The Edge of Perfect

Author's Note: FINALLY! The last chapterrrrrr! First off, I am so sorry to keep you all waiting like this. I had hoped to finish this last semester, but finals took over, I don't own a computer, and most importantly, this chapter was so difficult to write. I had so many different ideas and how I wanted things to go but no, it fought me every step of the way. Oh well. I am still a little displeased at some things and I will definitely be coming back and making edits. Anyway!

Thank you all so very much for the kind words and favorites and follows! It means so much to know that readers are enjoying my silly stories.

Here is the last chapters, my loves, and I hope you enjoy every word of it. c:

Warning: Strong language, sexual scenes, multiple partners, m/m/f

Disclaimer: This is J.K Rowling's world and I am just here for the ride. I own nothing.

IV

The sun trickled in through the slight part of the curtains and spread the warmth of morning onto their bed like a loving, gentle embrace.

Theo let out a rumbling sigh, stretching out like a kneazle to catch the rays on his tanned, bare skin. He felt the sheets shift just a little and a small smile graced his lips that he truly allowed to show in the comforts of his home.

It was probably Draco, since he was the light sleeper of the two and rose far earlier before he did. Or. . . perhaps it was Hermione; the sweet witch was no longer pressed against him anymore and he believed that she could had totter off to use the loo.

Unless she and Draco were having a little fun without him; not that he minded.

Oh, how lovely last night had been. Of course, between himself and Draco, the love was tender as well as rough; heavy, as well as soft. But with Hermione, her affections were fierce and undeniable; warm and blazing, just like the sun.

Now Theodore would never considered himself a soggy sap, but given that both he and Draco had grown up in a nearly affectionless and cold home life, they had found their own way with one another now that their families were not involved in their lives any more. Well, perhaps not completely; Narcissa had always shown Draco love, no matter what the situation they had found themselves in. It was why Draco was the more emotional of the two; the more expressive even as a Slytherin. Since Theo's mother had passed away tragically by his own father's wand, Theo was forced to live under Sr Nott's watchful, oppressive, and abusive hand.

But being accepted by someone from the outside? Truly? Theodore was not thick; he knew most of the ministry's population saw him as a fit wizard, alongside with Draco, but fleeting fancies and appreciation to the inbreeding that gave him his looks wasn't what Theo wanted.

Hermione had kissed their scars. She rubbed them tenderly, as if they were still wrapped up in bandages and she was chasing the pain away with her lips. After their passionate and rough fun on the sheets, they had crawled underneath them, spent and sated. Her lingering touches on each others skin was like soothing balm on him and Draco. The sweet kisses were like small apologies that did not need to be given. She was like the sun itself, shedding light in the darkest parts of their past and embracing them with all of her.

She was a connective piece between them, making them whole. Draco and Theo never had another soul with them before, but this witch. . . this witch made them whole.

Draco had been so happy to have cornered her last night. Finally, finally catching her and melting in their arms as they lavished her with all that they had. He too, felt an elation that Draco could not give him, nor could Theo do the same for his lover.

The bed was still when Theo finally opened his eyes and stared at the heavy, slightly parted curtains that shed the morning light inside. The pillow underneath his head smelled specifically of Draco and just a hint, a bit faint actually, of Hermione. The warmth was still settling in the fibers, telling him Draco had just woken up. Theo shifted his head, peaking at the other side of his large bed. There was no sign of the curly haired feisty witch.

Draco was perched at the foot of bed, his pale back marked with red, angry, love inflicted scratches, faced him. His shoulders were taut and Theo's chest squeezed painfully. He could see his lover clutching the sheets in his pale fists and the brunette knew exactly why Draco was awake and looking disturbingly calm and distraught.

Hermione wasn't in the washroom.

The air felt like it was squeezing his body and an emptiness rushed back into his flesh, solid and suffocating.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Theo murmured quietly.

Draco's shoulders tighten more at the sound of his voice and Theo sighed, moving his heavy limbs to crawl to the edge and scooped his lover into his long, strong arms.

"Damn witch," Draco whispered without any scorn, but with another emotion thick in his voice.

Theo, always the more rational of the two, was a little surprised that Draco didn't immediately jump up, still stark arse naked, find her, and demand why the fuck she left them. He has been angry and bitter, and a bit rash at times that rivaled a Gryffindor when their relationship came into any sort of mess.

