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soft-stxrlight · 8 months ago

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the calling of wolves and vipers, chapter 3

wizengamot meetings and tense admissions

ao3 link: the calling of wolves and vipers

tumblr masterlist: the calling of wolves and vipers

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Theodore Nott x Hermione Granger

description: draco, theo, and hermione navigate growing affections as they fight for werewolf rights. there are forces, however, which will stop at nothing to ensure their efforts are for naught.

word count: 5013

The Wizengamot was not something one would call efficient, more like bewilderingly circuitous. Every minute motion had to be discussed, dissected and then deliberated upon. Despite the straightforwardness of the bill being proposed for aurors to receive paid time off for traumatic missions, the members were bullheaded in their need to advocate for whatever devils filled their pockets.

Hermione could feel the frustration itching beneath her tight-clad knee, where it bounced with such rapidity that Theo finally reached over and steadied it, giving her a long look and a gentle nod.

Maybe it wasn’t so much that the Wizengamot was incapable of conducting business–though that was certainly a factor–she knew her nerves were getting the better of her. Theo and Hermione had an iron-clad proposal and many contingencies for any potential roadblocks the Wizengamot constructed. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that regardless of their extensive research, the concept of werewolf equality was going to be too contentious to pass.

They couldn’t fail. They simply couldn’t. The Shift-House Act would provide safe harbor for werewolves across Wizarding Europe at least. They’d hammered out the fewest requests they could make with the greatest yield. All they wanted was for the Ministry to approve the construction and maintenance of secure apartment-type buildings for people with the werewolf gene to undergo the shift somewhere safe.

The Wizengamot seemed to have reached a decision on the request from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on paid leave after traumatic missions. Hermione silently chastised herself for not listening more carefully on the outcome of that one, as Harry had been an advocate for it.

He’d tell her later, anyway, she mused.

“Can the representatives of the Shift-House Act please come forward from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a Miss Hermione Granger,” there were some stifled groans from the back of the auditorium. Hermione smiled to herself, if being a thorn in the side of the Wizengamot was a badge of honor, she wore it proudly.

“And a Mister Theodore Nott.” The moderator of the session was a stately woman Hermione had met with before, Erin Whittock. She was a high ranking member of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and she seemed to have a complementary moral compass with Hermione. She received a modest incline of the head from Erin, which she returned.

Hermione and Theo stood with painstakingly rehearsed poise and professionalism and approached the podium with their notes. She smoothed her blazer, oblivious to the way his eyes trailed along the path of her fingers. As they came to the small set of steps that led up Hermione realized she was in heels and there wasn’t a railing, before she had even lifted her foot she felt his hand gently slip into hers and raise it up to stabilize her. She tilted her head up at him, steeling herself with a deep look square in his supportive eyes and inclined her head in thanks.

The warmth that burst through her hand hummed up her arm as though it were his hand itself that tipped her chin high and relaxed her shoulder muscles. Hermione nearly groaned when he released her, but the intense blaze of his eyes as her own skittered around the room replaced his physical touch. With his gaze warming the back of her neck, Hermione began.

Theo’s chest swelled with pride at the way his witch stared down the Wizengamot and drew her shoulders back confidently.

He hurried to shove his baser side down. Hermione was his work partner at the moment, not the woman he’d been slowly falling into orbit of. Getting pulled closer until an inevitable collision. He looked desperately forward to it.

But her draw was undeniable. As she gathered her notes at the podium he assumed the position behind her to the left, more bodyguard than colleague. He was more than happy to allow her to do all the talking. Although Theo considered himself charismatic–Draco called it dreadfully loquacious–he knew Hermione’s genuine intelligence and knowledge would get them further than his schmoozing.

“We are here to discuss the proposal of Ministry Sanctioned Werewolf Shifting Houses,” a distant scoff became a rushed clearing of a throat, “I will be presenting the logistics of the proposal and Theodore will be discussing the funding.”

One member of the Wizengamot was shifting in his seat and Hermione’s eyes sliced straight to his as his mouth opened, “We ask that you leave all questions until our proposal is complete, to preserve time and reduce redundancy.”

Theo had to stifle a snicker at her directness. Hermione was nothing if not a straight shooter. One of many qualities he admired in her. His deliciously courageous witch. His.

