Hermione answered, ducking her head to lick my neck.

Oh, fuck, don’t come, don’t come.

“Parseltongue, Harry,” Ron ordered.

I opened my eyes – hadn’t realized I’d closed them – to stare at the wizarding mural on the ceiling.  I’m sure the painter thought it odd when he was commissioned to paint snakes on the ceiling above the bed, but he was paid generously for it.

At my first words in Parseltongue – I love you both – Hermione shuddered violently, dug her fingernails into my shoulders and came with a soft scream.  She panted against my neck, twitching as I continued speaking Parseltongue.

She slid to the side and allowed Ron to lift my hips up so my ass rested on his thighs.  I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together.

I continued speaking Parseltongue, then looked over at her with her first moan.  Her fingers were busy between her thighs.

Oh, fuck, oh fuck.

I gritted my teeth, trying to hold out.

I only held out as long as it took Hermione to shift and wrap her lips around my cock.

A groan began deep in my chest, exploding as I came in Hermione’s mouth.  Ron didn’t last any longer than that, gasping and coming inside me.

With a sleepy wave of her wand, Hermione released my bonds.  I brought my arms down slowly, the awakening pins and needles torturous and arousing at the same time.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” she murmured, rolled over and went to sleep.  Ron and I looked at each other in amazement before laughing silently.

After we fell silent, I asked, “What was her deal with shaving me?”

Ron grinned.  “That was both our ideas.”  He slid a hand down my body to my reawakening cock.  “Mmm, like velvet.”  I grinned back.