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sundrop-writes · 7 months

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King For A Day

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader

Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger

You want a martyr? I’ll be one.

Summary:

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter.

When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic.

Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too.

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 22,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is about the formation of a polyamarous relationship, and before that, the reader has individual friends with benefits relationships with each of the Golden Trio without them knowing about each other; there is dom/sub dynamics in this fic, but no explicit BDSM play - Hermione is a switch (bratty sub and controlling but soft dom), Ron is a rough, mean dom, Harry is a whiny, needy sub, and the reader is a switch - she is submissive with Ron and Hermione, but dominant towards Harry. While the reader is the one who connects all the characters here, there is definitely threads of Harry x Ron and Hermione x Ron and also Hermione x Harry going on here. (So there is wlw action and mlm action in this fic.)

Emotional angst - general emotional angst due to the circumstances (the Golden Trio + reader being pressured to save the world, the war going on, emotional and physical isolation during the Horcrux Hunt); mentions of food insecurity as was canon during the Horcrux Hunt; mentions of becoming thin from lack of food being available; mentions of hunting and killing for food; mentions of emotional disturbances due to the presence of the Horcrux Locket - everyone is affected, including the reader; the reader experiences severe depression and intrusive thoughts about self-harm while wearing The Locket (this is something that is a very small part of the story, about a paragraph); the reader is mentioned to be in Gryffindor but because this is a Horcrux Hunting fic that fact is easy to ignore and you can imagine the reader to be in whatever house you want; mentions of Ron and the reader being childhood friends/growing up together before Hogwarts (it is mentioned that they had their first kiss together when they were young); mentions of past Harry/Cho (as a very fleeting fling, as it was in the canon).

For the actual smut: unprotected sex all around? but hey they're wizards so we could just say that Hermione did some anti-pregnancy spells when they were done (but there's definitely no condoms involved); the reader masturbates/touches herself (very brief); the reader gets caught masturbating by Harry but they both pretend that he didn't see anything (or maybe he didn't); mentions of Harry, Ron, and Hermione masturbating (mentioned in passing); Ron being possessive over the reader, partially due to the Locket's emotional influence; slightly dubious consent - it's very clear in the narration that the reader enjoys everything that is happening, but Ron does not explicitly ask for consent, and while Harry watches on, he worries for her well being due to the roughness of the acts; Ron is very rough with the reader because the Locket amps up his anger and he takes out on her (through rough sex, not through overly harsh painplay or sexual torture); hair pulling (Ron pulls the reader's hair); rough kissing; biting/marking (Ron bites the reader so hard that he draws blood); Ron slaps the reader across the face (only once) but it adds sexual arousal for her; some manhandling (nothing that implies Ron is superhumanly strong or implies that the reader is dainty thin).

Vaginal fingering (Ron does this to the reader); undertones of humiliation kink (Ron teases Harry for not knowing 'how to fuck' and because he can supposedly fuck the reader better); literally one spank (from Ron to the reader); size kink (Ron Weasley has a big cock and everyone is admiring it); unprotected penis in vagina sex (between Ron and the reader) - very rough sex; Harry watches while Ron fucks the reader; Ron calls the reader 'cockwarmer' and 'good girl'; Hermione walks in on Ron fucking the reader (while Harry watches) and questions the consent of the situation (only for a moment) before she decides to join in; Hermione gropes the reader and fingers her; there is unprotected penis in vagina sex between Ron and Hermione and also between Harry and the reader; unintentional edging due to being passed from partner to partner (toward the reader); Ron is generally degrading/condescending toward all the other characters (he's kind of an asshole but it's hot and he is sweet afterwards); creampie kink (no breeding kink); overstimulation; multiple orgasms; mentions of anal sex (does not happen during the fic); Hermione eats the reader out, Harry sucks Ron off (mentions of 'choking' on a cock but there is no severe breathplay), cumplay.

Sex flashbacks - the reader cockwarms Harry (in a flashback); the reader riding Harry while being dominant with him; the reader uses Harry's Gryffindor tie like a leash; the reader 'teaching' Harry how to increase his stamina (really, it's just code for edging him/torturing him); the reader calls Harry 'darling'; in a separate flashback - Hermione and the reader have sex in the bathroom at the Burrow; so - semi-public sex; the reader eats Hermione's pussy; the reader fingers Hermione; Hermione presses on the reader's neck but does not choke her; Hermione calls the reader 'good girl'. I think that is FINALLY it.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song of the same title by Pierce The Veil. I think it's a song that so perfectly encapsulates the storyline around the Locket - how Ron makes himself into a martyr, how it feels like they are living with ghosts in the walls when they wear it. Anyway - I am so excited about this fic.

When the idea was presented to me: Ron being pissed off because of the Locket's influence, and feeling particularly jealous of Harry, it just felt so genius. Ron has always been one of my favourite HP characters, if not my singular favourite. When I first start reading and watching the series, I fell in love with Ron so quickly. I deeply related to him - his insecurities, his fears (how he doesn't try to act brave when he's scared), his stubbornness, his feelings of inadequacy.

This fic perfectly encapsulates my love for Ron, and with something I couldn't resist the urge to do (the whole 'childhood friends' thing) - my deep urge to be Ron Weasley's special girl has bubbled to the surface harder than ever before. But with maturity comes the urge to also want to be Harry Potter's special girl and Hermione Granger's special girl all at the same time and have them share me like a KitKat bar. So everyone please thank Orgy Anon for giving me this idea, and please enjoy the fic!!

Also, I didn't think I was ever gonna write more rough, demanding (kind of asshole) Ron smut after Caffeine Cold - but it's something that weirdly works for his character. It's something I actually really love writing with him, turns out lmao.

...

When you woke up that morning, there was a persistent, annoying ache between your legs. Even the bitter November chill that had seeped into the tent couldn’t dampen it.

It was a strange and tedious thing. You were months into a perilous, life-threatening mission that would ultimately change the fate of the world, and yet, all you could seem to think about was the fact that you hadn’t been able to orgasm in weeks. You could blame it on the mental strain that the journey was causing on you and your companions - between the lack of food and the presence of a certain dark object weighing on you all, irritability among your small group was skyrocketing. And you were desperate for a distraction.

But you had always been someone who was more inclined toward the physical - someone whose sexual needs stuck out as more important to you. It’s why you had three different partners regularly ‘servicing’ you for quite some time now. But you hadn’t been with any of them since the start of your travels, and it felt like far too long. It felt like forever.

You reached down and palmed your cunt through your cotton sleep pants, hissing quietly through your nose at even the slightest bit of relief. You listened to Ron’s heavy snores and Hermione’s quiet breaths, knowing that Harry was out of the tent on his watch. If you could be quick about it, you could cum. You clamped the other hand over your mouth, ready to silence your own moans as you moved your own touch past your waistband. You let out a sharp whine into your own palm as your fingers found your clit through your cotton underwear.

It had been so long.

And just by that fact alone, your pussy was aching, wet, and needy. You began to rub circles on yourself through your underwear, feeling your cunt clenching around nothing, so damn needy to be filled up, and-

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice whispered your name frantically through the dark.

The sound instantly startled you, causing your lungs to seize up and your heart to race all at once. You stopped moving your hand upon instinct, feeling terribly caught.

It was lucky that he hadn’t lit his wand, clearly not wanting to wake up Ron or Hermione, or you most definitely would have been caught outright, even though your hand was under the blanket - your actions still would have been blatant to the eye.

“Are you alright? I thought - I thought I heard a noise.” Harry whispered when you didn’t respond.

You quickly cleared your throat, taking your hand away from your mouth and slowly moving your other hand out of your pants as you found the glinting lenses of Harry’s glasses looking at you in the dark.

“I’m fine.” You croaked quietly. “I - I was just stretching. This cot is terrible on my back, you know.”

You hoped that you could pass off any sexual sounds that had escaped you as sounds of pain, soreness from poor sleeping conditions.

Harry nodded.

“Right.” He said quietly. “Well - it’s your watch.” He announced as he sat down on his own cot and began taking off his boots.

You didn’t say anything further, but simply got up.

You changed out of your pyjama pants and into a thicker pair of cargo pants, wanting to shield yourself against the cold. As you undressed, you were completely uncaring to shield yourself from Harry’s eyes in the dark. He was likely too tired to keep his eyes open, and it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see too much of you anyway. And if he did look, you didn’t care too much anyway.

He watched you completely unabashed, squinting hard through the darkness, utterly focused on the shape of your ass moving around as you looked for thicker socks and gathered a notebook to write in to pass the time.

He only wished that he could see more than the silhouette of your ass covered by white cotton panties as you moved in the shadows, pulling your pants up, and then left the tent. He went to sleep with his cock hard, thinking about pressing himself up against those cotton knickers, dirtying the fabric with his cum - thinking about hearing you whine like that again.

…

You didn’t think that tracking down and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes was going to be easy by any means.

But you didn’t think that it was going to be this tedious and boring. You knew that there were a great many wizards out there who yearned for your head on a platter. People who would have captured you in a moment and tortured you until your dying breath just for a chance to hear you give up information on Harry Potter’s whereabouts. But it was difficult to feel the urgency of the life threatening situation you were in when you were living in such seclusion.

It was difficult to feel anything other than the crushing weight of loneliness and depression, living like this.

For nearly three months now, you, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been living in a tent, picking up and travelling from place to place with the effort to be as isolated as possible so that no one would be able to find you. But this meant that no one you loved could know where you were either.

No owls, no contact with anyone else in the outside world - you went from day to day, not knowing if they were safe or not, waiting to hear their names on the obituaries, or the missing persons listings on the radio.

All of you had been living off scraps of food because you couldn’t even go to the shops for fear of being seen. You had been living off the canned food Hermione had squirrelled away before the trip, and you had been reduced to stealing - nicking eggs from chicken coops in hopes that the owners wouldn’t notice. Luckily, some things from your childhood had come back around, and you had been able to snare some rabbits for food, as much as Hermione cried and tried to pretend she didn’t hate killing something so cute and innocent in order to eat it.

So far, the only real progress the four of you had made in terms of truly defeating Voldemort? You had gotten a hold of the real Locket of Slytherin. But you had no clue how to destroy it.

This left you stuck with the incredibly dark piece of magic. The four of you took turns wearing the Locket - even though it hadn’t taken Hermione long to observe that the object had some kind of dangerous emotional aura due to the dark magic that tainted it. But you were unable to simply leave it laying around somewhere in case it got misplaced, which would have been intensely foolish.

You had to keep it close in the more likely case that the group had to run off in a hurry if you were confronted. It was too precious of an object to lose - perfect leverage to bargain with if one of you did happen to get captured, and ultimately critical to your overall mission.

Unfortunately, the isolation and general bickering between you and your companions left you aching for a distraction. Although you were surviving day to day and trying to balance the fate of Muggle and Wizard kind in your hands, food and safety and progressing the mission were your greatest concerns.

But there was a certain loneliness that crept in.

Living in the tent like this - physically, it was the closest you had ever been with your three best friends for such a period of time. Although the three of you had lived in the Gryffindor Tower during your six years at Hogwarts, and you had shared a dormitory with Hermione, it had never been like this before.

The three of you had never shared such close quarters day in and day out for so long without some kind of break for other things - meal times, classes, Quidditch practice, time spent with other friends. It was a large tent, but it was an intensely cramped space for four people to be packed into, especially with the Locket and the depressing atmosphere and the emotional pressure of the mission causing tempers to flare up.

It was a Herculean test of your friendship, that was for certain.

Each of you were coping in your own ways.

Harry was pouting.

It was something that he did best, in your experience. He was a chronic pouter, as you had discovered over the years of knowing him. Whenever a bad mood overtook him (which was, unfortunately too often due to the unfortunate circumstances that haunted his life), he could mull around and pout for days, sit in sullen silences without talking to anybody with a grand stubbornness.

He would do it until the loneliness truly broke him, or until someone broke the barrier of stubbornness and talked to him first. (The ladder was more likely to happen when you were around. You hated to see him pouting and you usually always approached him first.)

Usually his pouting came with locking himself in a room, a purposeful isolation from others when he needed them most. Like when he had locked himself in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place for nearly the entirety of winter break when he believed that Voldemort was corrupting his mind with the evil dreams.

This time around, he had taken to sitting in corners by himself, as far away as he could get from the three of you in the cramped space. He ate his small meals alone without talking to anyone, speaking as few words as possible and only grunting out small responses when asked questions like ‘are you going to sleep now?’ or ‘are you going to take watch next?’.

He had also taken to pulling out the Marauders’ Map often. He studied it with astute eyes as though it was going to tell him something important. But you guessed that he was simply watching over your friends at Hogwarts like some godly protective force. Even though he couldn’t intervene if anything bad happened to them, he felt like the weight of the world was already on his shoulders, so he guessed that he should be watching over people like a god in the sky too.

Hermione, of course, was reading.

Whenever there was trouble, Hermione Granger had her hands on a book.

She found comfort in knowledge, comfort in pouring over books looking for the answers to her problems. Naturally, this was no different.

When she had packed for the journey, she had brought along every possible book she could find about dark magic and the subject of immortality. Any reading material she could possibly get her hands on that might mention Horcruxes, how to find them, and more importantly - how to destroy them.

And thus far, even though all her reading had come up empty, she still took a pile of books in her arms every night and read through them, often sacrificing sleep in the name of staying up to continue her search for answers. Some of those books she had read over two or three times before that she was rereading again now, developing a kind of madness over searching them cover to cover, looking for something.

It was clear to you that she felt an intense pressure - most of it, she was putting on herself. She thought that her brilliant mind, her stubborn ability to continue on despite nothing turning up would be the thing that finally solved the issue. She thought that it had to be her. She had helped Harry so many times before, so of course - it had to be her.

You were someone who coped by comforting others.

This is where the loneliness became even worse, because the more you tried to fuss over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the more they pushed you away. The more you chased them down in small ways - putting blankets over them, trying to provide small comforting touches, trying to have small conversations just to satiate your own loneliness, even yearning for a short cuddle, the more they shrugged you off and the more each small rejection stung right to your core.

Even though you were yearning for some affection, you knew consciously that they weren’t there to simply fulfil your needs. You knew that they weren’t actually ‘yours’ in that sense, not in a way that would demand them giving you attention just on the basis of your loneliness. As much as you had dreamed of it being that way, it simply wasn’t true.

But you found yourself aching more and more after each rejection, knowing how incredibly stubborn the three of them were. Maybe they were yearning for the affection too, but they were too stubborn to show it on the surface. But maybe, they truly didn’t need it. They were hardened stones, and you were a delicate flower. Even though it hurt you, it was why the four of you had always worked so well.

You had always softened their edges. Every single major argument that had gone on between them, any bickering between Ron and Harry, or Harry and Hermione, or Ron and Hermione, or god forbid, a blow-up between all three of them - it was something you had been able to reign in and calm down. You had always gotten them to calm down and ignore their worst impulses, and simply talk it out. At the end of the day, you always got them to apologise to each other.

And of course - there was the sex.

As far as you knew, no single person in the group knew that you were ‘involved’ with the others in that special, intimate way. They all thought that they were the only one. They all thought that you only had platonic, completely friendly relationships with the others. Even though you made no effort to hide it. You would still flirt with them, compliment them, cuddle them out in the open, hold hands.

But it was something that had never been discussed, and at certain points, they had emphasised hiding the sexual aspects of your relationship and jumped apart from kissing you or groping you when one of your other dear friends came into the room. So you never pushed to open that can of worms and start a big argument over it because things were good. There was a balance to it, a silent status quo.

It’s not like you set out to be some scamming harlet. Most definitely not.

Each of your individual relationships with them mattered to you so much. You loved them in such special and unique ways. But they were all so stubborn, and they acted like kissing and sex was some grand secret that needed to be locked away from the world and could never be discussed with anyone else. So as long as you kept those secrets, they never knew about each other. It turned into threads of private time, special bonds that you built with each individual person.

And now, living so closely with all of them, it left you feeling so intensely stuck.

You had three of the greatest people so close to you, and if you asked one of them to fuck you in the name of sexual relief, then the other two would be offended. It would be incredibly difficult to sneak off for a secret romp like you used to, because you were supposed to stay close and keep an eye on each other for safety.

So this left you with your own hand. You knew that when you touched yourself, you weren’t quiet, and you weren’t quick. You had tried a few times so far during the trip, and it had only left you more wanting when you had failed to cum for fear of being caught. It left you needier than ever when you had been interrupted by someone else’s presence - someone waking up or walking into the tent, and stopped because you didn’t want them to catch you.

There had even been times when you had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of Harry or Ron wanking, grunting roughly in the darkness, and it burned up your insides so badly that you practically wanted to beg them for cock. But you didn’t want to embarrass them by outing their ‘secret’ relationship with you to the other two, so all you could do was lay there and let the flames of your arousal burn you up.

You had no clue how Hermione had gone so long without touching herself. You guessed that she was either doing so off in the woods during her ‘reading time’, when she thought that she wouldn’t be disturbed, or she was too afraid of possibly being caught in order to even try. She was a lustful person, you knew that from experience. But oftentimes, her rule oriented mind won-out and kept her from doing truly mannerless things (like letting you touch her under a desk during class, much to your disappointment).

The more time you spent in such close proximity to them, the more you craved their touches. You knew that you were going to break soon. And you were going to do something truly mannerless.

In the meantime - you sat in the cold, early morning darkness, keeping an eye out for danger that likely wouldn’t come because it didn’t know where to find you. And as you kept watch, you tried your best not to think about the hot ache between your legs.

…

You had managed to spend most of the day distracted from your… cravings.

You spent the morning on watch, watching the sun kiss the sky orange and break beams of light through the trees. It was nice to go from ice cold, your fingers numb in the darkness to feeling the warmth wake up around you. It made you feel alive.

When you were supposed to switch off with Ron, you continued to sit with him for a while. You smiled at his sleepy state - his hair messy and his eyes barely open as he forced himself to be up and about. When he yawned wide, he truly reassembled a lion with a wild red mane.

You actually managed to hook him into a pleasant conversation about some of your childhood memories. He pointed out that one of the trees nearby looked primed for a treehouse. You smiled and reminded him of the treehouse that the Burrow used to have before Fred and George blew it up. This easily spiralled into a long conversation about nights that the two of you had spent camping in that treehouse looking at the stars, and a time where the two of you had technically had your first kiss when you were ten years old.

This left Ron with a smile on his face, which made you happy. You left with a kiss on the cheek while Hermione hollered your name through the tent flap, needing your for something else. She wanted your help to translate something from one of the books - something written in a different language that she didn’t know that you just happened to be very well versed in. After you spent some time helping her with this, she gave you a small smile and a nod and then rushed off to look up something in another book, seemingly pursuing a lead - which pleased you.

And then it was time to help Harry prepare the evening meal. It wasn’t much; just some canned soup and a few pieces of bread. But Harry came out of his pouting long enough to make a joke about how you were a ‘five-star chef’ and when you giggled brightly at this, he gave you a genuine smile back.

It was officially upgraded from a good day to a fantastic one when you actually managed to gather everyone at the table for dinner. Harry wasn’t off pouting in the corner, Hermione wasn’t sitting in her bed or off outside propped against a tree with a book in hand. Though she did read through the entire meal, you still considered it a win. And although Ron only ate half his food before not-so-subtly scooping the rest into your bowl with a grunt of ‘not hungry’ (the biggest lie you had ever heard in your life) - you were glad that no arguments had broken out at the table.

Ron giving you his food was something that had been happening more and more lately.

See, Ron’s method of coping was more complex than Harry’s or Hermione’s, or even yours. And it was something that could only be quantified if you watched him very carefully. It was likely only something you could name because you had known him for so long, and you had seen him do this so often throughout the years.

Ron was someone who suffered.

It was strange to put a name to, but that’s what it was. In all the years you had known him, whenever Ron found himself in emotionally troubling times, he put himself through purposeful suffering - a kind of martyrdom - in order to cope.

Back when you were kids, a few months before his eleventh birthday, he had been so worried that his Hogwarts letter wasn’t going to arrive. He convinced himself that he simply wasn’t good enough - that somehow, even though his parents and all of his brothers before him had gotten their letters, he just wasn’t going to get one.

He worked himself into such a frenzy about it that he spent hours doing the most difficult, painstaking house chores that he could think of, simply to prove to himself that he was useful. And to perform some suffering because that was how he coped with the anxiety and the emotional pain. After his letter came, when the worry left him, he didn’t bother with any more chores. He didn’t make his bed for weeks, no matter how much his Mum nagged him to do so.

After Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and Harry was named the Fourth Champion - that was one of the worst states you had ever seen Ron in. (And Harry, but in a different way.)

Hermione thought that Ron went cold on Harry because he was angry with Harry. But you saw it for what it truly was - Ron was trying to end the friendship because he thought that he didn’t deserve Harry as a friend. The Tournament was presented as a chance for eternal glory, riches, praise. And Ron was being reminded yet again how entirely unremarkable he was. So he wanted to sink lower. He wanted to be as unremarkable as the Malfoys and everyone else told him he was. He didn’t even want to be associated with Harry - the wondrous fourth champion, if it meant getting a modicum of praise for it.

But as usual with Ron, his own insecurities presented as annoyance, and anger toward other people. He pretended to be mad at Harry for not giving him the ‘secret’ of putting his name in the cup.

Ron went for weeks without talking to Harry. Not as a punishment to Harry, but as a punishment to himself. In reality, he was dying inside, not being able to talk to his best friend. He wanted to berate Harry with questions about the process of the Triwizard Tournament, he wanted to become excited with his best friend about the whole thing.

He told you at one point that he would have even preferred to hash out the whole argument, loudly, and simply have it over with. But he froze out Harry with bitter silence, simply because he felt that he deserved the pain of being separated from his best friend.

After a few nights of contemplation, Ron had realised he was wrong to blame Harry for it. It was a short-sighted response out of anger. Really, what kind of numpty, especially Harry, who hated the attention, would willingly put their name into a death tournament?

But still - he went on for weeks without talking to Harry, instead of simply apologising, because he felt that he deserved the punishment of being away from his best friend. He felt that he should be punished for being lowly and unremarkable, and for not simply believing Harry in the first place.

Ron partook in suffering and self penance as a distraction from dealing with all of the true, deeper pain that he felt inside.

And this time, his self imposed punishment came in the form of Slytherin’s Locket.

The Locket affected all of you negatively. That much was clear within the first few days of the object being in your midst.

When you put it on, you could best describe it as - heartbreak. A deep, awful ache in your chest that simply made you sad more than anything else. It made you want to burst out crying at any moment, it made you feel as though any happy thing had gone from the world, and any goodness you once knew would never be possible again. You would almost compare it to the feeling of a Dementor’s presence, though it didn’t come with the bitter chill in the air or the horrible memories flashing through your mind.

Often, this came with a terrible headache - pressure building under your skull, almost as if your brain was bubbling into soup between your ears. At times, it made it difficult for you to focus on anything other than the heartache, in an almost dizzying way.

Sometimes, when you wore it for too long, it… made you want to hurt yourself. It made your skin feel too tight and made your mind screech with the most horrible thoughts. Thoughts you almost couldn’t ignore. Ideas like - tearing all of your skin off, revealing the bloody viscera underneath. Telling you that would be the only possible way to make that horrible feeling go away. That part was something you had never told the others, and probably never would.