The reaction from the member was certainly less welcome, the slightly older man shifted uncomfortably. His eyes though, they roamed Hermione appraisingly. The man seemed to like a challenge, he was intrigued. Theo found himself imagining gripping the man’s throat and forcing him down to his knees, to apologize and grovel at Hermione’s feet. Daydream Hermione would be shocked but would softly tell Theo, ‘enough’. And like the good pet he was, he’d release the man and take up his vigil beside her once more.

What in Merlin’s name had gotten into him? Focus, Theo, now is decidedly NOT the time.

“First and foremost, this endeavor has already secured funding by anonymous donors who learned of our efforts. No monetary assistance will be required of the ministry.” Hermione paused to eye the stout financial advisor of the ministry, his beady eyes squinted at her over wire-rimmed glasses. Her direct challenge stirred something low in Theo’s stomach, as well as something lower, baser, within him. Theo chided himself, manage it, you relentless school-boy.

“We will require assistance in finding a construction company who specializes in werewolves, likely from overseas, considering Wizarding Britain’s-” Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and raised a brow, “-rudimentary efforts to include werewolves in society. We lack the technology and innovators that our contemporary countries have due to our prejudices.”

“We intend to provide accommodations that will not only keep the werewolves safe and contained during transition, but provide comfort and minimize stress. These considerations will be taken into account during construction and are non-negotiable. Theodore and I will manage all staffing of these shifting-houses, though we hope to partner with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to provide aurors on a rotating shift to protect those in shift, as we have seen a rise in attacks on werewolves during the vulnerability of the shift.”

“Should we secure a partnership between our efforts and the DMLE, we would look into compensating the aurors who participate in the rotation with an additional stipend and a training course that we are constructing similar to those in Albania to train aurors on non-lethal de-escalation with shifted werewolves.”

“We are proposing 3 shifting houses to start, a modest offering considering the skyrocketing numbers of afflicted individuals post-the Battle of Hogwarts. Each shifting house will accommodate roughly twenty individuals and we hope to expand our efforts with further locations should they be successful. A board will be assembled to oversee the operations of the shifting houses and ensure that they continue to serve our proposed population of werewolves. At this time Theodore will explain the minutia of funding allocations.”

Hermione stepped back and allowed Theo to replace her in front of the podium. Finally able to rest and relax the tension in her shoulders, she observed Theo as he outlined the financial plans.

Theo held himself with an air of confidence, as though he were hosting an intimate dinner party in his home, speaking with intimate friends, at all times. It was one of the things that had burrowed deep in her mind and planted seeds, sprouting the idea he could be something more to her than a mere friend or business partner. Competence was paramount to sexuality.

There was a soft humming in the auditorium, as Wizengamot members jotted scattered notes on parchment, some huffed in annoyance, but ultimately the request to withhold questions until the end of the presentation was upheld.

Theo drew his presentation to a close and glanced back over his shoulder. He caught Hermione’s whiskey honeyed eyes already on him. His searched her for just a moment before a lazy smile spread his pillowy lips. He gestured for her to come join him at the podium once more. He felt her warmth return to his side and the sensation nearly drew a throaty moan from him, but he swallowed it down.

“That will conclude our presentation on the Shift House Act and we will accept questions at this time. Thank you for your patience and consideration.” Theo announced and to Hermione’s dismay about fifteen wands illuminated, indicating questions to be answered.

The questions ranged from all manner of concerns. Valid queries about timelines and research to inane complaints that the act was unneeded in itself. Hermione chewed her bottom lip until warm iron filled her mouth. This act could positively impact so many lives. It would be a step toward inclusion and protection, therefore it needed to pass.

Her heart panged in her chest wildly as she glanced at the handsome werewolf beside her. If you asked Theo about whether the transition had been difficult he would easily laugh and supply a goofy anecdote. But Hermione had seen him return from shifting leave. She’d seen the bruised chasms beneath his eyes, and his hollow unseeing gaze. The shift was hard on the mind and body, and she would be damned if she allowed people like Theo to suffer any more than they had.

Erin Whittock had excused them once all questions had been answered and announced it was time for deliberation and voting. Theo, for all his nonchalance, was practically vibrating with apprehension. Hermione stretched her pinky beside her until it wrapped around his, the best reassurance she could provide while still appearing professional.

