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It had been seventy-two hours since Hermione had become intimately acquainted with Sirius Black's mouth—or more specifically, his tongue—and she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.
Not because she was embarrassed by what happened. Circe, no. She was a grown woman. Independently, self-reliant, and headstrong. If she wanted to fool around with two men at the same time, then so be it. She could make that choice.
Not because he was Harry's godfather. Was there a tiny part of her that felt guilty about it? Sure, but it was miniscule at best. Sirius was fit! It had taken a good several months following his Azkaban escape, but the deranged homeless look had faded, and he'd returned to his former glory.
And certainly not because of their age gap. Two decades wasn't exactly a small slip of time, but twenty years hardly mattered when the average life expectancy of wizards was easily ten times that.
It was because she couldn't look at him without remembering how it felt to have him between her legs. The soft scratch of his stubble against her inner thighs, the hot press of his tongue against her cunt, and the silken texture of his hair sliding between her fingers as she rode his tongue and fingers into ecstasy.
It was because she couldn't catch a whiff of his cologne lingering in the hallway without being taken back to the bliss, and she wasn't exactly ready to navigate the dynamics of their new relationship.
So, she busied herself instead.
She took on an extra project at work.
She found new books from the Grimmauld Place library to occupy her mind.
And she stayed at Malfoy's—something she normally avoided at all costs.
She'd successfully managed to avoid Sirius for three whole days, but she'd run out of clean clothes, and Harry was out on assignment which meant Crooks needed to be fed.
Which meant, when the familiar long-legged gait sounded with the distinct pattern of heading down the stairs, Hermione was literally forced to finally face the one person she'd been avoiding.
"Do you have any digestives that aren't chocolate?" Malfoy was rummaging through her cupboards, ignoring every social protocol that would make his search not only inappropriate but also rather rude.
"Uh…" Hermione's eyes flickered back and forth from the kitchen door to the blond, her feet frozen as if she'd walked into a sticking charm.
Fuck.
Shit.
She needed to move—run! She could pop into the pantry and Apparate up to her room. Malfoy could figure it out, right? He was a smart man, surely he'd manage to make his way up the stairs in a few minutes.
"Milk chocolate, dark chocolate… caramel?" The crumple of plastic wrappers being moved about was followed by a distinctly sharp sigh. "What in the bloody hell. How is it you have four sleeves and not a single one is original?"
The world felt like it was moving in slow motion when the kitchen door finally opened. She turned around to see Sirius raise his brows, clearly not expecting to find either of them there, though beyond the subtle lift, he didn't let any shock colour his expression.
His lips curled upward as he strolled into the room, letting the kitchen door swing shut behind him. "Well, hello stranger," he practically purred as he crossed the room, grey eyes drinking in Hermione with a slow, lingering gaze that made her skin prickle. "Haven't seen you in a bit."
She returned her attention to the tin of cat food she'd been retrieving from the pantry. When her fingers curled around the metal, she was suddenly keenly aware that her pale cotton sundress was probably revealing far more of her flushed skin than she'd intended.
Clearing her throat, Hermione dropped her eyes to the can, painted nail tapping at the side. "Yeah… I've uh… been busy."
"Apparently." She watched as he casually leaned against the long kitchen table and crossed his arms over his chest. "Has my little cousin kept you rather occupied? He never was very good at sharing."
A sharp snort from across the kitchen made her look up, and she watched as Draco shut the cupboard with a quick flick of his wrist before turning around. "I would argue that I am quite comfortable with sharing, seeing as I was the one who initiated your little session with Granger in the first place."
"But you've kept her away since."
Malfoy leaned back against the countertop, cuffed trousers slipping up his ankle as he crossed his legs in a lean that screamed more smug than casual. "Hardly. She's claimed the right side of my mattress through no encouragement from me."
When Sirius tilted his head to the side, Hermione could make out the stripes of silver that wove through his dark black hair, the shoulder length locks framing his angular face. Damn him for being so bloody handsome. It would be easier to ignore the pulse of desire if he were even remotely plain looking—he needn't even be ugly at this point, just not so dreadfully fit.
"Is that true, Kitten?" Sirius carded careless fingers through his hair. "Have you been avoiding me?"
Yes.
Of course.
Absolutely.