Hermione guessed that your more ‘sensitive’ nature was what made the Locket trigger sadness in you, rather than irritability or anger. It gave Hermione a more quiet, reserved anger - a contemplative rage that you had only seen in her before she had trapped Rita Skeeter inside that jar.

And for Harry and Ron - it made them snap. It put them on edge, made them entirely irritable. But with Harry, likely because of his tolerance toward things like the Imperius Curse - it took much longer of wearing the Locket for those feelings to truly affect him.

Ron seemed to be the most vulnerable to its effects, unfortunately.

You wouldn’t say that he was weaker, not by far. You would say that he had a tender heart, and a very unfortunate tendency to ignore his heart’s greatest needs. Ron was someone who was always harder on himself, he criticised every inch of himself far more than others did. Every ounce of pain that he felt - he didn’t let himself truly feel it. He turned it bitter, he released it as annoyance, or rage, or resentment.

The Locket clearly felt that in him, and took advantage of it. The Locket knew that Ron had never truly dealt with his pain, so much negative emotion stored up inside of him, and the Locket was feasting on Ron like a buffet of negativity. It certainly didn’t help that Ron kept volunteering to wear it for longer and longer periods of time - wallowing in his martyrdom, desperate to keep you from taking your turn because he couldn’t stand to see you crying again.

(He had said to you before that if you weren’t crying on his cock, then there was never a good reason for you to. And he would punch any prat in the face who caused those tears but him.)

As you helped Ron clean up the dishes from the evening meal, Harry took the Marauders’ Map and went back to the camping chair that he had planted in his usual pouting corner. Though tonight the energy coming off him didn’t seem nearly as foul as he muttered ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’ and began pouring over every inch of the map as he usually did.

Hermione gathered some books off her cot with a huff and began to walk toward the mouth of the tent, clearly going out to take her watch. She had told you before that even as it got cold, she enjoyed the isolation of sitting outside the tent alone - she enjoyed the peace and quiet.

You weren’t sure why you bothered, but you stepped toward her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her for a moment.

“Do you want some help with those books?” You asked. “Maybe a second pair of eyes looking that stuff over could be useful.”

“No. I’d like to be alone, thank you.” Hermione replied.

Even though it was a relatively polite sentence, she delivered it in the most curt, edging on snide manner possible. Clearly she was eager to have her alone time as the tent flaps bellowed behind her in a comically speedy way as she left the tent.

You felt a pang of hurt at her words, but you certainly understood where she was coming from.

You turned back to help Ron finish up the dishes, thinking nothing more of it.

But it was his next words that inadvertently set off a hurricane.

“That’s so Hermione isn’t it?” Ron scoffed. “So damn stubborn that she would turn down such a perfectly polite invitation for help. Needs to do every bloody thing by herself.”

“It’s fine, Ron.” You sighed quietly, taking the last bowl from him to dry it off with a dish towel. “I under-”

You were about to take up your usual job - mediating any potential conflicts or sore spots between the group. But your words were cut off when Harry’s annoyed voice came from behind you.

“Yes, Ron, because you’ve been so bloody helpful lately.” Harry griped, his tone entirely sarcastic. “It’s not surprising that Hermione is used to working on her own. You don’t have to sit around and criticise her while she does it.”

Ron whipped around then, fixing Harry tightly in a dangerous glare while he pretended to be more interested in the Map. He kept looking at the thick enchanted parchment in his lap while Ron bitterly spat out a reply.

“Oh yes, because you’ve been wracking your fuckin’ brain, actively working on solutions, now have you?” Ron argued back, his voice rough and rude as you had ever heard him. Obviously, he was bitter over the insinuation that he wasn’t helping. “Sitting around staring at that bloody map all day, what’s that gonna do?”

Ron’s words, his harsh tone even stung you.

You rushed to step between him and Harry, even though Harry was still sitting in his brooding chair, attempting to seem unphased. He was putting up a wall of calm, not giving Ron the response that he so desperately wanted. Ron wanted Harry to be just as frustrated and aggravated as he was. Rather than sitting back calmly and spitting well-calculated sass.

But you hoped that it wouldn’t get to that point. If they were both angry, you wouldn’t be able to interfere. You wouldn’t be able to get their attention off of anything but pissing each other off more until it fizzled out on its own - or until Hermione stepped in. Which would be the worst possible result.

You needed to direct Ron’s attention away from the argument so that it wouldn’t blow up into a massive fight.

“Ron, let’s go for a walk?” You posed, gently putting your hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at you. “Come on, let’s go get some fresh air.”

He was still glaring at Harry with a harsh bite in his jaw. You could feel the rage grinding his teeth together under your touch. It was something that made you nauseous.

Ron didn’t reply to your request before Harry spoke up again.

“I spend so much time looking at the map because I’m making sure that the people we love are okay.” Harry explained, his voice dull. “Not that-”

“They’re at Hogwarts, and we’re here.” Ron cut him off sharply, completely ignoring you and your attempts to get him away from the conversation, which was very quickly going off the rails. “Even if they’re in trouble, dying, what are you gonna do about it?”

Harry inhaled sharply at this, but mustered no reply.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, not taking your comforting touch off of Ron. You saw the depth of sadness swimming in his eyes at this. You knew this was something that cut him deep.

He looked at the Map every single day because he could rest slightly better knowing that the people he loved - Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean - were safe. He liked to watch them walk the halls, attend their classes, go about a routine. But if they did come into some kind of danger, he had no clue how he would stop it. He couldn’t stop it. That idea was something he had considered, time and time again. And it hurt him greatly. He couldn’t do anything until he had secured and destroyed all the Horcruxes - something you were nowhere near close to doing.

You thought perhaps this would be the end of the argument. That Harry would go back to brooding quietly and Ron would take you up on that offer to go for a walk. But your hope fizzled away when Ron opened his mouth again.

“I suppose The Great Harry Potter doesn’t need to work at things, now does he? Because every fuckin’ thing just falls into his lap, huh?” Ron sneered, sounding as though the words ‘Harry Potter’ tasted awful in his mouth.

You knew that this wasn’t just about the Horcruxes, not by far. Ron was talking about so many things in life. Things that haunted him that he had never allowed himself to let go.

The House Cup during their first year, Harry’s position on the Quidditch team, his Invisibility Cloak, the Triwizard Tournament - even the affections of girls and the admiration that came with his name. All things that Ron had long been jealous of that had literally fallen into Harry’s lap with no difficulty whatsoever.

“Ron, please, let’s just go take a breather.” You begged.

You hooked your fingers into the front of his thick woollen jumper, tempted to try pulling him out of the tent and away from Harry completely before things got worse.

And then, things got worse.

Harry burst like a game of Exploding Snap. He jumped up out of his chair suddenly with a shout, causing you to jolt while Ron kept glaring at him, unflinching.

“Fuck off, Ron!” He screamed. “I would love it if my name could get us out of this mess! But right now, it seems more people in the world want me dead-!”

Ron reached around you, pointing an accusing finger at Harry as he cut off the other man’s words with a shout of his own.

“I wish I would have known that when I signed on to be your best friend years ago-!”

“Best friend?” Harry repeated, halfway between a gasp and a sarcastic sneer. “Some friend you are. What have you done for me in the past few years aside from scream at me and gripe and complain?”

“Stop it!” You shouted this time, whipping your head toward Harry, done with trying to haul Ron away. “Both of you, stop! You both love each other and this is nonsense!”

It was the truth. But they were entirely blind to the truth right now.

Naturally, they both ignored you.

“And what have you done for me, aside from nearly getting me killed?” Ron snapped back.

“Ron, stop!” You squealed at him, trying once again to stop the fight.

You had never seen any of their bickering or arguing come even close to the level of friendship ending. But under the circumstances, you feared that if it didn’t stop soon - this might be it.

You dug your fingers into his jumper again, this time actually trying to haul him toward the mouth of the tent by force. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this - he simply continued engaging in a very fierce glaring contest with Harry.

When his jumper stretched down slightly, you saw a glinting around his neck, and then you realised:

He had been wearing the Locket for nearly two days now.

You thought that Hermione was supposed to be taking her turn, that it was outside the tent with her and her books. But surely enough, when you reached inside his jumper, your hand came back with that green locket. As you looked at it, you found that the sight of it almost mocked you.

“Ron, take it off.” You demanded sharply. “Come on, you don’t mean any of this, it’s just-”

“Who says I don’t mean it?” Ron snapped, reaching up and batting your hands away from him. Surprisingly, he then tucked the Locket back inside his jumper, rather than taking it off.

He was still actively punishing himself. And it was likely that Harry’s comment about him not being helpful was only playing into the toxic circus already going on in his mind that made him feel the need to wear it for longer. The Locket must have been loving the dark cloud of emotions that Ron was feeling right now.

Harry took a step toward you and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away from Ron.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s no use talking to him. He’s being a complete idiot right now, he’s not going to listen.”

Typically yes, that would be the case if Hermione or Harry tried to talk to him. When Ron was angry, their personalities did not mesh well. He would put up nothing but a wall of silence or brute stubbornness toward them.

But when you talked to him, it was different. When he was greeted by your warm empathy, your gentle understanding, it was different. In the worst cases where you truly needed to break through to him, you ended up with your mouth on his cock to break that stubbornness. But either way, you would get him to listen to you, and eventually he would calm down and talk it out.

Ron’s glare was like a sharp poison dagger, piercing the place where Harry’s hand met your shoulder.

It seemed that those words from Harry’s mouth, so casually calling him an idiot, along with Harry’s touch on you - even though it was the most casual, platonic touch he could have performed. All of it brought Ron’s anger to a boiling rage, and under the influence of the Locket - he snapped.

“Don’t touch her!” Ron growled. He reached around you and shoved Harry squarely in the chest in order to get him away from you.

You would be lying if you said that the words and especially his tone carrying them didn’t send a distinct zap through your cunt, instantly awakening the lust you had been trying to push down all day.

Harry let out a sharp gasp as Ron’s hand hit his chest, and stumbled backwards a few steps - partially because of how hard Ron had pushed him, and partially numb from shock. His fights with Ron had never turned physical before. He found himself flushed with fear, and not one due to intimidation of his best friend’s physical stature. He was afraid to potentially lose the friendship. He was afraid that he had taken things a step too far.

You looked between the two of them, tingling with shock yourself, completely unsure what to say or do. You were tempted to shout for Hermione, but then Ron began speaking again and shocked you and Harry even further.

“This may come as a surprise to you, Harry, but you don’t own everything in the goddamn world.” Ron said, spitting Harry’s name through his lips like it was a vile poison.

Was he seriously insinuating that Harry put a hand on your shoulder because he thought that he owned you?

Was Ron getting possessive over you?

“Excuse me?” Harry squeaked out, clearly having as much difficulty processing the words as you were.

If anything, Harry was jealous of your relationship with Ron.

The two of you had been so close before even coming to Hogwarts. When Harry had seen the two of you idly chatting and laughing so hard that you could barely breathe when he had approached your train carriage during that first ride to Hogwarts, he had been purely intimidated. On that day, Harry had felt like he had no one in the world, like he was so damn alone, and Ron already had you as a best friend.

Harry had always been jealous of the closeness that you had with Ron. The inside jokes from your childhood, the stories of the things you got up to as kids that he only heard about secondhand. Harry had always wished so hard, yearned deep in his heart that he could have grown up in the magical world so that he would have known Ron sooner and could have been his best friend for as long as you had. Every single time Harry arrived at the Burrow, you were already there, laughing it up with Ron, making him feel like he was the biggest third wheel to your already amazing friendship.

To this day, Harry was still surprised that Ron gave him the title of best friend and not you.

“Ron-?” You questioned numbly, and he cut you off.

“You heard me.” Ron growled, his voice dark.

It was something that made your stomach jump, a mixture of shock and lust flooding you. It made you numb and limp and turned you into a perfect ragdoll, your body entirely receptive to Ron’s next chaotic, unpredictable movements.

“She doesn’t belong to you.” Ron ground out, his throat scraping against the words in a gravelly way that made your pussy so wet.

“I never said-” Harry gaped quietly in protest, but he cut himself off with a quiet gasp when he witnessed what his best mate did next.

Ron threaded a hand into the back of your hair, a grip so strong and commanding, a touch that immediately said ‘I own you’.

You released a small gasp in response, arching into his touch as shockwaves of pleasure pittered through you from this point - from feeling his large, strong hand gripping you there. He didn’t waste a moment before he ripped on your hair, forcing your head backwards so he could have a good angle to shove his mouth onto yours.

Dizzy with the combination of pain and pleasure, your mouth so easily fell open to him. You had nothing but ripe, burning moans for him as his rough, unshaven face scratched against yours and his demanding tongue shoved past your lips. He was almost forcing you to choke on his presence as your needy lust came back with a vengeance, thumping hard between your thighs.

Harry found himself confused.

He was still so bitterly angry, that annoyance from the argument still sizzling through his veins. But he found his cock quickly swelling to hardness at the sight of Ron taking you so savagely, treating you to roughly, doing things to you that Harry had definitely never done.

Harry was always soft with you. He didn’t know anything but softness when it came to his intimate time with you. Witnessing this was so absolutely hot, and Harry couldn’t deny that. He should have been more upset by this revelation - by the familiarity, by the natural way you just let Ron kiss you.

Harry should have been jealous. He should have stormed away to brood at the fact that you had clearly been fucking Ron behind his back for as long as you had been fucking him. But he couldn’t find himself angry about that. He only found it to be a turn-on.

Part of his brain screamed that he should have known all along. A girl as perfect as you wouldn’t have just one boyfriend, definitely not. (Was he your boyfriend? The two of you had never discussed that part…)

The first time you had ever kissed him, Harry just felt exceedingly lucky. And he had felt similarly confused, wondering why the hell you had snogged him so suddenly, without seeming to show any interest in him beforehand.

That night in the Gryffindor Common Room, after everyone else had gone to bed, he had asked you if he should be concerned about his kissing technique because Cho had been crying while kissing him and afterwards, and Ron had made that joke about how Harry must be horrible at snogging, then.

And without even answering, you pulled him forward by the length of his Gryffindor tie and snogged him furiously. (At the time, he had been embarrassed by how easily he had moaned into your mouth - something he had definitely not done with Cho - but you had assured him later that you found it cute.)

And then you explained to him that his kissing technique was more than fine, and that Cho was still hung up on Cedric, and he should stop ‘playing with her fragile emotions’. He had been too pleased to have you that he hadn’t cared at all about turning Cho down for Valentine’s Day.

So naturally, he hadn’t questioned the nature of his relationship with you since.

In this moment, he was still bitterly mad at Ron. But he watched to watch. He found you beautiful and irresistible, even if he should have hated seeing you with Ron. He just found it hot. And he was confused as to why that was - but he certainly wasn’t going to move unless you or Ron yelled at him to bugger off.

The whole time that Harry contemplated this, Ron thoroughly explored your mouth with his tongue. This left you whimpering and writhing to get closer to him, despite the tight grip he had on your hair. You were needy for more, arching into him, needing to be closer to his warm, Quidditch-hardened body. Your hands tightly gripped his biceps through his thick jumper, wishing you could feel more of him, more of his delicious bare skin that you had experienced under your hands before but missed so dearly.

“Ron-!” You squeaked out in protest as he pulled back from the kiss.

The movement resonated a wet smack through the tent and left Harry’s mouth flooded with his own saliva as he saw the thread of spit that tangled between your two mouths. He would deny that it was out of pure want.

He stared in awe as he saw how swollen and used your lips already were after just a few moments of Ron’s rough kissing.

Typically, that was an imagery that Harry could only get from you after hours of kissing, slow and sweet. Or something he would see on the rare occasions when you had sucked his cock for hours, pinned him down and teased him until he was begging for more. Naturally, that thought made his cock give a needy pulse inside his trousers - but he refused to touch himself.

He didn’t know when he had gotten so damn hard, but he knew that he was standing at full attention, and he hoped that Ron wouldn’t look over to see the very obvious bulge at the front of his pants.

Something that truly mystified Harry was the look on your face.

You had such a doll-like expression; your eyes glassy, your jaw slack, your lips parted. Your gaze was locked on Ron, tracing his every movement as though you had been hypnotised. If Harry didn’t know any better, he might say that you were under the Imperius Curse. In all the times that Harry had taken you to bed before, he had never seen that look on your face.

Whenever you gleefully climbed on top of him (or the spare few times when you let him climb on top of you) you were always so present. Often, Harry was surprised by how composed you could be when he was the one begging and falling apart. Whenever he looked up at you, there was an almost wild look of mischief behind your eyes as you decided with pure, intricate calculation what you were going to do to him.

And Harry could do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the ride. He supposed it was the one area of his life where he didn’t have to panic about the decision making. The one time where he didn’t have to fret about being responsible.

“Ron,” You moaned out weakly, gently begging him for more.

Harry then realised - Ron did that for you. And you must have liked it a whole lot.

Because you made absolutely no protests as he mouthed along your cheek roughly, the short, coarse hair of his short beard clearly scratching your skin along the way. You only let out more beautiful moans as he began sucking savagely on your neck.

“Ron, ah-!”

Harry only became worried when he saw Ron quite clearly dig his teeth into your skin right at the neck of your shirt, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He continued to yank on your hair, holding your body in a tight arch to keep you from squirming away. You didn’t yell out any protests at this, but the sound you made was a sharp holler - perhaps it could have been from pleasure or pain.

You had never made sounds like that with Harry, so he couldn’t exactly tell.

Either way, it had Harry reaching to his back pocket for his wand. But he didn’t yet draw it out and point it at Ron. He was too damn curious to let this continue and see where things went. Especially if you didn’t want it to stop.

“Y/N?” Harry questioned, his voice ripe with concern.

He needed to check on you. If you even so much as uttered the words ‘no’ or ‘stop’, then he would put Ron on his ass without hesitation.

You let out another moan, and his cock throbbed with need, trapped inside of his pants. He hoped that he could forget about it for now.

You let out a small whimper as Ron tongued over the bite harshly, seemingly enjoying the taste of the blood, before he picked a new spot and bit down again. You made another wounded noise and Harry gripped his wand tighter before you finally responded to him.

“I’m fine, Harry.” You breathed out, sparing him a quick sideways glance - barely able to turn your head with Ron’s strong grip holding you still by your hair.

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name!” Ron growled out, clearly insulted that you were talking to Harry when all of your attention was supposed to be on him. “Not until I’m done with you.”

In a fraction of a moment, these sharp words were paired with the sound of skin stinging against skin.

Harry let out another gasp as he watched Ron’s large hand come down across your cheek. It was hard enough to make a distinct sound, and throttle your head to the side. But it definitely wasn’t hard enough to shake you out of the lustful haze you were in. If anything, the stiffness of his palm colliding with your cheek seemed to add to it.

More shock pulsed through Harry when he heard you let out another moan, definitely a pleasurable one. He pulled out his wand and held it at his hip, not yet prepared to threaten Ron. Because if he wasn’t mistaken, you were enjoying this.

“Ron,” You gasped quietly.

You found yourself shocked by the way the slap had caused your pussy to throb between your legs.

“That’s right.” He grunted back before he leaned back in, taking your mouth in that entirely commanding way once again.

You could do nothing but moan pathetically and hope that soon he touched you where you needed it most.

Sure, Ron had been somewhat rough with you before.

He was always more of an animal in bed - Ron always fucked dumb and wild, climbed on top of you and let loose like a mindless animal until he was done. And you always liked it that way.

You went to him when you wanted to be sore and full, when you wanted to lay back and forget about your day. You thought it was sweet of Harry to check on you. He had always been so different when it came to sex.

You went to Harry when you wanted to be taken care of with intense softness and slowness. Sex with Harry was always more like making love - a devoted worship of you or you worshipping him. You liked to have his sweetness completely under your control, to know that he would do anything you said at a moment’s notice.

And of course, Hermione was completely different. You went to her when you wanted to fight for dominance and sometimes lose, or win and have the pleasure of having her at your mercy. She was a very rule oriented person, so she was the type to have you stand in the corner with a book balanced on your head while she finished writing an essay and then give you a reward for not dropping it. But she was also someone who liked to be mind-broken and forget about all the rules sometimes. You liked that it was so unpredictable and surprisingly non-routine with her.

While you knew each of them well, intimately - you were somewhat surprised.

Ron had never been this mean before.

Mostly, you were surprised by how quickly you were coming to like the meanness in him, especially when it was presented as a sexual aggression toward you. You knew that it was something you would crave long after this was over. (You hated that you could imagine yourself purposely pissing him off just to get this result.)

After a few moments, Ron pulled away from the kiss again, leaving you panting, entirely breathless. He leaned his forehead against yours in a move that Harry would almost consider tender - quite a contrast to his other actions, staring daggers of dangerous passion into your eyes as your chest heaved.

“I’m fine.” You muttered quietly, wanting to assure Harry that you were okay with everything that Ron was doing. More than okay - but you weren’t quite ready to admit that just yet. “It’s fine.”

Your words were clearly intended for Harry, who you could see out of the corner of your eye was clearly prepared to take Ron down if need be. It was a nice safety net to have, but with your cheek stinging as much as your needy cunt - it was an unnecessary one.

You kept your eyes locked on Ron as he teased a thumb across your bottom lip. You were tempted to tease him, tempted to call out Harry’s name again just to see what would happen. But you were worried that he would get you all worked up and then not let you cum, and that would be the most pitiful punishment of all to you on this day.

“Fine?” Ron chuckled darkly. “I’ll show you fine.”

He wretched your neck back harshly again, taking advantage of the hold he had on your hair. You couldn’t contain the moan you let out as he shoved his tongue past your lips once more, his free hand coming up to grope your breast through your shirt so harshly that it ached.

He reached for your pants and tugged on them so hard that the button went flying, making a small ‘tink’ on the floor as it disappeared somewhere on the other side of the tent. You distantly hoped that Hermione could sew, or that she knew some spell for mending buttons, but that was a fleeting thought in your mind at the moment.

Ron shoved his hand past the waistband of your pants without a second thought, without even a breath of asking permission. It was that boldness, the way he simply took you like you belonged to him - it was that feeling of being owned by him that made you clench around nothing, further soaking your cotton panties as he shoved his fingers into them.

Ron pulled back from the kiss, letting out a breathy chuckle against your cheek as he felt that heady wetness. He had to pry the sticky fabric off your cunt to make his way to the source, and it only made him more sure of himself. He made bold, cocky movements when he posed two of his fingers rigid, sweeping up the length of your needy pussy. He gathered the wetness thick on his fingertips before he found your clit with practised skill and rubbed it in mean strokes.

“Ron!”

Your knees bent and your fingers dug into the fabric of his jumper, desperate to hold on to something. Your thighs clamped down around his hand, and when you let out a whining moan, Harry’s cock pulsed sharply when he realised he could hear the sound of your wetness audibly, even though it was slightly muffled, still trapped inside of your pants - he could hear each mean, wet stroke as Ron touched you.

“Ron, please!”

You were already begging to cum.

But he had no determination to finish you off right now. He didn’t want to make you cum yet - otherwise, the show would have been over too soon. He only did this for a moment before he pulled his fingers back out of your pants, now absolutely soaked and glistening with your wetness. Then he shocked you and Harry yet again when he purposefully held the hand up for Harry to see.

“More than fine.” He scoffed, referring to your earlier words. “Look at how fucking wet she is for me.”

An incredibly tempting thought came over Harry. To cross the room and put his lips around those fingers, to taste your essence (something he was already intimately familiar with) while enjoying the thickness of Ron’s digits on his tongue. But there was still that part of Harry that was pissed off, and somehow, that part won out.