Theo’s breath sighed out at the touch, deflating his shoulders and tightened his pinkie solidly around hers.

“Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, have you come to a decision on the proposed Shift House Act?” Erin’s alto tone rang through the room, amplified by her wand poised gently at her neck.

An elderly witch with plum covered velvety robes rose from her seat and amplified her voice, “We have. The Shift House Act will pass with the condition that a member of the Wizengamot, chosen by Miss Granger and Mister Nott be provided a seat on the board, are you content with these conditions?” She asked as she turned toward Theo and Hermione where they stood frozen on the spot.

Hermione’s heart leapt in her chest, “We gladly accept those conditions. Thank you all for your time and consideration.” Her voice was sure and complimentary but Hermione swore she could’ve cast a forty foot otter patronus on the spot in utter joy.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter with Theo offered Hermione his arm as he led her out of the auditorium.

Wide eyes turned on Hermione, “We did it! You did it.” Theo paused once they’d turned the corner and stood off to the side in the hallway. He gripped her hands in his and leaned forward until his forehead softly touched hers, “Thank you for caring about us,” he whispered, warm breath slipping against her lips. Hermione leaned forward and was about to chase his lips but stopped herself before they connected, blushing furiously, remembering their setting.

“Let’s celebrate,” Theo’s eyes glinted mischievously and Hermione’s stomach clenched in anticipation.

“What do you have in mind?” Hermione easily slid her hand into his and intertwined their fingers.

“Not sure yet, let’s go find out.”

They descended upon Diagon Alley with a wicked sense of joy and a lightness of heart neither could recall feeling since early childhood. Threads of contentment and comfort wove between them, palpable in the bright night air.

Though blind to it themselves, those who took in the budding couple that evening would be able to observe the way a shimmering glow encased them. An elderly couple would observe them as they rushed into a shop buzzing with private laughter. The kind of private that wasn’t to keep others out, but because they were within a world of their own making.

⭑⭑⭑

“Hermione, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Ginny dipped her head and looked at her with big doe eyes before stooping over and putting her hand on her hip dramatically, “the baby is insisting upon Fortescue’s Ice Cream, and if it doesn’t get it, I fear my body may succumb.”

Before, Hermione would’ve playfully punched Ginny in the shoulder and rolled her eyes, but ever since she got pregnant, Hermione found it near-painful to deny things from her.

“I would never withhold something from my darling little niece or nephew,” Hermione’s voice rose an octave as she grinned and fussed at Ginny’s still flat stomach. Ginny stormed through the doors and forged ahead, ordering a black raspberry chunk ice cream. Hermione barely had her order of dulce de leche out of her mouth before a blunt obsidian bob caught her eye shimmering in the sun.

“Pansy?” Hermione called out, eyes widening as she considered the possibility she was shouting at a stranger. The bob swished, causing a miniature galaxy to dance on her tresses, and Hermione saw a signature plum colored smirk turn toward her.

“Lioness? How good to see you’ve ventured beyond the pride.” Hermione may have taken umbrage with the way emerald eyes appraised her from head to toe, but a demure grin brightened Pansy’s face as she was tugged into a hug. Pansy and Ginny pretended to have a heated stare-off before finally chuckling and planting kisses on each other’s cheeks.

“Parks, it’s been much too long. Harry is raring to defend his title. Tell Blaise to schedule the next scrimmage,” Ginny angled an elbow playfully into Pansy’s ribs. Pansy adeptly slid back, it was notoriously hard to catch the woman off guard. It was as though behaving in an undignified way was impossible for her.

“Tell him yourself,” Pansy gestured her chin behind her and Hermione glanced around Ginny to see Blaise dodging the midday crowd and waving as he caught up to them.

“Bloody shoppers. This is why I prefer to order things via owl.” Blaise whined, a non-threatening growl escaping his throat. Pansy rolled her eyes and examined her nails. He leaned in and hugged Hermione and Ginny warmly. Blaise and Pansy were turned as well during Greyback’s rampage. They had the poor fortune of inhabiting the Malfoy manor right before the final battle.

“Potter wants another showdown,” she informed him, before looping her arm through his own. This information did nothing to improve her paramour’s mood.

“Pompous Chosen One. He’s on. This time I’ll convince Draco to come. Then you lions are nothing but an oversized meal.” His words were confident but his expensive black shoes continued to tap the pavement in annoyance.