"Nope." She popped her p for emphasis, digging her nail into the paper label on the tin.
"Are all Gryffindors terrible liars, or is it just the swotty ones?" Draco mused, tapping his finger against pursed lips.
"Just the swots. Most of us are excellent at hiding our hands." Sirius pushed off the table, moving across the room in that familiar loose-hipped swagger that made her mouth grow dry. "Did I do something wrong, Kitten?"
"What? No. Of course not." Hermione edged backwards, matching each of Sirius' steps with her own until she felt the pantry door against her back. "I've just—"
"Oh please, Granger. Nearly every bloody time I've made you come all you could think about was the two of us, so let's not try to pretend you're not thinking about what happened."
Her eyes must have been the size of saucers, because the sharp bark of Sirius' laughter that filled the kitchen was more than slightly mortifying. She looked away from the older wizard, wishing now more than even she was skilled with wandless magic. "You've been using Legilimency on me?"
"Not on purpose." Malfoy shrugged. "You think so bloody loud that it's impossible not to pick something up."
Her fingers clenched and tightened her jaw until she was seconds away from cracking a molar. Her thoughts were supposed to be her own! She shouldn't have to worry about keeping mind blocks up while getting off—and she certainly shouldn't have to explain her thoughts. Not to Malfoy and certainly not to Sirius—especially considering they weren't supposed to know in the bloody first place.
"Cat got your tongue?" Sirius was too close, just an arm's length away, and it was impossible to deny the growing thrum of desire that seemed oddly in tune with her pulse every time he drew near.
She should tell him off.
She should tell him to join his cousin and leave her the bloody hell alone because any plans of shagging the Malfoy heir were rapidly vanishing.
She should remind Sirius he was supposed to be the adult in the house, considering he was twenty years her and Harry's senior.
But backing down from a perceived challenge was not in her nature.
It was part of the reason she'd stolen ingredients from the potions closet during her days at Hogwarts. It was why she'd insisted on establishing S.P.E.W.. Frankly, it was half of the reason she'd opted to do nearly all of the life-threatening things she'd managed to stumble into with Harry and Ron.
Hermione Granger was many things: a swot, a perfectionist, and a tad overbearing. But a coward? Never. Not even once.
"Contrary to what Malfoy is insinuating, I am allowed my own thoughts." Hermione crossed her arms over her bust.
Sirius hummed, his wolvish grin on full display. "You are indeed, Kitten."
"I never said you couldn't have them." Malfoy made little attempt to hide his eye roll as he examined his cuticles. "I was simply stating that you have been thinking about it. Though, perhaps daydreaming would be a more fitting term."
Hermione sucked on her teeth, shooting daggers at the blond who was woefully impervious to her stare. Sometimes she wondered why she shagged him. Sure, he was a good lay, and about ninety percent of the time, he didn't annoy her endlessly, but that ten percent? Merlin, it was hard to ignore sometimes.
"What, pray tell, do these daydreams involve?" Sirius cocked a brow.
"Oh you know, the usual shit." Draco rolled his hand in a slow gesticulation. "A cock in her mouth and cunt, a little bit of buggering, standard threesome procedures."
"I've never thought about being buggered!" Hermione blurted out, brow setting as she looked between the two wizards.
"Feel free to correct him, Kitten. I am rather curious."
"I just… it's… ugh, Draco Malfoy, you're simply dreadful, you know that?" Hermione side-stepped around Sirius. She needed room to breath. Was the kitchen always this stifling? Merlin's cock!
"You weren't saying that last night, so…" He arched a brow at her, his lips pulling in a smug quirk before he looked past her to his cousin and offered only a small lift of his shoulders.
"Circe's tit, can you just not for a fucking moment?" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, bracing herself with a single hand on the kitchen table as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air.
This was alright.
She could do this.
"I'm waiting, Kitten."
"I've thought about you going down on me again, and… maybe sucking Draco's cock while you…" Her eyes dropped to the table, staring intently at the small knick in the grain she was picking at. "While you fingered me."
"Fingered you where exactly?"
Her lips pressed together in time with her thighs, the deep curiosity in his voice wasn't innocent. No, he was gathering information—hidden knowledge he was no doubt storing away to use later. Merlin help her, she wanted to let him.
She wanted to let both of them.
"Both."