“You’re mad.” He barked out, pocketing his wand again and crossing his arms tightly over his chest, setting his jaw and giving his best enraged expression. “You’re disgusting.”

Ron let out another bitter chuckle. “You’re still watchin’, mate.”

Seeing as it was not a demand to fuck off and stop watching, Harry continued to keep his eyes locked on the scene. All while trying his best to keep putting up that front of anger while arousal overtook him.

Ron used the hand in your hair and a hand on your hip to throw you toward the table, finally releasing the grip on your hair to manhandle you until you were positioned how he liked. He bent you over the table with your palms supporting you on the surface, your ass sticking out, with your knees grazing against the attached bench in what must have been in an uncomfortable way. It put you and Ron sideways to Harry as Ron got behind you, showing off your profiles to him. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, Ron was purposefully showing off, making sure that Harry had a good view of whatever he was going to do to you next.

You moaned again as Ron tucked his grip into your pants and underwear and ripped them down all at once, shoving the fabric down to your knees. You let out a pitiful, beautiful whimper as he put a hand on your jaw, forcing your head back painfully so that you could look up at him as he towered over you. He wanted you to know how much power he held over you.

It made your cunt throb even harder, and you were sure that Harry could see the wetness glistening on your thighs.

Ron’s body was warm against your back, the muscly hot furnace that he always was. Without warning, he shoved those two still wet fingers inside your cunt, and began fucking you open without mercy. This caused you to moan harshly and arch into the touch, aching for more.

“It’s funny, innit?” Ron posed, a dark laughter dancing in his voice. “Someone had to show The Great Harry Potter how to fuck. One thing that didn’t just come to him with natural grace.”

Over the sounds of your moans and Ron’s fingers moving slickly inside your cunt, Harry felt a wave of humiliation rise up in him. He would absolutely deny that Ron speaking so harshly to him like that, combined with his best friend for once looking down upon his name - actually made his cock throb harder. A big part of Harry internally scoffed. Did Ron honestly think that Harry was some blushing, clueless virgin?

“I know how.” Harry replied, the words entirely daft to his own ears once they came to the open air. He sounded like a petulant child pretending that he hadn’t eaten a cookie before dinner. Absolutely no truth or proof behind his own words.

Ron let out another dark laugh at this, and Harry’s stomach clenched with a strange combination of humiliation and lust.

If Harry was being completely honest with himself, there was a time in his life when he had been taught how to fuck. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him without a bunch of nervous fumbling. But Ron certainly wasn’t his instructor.

You had been the one to teach him how.

…

Harry let out a needy whine, deep frustration radiating through him as your hips slowed down on top of him yet again. He wanted to cry as you sat down on top of him completely, trapping his cock in stillness, leaving him leaking and needy inside of you as your leaking pussy sheathed completely around him. It was the most beautiful torture - every inch of him sheathed in your hot wetness, but dear god, he needed you to move.

“Hush, now, darling - there’s no need to whine.” You scolded him, your voice oddly sweet and soothing for words that brought such a disappointing lull over him.

“But-” Harry breathed out a protest, and you yanked sharply on his Gryffindor tie. This caused the words to die off in his throat as his neck was jerked with a short snip of pain.

He was still mostly clothed - still wearing his cardigan, unbuttoned and slumping down his arms, and his white shirt with a few stray buttons undone. With his trousers undone and pulled down to his thighs along with his underwear, letting his cock out. Usually, when you fucked him, no matter how undressed he got, you kept his tie around his neck. You had found that it was a very convenient leash - a very easy way to shut him up and make him obedient at a moment’s notice.

It was something he was now unconsciously trained toward, which he both loved and hated. Ron and Hermione had no clue why Harry went so slack and became a puppet following your every whim if you even so much as grazed a suggestive touch near his tie during classes - it was something that made his brain go fuzzy and made his cock harden at an alarming speed.

This afternoon, you had decided that the chosen form of torture - well, intensely wet, pleasurable ‘torture’ - would be riding him. You had shed your clothing and you were now sitting astride his lap naked, alternating between fucking him hard and fast for a few moments before you slowed down and then slopped completely until he begged for you to continued.

It was a move that simply dared someone to come into the Gryffindor boys dorm during the class that the two of you had skipped and catch the two of you while you humped up and down on Harry’s cock. But he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the possibility of getting caught, as you easily made him forget about everything other than the feeling of your warm, tight, wet cunt clenching down on his cock.

“I told you, Harry, we need to train up your stamina.” You whispered, speeding your hips up once again, daring him to hurl off the edge of oblivion into a mind-bending orgasm. “It’s like Quidditch - if you don’t practise, then you’ll never get better.”

Harry only sputtered out a moan and clutched onto your hips tightly, pressing his face into your breasts as his over-edged balls ached and he internally begged for mercy.

So what? He didn’t often last long with you. You were a goddess, and your pussy was perfect, who could blame him? What he lacked in stamina, he usually made up for in enthusiasm and the intense willingness to eat his own cum out of you afterwards, which you more than enjoyed.

“Y/N, please-!” Harry grunted out desperately.

…

“Ron, please!”

Harry’s mind was abruptly sucked back to the present by the sound of your voice, begging in that needy, airy tone much like he had been begging you for release all that time ago. He found it remarkable how someone as composed as you could be taken apart so easily by Ron. Perhaps he might just end up asking Ron for some tips after this - even if it would inflate the git’s ego a bit too much.

“If you’re so great, then how come she’s not begging for your cock, hmm?”

Ron teased, seeming to take great joy in focusing his attention on mocking Harry while his fingers fucked your pussy raw. He ignored your whines and pleas and the way you rocked your hips back into him, clearly so desperate for his cock as he had pointed out.

“Watch and learn, Harry.”

Harry wanted to make some sassy comment about how he didn’t need to learn this from Ron, but he was far too intrigued, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched.

“Ron-!” You let out his name in a gasp as he pulled those fingers out of you abruptly.

He then slapped your ass, streaking those wet fingers across your behind in a way that made the hit sound even sharper, and you choked on your own breath and arched back into the touch. You looked fucking magnificent. Harry would absolutely catalogue this in his mind forever - though he hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he got to watch Ron fuck you.

Ron then used the hand that wasn’t slick with your arousal to pop open the button on his own trousers. Harry hoped that Ron wouldn’t make a comment about how intently his eyes became glued to his best friend’s cock as it fought to be freed from his pants - no underwear keeping it from fighting against the zipper as Ron easily shucked down the pants over his hips.

Harry had snuck glances at Ron before. It was difficult not to grow curious about what your best mate’s cock looked like when sharing a room with him for six, going on seven years. Especially when the latter of those years had been filled with Ron growing into a tall, broad man that easily overtook Harry in stature. And Harry had spent an increasing amount of time thinking about Ron’s cock when he woke up to the sound of Ron wanking with deep, ragged grunts.

He had caught sight of Ron coming out of the shower before. After Quidditch practices, and when racing to use the bathroom at the Burrow before anybody else could take up the already cramped shower schedule. And while Harry had admired Ron’s muscles, he had never dared to look down before. He would never be so blatant. He had never wanted to be called out for his curiosity. He never wanted that curiosity to turn into desire.

But now, his eyes focused boldly on Ron’s cock, seeing as it was the only naked part of him available to stare at.

Even though Ron’s red hair was one of the most distinguishable traits about him, Harry was surprised by just how bright and fiery his pubes were - like a hellish flame from which his cock sprung out. And boy, was it an impressive one.

It was eight inches long, maybe a bit more, and it was thick. The only way to describe Ron’s cock was fat. It was quite pale, just like the rest of Ron, with a slight pink flush around the head that was swallowed up by his foreskin. But still, Harry found himself fixated on just how massive Ron’s cock was.

Harry found himself wondering what the thick shaft would look like wrapped up in your hand, or the dainty, delicate touch of Hermione’s, and his throat became particularly dry when he imagined this.

Strangely enough, even though Harry’s cock was a good two inches shorter and it was skinnier (much like his general stature when compared to Ron’s) - the first thing that Harry felt when looking at Ron’s cock wasn’t jealousy or inadequacy, but rather - awe. A horny type of marvel, like he was looking at a brilliant sex monument that he had just discovered.

A small pang of worry flashed through his insides at the idea that Ron was likely going to take you so roughly with his obnoxiously large cock. He knew that Ron wasn’t going to be gentle all of a sudden. Harry worried that a cock of such size might hurt you. But again, he knew that he could step in if you asked him to.

Ron grabbed his cock with the hand that he had previously been fucking you with, spreading your wetness over his shaft with a few good pumps. He poised a touch on your hip and then, with a hand on the base of his cock, began running the now exposed, throbbing tip along your weeping slit.

Harry thought that he might push in after a moment, especially when you let out a whimper and arched your back toward him, daring him to sink in.

“Ron, please. Please, baby. Come on.” You begged, your voice half caught in your throat as you were overtaken by need.

Harry’s cock was freely leaking into his underwear now, and he almost shouted for Ron to begin fucking you out of his own dizzy desperation.

But then, still teasing his cock along your swollen pussy lips, Ron put his other hand under your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks tightly between his thumb and forefinger - and he turned your head toward Harry. You had previously been facing the wall of the tent with half-closed, dopey eyes.

Harry found himself deeply surprised by this. Of course, the whole point of this (supposedly) was to direct your attention away from Harry. Ron had even banned you from speaking his name. So why did he want you to look at Harry now?

When your glassy, lustful eyes met Harry’s, his stomach jumped. He swallowed harshly around nothing and he knew that you saw the bobbing of this throat. You let out a whimper, squirming in Ron’s hold, still trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock. This caused Ron to let out a displeased growl and move the hand that he had on the base of his cock to your lower back, shoving you toward the table so that the edge of it cut into your hips.

While keeping a tight hold on your face, making sure that you never looked away from Harry, Ron leaned in and grumbled something lowly in your ear. Even though you were panting harshly and Harry’s own heartbeat thumped in his ears, he could still hear the words so distinctly from across the room:

“Go on. Tell him how badly you want my cock.”

“I want it.” You whimpered.

This wasn’t good enough for Ron.

He yanked on your hair again, keeping your face locked on Harry. But at the same time, he made sure you stayed focused on the task at hand with his cock kissing at your entrance, the fat head of it just barely teasing in - but not nearly giving you enough to be satisfied.

“Tell him who.” Ron barked out. “Tell him who you need.”

“I need you, Ron!” You whined. “I need Ron’s cock.”

These finally seemed to be the words that set him off.

He slammed into you without further ceremony, digging his fingers into your hip and keeping the other hand in your hair for leverage. He began fucking you like a wild animal, his hips a blur of flesh that lit up your insides with pleasure. It was what you needed, and you instantly thanked him with a chorus of deep moans echoing from your throat.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” Ron ground out these words, driving each syllable home with a hard thrust of his hips.

His movements filled the whole tent with nothing but sounds of his hips colliding against your ass, your wet pussy eagerly swallowing up his thick cock. Paired with his rough, animalistic grunting as he claimed you, complemented by the sounds of your withering moans - your lungs already wilted and tired, your body begging for release. You loved being used by him, and you knew that if he kept up the pace, you could cum just from the feeling of his big cock filling you up.

It was this symphony of sounds - the very obvious signs of fucking - that drew Hermione’s attention back toward the tent.

She had been roused by the yelling, originally. She didn’t want to intervene in the bickering like she was simply the ‘mother’ of the group, imposing rules and order on everyone. That role did become annoying after a while. So when it died down naturally, she had been thankful, and simply went back to her book.

But it was the sounds of fucking that truly caught her attention. Completely against her own will, it started a fire between her legs and drew her up. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was your girlish lilting voice calling out Ron’s name. She knew that Harry wasn’t asleep and she hadn’t seen him leaving. So were the three of you-?

“Fuck, take it! Take it like the little fuckin’ cockwarmer you are!”

That deep growling voice couldn’t possibly be Ron - could it?

With her pussy beginning to ache annoyingly between her thighs, Hermione pulled back the tent flap and stepped inside. The sight she found before her quickly made her gasp.

Ron was fucking you.

He had you bent over the table. There was something in the back of Hermione’s mind that screamed ‘that is where we eat, this is not sanitary’ - but she ignored that part of her mind in favour of the headliner.

Which was the beastly way that Ron was taking you, harsh grunts pouring from his lips as his very large cock pounded into your pussy with seemingly no care. This made your poor pussy more swollen by the second, and seemingly - more coated in natural wetness as you creamed all over him, taking nothing but pleasure in his rough movements.

You were moaning breathlessly, hanging onto the edge of the table for dear life, your face shaped into a perfect O as hot breaths poured from your lips. With your back arched out, showing your ass to Ron in a perfectly pornographic picture that was right out of one of the magazines that Hermione had accidentally seen under Ron’s bed.

Your whole body rocked with his thrusts, the table creaking under the pure force of him - something that made Hermione realise just how strong he was for the first time ever. It was a thought that made her slightly dizzy and made her throat dry. The expression on his face was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before - tight-browed determination, not a lick of uncertainty anywhere among his features. Clearly, this was something he was confident in. And that confident power suited him so well.

And Harry was watching.

He was standing a few feet from the table, his arms crossed over his chest and a very obvious bulge in his pants. A stiff expression on his face as he stared at the scene more intently than she had ever seen him with anything other than Quidditch.

The lick of heat that Hermione was feeling quickly boiled into a hellfire. Although she knew that her cheeks were pink, and suddenly her jacket felt overwhelming to have on, she didn’t ask to join in. But rather stupidly:

“Ronald, stop this! Now!”

Hermione hated that her first instinct was to scold Ron like a child, to order him around like this.

But the dominant energy pouring off him in waves was certainly not something she was used to, and she had the utmost urge to stamp it out. Though you seemed to be enjoying yourself and Harry seemed perfectly intent to watch, Hermione’s gut told her that there was something wrong with the scene. On the surface, it was Ron’s apparent roughness with you, making Hermione worry that he was handling someone as delicate as you the wrong way.

But deep down, she knew it was her own spiteful dominance washing up - a possessiveness she felt over you. Something that made her want to challenge Ron for you and have the pleasure of being put in her place. Or, have the pleasure of winning and taking you in front of him.

Perhaps, what her gut truly wanted to tell her was wrong with the scene was that she wasn’t a central participant in it.

Ron let out a sharp growl of frustration when Hermione’s shrill voice hit his ears. If there was any boner killer in the world, it was Hermione’s whiny, authoritative voice calling him by his full name.

He pulled his cock out of you before you could blink. Harry made a choked sound at the sight of Ron’s now angry red cock parting from your swollen cunt with a sticky string of wetness, much like when you had parted from that breathless kiss at the beginning of all this.

“Ron!” You whined sharply, wondering what the hell he was doing. Your orgasm had been a tight knot in your belly, but now it was fading off so quickly that it hurt.

Hermione would deny that she stared. She would deny that she could a good eyeful of your pussy as it gaped around nothing, clearly aching for Ron’s cock, spilling more clear wetness out onto your own thighs with each aching, empty clench. Drool gathered in her mouth at the sight of your body so desperate.

And a sight she had never seen before - Ron’s hard, bobbing dick, bright red and absolutely coated in your wetness. She almost mourned not being able to stare at it for longer as he tucked it back into his trousers and zipped them back up with a clearly frustrated haste. She would deny that the sheer size of his cock amazed her and made her own cunt clench with a filthy, hungry ache.

“No-!” You squeaked out a protest, looking over your shoulder at Ron and sighing in defeat when you saw that he had tucked his cock away.

Then you turned your gaze toward Hermione, looking at her with pure disappointment floating in your eyes.

“Hermione!” You whined out, a clear plea for her to let the whole thing continue.

She almost couldn’t stand the kicked puppy look from you, especially not when she was so used to giving in to you, giving in to all your little whims. Especially when your pussy was wet and your eyes were glassy with lust - she couldn’t resist you like this.

You didn’t rush to pull up your own pants, unlike Ron. You didn’t see the point, seeing as, even if they didn’t all know it yet, everyone in the room had seen this part of you quite a few times before.

“You just have to ruin everything, don’t you, Hermione?” Ron barked, clearly making his way toward the entrance of the tent to leave.

It was likely that he wanted to sulk off between the trees for a wank since Hermione was becoming all ‘protective’ over you. He was far more afraid of anything she would do to him than whatever vague threats Harry had made earlier.

“What if you were hurting her?” Hermione said meekly. “Did you even ask her if you could do that?”

It was rare - so very rare that she admitted she was wrong. The minute she had told Ron to stop, she regretted not simply cheering the scene on. But she wasn’t going to go back on it now. She needed to be in control. She needed the whole thing to be her idea now.

During the entire exchange, Harry remained eerily silent. Ron was glaring at Hermione with the fierce vengeance of the Locket still pulsing through him, and Hermione was giving him the stiff jaw that she usually did before they burst into an epic argument. If Harry was lucky, another argument would lead to more fucking, and he wasn’t going to speak up and ruin that.

You whimpered again weakly as you straightened your back. You reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them up slightly to give yourself some mobility in your footing, rather than having them hooked around your legs. But you didn’t pull them up to completely cover your pussy yet. You were still very needy, desperate for an orgasm. If someone else didn’t fuck you soon, you would either have to push Harry to the floor and take him or lay back on the table and start masturbating out in the open without care.

“She liked it.” Ron growled, entirely confident in this statement.

Hermione barely contained a whimper of her own as Ron’s hot breath fanned over her face. The condescending glare he gave her only emphasised their height difference, somehow making her insides hotter.

“But it’s just so easy to blame the big, bad Ron Weasley for everything, isn’t it?” Ron huffed out.

He turned his back then, and you knew he was about to storm out of the tent, so you finally scrounged up your voice and managed some words.

“Take it off.” You choked out. “The Locket. Take it off.”

Whatever happened next, you didn’t want it to be caused by anger.

You wanted it to be caused by desire - by need.

You knew that you weren’t the only person in the tent who needed this. You could see the way Hermione was unconsciously clenching her thighs together, and Harry’s cock was testing his zipper mightily. And even though Ron had started touching you out of a possessiveness, it wasn’t the first time that anger had sparked this kind of wild fucking from him - it was just an intensely exaggerated reaction under the Locket’s influence.

But you knew that it would likely put everyone more at ease if he took it off.

“You’ve been wearing it this whole time-?” Hermione gasped, reaching for the neck of Ron’s jumper as you had earlier. Surprisingly, he let her.

“I still liked it.” You announced, wanting to assure Hermione that even if Ron’s need to brutally fuck you was prompted by the influence of the Locket, you had intensely enjoyed it.

“I absolutely enjoyed it. In fact, I think Ron is the only one around here with any sense.” You said.

It was then that you felt the draft from the tent flap blowing cooling air on your wet cunt - something that finally prompted you to pull your pants up the rest of the way.

Harry almost begged you not to, not wanting sex to be off the table, not yet. Ron had to contain a laugh when you reached to fasten your pants with a button that was sitting on the floor in the corner.

“Beg your pardon?” Hermione gaped, entirely shocked by your words, partially confused as to what you meant.

Ron grinned wickedly at this revelation - he knew exactly what you meant.

So, he made no moves to fight her when Hermione took the Locket off him and stashed it in her pocket, rather than putting it on. (She wanted to be clear headed for what she hoped would happen next.)

“If we don’t stop fighting and start fucking, then we’re going to drive each other insane with all the damn bickering.” You explained.

Hermione looked between Ron and Harry, who were both very still and refused to look at her, much like they did when they thought that they were in trouble. It was quite clear that they were waiting for her to take the lead, to make the important decision as she usually did.

And then she looked at you. She found herself quite taken with your sex-messed hair, your kiss-swollen lips and the pure need that glazed over your eyes, a few wet tears kissing against your lashes.

“Hermione, please.” You begged, that pure need swallowing up your chest, making her name sound so beautiful coming off your lips.

She was distinctly reminded of the last time she had heard those words coming off your lips, begging her for something in a distinctly similar way.

…

“Hermione, please.” You murmured sharply against her lips, already untying the front of her cotton pyjama shorts. “I’ll be quick, I swear.”

You had her pinned against the sink in the bathroom at the Burrow, licking the taste of spearmint toothpaste off her teeth. It was just after the two of you had completed a nightly routine, preparing for bed.

You thought that routine should include an orgasm or two to help with better sleep, but Hermione feared getting caught. Even though the two of you seemed to be the last ones awake, everyone else already finished with their night and in bed. The house was quiet with sleep, even with the number of family members and guests gathered there, staying over in anticipation of the wedding.

“Y/N-” Hermione choked out your name, reaching a hand up and putting a thumb on your pulse point, pressing down sharply as a warning.

This was something that caused you to whimper against her mouth and pause the movement of your hand against her wet panties. It was a technique she had developed with you, a soft spot of yours that easily got you to behave or focus when she needed you to.

“Hermione.” You replied, your voice full of breath, a quivering need balancing on your tongue. It was like a Veela’s call that delicately invited her to give you exactly what you needed.

Hermione let out a sharp sigh. You held your breath as she gently rubbed her thumb over that spot on your neck, knowing that you would either be denied, or she would soon give in. There was no amount of begging you could do if she had already made up her mind.

“Quickly.” She told you, her voice sharp and authoritative.

It was like she was reminding you when an essay was due or telling you to pull down your skirt because your knickers were visible. But instead, she was pressing the fact that you had to make her cum quickly so that the two of you wouldn’t get caught.

“Quickly.” You repeated the word with a nod.

You then descended to your knees as you helped her half sit up on the sink, taking her shorts and underwear down to her ankles.

“Good girl.” She praised in a strained whisper.

She had to forcefully muffle her own moans with a hand tightly over her mouth as your lips latched onto her clit.

Most of the time, Hermione didn’t know if she was a potent authority in your life, or if she let you run her like the brilliant scam artist that you were. But either way, she loved you enough to let you have the things you wanted. Most of the time.

…

That had been just a few short nights before the ensuing blur of preparing for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and the chaos that had everyone tumbling out of there with urgency. That was the last time that Hermione had cum before setting out on this entire tedious ‘adventure’. So of course, her lustful need was worse than ever, if only from starvation of touch over time.

“Please.” You breathed out the word again, your voice desperate as ever. “Please, I need this. I think we all need this.”

This drew her attention back to the present, back to the authority she had over you - well, you and the boys right now.

Now that she thought of those boys -

“You’re speaking for Harry now too?” Hermione chuckled, turning to look at the one person who had been silent through all of this.

He raised his brows, looking rather caught. His mouth gaped like a fish as he desperately searched for the words to say ‘I was hoping that I would be included in the dirty filthy fucking without having to ask’.

Harry didn’t get a chance to come up with a reply before you trampled over him with your own words.

“Oh please, he’s been hard since Ron first kissed me. Also, for the record, you don’t have to ask Harry for sex, you just tell him it’s happening and he nods and takes off his pants.” You announced, looking at Harry in an intensely knowing way.

Hermione let out a breathy chuckle at this, giving Harry a very interesting sideways glance - studying him like she would study a particularly interesting book. Harry’s stomach bubbled with excitement and lust because you had given him a similar look so many times before. It made him imagine being trapped between you and Hermione while you both came up with increasingly naughty ways to torture him, and he found the fantasy to be equal parts scary and thrilling.

Ron’s brows knitted together with intense thought and he looked between you and Harry.