Hermione enjoyed this exchange greatly. None of them were plagued by house prejudices besides some light-hearted joking. It bothered her, in hindsight, how Hogwarts employed the house system. Though more innocuous than blood purity prejudice, it sought to further denote and divide students based on perceived “differences”.

“Why don’t the two of you join us?” Hermione suggested to the couple, Ginny nodded enthusiastically around a mouthful of ice cream. Blaise didn’t bother responding, only headed straight to the counter to order his own. He was a simple man driven by the pleasures in life, Hermione had learned over their budding friendship. Always the first to gather a drink, a sweet, or indulge in his woman.

“We just ate, but you know Blaise,” Pansy faux-complained as she glanced toward the cashier with a contented sigh. She pulled up a seat beside Ginny. “I heard a rumor that Ms. Hermione and our Theodore had a magical date.” Pansy arched a manicured brow and fixed her determined gaze on Hermione who squirmed.

Ginny grinned conspiratorially, “Oh, she was like a school girl in the days after. ‘Ginny he was so handsome,’ ‘He made the whole picnic himself,’ ‘Even the faeries seemed to agree’.”

Hermione scoffed at Ginny, feeling the warm rush of blood to her cheeks, but did nothing to deny the claims. Pansy laughed with her, but gently placed a hand over Hermione’s own, “Don’t worry. He was quite the same. Though, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Draco seemed positively strained when he congratulated Theo.”

Hermione straightened and Pansy’s eyes narrowed. Ginny was blissfully unaware, thank Merlin, but Blaise’s lips quirked in a knowing smile as he settled in beside them.

“I’m not sure why he would have been bothered,” Hermione muttered, prodding her ice cream with her spoon. Blaise’s answering scoff earned him a hard stare from Pansy, who softened as her eyes flicked back to Hermione.

“Not sure bothered is quite the word I’d use.” Pansy emphasized the word rather breathily. Hermione suddenly felt positively scorching. Surely her face would sustain second degree burns the way they had her blushing.

Pansy and Blaise had a tendency for poking and prodding at sensitive subjects, though they knew when to pull back. Feeling her uncertainty, they dove into a conversation with Ginny about all the baby preparations since she’d made the announcement while Hermione withdrew into her mind.

Theo admitted he had been courting Hermione for months, using dated pureblood traditions that flew directly over Hermione’s head. They had agreed they both wanted more than dates, a relationship, but she was worried she was probably already in love. She was well and truly fucked.

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione excused herself. She sought her way to the bathroom and promptly shut herself in. After using the bathroom and taking some deep stabilizing breaths, she felt ready to return to the table. Hopefully nonchalant enough to convince her companions the comments about her partner and his best friend didn’t cause a full meltdown in her mind.

It could never be that easy though, as when she stepped out, she walked directly into Cormac McLaggen who was leaning just beyond the door frame.

“Hermione Granger,” he steadied her and then ran a hand up her arm in a move much more familiar than they were. His grin was predatory as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “How good to see you.”

“Step back McLaggen. She’s not interested,” Pansy’s signature hiss was accentuated by a low growl rattling deep in her chest. Cormac had the good sense to jump a few steps back from Hermione. Not far enough, the moon wouldn’t be far enough.

“I was only steadying her Parkinson. No need to white knight,” his response was sour as Pansy shifted around him until she was between the werewolf and Hermione.

Straightening her back Pansy said, “Scamper along, now. Play time is over.” It was not a request from the woman, but a command.

Turning on his heel, he stormed by them. Once Cormac was past the threshold of Fortescue’s, Pansy turned to Hermione, all her malice replaced with her pleasant smile. “Ginny was talking about the auror time off bill, apparently it passed. I thought you may want to hear the details?”

Hermione was grateful for Pansy’s graceful tact in this moment. Pansy slid her arm through Hermione’s and guided her back through the shop to their little table nestled in the corner. She couldn’t help the nagging feeling that Pansy’s intervention wasn’t purely accidental. It reminded her of the day in her office when Draco and Theo were nearly feral at the smell of her mild fear.

“Thank you,” Hermione said discreetly. She saw Pansy return a small nod.