"Both?"
"For fuck's sake, Black. She wants a finger in her cunt and her arse, are you always this thick? Was it Azkaban or just poor breeding on your parents' part?"
Her eyes flickered over to Draco, who had somehow managed to make his way across the room without her noticing. Draco's fingers brushed against hers where they were splayed on the table, the very edge of his index and middle finger grazed up her wrist and forearm with a slow, methodical stroke that instantly ignited some primal desire deep within her.
Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and Hermione gulped, attempting to rid herself of the rather large lump that had formed in her throat. She watched his hand crawl higher and higher, over the toned muscles hidden beneath her biceps, up and up until his fingers curled beneath the thin strap of her sundress.
"M-Malfoy?" Her voice cracked, like she was some oversexed teenager as opposed to a grown woman, and she had to clear her throat to settle her nerves—or at least appear as if she had it all together. "What are you doing?"
Grey eyes bore into hers, doing little to quell the flames that licked up her spine, suddenly making the air in the basement kitchen unbearably hot. From this distance, she could see the key differences between Sirius' and Draco's eyes. They were similar, yes, but where Sirius' were grey like the smoke that drifted off his cigarettes, Draco's were more silver like the moonlight.
But despite the subtle variations that made them each unique, the look that began to overtake the glittering grey was one both men shared in spades.
"Helping." Malfoy spoke the answer as if it were so fucking plain she shouldn't have dared to ask. For a moment, she debated snapping back, but when his hand moved, his knuckle dragging back down her arm with her strap curled in the crooked finger, she couldn't utter a single sound.
"Mind if I assist, little cousin?" Though it was a question, Sirius clearly did not intend on waiting for an answer. Before she could even so much as turn her head to place him in the room, his rough fingertips brushed against her skin, dragging the other flimsy strap down her arm.
Her mind swam, lost in a fog. It was all she could do to lean against the table behind her lest she melt into a puddle on the floor. The front of her sundress dragged down her chest, pulling taut across her breasts until they spilled free.
Sirius sucked in a breath, beautifully dark grey eyes disappearing as his pupils blew wide at the sight. He ran his tongue across parted lips, looking more wolf than man in the moment, and for some inexplicable reason, it only seemed to heighten her own need.
"Well, Granger—" Malfoy's fingers were on her side now, trailing featherlight touches across her skin until he could grip her hip and gently guide her from the table to pull her against him. "How about we see if we can turn those little fantasies into reality? Hm? I bet Sirius would be more than happy to oblige—if you asked him nicely."
If she were a saner woman, Hermione might have slipped from Malfoy's hold and excused herself from the lascivious cousins who'd ensnared her in their trap. Or she might have requested they move out of the bloody kitchen and into a proper bedroom, one far away from the possibility of her third roommate accidentally walking in.
But, evidently, her sanity had left her three days prior when she'd spent the night with Sirius' mouth and Draco's cock.
"Please, Sirius."
And just like that, with two little words, the last ounces of restraint Sirius had been desperately holding on to snapped.
It was almost as if she could see the inner animagus take over behind his hungry eyes. His hands were on her, rough and wild as he moved to cup her breasts, his mouth descending upon hers with a snarl that made her heart skip a beat.
She didn't dare fight for dominance, knowing full well there was no way she'd win that battle—not tonight at least. Instead, she allowed Sirius to control their kiss, taking every nibble, bite, and sweep of his tongue, and returning them with her own humble offerings.
Malfoy's arms trapped her, caging her between the two men, leaving zero chance of escape—not that she'd take it even if the opportunity arose. One of his hands stayed curled around her hip, his fingers pressing divots into her skin, and the other began to move. Nails scratched lightly across her abdomen, deft fingers pushed the thin fabric of her dress down and down and down until his fingertips met the elastic band of her knickers.
"Oh, gods!"
"Circe, Granger… you're positively dripping." Malfoy wasted no time, sliding his fingers into her knickers and stroking her slit. He swirled one across her swollen clit, teasing the bud with barely-there touches, and she couldn't stop her hips from canting forward, from seeking more pressure, more pleasure.
Sirius groaned, the rigid outline of his length rubbing against her pelvis. "Merlin, Kitten." His teeth trapped her bottom lip, nibbling on the swollen flesh before pulling away so he could press his forehead to hers. "You don't know what you do to me."