Harry caught Ron’s eye, and he began to turn cherry red when he realised he had been outed as very needy, and very easy. He thought perhaps Ron was judging him - he had no clue that now his best friend was looking upon him with a newly formed sexual appetite.

“Well, then. Y/N, I suppose you’re right.”

Hermione huffed out these words before marching across the room toward you with determination. She placed the few books that she had tucked into her arm on the table behind you before she tangled her fingers into your hair in an entirely possessive and well-known manner. Then she forced your lips towards her, kissing you fiercely, but much gentler than Ron had.

The realisation truly hit all three of them then, that you had been having sex with the other two the entire time. But through some ingrained embarrassment and some intense need not to throw off the balance of the friendships with pining and jealousy, they had always begged you to keep it secret. The worst part of realising it now was - they all knew that they could have been sharing you and each other the whole damn time.

Naturally, Ron was the one who had to say it out loud.

“So, you’ve been havin’ me, and him, and her?” He said, pointing to himself, and Harry, and then to the back of Hermione’s head as she feasted greedily on your mouth, driving home the point. “The whole time?”

Hermione pulled away from the kiss, leaning away from your body slightly, letting both the boys pointedly stare you down for a moment before you answered the question.

“Yes.” You answered honestly, that lustful breathiness coming back into your voice. “I wasn’t really under the impression that I was supposed to be monogamous.”

“Mono - what?” Harry finally spoke, the first one to prod at these words with a confusion that he and Ron were both feeling.

“Monogamous.” Hermione repeated, stripping off her jacket and tossing it to lay on one of the benches beside the table.

She then reached for your pants, noticing the absent button but ignoring it for now as she ripped the material down over your hips again. She took you with a carelessness that said she already knew she owned you and she could do whatever she pleased with you as she once again exposed your needy, hot pussy to the open air.

You let out a throaty moan as Hermione continued explaining the term to the boys.

“Monogamy describes a type of relationship where two partners are exclusive to each other, romantically and sexually, and any romantic or sexual contact with other partners outside of that is considered cheating.”

Hermione explained this in the textbook fashion that she usually spoke about things. As usual, her flawless intellect and perfect composure only turned you on more. She snaked one hand under your shirt while the other reached between your thighs and began gently teasing her fingers along your wetness. You let out a moan when she gripped onto your breast and her fingers grazed your clit - she was pleased to find you braless.

“I believe what Y/N has been engaging in with all of us would be considered polyamory. A person in multiple romantic or sexual relationships at once.” Hermione added on.

“What if we were all - you know - together?” Harry posed, clearly feeling curious about the idea.

“That would still be considered polyamory.” Hermione said.

Hermione wanted to mention the concept of a closed off poly relationship - the idea that the four of you would just be the four of you, with no one else involved. How it should be. That’s what always seemed right. It was right in front of her the whole time, and she felt foolish for not being able to see the reality of things sooner.

“I don’t want anyone but the three of you.” You moaned quietly.

Hermione let out a small grin when you voiced this for her.

“You sure that you haven’t been fuckin’ any other tossers on the side?” Ron piped up. “You are a little desperate, love.”

Your pussy quaked at his degrading words combined with the sweet nickname, and you choked on a harsh sound because of it.

“Shut up.” You whined. “It’s just us. It’s always just been us.”

Harry liked the way you said that. Us.

You humped your hips into Hermione’s touches as she worked her fingers inside of you - there was a slight gape around her delicate touch, plenty of room where Ron had furiously fucked you open.

“Did Ron cum inside of you?” Hermione asked, shifting the conversation dramatically and unexpectedly. She pulled back her fingers to inspect for that telltale streak of white.

Harry choked on his own spit at the filthiness of her words, entirely surprised by it, and though Ron was shocked by her dirty words, he rushed to answer.

“Didn’t give me the bloody chance to.” He grumbled in complaint.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at this.

She pulled back from you completely then, causing you to whine out in protest as you were once again teased and left hanging. She ignored your neediness as she turned back toward the boys.

“Hermione-!” You called out, collapsing against the table as your face curled into defeat. She ignored you for now.

Hermione walked over to Harry and grabbed the front of his jumper with one hand and then fed him the fingers that she just had inside of you, clearly eager to test out that needy compliance of his that you had mentioned earlier. Harry didn’t question her and fell so easily to her touches, something that caused her to bite back a smile as she gave out her next instructions.

“Well, Ronald, if you behave yourself, then maybe you’ll get to cum inside me tonight.” Hermione told him, using that bossy tone to say his name in a way he had previously hated so much.

The bossiness combined with the pure filth spilling from her lips was now something that made his cock throb and protest against the confines of his pants.

Harry continued greedily sucking on her fingers, letting out quiet moans around them as he bobbed his head, forcing Hermione to speak louder to be heard over his humming and the sounds of his wet sucking.

“Now that I’ve seen your cock, I want to try it out.” She said, looking at Ron, seemingly paying no mind to Harry as he devoured her fingers. “So you’ll fuck me while Harry fucks Y/N, alright?”

You cunt tingled at her words - she said it like she was doling out a homework schedule, posing it like a question while leaving no room for her authority to be dethroned.

It seemed that rule-oriented Hermione was entirely good at making them, and in this situation, nobody was going to protest.

…

A short while later, the four of you were in the middle of the floor - none of the cots were near big enough to fit all of you at once. And sure, Hermione was talented in Transfiguration and could have fixed that, but her patience was worn thin and it was easiest just to toss the blankets on the floor in a pile and close the tent flap so that nobody’s bits got cold.

Hermione had everyone strip down.

The boys were much more efficient in following her orders when getting their clothes off than they ever were in following her study schedules. You were no different, of course, being used to falling under her strict, but merciful reign.

You took a moment to admire each of your companions, especially when Ron let out a comment about Hermione ‘catching up’ and she began to peel off her clothing too.

Ron was strong and muscular, pure bulk with a perfect bit of chub on him. (Sadly, less chub than he had a few months ago thanks to the lacklustre food situation). His love for food and Quidditch had paid off, resulting in a body that was broad, like a wonderfully warm, soft brick wall. He had filled out his once gangly height so that he looked much more like a professional athlete now than a clumsy toothpick.

You found his muscular shoulders to be so thick and admirable, a sign of his humble power, especially now that he had the scar from being splinched still healing pinkly over his skin as a reminder of his strength. His soft stomach and thick thighs were utterly perfect in your eyes, a perfect frame for that magnificent, large cock.

Harry was opposite to Ron in almost every way, and still so utterly perfect.

He was thin, as you had always known him to be, and he was shorter than Ron by a good two or three inches. (You had always liked that about him because it meant he was easier for you to manhandle.)

Where Ron’s skin was smooth and freckled and he was naturally pretty hairless over most of his body, Harry was well - hairy. The dark chest hair was something that easily attracted you, a contrast off his pale skin, making a trail down his chest to the nest of dark pubic hair from which his cock sprang out. His cock was smaller than Ron’s but never failed to impress, especially when you had him beneath you and had that cock at your mercy.

Naturally, after he stripped down, Harry kept his glasses on, wanting to be able to see everything that was going on. His eyes kept bouncing between Ron and Hermione so fervently, taking in all the new flesh as it was revealed to him. You definitely couldn’t blame him for doing so.

Hermione was a goddess. No other words could describe her.

Her skin was soft and pale, dotted with beauty marks in some places. You noticed that she too was starting to become a bit too thin, and you vowed that you would put a bit more on her plate during the next meal. Nonetheless, you had always found everything about her to be so perfect. From her pert breasts with soft pink nipples to the small patch of hair between her thighs that was surprisingly a bit lighter in colour than the hair on her head.

The scene that had unfolded was nothing short of erotic - something stolen right out of your most epic fantasies when you thought of the three people that you loved the most.

Hermione had been barking orders at everyone and her bossy nature couldn’t even be dampened down when Ron sheathed his cock inside of her for the first time. She simply took the thickness in stride, fucking back into him while she was on her hands and knees.

The blatant confidence of her voice wavered only slightly with her pleasurable moans, but it seemed that the sex was turning into a battle between the two of them. Ron’s stubborn urge to fuck her harder, to make her break until she was nothing but a brainless mess (for once in her life). Versus Hermione’s own stubbornness, her urge to continue ordering everyone around even while an orgasmic coil wound tight in her stomach and became increasingly more distracting.

You were on your hands and knees in front of her, mirroring the position so that you could kiss her, and she could touch you freely. She petted sweetly along your face, fisted your hair, or groped your breasts as she pleased while balancing herself with the other hand, and you lavished in the attention.

Once again, Harry was a grand contrast from Ron as he fucked into your needy pussy from behind. He was entirely different from the beastly version of Ron that was brutalising Hermione’s cunt without care, creating slick slapping sounds throughout the room.

Harry - as usual - was like a puppet that needed to be pulled on a string. His cock was more than enough to fill you perfectly, but he wasn’t someone who could be rough or fuck you brutally. You were quickly learning that he couldn’t even pound into your cunt harshly to satisfy that deep ache when he was prompted, it seemed.

“Harry, harder, please!” You moaned, fucking your hips back into him as you fisted the blanket beneath you. You were desperate to recreate the feeling Ron had performed on you - raw, unfiltered possession, pure need taken out on your pussy.

But Harry being needy was an entirely different form.

Where Ron was rough and possessive, taking out his need on you by setting out to prove that he owned every inch of your body - Harry was soft. He needed to be the one owned.

Harry bit down on his lip hard to muffle his whines, fucking you in bouts of fast, rabbit-like strokes before slowing down as the need to cum tightened in his balls. Not wanting to disappoint you, he would then grind deeply into your pussy, trying to will away his own orgasm.

It wasn’t working very well.

Especially not when he looked down and saw your wetness leaking out around his cock. Not when he remembered how good you had looked with Ron stretching you open, causing an impulsive need for him to fuck into you quickly again. But his strokes never built up into that harshness you were craving before he let out a deep, throaty whine and slowed down again, fearing cumming too quickly and being scolded for it. (Or being disappointed in himself, honestly.)

You wished more than anything that you had a Gryffindor tie to put around his neck to direct him how you wanted to, or a literal leash to tug on.

Harry was a good pet, but he needed to be treated like one.

Without a leash to hang around his neck, you hung your head between your shoulders and let out a moan of disappointment as his slowing movements caused your orgasm to edge off once again. He was inadvertently torturing you, making your cunt ache more angrily than ever as you throbbed around his cock in red hot waves. You supposed that it was payback for all the times you had made him wait so long to cum.

“Harry,” You warbled out in a whine, his name harshly scraping against the back of your throat.

He couldn’t see your face in this position, couldn’t see your expression of pure anguish - so he thought it was a sound of encouragement. He thought that he was doing very well. But of course, Hermione quickly knew what it was, even with Ron fucking her so hard that he was practically driving her hips out of placement.

“Harry, you - you have to go harder!” Hermione barked at him, still managing to give orders, even in her current position. “She’s never going to cum like that!”

Ron let out a throaty chuckle at this, highly amused.

“Mate, do you need me to show you how again?” He asked.

He slowed his brutal fucking of Hermione only for a moment, long enough to catch his breath and let Harry get in a reply.

Harry let out a wounded sound at this, entirely similar to a kicked puppy. As much as the idea of Ron pushing him out of the way to take your pussy roughly and ‘show him how’ was intensely hot, Harry wanted to prove himself.

“No, I don’t need to be shown, I’m perfectly capable of making a girl cum, thank you very much.” Harry replied, his sass partially throttled by the dryness of his throat, your cunt clenching around his cock making him breathless.

“Ron, don’t you dare stop!” Hermione ordered sharply, trying to fuck herself harder back on his cock.

Ron reached down and grabbed Hermione by the jaw, much the same as he had done to you earlier, and tilted her head up. His lips met the flushed skin of her cheek as he leaned down, draping his hot, sweaty body across her back.

It was something that she likely would have called grotesque before - the act of Ron’s sweaty skin against her - but she let out a needy whimper. And she didn’t squirm against him as he held a tight grip on her face. Harry nearly came at how tightly your pussy hugged his cock then, both of you intently watching what happened next.

“I’ll bloody well do what I like.” Ron said, his voice still taking on that dark, menacing quality even though he was no longer wearing the Locket. “And if you behave, I just might let you cum tonight.”

He mirrored her earlier words back to her, clearly mocking her. Before Hermione could come up with any clever reply, she was cut off with a gasp out of her own lips as Ron released his grip on her face and began fucking into her harshly again. This knocked her forward so hard that she had to restabilize her arms against the floor to keep herself from falling flat on her face.

“Harry, turn me over.” You told him, thinking he would have more success if you were on your back.

Harry mumbled out a ‘yes’ and then pulled out of you. This caused you to whimper with disappointment before he put gentle hands on your hips and helped you get comfortable on your back.

Without asking, he put a pillow under your head - it was that kind of sweetness that had always drawn you to him.

In this new position, you were almost between Hermione’s spread arms, your face surrounded by a wild curtain of her hair as she hung her head low between her shoulders. She was panting heavily with the effort as Ron continued to fuck her roughly and now had a two fingers on her clit - determined to finish her just to show that he could.

While Harry situated himself between your naturally parted thighs, Hermione leaned down and seized your lips. Her kiss vibrated hot moans into your mouth while Harry pushed back into you, and Ron fucked her so hard that he jostled her head, making her unsteady in the kiss.

“Oh, fuck!” Harry sighed, entirely delighted in the feeling of your wetness around him.

When you reached down and began rubbing your own clit with determination, he then began fucking you at a quick pace, no longer worried that he would cum before you. Even if he did, he would see you through it and make sure to take care of you, he mentally vowed.

He was soft, but quick, his hips pattering against yours in speedy movements that actually treated your pussy rather gently. He chased his orgasm inside of you while creating a warm tingle through you that met up nicely with the hot stinging your own fingers made on your clit.

Eventually, your kiss with Hermione turned into the barest contact of lips on lips as her mouth parted with hot moans, the pleasure absolutely mounting inside of her. Ron’s grunts echoed in the background as the sharp, almost vicious smacking of his hips against her ass continued.

“Fuck, Ron!” Hermione cried out, all hot breath against your cheek. “I’m cumming! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

“Take it!” Ron growled. “Take my fuckin’ load, pretty little bitch!”

On any other day, in any other situation aside from giving her an orgasm with his cock buried deep inside of her, Ron Weasley calling Hermione Granger a ‘pretty little bitch’ would have landed him some pretty severe injuries. But in this instance, it made her moan so hard that her voice cracked, and it was most definitely one of the things that triggered her orgasm.

“Ron-!” She choked out.

The sweet sounds she made combined with the absolutely feral noises coming out of Ron lit your whole body on fire. You knew that this sweet symphony was what caused Harry to fuck into you like a mad rabbit for a few seconds before you felt pure heat spilling into you. Upon instinct, you reached around him with your free hand and dug your nails into his arsecheek, forcing him to fuck you through his orgasm even while he gasped and choked on his breath from the overstimulation.

“Y/N-”

You let yourself get some lasting pleasure out of extra moments of his hard cock filling you up, and with your own touch on your clit, you rolled into a gentle, but deeply satisfying orgasm.

“Please-” Harry choked out, and you finally released him, letting him pull back.

You moaned at the sight of his cock coming out of you - the tip bright red and still weeping bits of cum, almost crying out in protest of the overstimulation, much like the tears that dotted the edges of his eyes. You had made him cry much more severely before when you had more time to tease him, and it was something that you had highly enjoyed.

He collapsed on top of you and began kissing along your shoulder, being the sweet boy that he was, and he groped one of your breasts. When you tilted your head to look toward Ron and Hermione, she let out a few last pittering moans and he let out a deep grunt before pulling out of her.

She collapsed entirely then, and it was only her last bit of mindfulness, directing herself as she fell that kept her from falling right on top of you.

Ron still had a warm hand on her hip, and as you looked down the length of her body, if you weren’t mistaken - he was still raging hard, even after he had cum. (It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Sometimes Ron worked himself into such a frenzy that he needed to cum two or even three times in a night before his cock fully went down. It lovingly surprised you every single time.)

“Good?” Ron posed, his voice gentle for the first time in hours. He patted Hermione on the hip, clearly directing the question at her.

Of course, he was still tender-hearted below the surface. He would never fuck someone’s brains out like that without ensuring that they were okay.

“I’m good.” Hermione replied, choking on her own breath.

She spared him a glance over her shoulder, and he gave her the most utterly timid grin - it was such a roaring contrast to his earlier bold words and his rough touches, but it was somehow a fantastic assurance toward Hermione that he was, of course, still the same Ron. She could still boss him around in every other aspect of life, but if she needed a break from all that bossing, he could do this for her.

Satisfied with this, she leaned in to kiss you again.

You sighed with delight into her mouth and snaked your tongue past her lips, more than enjoying the attention you were being ravished with. Your pussy still nagged for attention between your legs and you hoped that Hermione wasn’t too tired to play with you.

“You know Harry, you don’t have to keep starin’ at it.” Ron joked. “It’s not gonna bite you, mate.”

There was a slight slick sound, and when you pulled away from Hermione’s mouth and opened your eyes, you realised that it was Ron pumping his hand on his still very hard cock, wanking with the combination of Hermione’s wetness and his own cum that he had gathered there.

It took your orgasm-hazed brain a second to realise that he was talking about his dick. When you glanced over your other shoulder, you realised completely that Harry’s focus was no longer on peppering kisses over your neck and shoulder, but very much on staring at Ron’s cock.

With Harry’s body still flush against yours as he laid on top of you, you felt the deep sigh that he let out. You could see the contemplation in his eyes, the slight fear to express his desires that you had seen in him before. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him.

“What is it, darling?” You asked gently.

“I keep staring at it because, well…” He sighed again before continuing. “I want to… what is it that Hermione said? ‘Try it out’.”

Harry highly resisted the urge to hide his head in your neck with embarrassment after this admission. He looked from you, to Hermione, then to Ron for some kind of approval - or simply looked not to be mocked.

“Oh, you should.” Hermione said, giving a moan of contentment as she stretched out her back like a cat.

She had finally regained some energy after being so thoroughly fucked, and she turned from where she had collapsed on her stomach to lay on her side, showing off her gorgeous body to all eyes in the room.

“It’s magnificent.” She added on with an almost dreamy sigh.

Hermione smiled - a sweet, coy smile, and you let out a giggle as Ron caught her eye, his brows raised in shock. It was one of the few things she had complimented him on without hesitation. This whole thing had certainly turned the group’s dynamics upside-down.

When Harry looked to Ron, he found concern knitted in those freckled features.

“Harry, typically, I think when blokes do it, there’s a bit more… um… preparation… involved, innit?” Ron posed, hesitation taking up every inch of his voice for the first time that night.

Clearly, he thought that Harry meant he wanted to take Ron in his ass - and he was concerned about Harry’s inexperience versus Ron’s sheer size.

Harry flushed red, perhaps from embarrassment at having this pointed out to him, or from the lust of considering what it would be like to have that beautifully large cock splitting him open. (You did feel Harry’s cock give a pathetic twitch against your thigh). This time he did lean into your shoulder to hide as much as he could.

“Yes Ron, please tell me more about how much preparation it would take for me to handle your very giant cock.” Harry drawled sarcastically, trying to make a joke out of it.

Hermione let out a chuckle at this. When you caught Ron’s eye, you could see a distinct heat swimming there. Obviously he enjoyed Harry talking about him this way, even if it was with his typical sass.

“You should suck him off.” You said, running your fingers through Harry’s dark locks again, trying to be gently encouraging. “Unless you’re afraid that he’ll break your jaw,” You made a joke of your own, and Harry let out a sarcastic scoff against your skin.

Harry didn’t need anymore convincing when Ron got a hand in his hair, practically hauling him off of you. He let out a lilting moan of his own as Ron handled him into place, much like he had done to you earlier.

Hermione then crawled over to on weak bambi legs and laid herself on top of you, pressing her body against yours - chest to chest, lips against yours with the usual sharp determination and an almost lazy exploration of her tongue through your teeth. She hooked her thigh over your hip so that she could press her sloppy, used cunt against yours.

This inadvertently made one of the hottest sensations you had ever experienced when she began grinding her pussy against yours and Ron’s cum began spilling out of her to meet Harry’s cum in a sloppy mess between your thighs.

It was truly a perfect union of all the people you loved the most.

While you sucked on Hermione’s tongue, you heard a sloppy gagging sound beside your head that more than caught your attention. You couldn’t help but to pull away from the kiss with the curiosity to look. Hermione began kissing down your neck and lavishing your breasts with attention while you craned your neck to look at Ron and Harry.

Ron had Harry on his back, and had mounted his chest. From the kind of sideways angle you had, Ron had a commanding, tight hand in Harry’s thick, black locks and held him still while he rocked his cock into Harry’s mouth. His eyes were screwed tight, clearly trying to concentrate on pleasing Ron, gagging with each movement as he struggled to accommodate such an intense size.

“Relax, Harry.” You said, reaching out to gently pet your fingertips up his arm. You let out a moan when Hermione sucked harshly on your nipple - clearly she was seeking joy in getting a reaction out of you. “It’ll be easier of you just relax and let him fuck your throat.”

That was something you knew from experience, on both sides. Ron’s cock was massive to accommodate, but it was easier just to sit back and take the ride. And Harry was intense, thoughtful, a worrier. He wanted to please and know that he was doing well. But he did better when you fucked every last thought out of his head.

“Yeah, come on.” Ron grunted quietly, trying to force more of his cock down Harry’s throat. “You’ve got a sweet fuckin’ mouth when you’re not usin’ it to talk back.”

Harry moaned at this praise and you saw him visibly relax, and you gave him a few more sweet pets as you added on:

“Good boy. Come on, be good for him.”

Which seemed to truly encourage him, and he let Ron start up a good rhythm. He was much gentler than he had been with you or Hermione, taking mercy on Harry for being so new at this. It was an easy back and forth that gathered drool on his chin and soon at him moaning around Ron’s cock as he enjoyed the fullness on his tongue.

You let out a moan of your own when you felt Hermione’s fingers prodding at your well-used pussy and felt her soft lips lingering around the top of your mound.

“Looks like Harry left me a little present here, hmm?” Hermione sighed, sounding overjoyed at the fact that Harry had cum inside of you.

You knew that Hermione was filthy - pin you down and shove her hand up your skirt while in one of the carriages on the train filthy; sneak you into the Prefects bathroom in the middle of the night filthy; crawl into your bed in the Gryffindor girls dorm and clamp her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet filthy - but this was reaching all new levels. Even for all the things you knew of her, all the dirty secrets that the two of you shared.

“Oh, fuck!”

It just caused you to moan, especially when those fingers breached you sharply, taking you like she owned you once again. Her tongue prodded at your entrance eagerly as her touch caused Harry’s mess to spill out of you. She just lapped it up, filthy and eager.

Her tongue worked on you so perfectly.

You couldn’t help but to put a hand down and grip that wild hair, arching your hips to hump against her face as she fucked her fingers into you gently and tongued along your clit. She was treating your pussy lovingly, each touch commanding pleasure out of you, but not possessive or rough.

It was the same way she handled tests, with a deeply ingrained knowledge making each answer meaningful. It was that beautiful thing about her that made her quiet and reserved in her performance, not having to command the room with arrogance or noise. Her tongue danced along your cunt with confidence and grace in a way that had your toes curling in minutes. Her fingers curled inside of you while she smiled against you, knowing how she already had you teetering on the edge.