⭑⭑⭑

Draco leaned back against the chaise that Theo lounged sideways on. Draco allowed his vision to blur along the artful beams in the oak ceiling.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Theo groaned. Draco cocked his head back to see his beta more clearly. He didn’t bother asking what he meant, only lifted one brow questioningly.

“I can’t even think straight! My instincts are constantly focused on her. Every thought is consumed by her. Every time I hold back on marking her, it’s physically painful.” Theo’s voice was softer than usual. Draco huffed a sigh as he rose, and paced to the bar for another firewhisky. He walked to the matching chair in the study, sinking into it and wrangling his many conflicting thoughts.

He knew what Theo meant better than his friend believed. Ever since the change, any time he was in the vicinity of Hermione Granger, it was as though she flooded his every sense. He’d become intoxicated at a whiff of her perfume, causing him to freeze in his tracks just to consume every trace of her greedily. She could be in the crowded ministry atrium, but Draco’s ears would catch any shuffle of her feet, or the subtle rustling as she rooted for paperwork in her beaded purse. A muted grin spread his lips at the thought of her illegal bag with its extension charm, his clever little witch. She never did much care for rules that didn’t suit her.

“Remind your wolf, she’s yours. I can’t imagine the swot would take well to being marked without an exhaustive analysis of the pros and cons of such an action.” Draco’s words were hardly past his lips before a deafening growl ripped up through Theo’s throat. Draco turned a bored look on him until Theo’s upper lip stopped curling over bared teeth.

“I would never force her into a bond,” Theo passionately asserted. There was no room to argue his resolute tone, as his hands gripped the chaise so tightly his knuckles strained white over bone. His eyes were a stormy rainforest. Draco’s alpha was deeply satisfied with his beta’s response to his provocative words.

“I know. Besides, I’d have to kill you if you had,” Draco casually shrugged, but the words held a dark edge he instantly regretted. He needed to get a handle on this possessive urge that followed any mention of Granger. Theo didn’t deserve to be postured at. He respected and supported Draco, not only as an alpha, but as his closest friend.

“You’d better,” Theo whispered as a shadow of horror drew over his face. Theo was hyper-sensitive to Hermione. The mere thought of anyone, even himself, taking away her autonomy and acting without consent was enough to send him into a full emotional tailspin.

He barely registered Draco’s concerned expression across from him. He was too wrapped up in imagined horrific scenes of Granger’s warm olive skin with blood mixing among her light smattering of freckles. A look of horror widening her mahogany eyes as tears gathered and fell. Merlin, fuck.

Theo shuddered and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs and dropping his head into his hands.

A sudden whine strangled its way out of Draco’s throat that shook Theo out of his macabre daydream, whipping his head to glance at Draco.. They stared at each other for a moment in surprise before Draco cleared his throat and apprised Theo, eyes searching.

“I could sense your distress… my alpha, he’s very protective of his beta,” Draco softly explained.

The excuse was thin and they both knew it. They could never quite could define their relationship ever since they’d been changed. The wolves within brought heightened emotions, but also perplexing behaviors out of them. Each of them had despised any woman the other had taken out on dates, or to their beds.

There was a tension now whenever they spoke about romantic partners that caused the other to become agitated. They’d nearly fought over it enough times already. Their chests heaving with rumbling breaths and fists balled at their sides. Seething with anger for reasons they couldn’t acknowledge. They never lashed out physically, neither had that urge. It was something else. Something more. Though, neither was willing to evaluate this yet.

Strangely, though, with Hermione Granger, that was not the issue that arose. Each was desperate for her, but it didn’t divide them.

No, it was common ground. Ground they both wanted to explore. Expand.

A shared devotion, their goddess to protect and exalt. Though Draco felt a tinge of jealousy that Theo actually got to worship her. It wasn’t truly envy, just the wish that he too could hold and protect her. Seek her out when the world was too dark and bask in her glowing light.

⭑⭑⭑

Hermione helped Harry clean up the plates from dinner in comfortable silence, only the clinking of the plates and Ginny’s occasional overfull groan from the couch cutting through. Hermione had been in her head since Fortescue’s Ice Cream. The way Hermione retreated into her mind didn’t escape Ginny’s notice.

Her comfort zone was deep within her own psyche, dissecting and unfurling her thoughts and emotions until she could intellectualize every moment of feeling. Break things down into baser parts and analyze them at all angles. Run each moment repeatedly through her mind’s eye until she was sure she interpreted everything thoroughly.