"Oh, I think she does." Malfoy's mouth found the side of her neck, lips pressing kisses along her pulse point. "Little witch knows exactly how tempting she is."
"What should we do to her?" Sirius pulled back, peering over the top of her head to look at Malfoy with a lifted brow. "Take turns filling her cunt?"
. .
"Hmm… we could, but that might be too generous." Malfoy lips moved up the column of her throat, the tip of his nose tracing the shell of her ear.
"You're right. That would be far too generous considering she couldn't even reveal her wonton little secret." Sirius' words danced with low, rumbled laughter, though she barely noticed—it was all she could do to focus on the path of his hands as they skated down her sides. "But she did tell us one thing… didn't she?"
"Mhmmm." Malfoy's hand slipped from her knickers, earning a rather loud whimper, but the whinge was cut off when she was spun around between them, now facing Draco inside of Sirius.
A hand walked up her spine, fingers caressing each vertebra until they reached her shoulder blades. With fingers splayed wide, a firm hand pressed, curling her spine and forcing her to bend at the waist.
Draco stepped back, allowing her room to fall into position, and once her face was level with his belt, he collected her curls with a touch that she might have considered innocent, tender even, if not for the obvious tent in his trousers.
"Do you still want this, Granger?" Malfoy's voice was low and wicked.
She wasn't certain she could manage a verbal response, not when her tongue felt so heavy, so instead, she reached forward, fingers curling around his belt as she tugged him closer before beginning to work on threading the silver buckle free.
Behind her, Sirius wasted no time, his hands pushing the skirt of her dress up around her waist and lowering her knickers until they hung around her knees. Lips and teeth dragged across the globes of her arse, each press and knick causing her breath to hitch.
This was wicked.
This was wrong.
Yet… so bloody right.
She tried to deny it, the way being with both of them made her feel, but now, in the midst of it all, it was impossible.
She wanted this.
She wanted them to claim her over and over and over again.
She wanted to feel their bodies surrounding her, coaxing her to act out the depraved thoughts that lived in the darkest recesses of her mind.
Her fingers trembled around the polished leather of Malfoy's belt. Her body was temporarily rendered useless when she felt the hot brush of Sirius' breath ghost across her core as he parted her sex with thick, firm fingers.
"Look at you, Kitten." His voice was lush, smooth like that hundred year aged bottle of Ogden's Finest tucked in the back of the bureau in his seldomly used office. "So wet and needy. All you had to do was ask and we would have happily made your filthy little dreams come true."
A plaintive whimper worked its way up her throat, but her brain seemed to be firing on primal instincts alone. All the reasons why this was inappropriate fled, and she was left only the basic need to find release.
She fumbled with the hook and bar closure on Malfoy's trousers, ignoring his dark chuckle as he simply stood there, watching through hooded lids as she lowered his zip just enough to push his trousers down his tapered waist.
Hermione knew every part of Malfoy's body. Each dip and curve. Every scar that marred his porcelain skin. She'd become intimately acquainted with every single part of him over the past few months, caressing them with her lips and fingers, but the sheer size of his cock never failed to make her pulse quicken.
To say he was well-endowed was an understatement. Thick enough that her fingers didn't quite touch when she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, holding him steady as she leaned down to let her tongue slide over the weeping head.
Malfoy's blunt fingernails scraped against her scalp as his hand twisted into her curls. A string of electric pulses rippled down her spine and settled in her dripping cunt. Behind her, she could distantly near a hum of approval from the wizard on his knees.
Her eyes drifted shut, unable to keep them open as she worked her mouth along Malfoy's thick shaft, taking as much of him in her mouth as she could fit, and using her hand to assist in reaching the length she couldn't.
"That's it, Granger… Mmm, such a good girl."
Using her focus on Malfoy to his advantage, Sirius closed the distance between her cunt and his mouth, leaning in to swipe his tongue along her sodden folds. His hands were unforgiving, digging into the fleshy globes of her arse and holding her open as he devoured her.
Hermione rocked backwards, torn between the need to earn Malfoy's praise, and giving into the bliss of each wicked stroke from Sirius' tongue. She could feel her body melting, surrendering to their every whim, ready to give in to whatever diabolical urges either wanted to act out.