“Such a good girl for me.” She sighed.

“‘Mione,” You moaned back at her, the loving nickname dancing on your lips as a warning that you were already close.

“Oh, come on Harry, you can gimme one more.”

You heard Ron’s voice grunting roughly above you, and when you craned your neck again and spared the boys a glance, you were incredibly turned on by the sight.

Ron had Harry pinned under him, and now, rather than having his cock shoved down Harry’s throat, they were pressed hips to hips and chests to chests as you and Hermione had been before. Harry was breathless and gaping for air underneath Ron - from what you could see, Ron had both of their cocks in his large fist, sliding them together in a mess of cum, trying to milk another orgasm out of the spent, whining, overstimulated Harry against his own, still somehow hard cock.

“Ron, fuck, please-!”

Harry could do nothing but cry and buck up against the touches, desperately trying to suck air in through his parted lips, his cock weeping for more. It was a sight that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and had you squeezing around Hermione’s fingers, hurling over the edge toward your orgasm as she gently sucked on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, ‘Mione!”

Hermione sighed with satisfaction and licked you through it, making your thighs quiver with your own overstimulation as she shoved her tongue deep inside of you. Seemingly, she was determined to lick you clean, to lick the essence of your existence right out of you.

When she was done with this, she then began to kiss her way back up your body and shoved her tongue in your mouth again. You moaned with delight at tasting yourself on her tongue, and the lingering salty traces of Harry there too, and you held her face between your hands as you indulged in the kisses.

You were only distracted from her sweet lips when you heard Ron’s voice again, even more ragged as he had another orgasm.

“Fuck, Potter, take it-!”

Him calling Harry by his surname in such a degrading tone made your stomach curl with a unique arousal, and it certainly got Hermione’s attention too. She planted her hands beside your shoulders and looked up to survey the scene while you cricked your neck awkwardly.

Ron was kneeling on either side of Harry’s chest once again. His stomach was covered in his own mess and he was panting in an entirely filthy manner with his mouth open while Ron sat above him, fisting his own cock with the clear determination to make himself cum.

His release splattered across Harry’s face in wide, white streaks, painting Harry’s tongue, his open lips, his cheeks, and dirtying his glasses in the most filthy manner that you had ever seen him - Ron let out a deep satisfied grunt as he came, and his cock finally softened in his fist.

(Perhaps it was because the part of his ego that had started the entire argument, the thing that felt jealous of Harry in the first place was finally satisfied.)

“Ron!” Hermione called his name in her ‘scolding’ voice once again - perhaps she thought cumming over Harry’s face was just a step too far, just a bit too degrading.

She reached off to the side for her wand, and for once in his life, Ron didn’t flinch. It was like an unspoken air in the room that she didn’t intend to curse him with it as a consequence, but rather - she simply intended to clean up Harry’s face with magic.

“Just let me enjoy it.” Ron said, reaching out with his clean hand and stopping Hermione with a gentle grip on her wrist. “Just for a minute.”

Harry - who seemed to be so fucked out now that he was barely present - let out a hum of agreement, and licked some of Ron’s cum off his lips.

This gave you a brilliant idea.

You gently rolled Hermione off of you and then you crawled over to Harry. With all of them watching you intently, you licked a path across his cheek, gathering quite a bit of Ron’s spend on your tongue before you shoved your tongue into Harry’s mouth - engaging in an entirely filthy kiss where you exchanged the taste of Ron between the two of you.

It was something that reverberated a hot moan through Harry, had Ron groaning, and even caused a small sigh of delight from Hermione.

“All of you are degenerates.” Hermione sighed, shaking her head, pretending to be displeased by the whole thing.

“Yeah, and you’re our leader.” Ron reminded her with a laugh.

…

When you woke up the next morning, the entire tent had a different energy.

Before you even opened your eyes, you heard giggling.

When you managed to peel open your sleep-stuck eyes, you saw Harry and Hermione standing at the small kitchenette, preparing what you guessed was breakfast. Harry was speaking quietly, and you couldn’t hear him, but it surprised you entirely when he made a grab for Hermione’s ass, groped her so boldly through her loose sweatpants. And rather than slapping him or scolding him - she let out another bright, air giggle, and simply smacked him with a tea towel in the most playful manner possible before he let out a laugh too.

The events of the day before had not been some loneliness induced hallucination on your part. All of it had happened. And it had shifted everyone’s mood for the better.

You moved to get out of bed and this drew both of their attention toward you. Harry proceeded to stir whatever Hermione had in the pot on the stove to distract himself while she watched you carefully.

After you had successfully gotten your boots on, when you looked up, you realised that she was wearing one of Ron’s jumpers. Clearly one from a few years ago, something that would have been too small for him now that fit her well, comforting and worn-in with the large R in the middle that signified it had been made by Molly some Christmases ago.

It was something she could do now without fearing setting off jealousy in any of you, and that fact made you smile.

“Where’s Ron?” You asked, feeling a single piece missing from the quaint scene.

“He volunteered to take watch.” Hermione noted, motioning toward the tent’s entrance. “Even though I’ve told him the wards are fine and he really should rest, you know he hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately-”

“I’ll get him to go to sleep after breakfast.” You told her. “You know him, he just wants to keep a watchful eye. He’s protective.”

You crossed the room, and in a move that felt so utterly natural, you gently kissed Harry on the mouth and then kissed Hermione - so out in the open, no shame, no hiding. You felt like a wonderful weight had been lifted off of you as they both smiled at you. Smiled - no jealous glaring, no arguing.

You couldn’t have felt better as you grabbed your jacket off the back of a chair and put it on as you went outside.

Ron was sitting a few feet away from the opening of the tent in one of the camping chairs. He stared out into the open as the sun crested over a nearby hill, just kissing everything with a bright, blinding streak of light. There had been a frost overnight that coated everything in bitter white and put an awful chill in the air. So you zipped up your jacket as you went over to him, and he gave you a small smile when he saw you.

When you stood in front of him, he reached out to you naturally, and you easily gave in to his movements as he pulled you into his lap. There was a worry in the back of your mind about how well an old camping chair might hold the both of you at once, but you figured it would be a good laugh if you broke it. So you simply planted your ass in his lap and strung your legs over the arm of the chair. He wrapped his arms protectively around you and nuzzled his head against your arm.

You frowned when one of the first things you spotted was that glint of silver poking out of the neck of his jacket.

“Ron, you’re wearing it again.” You sighed, reaching out and picking up the Locket between your fingers, thumbing along the serpent with distaste.

“I’m fine,” He replied, taking it from you and tucking it back inside of his coat.

“Ron-” You were going to argue, but he cut you off.

“Really, it’s not as bad as it was.” He said, his voice sounding genuine and light, sounding like the Ron that you usually knew. His voice wasn’t grinding, angry, or annoyed like he usually did when he wore it.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your curiosity most definitely peaked.

“After yesterday, it’s like…” He struggled to find the right words to explain it, and you were patient with him. “Everything is out in the open now. Genuinely, I used to feel like shit, because… I was jealous. Proper jealous. And not just jealous of Harry… I honestly thought that there was a point in my life where I would just… end up alone.”

Him saying those words broke your heart, and you swallowed harshly around the lump in your throat, holding back tears while he continued.

“I thought that you would leave me, and Hermione would stop finding excuses to be around me. I thought Harry would realise I’m a shit friend and stop wanting to be around me. And I think the Locket knew that I just spent so much time being afraid - and… it turned that fear into jealousy.” He explained.

It was similar to what you had believed, but somehow, worse.

“Whenever I would see you touch Harry’s arm, or if I would see you and Hermione whispering, talking to each other about stuff you read in the fucking books… or even if I just saw Hermione look at Harry, I thought it was just one more reason I was gonna be alone. I thought it was all of you plotting against me to leave me faster. Bloody bonkers, I know.”

“Ron.” You said his name gently, your throat clutched by those tears - you put a hand on his cheek and titled his face toward yours, gently laying your forehead against his before you said your next words. “We love you so much. We all do. And after everything we’ve been through together, we’re all just stuck with each other. So you’re definitely not getting rid of us.”

“I know that now.” Ron chuckled. “I think that’s why it’s easier to wear the damn thing. Because now I just feel… lighter. I don’t feel like you guys are having secrets behind my back. None of us have any secrets anymore.”

You nodded at this.

“I like it better this way.” You sighed happily. “Truthfully, I could never see myself just going and… pairing off with someone. I just want it to be like this, always. You, Harry, and Hermione are the only people I’ve ever wanted.”

“We’re going to need a massive bed, then.” Harry’s voice piped up behind you, his body just barely peeking out of the tent flap, his comment making both you and Ron chuckle.

“S’pose you could afford to buy us one,” Ron commented, causing Harry to roll his eyes and give a very sassy pout.

“You coming for breakfast or what? Or is your gigantic cock weighing you down and you can’t get up?” Harry replied, his tongue entirely quick.

You got up off Ron’s lap to let him up, and on his way into the tent, he picked up a handful of frost-covered leaves and shoved them down the back of Harry’s jumper. He let out a yelp at this, causing Hermione to call out ‘boys!’ in that entirely motherly way that she did.

It was so entirely different, but so entirely the same. Truthfully - you would never want it to be any other way.

...

If you want to see more Poly!Golden Trio fics, I would like to see this fic reach 10 Comments and 15 Reblogs!

(This can include anonymous asks, because I always leave the anon option turned on for people who need it, and I don't care if the 15 reblogs all come from the same person, as long as it shows enthusiasm for the fic.)

If I were to write more Poly!Golden Trio, I don't know if it would be a direct follow up to this or set in the same 'universe' at this fic, but I love the pairing of Poly!Golden Trio x Reader, so I would love to write more about them if you guys want to see it.

I would also love to hear your input/feedback, and if you want to see more, what kind of fanfic ideas would you want to see with this pairing? What kind of kinks or situations would you like to see played out with this pairing? I often take inspiration from requests and random ideas that people send me - just like I did when writing this fic!

#sundrop writes #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #poly!golden trio #poly!golden trio x reader #ron weasley #ron weasly imagine #ron weasly x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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cuntrygirlcallista · 6 months

Text

you came through with that sativa ❀

imagine getting the slytherin boys high

- draco malfoy, blaise zabini, and theodore nott

warnings | mentions of drugs, cursing

female!reader

DRACO

- Convincing Draco to smoke with you was a challenge in itself.

- The first time was during your sixth year at Hogwarts.

- After he ranted about being stressed about an Ancient Runes assignment, you finally managed to persuade him to join you

- Watching Draco smoke became your favorite pastime after that.

- His mannerisms, movements, the way he lit the blunt, the way he took a drag—everything was just captivating.

- However he was quite careless, even clumsy at times

- "Fuck, did you move this dresser?"

- Growing up privileged had already made Draco careless with money, but shopping with him while high made it even worse.

- "Dray, it's too expensive" "Well love, you're going to have it,"

BLAISE

- When you and Blaise met you’d discovered he was already into smoking

- despite being quiet and reserved, his behavior was quite the opposite while high

- he’s a flirty, a heavy one

- “why are you staring at me?” “you’d want to be staring at the prettiest thing in the room too, wouldn’t you princess?”

- extremely touchy

- hands around your waist, on your thighs in your hair, everywhere

- he can’t keep his hands or eyes off you

- amidst all the affecting, the two of you have your deepest conversations

- it’s in this space the two of you express the most love and adoration

THEODORE

- you may not think it’s possible but he becomes even more playful after smoking

- cracking even more jokes, his cocky smirk traded for a lazy smile

- his laugh becomes even more infectious, filling the room with warmth and happiness.

- overall he’s very soft and caring

- when you're alone together, he just wants to curl up next to you in bed, seeking comfort and closeness.

- somewhere between soft kisses there’s whispered “i love you’s”

- needless to say you adore him like this

@cuntrygirlcallista

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kinzis-writing · 6 months

Text

Three Years | George Weasley

Kinzi's 25 days of Christmas: Blogmas Day 2.

Summary: In which Y/N and George have been together for three years, and it takes a mistake for him to take the next step of their relationship.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of wizard war, mentions of death (not major character and not specified),

This could have ended way better, also the fact that this imagine is shorter than I like as well. I am doing my best at making my Blogmas posts as long as possible, but sometimes it takes me hours to plan the plot of these short stories out. I am a perfectionist, so that is why I never re-read and edit any mistakes because I am afraid of wanting to go back and change the whole story. *Fred did not die in the war*

Three years, it has been three years since George had grown a pair and asked Y/N to be his girlfriend. Since then, there had been many events happen in the course of their relationship. They had moved past the awkwardness of the beginning of the relationship, they had gone through their firsts that every relationship goes through, and everything in between.

Their relationship had survived the second wizard war but had challenges. Seeing as Fred had to be taken care of because of an accident and then George getting hurt before then. It was a hectic and stressful time for the couple, but now everything was back to normal. Well, normal as everything could be after losing some of the nicest people.

Christmas was tomorrow and Fred and George had many customers in and out of the joke shop. Whether it was for Christmas gifts or something before going home for a Christmas prank. They had many customers a day and George had found it hard to be able to see Y/N during the holiday season. The joke shop was closing early and they would stay closed until after Christmas because they all knew the wrath of Molly if they did not show up on time or if they left early.

On Christmas day, Molly was having dinner at the newly built burrow and told everyone that dinner was at 5 o'clock sharp. That morning, George had gotten up to wrap the present for Y/N that he had spent a decent amount of money only to find it missing from the place that he had put it.

"Hey, Fred." George called knocking on his bedroom door and walking in, "have you seen-" He stopped when he noticed Fred's girlfriend wearing the necklace and earring set that he bought specifically for Y/N. The reason he had picked them out was because he had seen her looking at them and she refused to buy them because of the price they costed. “Found them.” He mumbled to himself, his eyes not leaving the necklace.

He was sure that there had to be some sort of mix up. His twin would not steal his girlfriend’s gift on purpose. Instead of getting angry, George did what he believed was right, found Fred and asked him what he thought he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” Fred mumbled when he noticed the distressed look on George’s face. “I grabbed the wrong gift and before I could correct it she was so happy.” He trailed off making George groan. “You could give Y/N the gift I bought for Angela.” He suggested.

George thought about it for a moment, they had hidden their gifts in the same place. Meaning it was an easy mix up and he knew that Fred was telling the truth about grabbing the wrong box. Fred had planned on getting Angela a promise ring, and that gift would work if George hadn’t already given Y/N one of those almost a year ago.

“I’ll come up with something.” George mumbled before leaving his twin to himself. He had less than four hours to come up with the perfect gift for his girlfriend and he was determined to find it.

Four hours had flown by and by the time George and Fred joined everyone at the burrow, Y/N was already there. It wasn’t a shock to the twin, seeing as she was early to everything.

“You’re lucky you aren’t a minute later.” Y/N spoke as she walked up and greeted George from where she had been helping Molly. She had gotten there early knowing that it would be hectic if she didn't. "Molly has be waiting for you guys to arrive."

George gave her a quick kiss before going and putting their gifts under the tree. He wasn't sure how Y/N would like his gift, but he had come up with something... sentimental. Angelina had gone into the kitchen to see what the girls were up to, while Fred and George joined their brothers and Harry by the fire.

"I doubt that Ron even got me something." Hermione stated to Y/N who was setting the Table for Molly. "He's still so awkward about some things."

Y/N let out a small laugh, "I think that's just Ron." Y/N was a year between each group. Fred and George were a year older than her, and she was a year older than the golden trio, while being two years older than Ginny. "Hi, Angie." She greeted with a smile her eyes flickering to the earrings and necklace the girl was wearing. "I love your jewelry set! I wanted to buy the same one, but I didn't want to pay that price."

Angiela gave the younger girl a small smile, "Thank you, Fred got it for me." she replied before going over to greet Molly.

Dinner had come and gone within an hour and Molly had the kitchen cleaning itself. The family gathered around the fireplace as they got ready to open presents. Y/N was sitting on the floor, between George's legs as he sat on the couch. She was chatting with Hermione as they were talking about the after-holiday plans and if anything had to change.

"I think I am going to move." Y/N told Hermione as the girl played with the necklace she always wore. "The place I live at is getting worse and the landlord won't fix it."

Pretty soon the presents were being handed out by the Weasley's and everyone gathered knowing the Christmas tradition at the Weasley's house. Y/N had gotten George the thing he had been wanting for a while and he was beyond excited to receive the gift. It was unexpected and it made him nervous about her opening her gift.

"Can you go upstairs?" George asked Y/N as he noticed Molly hand her the gift that he had gotten her. "I would prefer you not open it in front of everyone." he mumbled quietly as the couple stood up and snuck off.

The pair in the room that they assumed was Ginny's for when she came back home just due to the looks of the room and so on. "There was a mix up of gifts this morning," George started as Y/N went to open her gift. "Fred gave Angela yours and-" He stopped talking when he noticed Y/N's reaction to what was in the box.

Wide eyes stared down at the little jewelry box, you would assume it would hold something that you could wear. Yet, it was nothing close to that. The key laid flatly in the velvet box, and y/n did not know what to think. "What Are-What are you asking?" she asked scared to assume.

Maybe this was a sign that she could come and go as she pleases instead of knocking, or maybe it was exactly what she thought it was. "Will you move in with us, well me?" He asked carefully. "I know it's not expensive and like I said, Fred gave Angela yours by mistake and-"

His sentence was interrupted by Y/N stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the boy she had loved for four years, even though they had only been together for three. "It's perfect." She assured to ease his nerves at the fact that his gift was something he already had, or just the price of making a copy of the key. "You didn't have to get me anything."

George shrugged, "I figured it was time to take the next step, it just took a push from Fred." he spoke softly to the girl he knew he was so lucky to have.

"Well, you just saved me the stress of apartment hunting." She replied back as she grabbed the key out of the box and handed him the box back, knowing that it probably belonged to Fred's other gift. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"Of course, love." George nodded with a smile on his face. "I love you as well." With that Y/N leaned forward and caught the Weasley's lips between hers. They kissed for a moment before pulling away, George with a cheeky grin, "I could have proposed instead."

Y/N's smile grew at the thought of eventually marrying George and becoming a Weasley herself. "That sounds like a plan for next year." She winked before kissing him one more time and leaving the room, him trailing behind her.

"Are you saying you'd rather live with me, instead of marrying me right now!?" He asked not knowing how to take the information if she were to confirm.

"I have to live with you first to see if we're compatible." She told him with a shrug, but she was joking. Regardless of what happened she knew that she would love him.

"What does that mean?"

I hated the way I ended this, but Blogmas day 2 is complete! I have been working on Blogmas, requests, and my Mattheo series so I have been busy. This is on top of having to study for my finals so.

#george weasley #george weasley imagines #Kinzi's 25 days of Christmas #blogmas #Blogmas day 2 #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #george wealsey imagine #george weasly x reader #george weasely smut #weasley twins #fred weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #imagine #imagines #25 days of christmas #christmas

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latoyalestrange · 1 year

Text

public service announcement

r. weasley x f!reader

SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP-- LOOK AT HIM!! LORd HAVE MERCY!!

summary: drunk!ron catches someone flirting with you at a party. chaos ensues.

words: ~0.7k

warnings: fluff, swearing, drinking, ron being so devistantingly in love with you that it hurts

it could've been that he was in the gryffindor common room, but all ron saw was red. he'd left you for two fucking seconds to get you a drink and some ballsy seventh-year hufflepuff had made his move. he stood in between dancing bodies, plastic cups starting to crinkle in his muscular hands. harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but his blaring gaze didn't shift from the two of you.

"merlin, ron, relax. they're just talking." ron still didn't say a word. he was waiting for the moment this guy went too far. you were smiling politely at him, engaged in what he was saying.

"look at the way he's looking at her. it's pathetic," he spat, his tone pure venom. then, it happened. as if time slowed down, he could see the hufflepuff's hand graze your arm, trailing a gentle finger down to your wrist.

"oh, shit--" before harry could act, ron had already taken a furious step towards the two of you, but he had to stop himself when he saw your reaction. with a sweet smile still plastered to your face, you pointed in his direction. reading your lips, ron understood when you said "that's my boyfriend". his gaze shifted to the boy standing opposite to you, who's face shown utter defeat.

in that moment, ron would've believed you if you told him his drink was spiked with love potion. his heart felt like it was fluttering in his chest as you waved at him innocently.

"oh, merlin..." he gaped at you adoringly. he'd never felt such pride. he'd entirely forgotten he was angry just moments before. harry rolled his eyes and went to join hermione on the other side of the room, just a few feet away from you on a couch. the hufflepuff caught his attention as he left. he watched him walk away until he was across the room, at which point, a vacant table usually used for games caught his attention. his eyes flashed back to you, then to the table again.

"ron, no--" you were too far away, he was already planting his feet on the table when you finally reached him. he'd already started to draw the attention of the partygoers.

"attention everyone!" his booming voice caught any straggling eyes, and now they were all on him.

"ron, please stop, please get down--"

"this woman here," with one swift motion, he scooped you up with his free arm and brought you up to join him. your face flushed a deep shade of red that you tried to hide in his chest as he continued. "--is off limits. just to save anyone else who didn't know the embarrassment." his words were followed by a beat of silence before someone broke it with a 'weasley is our king' chant. you were thankful it was later in the night and mostly everyone was incoherent at this point. you looked up at him beaming proudly at everyone below, his strong arm remaining draped around your waist.

"ron?" he shifted all of his attention on you with satisfaction in his eyes.

"hm?"

"can we get down now, please?" your little voice tugged at his heartstrings and he instantly felt terrible for embarrassing you.

"right, sorry, love." he stepped down first, then turned to hold your hand as you joined him on the solid floor again.

"i could've told them that, you know. i was doing a good job already," you joked, letting your head fall to his shoulder as he intertwined your fingers.

"but look at how efficient that was! no guy will go within fifty feet of you now, just watch." making your way over to the fireplace, you fount two empty spots on the couch next to harry and hermione.

you scoffed and shook your head, "when have you ever cared about being efficient?"

"never," he answered honestly, chuckling. you rolled your eyes as your two friends laughed with him.

reblog if you made it to the end!

#ron weasley smut #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley #ron wealsey x y/n #ron weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter smut #harry potter x reader #ronblurb

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mastermindmiko · 8 months

Text

You're in love

Pairing: Ron Weasley + fem!reader

Word count: 8502 (DAMN)

Summary: A (LONG) one shot inspired by Taylor Swift's song you're in love from 1989.

Warnings: none, I believe, but let me know.

hey, if you think this doesn't completely suck, check out my masterlist

The music was blasting loudly all over the room, they would’ve been scared to get caught if professor McGonogall wasn’t too happy herself. The room was dim, and the disco lights (that some muggleborn had conjured up) were the only light source available. Everyone was dancing, except for me, I was looking for someone.

The Quidditch team was surrounded by everyone, giving them pats on the back and telling them how good they played. We did play well today, after all we did win the cup, but no one patted me on the back because I was too busy, I was looking for someone.

I scan the room again from on top of one of the couches, I get a better view of the room from up here. The fifth years and above all had red cups in their hands, filled with alcohol, I could smell it. The people that were younger than fifteen had similar red cups except that they were filled with soda instead. I should’ve had one myself, but I was looking for someone.

“You did really well today.” Harry interrupts my search as he looks at me with a smile. I smile back and hop off the couch. I say, “We all played really well.”

“You scored a lot of goals.” He says, and I shrug my shoulders at the attention and say, “It wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t caught the snitch.”