It wasn’t productive to do such a thing, she knew this deep down. But the comfort of receding into her intelligence was familiar and safe. It protected her from the reminder that control is just an illusion.

Post-war, Hermione realized she may have a bit of a control problem. It wasn’t like it cropped up out of nowhere, however. A decade of life-threatening events and battles during her formative teenage years left damage that couldn’t be healed with a simple charm and some dittany. Panic attacks gripped her at night, while nightmares kept her from resting peacefully, and eventually she began seeing a mind healer.

The road to recovery was long, and Hermione was only just beginning. A necessary journey.

Theo threw a wrench in everything. She was working on herself, and she was improving, day after grueling day. And so, she began living her life again, instead of walking through memories and nightmares in a barely conscious haze. And of course, this handsome, curly haired, gentle, newly-turned werewolf just had to treat her like a goddess of old. He made her feel more than just present, he made her feel alive!

But that brought its own cauldron of issues.

Her neatly tucked away and examined feelings were suddenly vibrant and teeming. Hermione wasn’t sure she knew how to do this part. Without a potentially world-changing war and villains bent on her extermination, how did one date without a sense of impending doom?

“I can hear the cogs grinding even under your mass of wild hair,” Harry complained jokingly. His eyes, however, betrayed his concern. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and ignored the rest of the cleanup. Hermione sighed and joined him.

“I’m… confused,” she admitted. Harry nodded solemnly, attention fully on her. He may not understand the way her complex brain worked, but out of everyone on this planet, Harry Potter knew Hermione Granger best, and she him.

“Are you confused? Or afraid? I’ve never known you not to understand what is going on in your own mind.” His statement was matter of fact, but not unkind. Hermione scrubbed a hand over her face and felt her shoulders droop. He was right, she was afraid. If she was honest with herself, she felt feelings were deeper than she had ever had for Theo, and some nagging feeling in her gut told her that this was a tragedy. It was only a matter of time until it was all brutally taken from her.

“Harry, I think I’m falling in love,” Hermione’s admission was less lovestruck and more in line with someone in a zombie apocalypse, who has to admit they were bit in their last scuffle with the undead.

Harry cocked his head in confusion as his brows knit together, “This is a bad thing?”

A deranged giggle bubbled out of Hermione’s chest, “I guess not, but I think… I’m in love with Theo and I’m so frustrated, Harry. After everything we’ve been through, all this normalcy is terrifying! How am I supposed to tell him ‘oh I’m falling for you, but it’s sending me into a tailspin because I don’t know how to just be happy?’” The words tumbled out of her like lightning seeking the ground.

“Mione,” Ginny called softly from the doorway. Hermione whipped her head around as she realized that not only had she spilled her teeming thoughts, but Ginny had heard as well. “You’re allowed to be happy, and to feel at peace. It’s going to be extremely uncomfortable sometimes because you’ll have to be open and vulnerable, but no one is braver than you.” Ginny slowly came up to her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“We’re always here for you,” Ginny sighed before kissing the top of her head and then caressing her cheek. She moved to her husband who stood, kissing her sweetly, “I for one, am going to take a bath and then knock out, this mini Potter is sucking all my energy dry.” She caressed her stomach lovingly and made her exit with a wave over her shoulder.

Hermione turned back to Harry who was gazing longingly at the space his wife had just left, “What if it all just goes wrong?”

“I don’t think love can be wrong,” he answered honestly, “besides, if anyone deserves an excess of affection, I can’t imagine anyone more deserving than you.” He reached over to grasp her hand.

Harry had a proclivity for making profoundly meaningful statements seem clear as day and matter-of-fact. It was one of the things that made them so compatible. He had the ability to extinguish her overthinking, while she made sure his wild schemes didn’t get them killed.

She launched herself at him and was caught with a chuckle as she hugged him tightly.

“Besides, you always have me,” Harry muttered into her wild curls.

________________________

hope y'all are enjoying, things are heating up heheh

#harry potter #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #dramione #hermione granger #dreomione #werewolf!draco malfoy #draco malfoy x theodore nott #hermione granger x draco malfoy #hermione x draco #hermione granger x theodore nott #hermione x theo

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iniquitousyearning · 3 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips. "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

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