Sirius' mouth moved, leaving her clenched core with nothing more than a parting sweep of his tongue, and just as a whimper seeped out around the head of Malfoy's cock, the press of his tongue at her arse made her keen.
Her spine arched, forcing her hips higher, as if trying to present more of the most intimate part of her to Sirius' wicked, wandering mouth.
"Look at you, Granger. You filthy little thing." Malfoy flexed his wrist, tugging at her curls until his hard cock slipped free from her lips, a sticky trail of salvia strung between them. "Beg for Sirius to fill your arse. Tell him how badly you want it."
She wasn't above begging, that much Draco definitely knew, but she was fairly certain the way Sirius' tongue caressed her furrowed hole was directly linked to her inability to speak. Her nails clipped against the sensitive skin at Malfoy's hips, only able to hold on as she let pleasure ripple through her.
She was so close, every nerve ending on fire, driving her towards her encroaching, inevitable demise. If Sirius would just—
"No, no no no!" Her eyes snapped open, and Hermione tried to look behind her when the intoxicating warmth of Sirius' mouth disappeared, but Malfoy's firm grip on her curls made it impossible.
The blond clicked his tongue. "Now, now, Granger. Filthy girls get what they need—but only if they listen."
Her mind swirled, struggling to push through the fog and find some slice of logic as to why Sirius had stopped. She was so close, surely he knew that—surely he could feel it.
Fingertips ghosts up the backs of her thighs, tracing along the seam just below her arse. "Come on, Kitten. You heard my little cousin." The soft press of lips met her lower back, and the scrape of teeth followed. "Beg."
"Please make me come. Please." The words felt familiar, as if born long ago from some primal part of her brain, waiting for this exact moment to make their way into the world. As if all roads in her life led to this point, to her finding herself bent over between the two impossibly different cousins in Grimmauld Place.
A wet pop was followed by a slick pressure at her arse. Hermione gasped, her eyes going wide as the slow stretch of something began to breach her backside.
"That's it, Kitten… nice and slow," Sirius purred. Behind her, his coarse stubble scraped against her lower back. "Relax. Little cousin, why don't you distract her a bit, hm?"
Malfoy eased his hips forward, the head of his cock brushing across her lips. "Open up." His voice was breathless, his words tight, and the way his eyes flickered back and forth from her face to whatever Sirius was doing behind her—well, it seemed he was equally as affected by it all.
Malfoy set a slow pace, his hips rocking in sync with the gentle prod of Sirius' thick finger. Hermione only seemed capable of holding on and letting the building bliss take control.
She could feel the utterance of Sirius' praise against her skin, though the words were lost over the steady thump of her heart. Each push and pull drove her closer towards an end she was already primed for.
She was so close.
So ready to slip into oblivion.
Every muscle in her body was taut with need, but it wasn't until she felt the brush of fingers at her clit that she finally fell.
White hot heat seared behind her closed lids; stars to accompany the moonlight and smoke burst to life, and Hermione finally let herself freefall. Each wave of her climax pulled her under until she was lost in the tide.
The rapid thundering of her heart was almost painful as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt her knees slam against the ground, the blossom of pain far away, though she knew she would pay for her carelessness with two glorious bruises later—ones she'd likely cherish for the days to come.
Arms surrounded her, holding her tight, and another set of hands smoothed across her flushed face. When her eyes cracked open, bleary to the bright light of the kitchen, she looked up to see Malfoy kneeling before her, his eyes still dark with need, but something… else lingered there, too.
A softness she couldn't quite place. One that equally frightened her and drew her into his moonlit gaze.
"Kitten?"
Hermione craned her neck towards the deep baritone, looking up at the wizard whose lap she'd somehow claimed. His mouth was swollen, lips begging to be parted, begging to be kissed. She wanted nothing more than to lean in and lose herself to his undeniable appeal once more.
"Yeah?"
Sirius paused, smokey eyes flickering across her face momentarily before he glanced up to Malfoy, as if to confirm some silent plan formed between the pair.
"As fun as this was, I'd very much like to take you upstairs where we can see if you have any other little ideas floating around in that big, beautiful brain of yours."
A low slip of laughter echoed behind her, and she felt the press of lips at the crown of her head. "Oh, rest assured, she has many… many more ideas."