“It was a team effort.” A new voice says from behind me, and I feel a hand on each of my shoulders. Fred and George are standing behind me and they look at me before asking, “Mind if we steal Harry for a bit?”

I shake my head, and they look at Harry with a mischievous look in their eyes. Harry’s eyes go wide with fear, before Fred lifts him up on his shoulders. The room goes wild again as Fred leads Harry to the centre of the room. A small smile cracks on my face as I watch everyone celebrate again.

I look around the room again, and I try to find him, but I can’t see anything because why were seventh years so tall? I turn around and hit someone flat in their chest. I look up to find George looking at me. He says, “He’s across the room, on the other side.”

“Who is?” I ask, and he gives me a pointed look with a smirk, as if he can’t believe that I don’t think he knows. I do know that he knows, I think everyone but him knows. George leans down, so I can hear him better. He says, “The one you’ve been looking for all night, and won’t celebrate without.”

I feel a blush coating my cheeks, but he’s right, every word. I have been looking for him all night, and I haven’t celebrated at all despite our victory because I’ve been looking for him all night. I mutter, “Thank you.”

George seemed satisfied because he gave me another teasing grin before he left to go into the middle of the common room to join the celebration and probably help Fred lift Harry up. I make my way to the other side of the room, but it’s hard to see with the dim lighting and the sheer amount of people in this room.

I push through several people and I try to make my way between them, but with all the dancing and jumping, it makes the easy task much harder. I see a wall, or at least I think I do, and I walk towards it. I reach the end of the common room, and I press my palm to the wall, as if to make sure that it’s real, like I’ve actually made it.

I see him, then. I recognise him as soon as I see him, despite not being able to see nearly anything, maybe it’s because of the distinctive red hair, or maybe it’s because the way my heart nearly went out of my chest at the sight of him. He has a cup in his hand, that he’s taking a few sips from and another in his other hand, that he hasn’t touched. He’s leaning against the wall. He’s looking around, just like I was a few minutes ago.

A smile blossoms on my face, and I walk to him. A couple footsteps, and he notices me when I’m only a few inches away. He smiles, just like me, and he meets me halfway. I feel nervous. He extends the untouched cup to me and I take a sip, it’s my favourite soda.

I look at him, and it’s different. I wonder if he knows that it’s the look I give to him and only him. I wonder if he notices that when his smile widens that I realise that I like him. I wonder if he realised that he liked me at the same moment. He says, “Hi.”

***

No one ever really told me how fast time goes by when you’re at Hogwarts. That one second you’re taking your first ever potions lesson and the next you’re getting ready for your NEWT potions. That one second you’re at a party realising that you have a crush on someone and the next thing you know you realise that you’ve been in love with Ron Weasley for three years.

This year hasn’t been easy, definitely one of the easier ones to take in, of course, but with NEWTs it's been near impossible to be caught up with work. That’s even harder when the guy you’ve been in love with just kissed another girl a week ago and right now is no doubt getting ready to go on a date with her.

The common room was quiet. Everyone was already at Hogsmeade and the people below third year were too busy getting a little bit extra sleep. The only thing I could hear was the fire crackling from the fireplace and the sound of pages turning as I studied Transfiguration for the upcoming test, but I couldn’t study because of the aching feeling in my chest.

We all saw it when Lavender kissed him after we’d won the match, but only a few people saw me run off after that. An even fewer amount were with me when I started crying, and only Harry knew what happened afterwards. I saw him talking with her a few mornings ago, deciding that they’ll go out today to Hogsmeade, no doubt to madam puddifoot’s. I look at the same page I’d been staring at for who knows how long, trying to understand anything that is written.

“Hello? Is anyone down there?” I hear him say, and a few seconds later, He walks down the stairs, and my breath hitches when I see him. He’s gotten all dressed up for this date, and I can’t deny that he looks absolutely beautiful.

He says my name and he stays there for a moment. He’s late for the date, I know that he knows that, and I’m sure Lavender who’s probably standing alone in front of the tea shop knows that. I feel uneasy, looking at him, knowing he’s going to another girl in a few minutes.

He clears his throat and gestures to his unbuttoned coat, he says, weakly, “Would you mind helping me? I can’t close the buttons, they're too small and the holes for the buttons are just invisible to me.”

He chuckles, but it’s out of nervousness. I can tell, I know his happy laugh, his sad laugh, I thought I knew everything about him, but apparently I don’t because I thought he knew how I felt. I don’t say anything, but I close the book and place it beside me on the couch.

I stand up and walk towards him, he meets me halfway. I fix his coat by the long collar and I trace my hands to the buttons, I can hear his breath hitch, and the silence between is deafening. I mutter, “You look good.”

“Thank you.” he replies, and I’ve buttoned half of the buttons when I pause to look into his eyes. He’s already looking at me. I look at him the way I always do, a look filled with everything that I can’t say, a look that’s meant just for him. He’s done something different with his hair, I don’t know what, but it makes him look absolutely irresistible, more than he usually is, at least to me anyways.

“It’s like we’re a married couple.” He laughs, and I can imagine exactly what he’s saying. Me helping him get ready in the morning while he goes off to work when it’s snowing outside and needs his coat. I let out a chuckle, before I said, “Wouldn’t that be something.”

After that the room is charged with something I can’t quite put my finger on, and it makes my heart beat faster and faster with every second that I push each button into its hole.

I take more time buttoning up the last button, and I pause my hands there. On my way to look into his eyes, I notice that the top part of the coat is wrinkled, so I press my hands to his chest and smooth the fabric of the coat out. I leave my palms there a bit longer, feeling the way his chest moves up and down and the way I can feel his heartbeat under my fingertips.

I lift my hands from his chest and in a second, he grabs both my wrists and holds them close to him. I look at him, and he’s got a look that I can’t decipher. I wonder if he can tell that I’m miserable just thinking about where he’s going, or the fact that he’s going there with someone else.

He opens his mouth, and it takes him a few seconds before he says, “I’m not going on that date.”

For the first time in days, I feel my chest stop constricting, I feel like I can breathe again, but it doesn’t make any sense. I lick my lips before asking, “Why?”

“You know why.” That’s his only answer, and he doesn’t say anything as he slowly drops my hands, and goes back up the stairs. I’m left down there with my thoughts.

***

“Are you sure Mr Weasley allowed you to do this?” I ask as I hold on tightly to the handles of the door. I look out the window and stare down as I can see the tops of the buildings getting smaller and smaller by every second.

“I’m an adult now, of legal age, he can’t tell me what to do and what not to do.” Ron said, with confidence as he started out into the road-sky. I look at him with a pointed look, unconvinced by his speech. He clears his throat and says, “He said yes.”

“You’d think that after second year’s incident that he would be more cautious about letting you use this thing.” I say, grinning, remembering the way Ron broke his wand and almost got expelled. Something good came out of it though, Ron became my wand partner and we spent more time together. He laughed, “He said that if I scratched it, he would kill me. I think we made an unbreakable vow or something.”

I laughed at his words, and looked out the window. I wondered how long his small talk can last before we start getting to the subject that we’ve been tiptoeing around these past few months. I wasn’t talking about the war, we all knew that was coming sooner or later. I was talking about us.

“Thank you for picking me up.” I said, looking at him. He shrugged his shoulders as if travelling several hundred kilometres back and forth was no big deal, he explained, “You had to come here someway. Fleur would’ve killed me if she found out that you weren’t coming to her wedding.”

Even after his words, a small part of me hoped that he wanted me to come. He grips the wheels tighter and every few seconds he would rub his hands over his jeans to wipe away the sweat. I take a breath before I courageously grab his hand into mine. I keep them both in my lap, and he looks at me baffled. I ask, “Do you need it to drive?”

“No, I don’t.” He says and he looks back quickly in front of him. I smile as I see the tiny pink tinge to his cheeks, matching mine exactly. I look out the window and I see the sun setting, by the time we’re there it will no doubt be midnight.

It was nearly midnight when we got there. Mrs Weasley was the only one who was still up, waiting for her son to get home and waiting to greet me. She had a smile on her face, tired, but still as wide as always. I didn’t need her to point me to the direction of the room I’ll be staying in, I already knew.

I enter the room and place my bags on one of the beds, I notice Hermione and Ginny already sound asleep. I change into my pyjamas, brush my teeth and get ready to go to sleep. The place is warm and the perfect atmosphere to fall asleep in, but when I tucked myself into my covers, I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me.

I kept sighing as I turned to either of my sides trying to fall asleep. Changing the pillows from one side to the other, tossing and turning until I decided that I’ve had enough. I rub my tired eyes and see that the clock had struck twelve. I sigh and get up.

I headed down stairs in my fuzzy slippers, I tried not to make any sound, but the creaky stairs weren’t helping me. I made it to the bottom where the kitchen was. I opened the door and was hit by the smell of fresh coffee, just what I needed. Ron was sitting on the table with a cup in his hands.

He turned to see who had just entered the kitchen. Upon seeing me, he stands up, nearly dropping a bit of coffee from his mug in the process. He breathes, “Hi.”

I return the greeting, as I move towards the cupboard where the mugs are. I know where everything is, having helped Mrs Weasley enough times to know. I felt his eyes on my back the entire time, and I grabbed my mug, everyone had their own mugs, even me. I turned and gestured to the coffee pot, I asked, “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head, and he looks at me as I add the milk and sugar. He looks at my every move and it makes me feel lightheaded, in the way that makes me feel like I’m going to float to the moon. I turn to the table and he’s already beat me in pulling out a chair. I sit down and give him a grateful smile. I wrap my fingers around the mug, and lift my feet to the chair, resting my head on my knees.

He’s looking at me. We’re the only people who do that. We never say anything, but I can hear what he wants to say. It was our thing being able to feel everything in the silence. I wonder if from these looks he can tell just how much I love him, or maybe, how long I’ve loved him for.

“Why are you up?” he asks, after a beat, and I take another sip before replying, “I couldn’t sleep, you?”

“Same thing, but I had to get up in a couple of hours to help with setting up for the wedding anyway, so I made the coffee.” he explains, and I nod my head at his words. I don’t say anything else, but the air is heavy. How long can we go on like this? With everything that I feel between us, that I know he feels too, left unsaid.

He takes both our mugs and places them into the sink. He waves his wands and they start washing themselves. He tightens his grip on his wand and he pauses before saying, “Do you want to go somewhere?”

***

Muggle London was still alive, or at least more alive than any other wizarding establishment. It wasn’t that far either, so it was the perfect place to go, and that’s where we were. I was walking on the sidewalk and he was walking beside me. My arms were swinging and I kept thinking what would happen if I just reached over and grabbed his hand.

There weren’t many cars passing by, just one or two every few minutes. Neither of us knew a lot about Muggle London, but we knew what not to do in front of muggles, so we kept our wands hidden and kept the magic chatter away.

“Your brother is getting married tomorrow.” I sigh, Fleur is getting married too, it only seemed like yesterday when I was just meeting her after she stepped off the flying carriage.Time really does fly by, doesn’t it. Ron sighs, wistfully, “Yeah.”

“I think it’s great that they’re doing this.” I say, and I kick a pebble in front of me, then I add, “Especially at a time like this, I think that we all need a bit of cheering up, don’t you think.”

“Yeah.” He replies, and it makes me feel confused. He wasn’t very talkative tonight. He looked very deep in thought, it made me nervous. I stop walking and turn to him, I ask, “Ron, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He replies and I quirk up an eyebrow and he chuckles, “Yes, I am.”

I shrug my shoulders and continue walking, it’s best with Ron not to press on things. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. What could possibly be on his mind? We all know that the war has been making everyone unnerved, but this felt different. Ron and I tried not to talk about these things, I didn’t want to express my fears of something happening to him, especially since he was so close to Harry. I shake my head at the thoughts, and try to lighten the mood.

“Does Bill know about how you liked Fleur?” The teasing question brings Ron to a screeching halt. His cheeks turn as red as his hair, and I start laughing. He stutters, and it only increases my laughter. I hold my stomach and lean forward, laughing.

“He-he doesn’t know, so let’s not remind anyone of it. The last thing I need is Fred and George remembering and telling him.” Ron stutters before he folds his arms over his chest and pouts. I pause for a second to pretend that I’m thinking, I tap my chin and furrow my eyebrows. I say, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Ron’s eyes go wide and he lifts his pointer finger and threatens, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m on my way to tell them right now.” I say, before turning around the other way and starting to run. Ron runs after me and he’s calling out for me and telling me to stop, I can barely hear anything over the sounds of my own laughter.

Suddenly, my chuckles stop as I feel something, something like air, pulling me back very quickly. I stop when I feel Ron’s chest behind my back. He tucks his wand away and I turn to scold him, “Ron! You can’t use magic here!”

“There’s no one around.” Ron says, and I turn around to look and there’s only a few people around. No one is actually paying attention to us. I look back at him and he’s got his hand hovering near my face. It’s all so sudden to me the way the atmosphere changes, the way he’s looking at me with those eyes, identical to the ones that I give him.

I don’t move, and he takes it as a sign to move his hand forward. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my face, and he cups my cheek. My breath hitches. He whispers, “It wouldn’t have been good ammunition against me anyway.”

“Why not?” I whisper, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but I can’t bring myself to care about that now anyway. I might have been mistaken, but I see Ron’s eyes flicker to my lips, it’s just for a second, but it ignites everything within me, including a pinkish colour to my cheeks. I lick my lips anyway, and this time I’m not mistaken because he definitely looked at my lips this time.

“Because everyone knows there’s only one girl I’ve ever liked.” Ron says, and it makes butterflies swarm in my stomach, my heart beat out of my chest, all those romantic feelings. I don’t need to ask who because I know, and because I know. I lift my heels from the group and kiss him.

***

“It’s a really pretty view, isn’t it?” I hear him say from behind me, I’d recognise that voice anywhere. I turn to look at him with a smile, I don’t know how I didn’t notice him coming before. I fixed my gaze back at the tent where the wedding was happening. Fleur and Bill are husband and wife so now everyone is celebrating. I reply, “The prettiest”

“It better be I worked really hard to make it that way.” Ron huffs and it makes me chuckle. He sits down on the grass beside me, looking at the tent as well. I sigh, with all that’s happening in the world I don’t think that there’s anywhere I’d rather be. I can hear the faint sound of the music from up here on the hill, and it feels peaceful.

I can hear the birds chirping and the sounds of laughter. It was really, very pretty. I feel a hand touch mine, and I look at Ron who looks like he’s just been caught stealing, maybe stealing my heart, but he’s already taken that a long time ago. I smile and shuffle closer to him to hold his large hand with both of mine. I rest my head on his shoulder, and I hear him let out a breath before he rests his head on mine.

If I was given the opportunity to stay like this forever, then I would have, of course, I’d see if there was a way to kill Voldemort first, then I’d stay like this. We haven’t talked about the kiss, but Ron’s been much more affectionate since then. A part of me was afraid that he’d chicken out and say that it was simply the cause of sleep deprivation. The other part of me was terrified that he would give me all his love then end up dying in this war.

The idea brought a shudder down my spine. Losing Ron is the last thing I can take, especially when I’m so close to finally having him. I’ve been afraid to try and kiss him after the first time because what if I get too attached and something happens to him? What will I do with myself then?

“I have something to tell you.” Ron breaks my train of thought, and the feeling of him lifting his head off of mine, prompts me to do the same. I look at him and he has a grim look on his face that only makes me worry even more. I ask, “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, and my mind reels with the possibilities, each one worse than the one before it.I squeeze his hand and suck in a deep breath. I say, “Ron?”

“I’m planning on leaving.” he replies, and I furrow my eyebrows confused. Where would he be going at a time like this? Why would he leave in the middle of the war? I say, trying to make my voice even but it comes out shaky anyway, “Leaving where?”

“We’re going to find the Horcruxes and destroy them, Harry, Hermione and me.” he explains. Ah yes, the Horcruxes the pieces of Voldemort's soul and the key to killing him. Ron told me all about them after Harry told him. I hoped that Dumbledore would be taking the lead on this ordeal but as soon as Ron explained, Dumbledore was dead.

Why does it have to be Ron that goes to do this extremely dangerous mission? Does it have to be my friends too? I feel my eyes beginning to water, so I look away. I can feel Ron’s gaze burning into the side of my face. I blink the tears away because I know that Ron’s going anyway. It’s the Gryffindor side of him. I ask, “Is there any other way?”

“No.” he replies, shortly and straight to the point. I sigh, even though I knew it. The leaves rustle and the wind strengthens around us. It makes me shiver, Ron takes off his jacket and hands it to me. He wraps it around my shoulders and tugs it around me, making sure that I’m covered. He looks at me then he says, “You can’t contact me when I’m away.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” I say and chuckle to hide the fact that it is the complete opposite of what I am feeling. What I’m currently feeling is a whole bunch of emotions that don’t even remotely come close to happiness. I chuckle, though I’m sure he knows that I’m not kidding at all, “Well then, promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

“I promise.” he says, and he smiles, but we both know that it’s not up to him. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and i close my eyes, trying to take in the feeling, in case I don't get it for a long time, in case i don’t ever get it again, it’s a morbid thought, but it’s possible. I sigh, “When are you leaving?”

“I don’t know, Harry and Hermione are deciding.” Ron says, and I nod my head. I wonder if there’s any way Harry can forget about Voldemort and all the death eaters drop dead with something like food poisoning. I promised myself that in the last moments that he’s here before he leaves I’ll let go of all of my fears and all of my ghosts to spend these moments with him.

“I have something to show you.” he says, and his frown is replaced by a slight grin, he’s brought me a gift to soften the blow, he knows me too well. The thoughts are still in the back of my mind, but I push them away and focus on him, while I excitedly say, “What is it?”

He waved his wand and a square shaped box appeared. It drops from the air to his hands and he gives it to me. I waste no time in taking off the wrapping which disappeared as soon as I did, and lifting the lid off the box. My breath gets caught in my throat as soon as I see it. I push my hair away from my face. The wind makes it impossible for me to see it clearly. I look at the tiny figurine that matches me, or me three years ago, it’s hard to believe that it was that long ago.

It was a snow globe and inside it were tiny figurines of Ron and I dancing. The snow falls over us just like it did the moment when this was taken. The tiny me and the tiny Ron only move in a circle but it’s perfect. I look up at him and realise, he’s perfect, maybe not in every way, but at least he’s perfect for me.

My lack of answering must have made him panic because he’s started rambling, “I made it a few days ago because I didn't know I just wanted to give you something to remember me by- or something equally as cheesy. It’s fine if you don’t like it-”

“I love it, Ron.” I cut him off, holding his hand with mine that isn’t occupied. I smile, and he does it back. He rubs the back of his neck, no doubt embarrassed by the amount of attention I’m giving him. He mutters, “Oh, I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s us by the way at the-”

“At the Yule ball.” I beat him to it, did he seriously think I wouldn’t remember? I was Harry’s date because Ron was too chicken to ask me out, and I would’ve asked him out, if I didn’t want to teach him a lesson, and maybe a small part of me was scared of rejection as well. Harry didn’t dance the whole night and neither did Ron. I spent the whole night dancing with my friends and their dates, until when almost everyone was off of the dance floor, Ron asked me to dance. He says, “Yeah.”

“How’d you make it?” I asked, looking at the snow globe, closely. I was very intrigued by the mechanism of it, It looked nearly identical to the actual event. I was wearing the same dress down to the pearls around my neck and everything. Ron explains, “I give them a memory of mine in a vial and you know- they make that-”

He gestures to the globe in my hands, and I nod my head at his words. I shake it again to make the snow fall over tiny me’s head. I smile looking at it, remembering the wonderful night. I hear the sounds of the people instead the tent turns more quiet and I look at the tent, curiously. Ron says, "Look up.”

I do just that and as if on queue the fireworks start around the tent. There were several murmurs of exclamation at the sight from the tent, and I couldn’t help but agree. It was beautiful. Seeing the colour shoot one after the other, purple and blue and yellow and red, each one exploding then fading into the sky. It was a wonderful sight.

Our shoulders brush and I look at Ron to find him looking at me. He looks at me with that look again. The look that I gave him back in third year in a dark room, that made him see my love for him even with the lights out. The look that I give him when I have a hundred words to say, but I can’t say them, and he just knows what I mean. The look that I gave him when we were driving to the Burrow that made him feel what I meant.

The light reflects on something and it pierces into my eyes, I notice that it’s a chain around his neck. The chain that I gave him as a present only a few months ago. He was in the hospital wing after he almost got poisoned, I couldn’t sit still that day, I even had to leave the castle. That’s when I stumbled across it, it wasn’t much, but I knew that Ron would like it. I say, “You kept it?”

“Of course.”

I find myself leaning closer and closer to him. My breath is hitching as I’m filled with the anticipation of our second kiss. Not saying anything was our thing, I hoped that with this kiss, he would feel what I wanted to say. I love you, I love you, I love you, I hoped he would feel it and maybe even return it before he left.

But he doesn’t. We’re torn apart by the sounds of screams coming from the tent. Ron jumps up to his feet and one hand holds his wand while the other holds mine. He starts running in the opposite direction and he pushes me into a shed. I can’t question him about how absurd he’s being pushing me into a shed, but I don’t have time. He’s already got one hand on the door, and he says, “Stay here you’ll be safe.”

I want to complain, I want to go fight with him, but I didn’t because he was already closing the door to the shed, but before he does, from a small crack between the door and the shed’s walls, he says, “I’ll be right back.”

***

Except he didn’t come back, he didn’t come back for a while actually. When I heard the screams and the noise coming from the tent stop, I came out. Everyone was ( to a certain extent ) okay, but Ron was nowhere in sight. His family were all frightened of course, and I hated to be the one to inform them about the news.

My parents fled the country opting to go to America instead because it was safer, I refused. My whole life was here, I needed to stay in England to protect it. I didn’t go back to Hogwarts that year, not with the staff being changed, not with Snape as headmaster. The death eaters had warned that all students should return to Hogwarts, but I lived with Bill and Fleur under the assumption that Bill was teaching me how to become a curse breaker.

I didn’t want to burden them with my existence by staying with them, considering that the only money I had was in the vaults, but I couldn’t go and get them, not while death eaters were around. Bill told me that we were valuable to the death eaters, considering that we had a close connection to Ron and hence Harry. He told me that we should stay hidden for a while.

It wasn’t easy, but I spent my time with Fleur. She taught me bits of French when we were bored, and we kept to the garden most of the time. Sometimes, members of the Weasley family would come to visit at the Shell Cottage, but they never stayed for long. I barely spent any time inside at all, I wanted to leave Bill and Fleur alone together, after all they were newlyweds, I didn’t want to impose, despite their arguments, saying that I was not imposing.

I spent most of my time thinking about Ron, how he was. I kept listening to the radio, the station that Fred, George and Lee had made, under code names. I prayed every time that I wouldn’t hear the names of anyone I loved. Harry, Ron and Hermione left so suddenly, I wondered if they had anything prepared with them at all. I know Hermione did, but did the rest of them. Clothes, food, water, did they have what they needed?

I know that Ron is doing this to save the world and everything, but couldn’t he just take a break from saving the world, and just spend a little time with me. It was selfish, I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from wishing for just that.

I wake up one day, close to noon, like I always did nowadays. It was November and the air was chilly, so I kept a blanket around my shoulders. I had a room for myself, it was the guest room, but I turned it mine after living here for so long.

I brush my teeth and my hair. I wobble down the stairs, and I see Bill and Fleur’s backs. I furrowed my eyebrows, it was an odd sight. Usually, in the mornings, Bill would be outside placing protective charms while Fleur stayed inside and prepared breakfast, or read one of her favourite books. I ask, “What’s going on guys?”

They step aside and I see what I didn’t expect, Ron. He looked dishevelled and tired, and something else that I couldn’t place. I didn’t want to analyse his expressions at the moment, I just wanted to hug him. I whispered his name like I couldn’t believe he was here and I rushed down the last few steps and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I can’t believe you’re here, I missed you so much.” I say, and I tighten my grip around him. It takes me a few seconds to realise that he wasn’t hugging me back. I pull away from him and I ask, “What’s wrong?”

I lift my hand to cup his cheek, to hopefully get him to look at me. I don’t understand what’s got him acting this way, especially after I didn’t see him for months. As soon as my hand touches his cheek, he turns his head away, like I burned him. He takes a step away and he asks, “Did you sleep with Harry?”

My blood runs cold, and I feel Bill and Fleur looking at me expectantly. This was the last thing I expected him to ask me, ever, and definitely not the first thing I wanted him to say when I finally saw him. I stutter, “I-what?”

“You heard me. Did you sleep with Harry?” he shouts, and I scrunch my face up and close my eyes. I can’t believe that we’re doing this now. I was going to tell him, I was, but not when everything was going wrong around us, I didn’t want us to go wrong too. I try, “Ron, calm down.”

“That’s not an answer!” Ron shouts, and I press my lips tightly together and I avoid his gaze, looking down at the floor. I hear him scoff and I can hear Fleur’s tiny gasp. Bill grapes his wife’s hand and they leave the room, and they go upstairs. I can’t imagine what they must think of me now. I sigh, “I really wanted to tell you, Ron.”

He huffs and starts to walk outside into the garden. I follow him without question and I try to reason with him, “I couldn’t tell you with everything that was going on. Too much was already happening, I didn’t want to add to that.”

“Why the bloody hell would you sleep with him anyway?” Ron shouts back at me and I rush over to grab his shoulder and stop him. He doesn’t look at me, but I don’t let him move away from me. I say, “Could you stop running away for a moment and just let me explain?”

He doesn’t reply, and I can see him clench his jaw, but he sits down on the grass anyway. I sit in front of him, cross legged and I hold his hand. He still wasn’t looking at me, but after a beat, a take a deep breath in then begin to explain, “When you kissed Lavender, it was kind of like the whole world just threw me off for a second, because you were this guy that I liked for years, and I just assumed that you liked me back even though there wasn’t much proof, but it was enough for me to just keep on liking you back.”

I took another breath and then continued, “I realised that we weren’t really anything, and you obviously knew that because you had your tongue shoved down someone’s throat. I was really hurt, I felt miserable and that continued on for days after, but at the moment I wasn’t really thinking. I had to get out of there because everyone was cheering and I couldn't breathe.”

His hand relaxes in mine a bit and I feel the weight on my shoulders loosen a bit as I keep going, “Hermione and Harry were the only ones who noticed I left, so they followed. They comforted me, and when Hermione left, Harry told me that everything was going to get better. He knew that because that’s the way he felt when Ginny was with Dean. I needed someone and he needed someone, and we were both there.”

I didn’t bother continuing because he knew what happened next. He pulls his hand from mine, and he shuffles away from me. I feel a knife going into my chest, but I know that it must be nothing compared to the knife in his back. I don’t say anything else, and I wait for him to say something. He asks, “Did you sleep with anyone else?”

I knew the answer was going to dig my hole even deeper, but I couldn’t lie to him. I knew it was just going to make it worse, so I brace myself for the impact and I sigh, “No.”

“Oh that’s just great. I thought that if you were some kind of whore then it would’ve been better, but no, you had to pick Harry.” He mutters, angrily, and I feel my eyes begin to water, but I look to the side to blink them away. He adds, “Even after knowing the way he makes me feel-”

He cuts himself off with a sigh, as he covers his face with both his hands. I knew what he meant. Ron has always felt inferior to everyone in his family and especially Harry. A part of Ron always hated Harry because he was the chosen one, and the boy who lived, and he was just his best friend. I always tried to make him feel like he was the best person on the planet, but my words only did so much.

“I really am sorry, Ron.” I say, and I feel my eyes start to burn again. I purse my lips and hope to stop the tears from flowing but they do anyway. I chuckle bitterly, “This is not how I imagined this would go at all.”

I can see his expression falter, no doubt taken aback by hearing the change in my voice. He knew I was crying, but he still didn’t look at me. I say, “I know that you’re hurt, and I’m sorry, but I know that- that you know that you’re the only person I’ve ever liked.”

“I love you, Ron.” I say it for the first time, my feelings are out, and he hears them. I don’t have to share them with him with glances and small touches. He now knows for sure how I feel. I sniffle, “If by some chance, at some point, you don’t hate me, then come talk to me, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, so I wipe away the few stray tears, and I stand up and go to my room. I wondered if Bill and Fleur would let me stay with them after knowing this piece of information. Once I close the door to my room, I can’t stop the tears from flowing freely. Just as soon as I had him, I lost him, and it wasn’t because of the stupid war.

I sit on my bed and I cover my face with both my hands. I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted him to come back and he’d tell me that he missed me, and he’d kiss me. He did keep his word though, he came back in one piece. All I wanted was him.

The door to my room opens and I’m quick to wipe my face as I look up and find Ron entering the room. He closes the door behind him and he leans against it. I watch him closely. Ron huffs, “It’s unfair- it’s unfair that as soon as you cry, you can get me to do anything you want.”

I don’t say anything, and for the first time since what feels like forever he’s looking at me with something other than hate. This isn’t the first time Ron and I fought, but this was the biggest fight. Like every fight, after it, we talk. He takes a few steps and sits on my bed with me, except that he stays as far away from me as possible.

“I’m sorry I called you…that.” He says, and I know what he’s talking about. I’ve been insulted before, like every person on the planet, but it always hurts the most from the person you least expect it from. I sniffle, “It’s fine, I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. I overreacted-”

“Which is totally understandable.” I cut him off, and I feel him warming up to me. The silence between us is heavy, but in a way, it’s more comfortable. He runs a hand through his overgrown hair and he says, “This isn’t how I wanted this to go either.”

“How- how did you want this to go?” I ask, carefully. He doesn’t reply, but he answers as he leans forward to embrace me. He wraps his arms around my body in a big, warm hug. It’s the best feeling in the world. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip him tighter.

A few knocks on the door are heard when the door opens and we hear the hinges squeak. Fleur and Bill poke their heads in and they smile at the sight of us both in a tight embrace. Bill says, “We’re going to Mom’s, do you want to come?”

“I think I’ll just stay here, but say hi for me.” Ron replies to his older brother and Bill nods, then he leaves the room. As soon as the door is shut, Ron holds my face with both his large hands, and he says, “Merlin, I missed you so much.”

“You have no idea.” I reply, and he presses a kiss to my forehead, and I rest my head back in the crook of his neck. He mutters, much to my dismay, “I’m going to have to go back.”

I know where back is. Back where Harry and Hermione are, back where he was fighting dark wizards and back where he was hunting Horcruxes. Ron’s always been the perfect mix of a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, of course he was going back to his friends. I sigh, “I know, but can you stay, just for a little while, at least.”

It takes him a second, and I know that he’s thinking about it. He squeezes me tighter and that’s how I know he’s got his answer ready. He whispers, “Okay.”

That’s when we decide that for the short time that he’s going to be staying here that we’re going to make the most out of it, and we do. In the middle of the night, after the previously occurring events, he looks at me, and I grin at him. I thought he fell asleep. He looks at me with a strange look on his face. He pauses, then says, “You’re my best friend.”

I know that was his way of telling me that he loved me too.

***

I wake up to the smell of something burning and Ron not beside me. I groan as the bright sunlight hits my eyes first thing in the morning. I can hear the birds chirping and I wonder if Bill and Fleur were back, I assumed that they weren’t because neither of them would ever burn anything.

I sit up and I stretch, feeling the cold autumn chill hit my naked body, making me want to curl up under the sheets for a little while more. I see Ron’s shirt on the ground, and I grab it as well as a fresh pair of underwear.I brush my teeth, and head downstairs, and I see a very pretty sight.

A shirtless Ron in only his boxers, cooking breakfast, or at least trying to. I chuckle at the sight of the three burnt toasts on a plate on the kitchen counter. It alerts him of my presence, and he turns around quickly. He sees me looking at the toast and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He says, “I was trying, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything!” I laugh, and I walk around the kitchen island to get to him. I wrap my hands around his torso and I hug him tightly, and he does the same as much as he can with a spatula in one hand. I lean back and I get a perfect view of his bare chest and I just want to say ‘thank you, quidditch’.

“I’m just going to wait here, until you’re done making-” I lean forward to see what he was making in the pan on the stove, and I see something yellow, so I detect that it’s eggs, but it didn’t look quite right so I continue, “scrambled eggs.”

“It’s supposed to be an omelette, but okay.” Ron says, with an annoyed tone, but it makes me chuckle anyway. I sit down on the kitchen island, and when Ron’s finished, he sets the plates beside me. I take it as an opportunity to wrap my hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He sets his hands on my waist, and he pecks my lips a couple times before trailing down to give a few kisses to my jaw and neck. He begins to suck on a certain spot, and I pull away. I give him a threatening look and I warn him, “You gave me enough of those already last night, no more.”

He laughs and presses a quick kiss to my lips that makes me smile just as wide as he is. His eyes trail down and he notices the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt. He grabs the material between his two fingers. He gives me a look, “This is mine.”

A firm statement, it’s his shirt, I know it, he knows it. I feign an innocent look, and look down at the shirt, like I’m just noticing that I’m wearing it in the first place. I furrow my eyebrows in fake confusion and tilt my head to the side. I say, “is it?”

“Yes, it is.” Ron replies, with a grin on his face. I shrug my shoulders and hum, “hmm, didn’t notice. I’ll give it back to you when it’s time for you to leave.”

“Nah, keep it.”

Ron ended up staying a lot longer than just a little while. Hermione and Harry were very mad at him because of that, but it didn’t matter because in only a few months after a very big battle, all was right in the world again. We had lost so many people, but in the end, we won.

We returned for our last year at Hogwarts as 8th years. I studied to become a curse breaker, I guess it wasn’t a lie after all, and Ron became an Auror. Every once in a while Ron would help out Fred and George with stock and inventory and all things shop related. They even gave him his own office. I was pleasantly surprised to find a picture of me on his desk.

All I can say is that the wait was worth it because I was very much in love with Ron Weasley and he loved me too, so despite everything despite all the longing glances, the fights and the bloody war, we made it, and nothing is better than when you’re in love.

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fear-less · 27 days

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 say my name and everything just stops

pairing: harry potter x reader

warnings: ron & reader in an established relationship , pervy harry, male masterbation, smut, harry wanking it to a photo😸, that’s all i think idk

a/n: well well well…i’m back after what 3/4 weeks?😭 so here’s smut that was written in like 20 minutes

He felt… so fucking perverted about his thoughts of you, the way his entire body froze when your breasts squeezed over his chest, the way his hands lingered on your waist when all he wanted to do was lower them further, cupping your ass while you squealed, hitting his chest with those pretty giggles escaping your lips. “Can you help me out?” You asked with those doe-eyes. Harry was sure he would do anything you asked if you gave him that look. Any fucking thing. He nodded breathlessly, no words able to push past his lips as he watched you in awe.

Ron’s absence left Harry feeling uneasy, likely held up in some line to get what he wanted. Harry couldn’t shake off the guilt he felt as he looked at you, his mind painting vivid scenarios of you under him, craving more until he lost control. He struggled to contain his desires, a constant battle against his own urges. However, everything seemed manageable until you casually brushed past him, reaching for whatever it was you needed next to him.

It was a completely unintentional gesture on your part, most likely insignificant to you. However, the way your curves seamlessly fit against him, your proximity causing a stir in him, was uncharted territory for Harry. Mentally, he couldn’t help but envision you both as if you were naked. This realization hit him hard because all he could think about now was being intimate with you from behind, enjoying the captivating sight of your figure melding into his, your soft moans urging him on, his hips moving rhythmically, and his cock filling that perfect spot he often dreamed about.

He craved the thought of losing himself in a passionate frenzy with you, where your thoughts were consumed by him and the intense desire between you. He longed for you to be utterly captivated, pleading for release, desperate for more. The bulge in Harry’s pants was undeniable evidence of his arousal, with his cock straining against the fabric, pre-cum dampening the area. The urgency was clear; if he didn’t address this soon, he feared he might lose control entirely.

“I really need to use the bathroom, can’t hold it much longer,” he feigned, and you glanced up at him. “Oh! It’s fine, I’ll stay here; Ron doesn’t have many people ahead of him anyway,” you reassured with a smile. “Are you sure?” Harry asked, subtly concealing his erection with his hand. “Absolutely, I’ll give you a heads-up when Ron and Hermione return,” you replied cheerfully, waving him off.

He stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him. Harry. He was convinced you were unwittingly tormenting him. Moving swiftly, Harry removed his trousers almost in a rush. He scolded himself internally, knowing he shouldn’t indulge in these thoughts. Yet, the vivid memories of you persisted, the way the short skirt highlighted your curves, how your lips moved as you focused on Ron.

Every memory of you transformed into a tantalizing fantasy, his mind conjuring images of your lips enveloping him, your tongue teasing him, and those innocent eyes gazing up at him. Harry couldn’t resist any longer as he crawled into bed, attempting to muffle his sounds of pleasure while freeing himself from his boxers. His cock responded eagerly, throbbing harder as he teased himself, spreading pre-cum along the tip with a hiss of arousal.

His throat emitted a deep groan as he shut his eyes, his trembling hands gliding slowly up his throbbing length. Harry’s mind was consumed by thoughts of you, aching with desire. His cock felt almost feverish in his grasp, pulsing with insatiable need. He craved you desperately, imagining you quivering beneath him, yearning for every part of you, begging for him. He longed to be inside you, expressing his love as he filled you completely.

The intensity of his desire surged as he envisioned filling you completely, not stopping until you were overflowing with his cum, coating your inner walls. His grip on himself tightened feverishly, his knuckles turning white with the force. But Harry disregarded the discomfort, driven by the vivid images of you that fueled his arousal. This overwhelming passion was unprecedented for him, feeling like he was losing control, utterly captivated by you. You were like an addictive substance, impossible for him to resist, and it tormented him knowing he couldn’t satisfy his craving.

Despite his efforts, Harry struggled to contain his moans, his mind inundated with explicit images of you. He envisioned you with your mouth agape, tongue eagerly awaiting his release, craving the sensation of his warm essence cascading down your throat. “Fuck—fucking slut,” he uttered involuntarily, intensifying his grip on himself. “Such—such a pretty baby for me, yea?” he praised in his mind, picturing you in vivid detail.

Without hesitation, Harry reached for his wallet tucked inside his trousers, retrieving a picture of you as he felt himself nearing climax. He studied the image intently, a string of curses escaping his lips. In the photograph, you stood beside him, and there was Ron. A surge of anger coursed through his veins at the sight of Ron, knowing that these feelings were utterly wrong. Yet, every fiber of his being resented Ron for having you. His thumb instinctively covered Ron’s face in the picture, his grip tightening as he fixated on you.

You looked incredibly beautiful in the photo. Your hands were delicately wrapped around his waist, leaning towards him with a radiant smile that made you look so genuinely happy. The dress you wore was stunningly small, emphasizing your curves, and your breasts were snug against the top, driving Harry wild with desire. His grip on himself tightened as he pictured you naked, imagining you squirming beneath him. “Please, Harry,” your voice echoed in his mind.

“Please, Harry. Cum inside of me,” he envisioned you whispering, your voice filled with longing. “Please, baby.. need your cum.” The image of you batting your lashes at him, tears glistening in your innocent eyes, intensified his desire. Harry relished in the fantasy of you begging for his release, fueling his need to fill you completely. The mental image of his essence spilling inside you consumed his thoughts.

Harry reveled in the fantasy of you begging for his release, his desire to fill you completely with his essence. The thought of you pleading for him flooded his mind, igniting every inch of his being. “Please, Harry, wanna be filled with your load,” he imagined you whimpering, the desperation in your voice driving him wild. “I’m gonna make you mine, honey,” he promised, his arousal heightening as he envisioned claiming you completely. “Shit—gonna fuck my load into you, yeah, baby?” he groaned, his strokes growing more fervent as he gripped the picture tightly. “Make you my fuckin’ cum dump,” he cursed, consumed by the desire to have you completely. “I’m yours, Harry,” he envisioned you mewling for him, and that final thought pushed him over the edge.

He released his warm essence over the picture, his loud groans of pleasure echoing in the room. He couldn’t stifle his satisfaction as he admired the image, his cum adorning your pretty face in the photograph. Just as he thought he was caught, you called out for him, and Harry froze in panic. He quickly covered himself as you yelled about Ron and Hermione being done waiting in line. Relief washed over him, knowing you hadn’t heard his explicit thoughts. You were indeed a tempting distraction, pushing him to the brink every time.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry james potter imagine #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry potter smut #harry james potter #ron weasley x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley #ron weasly x reader

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konigsfavwife · 4 months

Text

“Wake up Ron!”

Summary: you and Ron have dated since your third year. During summers you’d often go to the Burrow, staying over for multiple days at a time. You loved Ron dearly but he was such an odd sleeper…

Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff, no use of y/n??

Word count: 532

Authors note: my lordddd i can’t say how much I love this man he’s literally so fine 😋

It was early in the morning, waking up to the feeling of someone’s limbs sprawled out over your chest. You mumbled sitting up and seeing Ron’s soft red hair make a mess on his pillow, his body thrown over yours. You looked at him with a little laugh as you moved his arm off your chest, putting it over his own chest.

“ron get up..” you mumbled, standing up from his bed and stretching her arms above her head. Ron completely ignored her as he snores quite loudly. “my Merlin your gonna be the death of me.”you huffed slipping on a pair of slippers and walking into the kitchen where Molly started making breakfast.

“oh good morning dear! I’m almost finished making Breakfast, would you be an angel and try to wake up Ron? He’s quite impossible to wake up in the mornings” Molly teased as she faced you. “good morning Molly” you smiled at her. “But of course, I’ll try” you laughed a little and walked back upstairs into Ron’s room.

As you walked into his room, he sprawled even farther on the bed, his arm on each ends of the bed, as the same with his legs. Practically looking like a starfish. Then again another merlin-forbidden snore left him. “Ron get up!” you said as you poked his chest. Ron didn’t even respond, instead he shoved his head into his pillow, snuggling up into his blanket and pillow. “ron my merlin get up..” you huffed, shaking him awake. “bloody hell what do you want?” Ron grumbled as he sat up, a pout visible on his lips. “for you to wake up. your mom is cooking breakfast so she wants you up” you yawned as you sat down, kicking off your slippers and sat beside him. Ron huffed and sat up beside you. “well good morning to you too you big baby” you huffed. “dont call me that.” Ron mumbled, turning to face you. “fine, I won’t just wake up please?” you asked with a fake pout. “I am up.” Ron mumbled. “my jeez your so dramatic Ron.” you rolled your eyes as you moved your head a little to face him. “shut up.” Ron mumbled.

“now do you want to go downstairs?” you asked, a little smile appearing on your lips at his pout. “no. I don’t feel like taking to them right now. It’s to early..” Ron huffed dramatically as he laid down once again, but his arms wrapped around your waist snuggly. “im not going anywhere Ron..” you huffed a little, your hands finding themselves lost in his red hair. “that feels nice..” Ron mumbled as he laid his head in your lap. “go back to bed…” you sighed, knowing he did this every morning when he didn’t want to wake up. Ron only nodded before quickly dragging you back down to lay with him. Ron’s arms wrapped around your waist as his chest pressed up against your back, his chin placed on the crook of your shoulder. “I love you, you big baby.” you hummed softly as you snuggled into the pillow. “yea yea I love you too..” Ron mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on your jawline

#ron weasley #ronald weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ron x reader #ron x y/n #Ron hc #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron fan fiction #sleeping beauty #ron wealsey x y/n #ron Weasley hc

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iloveinej · 2 years

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Sick of the Silence

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore ends you friendship over a rumor spred by Rita Skita

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of starving, insecurities, Rita Skita

Words: 6.1k

꧁꧂

You sneakily made your way towards the tent that the competitors were sharing. The air was very damp today, and the weather was starting to get colder. But you couldn't understand how you were still freezing even though you had your old winter boots on, along with Theo's scarf tightly wrapped around your neck

When you stood infront the tent, you carefully lifted the tent entrance to the side and feeling lucky when you saw that Harry was the only one left.

Quickly, you took a leap, and Harry felt his soul leave is chest when he felt someone close his arms around him.

"Merlin! Y/n have you lost your mind." You didn't listen to him.

"First place Harry! And with a Horntail!" You gushed making Harry look down on the ground bashfully.

"Thanks, but you should've seen Cedric." He replied quietly, slowly continuing to peel off his destroyed items.

You sighed as you watched him, taking great sadness in the fact that he didn't even take an ounce of credit.

"Harry, you beat that dragon. With your own strength and mind. Be proud of yourself. Becuase I am certainly." You quietly said, before taking ahold of him again and bringing him into one more hug.

And you smiled to yourself when you felt him slowly start to hug you back.

What broke you out of the hug was a very bright flash, and the sound of a sharp giggle running through the tent. You and Harry quickly separated from your hug, and you felt an unfamiliar uneasiness set into your stomach as you watched Rita Skita and her magic quill.

She sighed dramatically.

"What a scandal." That was all that she said before she left the tent. This could never end well.

꧁꧂

Theodore had never felt the feeling that was currently streaming in his veins. His fingers were grasped tightly around the peace of news, feeling an urge to tear the picture of you and Harry hugging in to shreddes.

Theodore felt betrayed. Wether it was by you or his feelings, he didn't know. But he were aware that you were not the one to blame, it wasn't your fault that you fell for Harry. But oh how he wished that he could blame you and not himself. To not blame himself for being such a coward.

He cleared his throat and forcefully folded the paper before throwing it on the table, getting a last glimpse of the title before he dragged his feet to his first class. Not having the strength in his heart to wait for you, to afraid that tears would be spilled.

Mrs Y/l/n taking her chance with the Harry Potter after he was betrayed by miss Granger for going to his rival.

You watched as Theo hurriedly walked out from the Great Hall, not even looking your way as he exited. You furrowed your eyebrows as you could catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw and white knuckles. If you didn't know any better, he looked hurt. And it deeply concerned you since that wasn't a feeling you wanted the young boy to feel.

꧁꧂

Luna and Cho looked at you with worry in their eyes. You'd been acting strange ever since breakfast. You were not concentrating on your lessons, your hands drawing strange doodles or figures on your paper instead of writing down your notes.

They had also seen the way Theodore stormed out the dining hall this morning, but they didn't think that his pissy mood would affect yours as much as it did.

You had tried all day to get a hold of Theodore, but you almost thought that he'd disappeared from the castle grounds by how quickly he was nowhere to be seen. But the suspicions were luckily blown away when you saw him walking down the moving stairs with his friends from the Slytherin house.

"Theo!" You called, trying to catch his attention, and feeling successful when he heard you. The beat of your heart increased when searched for you, but the look that he gave you was something unusual.

The absolute anguish that his face was painted in shocked you to the core. You'd never seen him look that way at you.

But it disappeared in only a second, and instead, he looked at you with stoic eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably as he stared at you, and you felt yourself having troubles meeting them.

"Ehm, I was wondering if you'd like to study later?" The slight unsure voice that you had made you internally cringe, and you hoped that he didn't notice it.

Theodore could both hear and see your strange behavior, and it was bothering him. You didn't look like you even wanted him in your presence.

Like you were tired of him when you finally got together with Harry Potter. But he wasn't a chore for you to keep company, so he decided to make that clear. Even if something in the back was screaming at him.

"No, I'm busy." You cringed slightly at the cold tone that he used. That wasn't what you were used to. He'd never used that voice with you.

"Oh alright. I'll see you tomorrow then." But he'd already started to walk away again, trying to catch up with the rest of the Slytherins. You frowned as a dark feeling settled in your heart. It wasn't the fact that he declined. It was the fact that he sneered it at you. You'd gotten so used to his soft and melodic voice that you'd forgotten how sharp it could be.

But you did your best to not let the little spot of blackness poison your thoughts. So instead you just kept moving for the Ravenclaw tower.

꧁꧂

It went by two entire days before you had the chance to speak to him again, and you offered to study once more. And to your relief, he said yes.

So you took your books in your hands that night and slipped through the shadows, down to the Slytherin's common room. You pretended to not see anyone as Blaize Zabini let you into the common room. You knew that they weren't fond of you, best friend and almost cousin to Harry Potter, friends with their pureblood Theodore Nott.

You silently thanked Blaize and he gave you a kind smile in return. Blaize was one of the few of Theo's housemates that didn't despise you. And you were grateful for that because never in your life would you want to get on his bad side.

When you opened the door to Theo's shared room, you were immediately hit by the smell of Peach tea, old books, and cologne. The smell of Theo made your ears warm and your nose take an extra deep breath, liking the comfort that it brought.

You quietly stepped inside and walked to the bed that Theo was sitting in. His back was resting on his headboard and a charms book was resting on his lap.

He didn't blink an eye when you stepped inside, but he probably didn't even hear you in the first place.

"Hello there." You smiled at him as you laid your books down on his bed. He looked up through his eyelashes and gave you a tight-lipped smile before he went back to the book, the "smile" already gone from his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you wished that your brain would shut up. It wasn't un-normal for Theo not to verbally answer you, but he would make it up with a warm smile or something similar.

Feeling embarrassed, you timidly sat yourself down on the foot of the soft bed, before picking up your charms book. Your finger ran up the old and flaked back of the book as you tried to concentrate.

Although you knew that you needed to study, the feeling was overpowered by the need to take find out what was through his pretty mind.

"So, how've your days been?" Theodore looked almost startled by your question as he snapped his eyes up to meet your y/e/c ones. But when he slowly lowered them again, you felt disappointed.

"It was alright. Was quiet." He answered absent-mindedly. But you smiled lightly to yourself, knowing it was probably a bit quieter when you weren't around. He told you once that he liked how you drowned out the silence from his ears.

"It was quite nice actually."Oh. It took a while for you to register his words. But you did, and for a while, you wondered if he knew what he said. It was a big concern of yours, that you talked too much that is. You thought that he at least found it bearable.

But you didn't want him to think that he hurt you, especially if he only thought about it as a mindless joke or comment, so you gave him a chuckle that felt like it would tear your throat open for blood.

Theodore heard you swallow hard, and it was obvious why. He hadn't thought about the words as they left his mouth. But for some reason, it felt like he should hurt you for what you did to him. Even I'd you were completely innocent to it.

He felt regret hit him exactly two seconds later like a punch in his gut.

He cleared his throat, and your eyes quickly shot up to him.

"I'm tired today, so you should probably leave so that I can get some sleep." He mumbled, looking you straight in the eye with those foreign, distant eyes.

You sighed in dismay, now knowing that something wasn't right.

"Theo, are you alright?" You placed your hand on his leg. Theo swallowed down the guilt he felt and gave you a pitiful nod. But the look in your eyes told him that you didn't quite believe him, and the thought of you caring so much about him made a little smile bloom on his face.

"I'm okay, I promise." He told you lowly, and you let out another sigh, nodding slightly before starting to gather your books.

You knew that he was lying, and you despised it when he lied. Because you always assumed that he would tell you if something was bothering him.

But apparently, he required time, and you were willing to give it to him. But not too much.

Because out of the personal experience, you know that suffering in silence would get you nowhere.

"Goodnight, Theo. Sleep well." You gave him a last smile but didn't stay long enough to see him give you one back.

꧁꧂

"I don't know what's going on with him, Hermione." You sighed, dragging your hands over your face. The entire ordeal was stressing you out, and you didn't know what to do about it. You would try to talk to him, that is if you could catch him since he has been avoiding you like a plague ever since that night.

Hermione sat besides you in the dining hall, a frown on her face as she thought about your situation. She watched as you concealed the lower half of your face in your sweater clad arms in despair.

"And you did try to speak to him?" She interrogated and you nodded, finding interest in one of her quills.

"Yes, but as I said I don't think that he even wants to talk about it with me." It was quiet between you for a while, and you took a small sip of your green tea.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel comfortable around me anymore. I might have said something to provoke him?" You questioned yourself and Hermione stared at you with sympathy in her eyes.

She reached forward and grabbed one of your hands in her own.

"Don't think like that, by what you have told me in the past, that doesn't sound like Theodore at all. So stop letting those harmful thoughts get to you." You looked down and your and Hermoine's tied hands, before meeting her eyes and nodding. It soothed your anxious thoughts a little, to know that you had someone that would help you through anything.

꧁꧂

The rest of the day went by slowly, as it had the other days prior. You didn't have anything to look forward to, since Theo didn't meet you after class anymore. And you were beginning to get impatient and restless, waiting for something that you weren't sure was going to happen.

You didn't have anyone to speak about music to, among every other topic that you would sit and discuss with Theo on your days. And during this time of loneliness, you realized truly how much you depended on him. He was what continued to keep your head over the water, never letting you sink under the pressure. He was what everyone would need to survive, he was like water.

And you were slowly dying without him.

You slowly rose from your bed, realizing that you couldn't lay here with your depressing thoughts. So you decided for a a stroll in the castle.

In the middle of the courtyard sat a small group of Beauxbaton girls, which were almost the only people you'd seen this entire afternoon, but oh to behold. On the other side, in the window of the wall, sat a boy with dark curly hair with his nose in a book.

And in that moment you had been patient enough.

He didn't notice when you stopped in front of him, to intertwine with the words on the pages. You didn't want to disturb him, but this time you had to put yourself first. So you loudly cleared your throat to catch his attention.

Theodore almost jumped when he heard it, and when he met your eyes he felt like his heart was jumping out of his throat. He was not prepared to see you standing in front of him.

You tilted your head as he quickly closed his book and put down his feet from the windowsill. It was an awkward silence, no one saying anything as Theodore nervously played with his fingers.

"Hi, Theo." You took the first step, wanting this game of cat and mouse to be over. He awkwardly lifted his fingers as a reply, and you frowned as he wouldn't look at you.

"Theo, I have given you time, and I don't want to pressure you but I don't think this is good for you?" You tried your best to gain eye contact, but it didn't work so you just ended up settling beside him.

"That what isn't good for me?" He sounded almost irritated and you were a bit taken back.

"That you're pulling yourself away from people, it's not healthy."

"I'm not pulling myself away from people." He nearly interrupted me, and I fretted at his words.

"So you're only pulling yourself away from me then? Why?" Theo swallowed hard at your question. He didn't dare to tell you, but he wished that he could be so selfish so that he could. But it wasn't right of him to destroy your first relationship.

"I just don't feel like talking, why can you not understand that." He told you sternly, and you saw his awkward posture and behavior melt into something harsh and hostile once again.

"I do understand, but this thing is affecting our friendship." It was quiet, and Theodore just stared out through the opposite window, not answering, or even giving a sign that he listened.

"Theodore I miss speaking to you. And I miss being with you." Theo tensed at the mention of his full name falling from your lips, and he saw you lean back as he suddenly stood up.

"Well, I can't handle you speaking to me right now. I'm tired of it, and I need space." He looked you right in the eye when he said it. And you felt your chest contract painfully as you saw no regret in his eyes.

You looked down on your lap, not knowing how to continue after your unsuccessful attempt to get him talking. And now only that but his words were beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry Theo, I didn't want to push you." You said, your despair stuck in your throat like poison. He didn't answer, only looking down upon you with empty eyes. You tried to search for any feeling in his face, but nothing was shown, not even a small ounce of sadness.

Theodore slowly started to walk past you and you followed him with your eyes as he walked. You felt helpless and afraid. Like if you didn't do something right now, he would leave you forever.

A painful huff left Theodore's pink lips when he felt something squeezing him painfully hard around his slender waist. And he didn't have to look down to know that he would see your y/h/c hair, and he certainly didn't want to, since he would be at his knees, apologizing the second he did. So he just stood there and stared. Not move his arms to embrace you, but neither moves out of your hug.

You waited for him to embrace you like he always did. For his arms to envelope your head while he stroked your hair. But nothing came. His chest was tense against your cheek, but you didn't care. You were not going to let him go until he at least patted you on the back.

"Y/n, let go." He tried to instruct you, and he sighed when you only tighten your arms harder around him. He let his head fall to the side in frustration. It didn't matter that he liked to have your arms around him, because right now it was painful, and it was not because of your hand grip.

A spark of hope ignited in your chest as you felt him move his arms, and you felt yourself relax when his fingertips grace your sleeves.

A yelp left your throat as you felt his slender hands take a hard grip around your wrists. He easily pried your hands apart as you were in slight shock, and he swiftly threw your arms off him before storming down the corridor. Past a certain black-haired male with round glasses, with good ears to be added.

You watched him walk, to get away from you as if you were the pest. Labored breaths escaped your nose as your tears were kept at bay. Storming away from the corridor, you needed to find a place to be alone at.

꧁꧂

Later you found yourself on a stone staircase with your head leaned against Harry's shoulder and his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He tried to console your choked cries, but nothing seemed to help. He realized that this was the first time that you'd cried in front of him. Remus used to tell him how you were a sensitive child when young, but Harry would've never guessed. Especially by the lack of despair, you showed during the years that you'd known him.

A cold wind went through the open wall, and he watched as the sky cried with you.

Footsteps were heard in the distance, but your cries made you unable to hear them. Harry turned his head towards the opening as he heard someone stop in it, and was surprised to see Nott in all his glory, looking at you with guilty eyes.

Harry suspects that he didn't notice him at first because it seemed to take a second before realizing whose arms you were in. And when Theodore met his eyes, they turned into stone. But Harry wasn't blind.

He saw the heartbreak since it matched the eyes that Hermoine had for Ron after I said something idiotic.

꧁꧂

When Mattheo and Blaize entered their shared room, they were expecting to find Theodore with either you, sleeping, or his nose in a new book. Not his back faced against the door, head in his hands and elbow resting on his legs as pitiful sniffles echoed through the room.

Their conversation came to an end when they realized what was happening, and they gave each other a look before walking up to the bed.

"Nott, what's up with you?" Mattheo asked carelessly, earning a jab in the ribs.

"Don't be a twat." Blaize hissed.

Theodore quickly wiped his cheeks and eyes before sitting up in his bed, leaning his back on the head board with bent knees.

He didn't look at them.

"Nothing of your concern." His voice cracked.

He did end up telling about the things that'd happen, obviously not in detail, but enough of the story so that his two friends could understand, and later leave them alone.

Blaize couldn't decide on where to stand. Theodore was his friend, and he understood what situation he'd gotten himself into. But he also thought that Theodore had been a dick.

"Come on Nott, it's only a girl. There so much better things in the world than girls." Mattheo casually said from his bed while he changed his rooms for his evening clothes.

Blaize snorted from his place on Theo's bed, and Mattheos head emidiatly snapped towards him, sending him a deadly glare.

"Like you know how to fall in love Mattheo." Blaize adjusted his collar at the emotionless voice of Theodore, and he waited patiently for Mattheo to snap at him. But was mildly surprised when he only laughed at him.

"I'm serious, I don't know what to do. I don't even think I can do anything."

"But it's just a crush right? It will fade in time Theo." Blaize thought that he's words would bring a little bit of comfort to the distressed Slytherin. He wasn't right.

"I haven't met someone that cared for me like that since my mother died."

The room went airily quiet. And both of them turned towards Theodore, who was again carrying tears in his long lashes.

꧁Two months later꧂

Second tournament

He felt weak. And the screaming of different students around him was hurting his eardrums. He wished that he could crawl back to his bed, or maybe just to lay down on the damp wood under his feet.

Thedore looked sick. His face had gained a new gray colour to it, and usual circles under his eyes had increased tenfold. It had even gotten so bad that his clothes wasn't fitting as they should anymore.

He anxiously chewed on his nails. He hadn't caught a glimpse of you in two entire days. He was aware that you weren't talking anymore, that you haven't had an interaction since that day two months ago. But he felt guilty, but he's chance to apologize was ruined by his pettiness when he saw you in Harry Potters arms, and since then he thought that it was to late. Though it didn't stop him to keep you in check.

Ever since that day, he'd watched over you. Not following you or starring at you. Only making sure that you were still there. He remember those days that he hadn't caught a glimpse of you. He wouldn't be able to sleep, loud thoughts making it so quiet in the room as he wondered where you were.

The water started to ripple when he saw Cedric Diggory emerge with Cho Chang in his arms, your friend.

The Hogwart's students exploded in shouts and jubilation of glee as he was pulled up from the watter.

Theodore didn't give to shits about who won. The need to find you was growing by the second, making his mind go hazy.

The Durmstrangs shouted proudly as Viktor Krum came out of the water, Hermione Granger besides him, looking very confused and cold.

Another one of her friends.

Gasps, shouts and screams was heard when, instead of Harry, two girls apeared in the water.

Your head violently turned as you heard the shouts around you. And you realised quickly that you'd been rescued from the second task. But you didn't mask your confusion as you were met with a young blond girl instead of Harry, but you didn't have any time to waste so you quickly helped her towards the stand.

When you were finally dragged up people started to surround you with blankets, pats on the back, and even a few hugs from the closest.

You didn't even notice when Harry was shot up from the water since you were shaking in your shoes while feeling over stimulated by the people around you.

"Y/n!" You didn't get time to see the person that had desperately shouted your name, becuase before you even had time to think, arms had circled your neck and you were quite forcefully pulled into someone. And when your nose hit their chest you emidiatly realised who it was.

Theo was holding you in a death grip, squeezing you as you slowly circled you arms around him.

"Theo." You whispered, and with the call of his name he let you go, but he didn't leave you. He messily took of his green and grey scarf, and began to wrap it around your neck and when he was done with that he darted to quickly wipe your still wet face with hid cold hands, felling desperate to feel your skin.

"Theo." He stopped, hands shaking and eyes wide. You didn't look at him with anger. You didn't look at him with a sad eye. You looked worried. His face was slimmer and he certainly didn't look all to well. He was breathing heavily, as if he just ha been pulled out of a nightmare.

He watched intently as you raised your hand to his cheek, and butterfly erupted in his stomach. He almost wanted to cry when you stopped yourself.

You hadn't forgotten how he treated you. You wanted to, but the actions had already been done and the words had been thrown. And he hadn't even apologized.

"Nott!" Mattheo roared as the crowd started to leave and Theadore requlantly stood up before leaving you and his scarf to go to his friends. You followed him with your eyes as he got into the boat, taking some time to just look on his face.

He is so beutiful. With hid straight nose, sharp jaw and big tired brown eyes. You wanted to blame the heat on your cheeks on the drastical temperature changes, you couldn't believe that you were still so in love with him after everything he's done.

You yelped as you were hoisted up on your legs by two pair of arms and smiled when you saw a drenched Hermione and a happy Ron on your sides.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked you, not hiding her excitement.

"Yeah, Nott just hugged you infront of the entire bloody school, what's gotten into that bloke." Ron said in disbelief as you began to walk towards the boats.

"Oh don't you get Ronald, it's love." Hermione smiled happily, and you laughed as Ronald shook his head until you realised what she said.

"What do you mean by 'love'?" You eyed her carefully, but she casually ignored you as she sat down on a boat, dragging you and Ron with her.

"She has a bet with Fred and George about who's going to confess first. Fred and George thinks that Nott is going to confess first by the last trial." Ron explained, before Hermione interrupted him.

"And I believe that Theodore is going to confess sometime around the second task, more exactly, today." You looked at Hermoine with a fish mouth. In your entire time of knowing Hermoine, you have never heard her make a bet. Especially not on a so stupid thing as your love life.

"What makes you belive that? He hasn't spoken to me in two months!" You exclaimed while holding up two figners.

Hermione looked at with an odd expression.

"I'm sorry are you blind? Have you seen him the last week. He's been looking at you like a homeless kitten. It's sad really." Hermione looked forwards again and you only shook your head at her.

"But why did no one bet on me to confess first?" You slapped your hand of your mouth as you realised what you said, and Hermoine let out a gasp.

"So you do like him!?" You hushed her quickly, looking around you to make sure that no one was listening to you conversation.

"Shut it, I don't need the entire school to know." You hissed when the boat came to a stop.

"Oh belive me, the entire school does already know." Ron concluded as he stepped out from the boat. Hermione glared at him as they walked, but he only smiled lightly.

Suddenly, they stopped and you casted your eyes forwards, only to see Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Bekshire standing infront of you. You looked in between them quiestongly.

"Uh, hello." Lorenzo said bashfully with a smile on his face. Ron and Hemoine looked doubtfully between the two boys as they stood infront of them, Lorenzo trying to make small talk while Mattheo looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than infront of them.

"Alright that's enough." Mathheo interrupted Lorenzos talk about the weather before grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging you away from your friends.

"Come on, we need to talk." You looked in panic back towards Ron and Hermoine, who booth looked as confused as you felt. You looked at Lorenzo as he caught up with you, and gave you a bright smile, which you returned with an unsure smile from yourself.

You wanted to ask where you were going, but you didn't have to when you saw the rest of the slytherins, along with Theo standing there and talking mindlessly.

You emidiatly tensed up and tried to struggle out of Mattheos hard grip.

"Nuh uh. You two are going to speak to each other today. I'm tired of getting woken up by Notts crying in the middle of the bloody night." He mumbled, and began to drag you towards them again.

Had Theo been crying?

"Nott!" Mattheo yelled, gaining the attention of the small group. Theodore felt his heart drop when he saw who was with them. As if it were an instict, he tried to find a way out of it, not really feeling the need to meet your dissepointment for real.

But a hand on his holder stopped his head from moving around.

"Theodore, this is your only chance to make it right. You have to tell her." Blaize whispered, and Theodore pursed lips knowing that he was right. So with heavy feet, he walked up to you.

Lorenzo gave you a nodd, before walking along with the rest of the group, who was giving you strange looks before Lorenzo had started to sho them away.

It was quiet, the only thing that was heard was the splashing of the waves against the shore, and the wind blowing in the trees.

"Theodore wha-."

"How are you and Harry?" You watched as his face contorted into a fake smile, stuffing his hands even further down his black coat.

"Me and Harry?" He looked at you with his eyebrows together, as if it was obvious that it was you and Harry.

"It's... good? I'm sorry I don't really understand." Theodore sighed as he kicked in the dirt, feeling anxious towards your calculating eyes.

"Nothing."

"Are you still cold?" He asked, finally finding the courage to meet your eye once again. He swallowed hard when he saw your sad frown as you shook your head, trying to apear to be glader than you really were.

"No, your scarf is warm." Now it was your turn to look away. His big brown eyes were starring at with the same softness that you hadn't seen for two months.

"I-.. I'm sorry. I never meant to be so... distant." He chocked out. He looked like he was in pain. And he probably felt like it to. You looked at him as he swallowed and harkeld as he waited for you to say something.

"Did i do something, Theodore?" You said in low voice. For the first time ever, you felt intimidated by his precens. The way his body slightly towers your own, how his eyes constantly loomed over you face.

"No. Of course not." He sighed after a beat of silence. He took a step closer to you, not feeling comfortable to be so far away from you. An you looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Theodore, if you're going to say something i want you to say it now, otherwise I'll leave." It was quiet for a moment and Theodore felt stuck.

He watched as you sighed deeply, looking down on the ground before swiftly walking by him.

Theodore reacted instantly. Before you were able to walk any further, he quickly took a strong hold on your wrist forcing you to stop. And you ended up standing shoulder against shoulder, with his against the lake and your eyes on the leaf covored ground, turned towards the forest.

"Y/n." He said. You didn't react.

"Y/n, look at me." He sternly ordered, and you could feel that he was staring at the side of your head. His hand slightly tightened in an almost possessive way around your wrist, and you couldn't lie that it brought a nervous feeling to your stomach.

His hand slowly started to raise from your wrist, his fingertips slowly tracing the length of your arm, and you wanted to belive that you could feel the warmth of his fingertips through the layers of your soaked clothes and blankets.

"I want to be selfish." He spoke lowly and melancholy. You were confused because it didn't even sound like he was speaking to you.

His continued up towards your face, and you took a deep breath with you felt his knuckles starting to steadily graze your cheek.

"I love you."

You snapped your head towards him feeling anger rise faster than a rocket in you chest. Angry tears hung in your lashes, and maybe in different scenario you would have been happier, but your butterflies had no chance do defeat the flames of your anger.

"You're a coward." His face fell the second he heard your words.

"I know my love." He sadly smiled at me as he soothed his palm over you cheek.

"You didn't speak to me for months, only because you liked me? You hurt me, Theo." You tried to confirm what you were hearing, but it was hard to keep your voice steady.

"I didn't speak to you for months because I'm in love with you." His forehead made contact with the side of your head.

"I didn't speak to you for months because if I did I would become selfish, and if I did I would destroy everything that you and Potter have together." He slowly lowered his head, so that he could peck you by the ear before he left, but was disappointed when you abruptly pulled away from him.

"What is this constant japing about me and Harry?! I have never in my life been in love with him, let alone dating him!" You shouted, your frustration running amock as you realized how utterly dumb Theodore Nott was.

"You ignored me for two months because you thought I was in love with Harry?" You quietened down when you saw the startled eyes that Theo gave you after you shouted.

He didn't answer, only continued to stare at you with big eyes.

"Theodore Nott, if you had just told me about your feelings nothing of this would have happened. I would be yours by now if you just to-" Something warm touched your top lip, which made your voice get lost in the autumn air. Your eyes were blown wide as you saw Theo being so close to you with your eyes closed, his big hands on your cheeks and his soft lips on yours.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, and he felt his cheeks become red when he saw your pupil-blown eyes starring at him

"Close your eyes." He mumbled shyly against your lips, and when you did as he said, he collected one more kiss. This on being directly in the middle of your lips.

Your arms hung limply at your sides as you tried your best to kiss him back.

When he pulled away his breath was much shakier than he intended it to be, and he felt embarrassed when a lonely tear escaped his eye.

You quickly stood up on your toes, and kissed him right under his closed eye, tasting the salt of his tear on your lips as you pulled away.

"Theo."

"I'm sorry. I should never have done that to you."

"Theo I think I'm in love with you."

꧁ end ꧂

I think it was a little half as but whatevs

Thanks to @eunoiathewriter for helping me with the idea!

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