But instead, he clutched Theo's forearms, leaning his forehead against his skin and stay silent. He had seen Draco at his emotional worse, at his rock bottom, when the Dark Lord had lived at Malfoy Manor and used Lucius and Narcissa's lives as pawns to keep Draco in line. When their relationship manifested from the fleeting, drunken snogs from their school days, Theo would often wake up to find Draco sweating and crying from his nightmares and had to be administered Dreamless Sleep Draught for a few months after the war. It was only Draco's sheer, unrelenting stubbornness that kept him from becoming addicted. Even when his father was on trial, there were no tears shed, but only staring blankly out the windows in Nott Manor.

It had been a long time since Theo had seen Draco in any sort of pain that wasn't bottled up.

This time Theo felt bitter.

.

.

.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The muggle clock ticked away as Hermione stood in her living room of her flat, as clean as it could ever be. After waking up confused and wonderfully sated, she jolted in realization that her arms were reaching out for warm skin that was not there.

She had left.

Of course she did. What was between the three of them had been wonderful, amazing, really. But how in the world would that last? Did they even want it to last? She wasn't going to lay around to find out. Now that she allowed herself the indulgence of Theo and Draco, then perhaps she will suck it up and deal with the consequences. A lonely feeling settled in her stomach as she yanked herself free of the sheets and hauled her love bitten body to the shower to erase a wonderful night that rationally she knew would never happen again.

When she came out, she had found herself restless and decided to clean every inch of her flat the muggle way with a vengence for all the dust bunnies that decided to take residence. And most importantly, to distract herself from her fluttering heart and pulsing feelings. She scrubbed, sponged, washed, dusted, swept, vacuumed, and aired out her home with the windows cracked open just a little as she lit some soothing smelling candles. The dishes were washed and dried, her laundry was cleaned, pressed, and hung in her wardrobe, her bedding was washed and slipped on her mattress, the floors shined without a spec of dirt or dust, the floo was cleaned out of months of soot and she restocked the floo powder.

She wiped the sweat off her brow, feeling slightly accomplished and now with nothing to do, her emotions flooded back into her cleared mind.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The blasted clock said it was two o'clock in the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably, demanding some sort of nourishment after last night of little food, lots of wine, and lots and lots and shagging. She did not eat when she had woken up, feeling sick with guilt and pity for herself for allowing last night to happen. Her spotless kitchen gleamed at her when she walked to the nearly empty fridge. In her storm of cleaning, she threw out most of what little food she kept inside. Her lips pursed and frown as her stomach grumbled unhappily that there was no food to consume. Perhaps she will just go to the market a few blocks down, catch a late lunch and shop for the rest of the pitiful week that she knew will come her way.

Her mind betrayed her and imagined just what would have happened if she was still at Nott manor, curled between two handsome wizards. The first scenario was the worst and her biggest fear that her pride didn't want to be gambled.

Malfoy would stretch himself languidly, rolling closer to her and reached out blindly for even more damn body heat and his hand would rest of her body. Then he would jerk his hand away when his palm touched soft curves and frizzy curls and not solid muscles and shorten straight locks. His eyes would finally peer open and Hermione would hold her breath in either anticipation of a wonderful encore or in fear of a cold rejection.

He would just stare at her.

She would have felt Theo stirring behind her, their backs pressed together. Both he and Theo sat up in the enormous bed and peer down at her small body with the sheets kicked out and they would smile very softly at her so the nerves rolling in her stomach would have calmed a little. But then they would share a glance between them, speaking in silence and then Theo cleared his throat.

"Thank you for last night, Hermione," he spoke in a soft, raspy, morning voice that caused her a repressed shiver. "My house elf will prepare breakfast if you wish and will see you out."

It would have been a sweet, fast blow, but with the past weeks of emotional chaos swirling like a twister inside of her, she couldn't take it.

But then, her mind lurched to a different scene, with her still in bed, still in between two wizards.

She would mumble, snuggling into the soft, expensive downy pillows as she felt ticking kisses on her shoulder. When fine stubble would scratch against her skin, she would groan in a half hearted protest and crack open her eyes. Theo would have been leaning over her, lathering her naked shoulders with morning kisses and then Draco greedily reaching across her motionless form to steal some kisses before planting his own on Hermione as well.

They would wake her up fully and drag her to the ridiculously large bathroom and fill up the even more ridiculously huge tub and languidly kiss each other while washing each other's body lovingly. Then it would either be Theo's stomach or hers that would gurgle loudly and then Draco would laugh and call the house elf. . . while still naked in the warm tub to make them all breakfast.

But Hermione stubbornly refused to allow any scenario to happen and she huffed loudly to herself in her empty, clean flat and glared at nothing and mentally cursing her mind for allowing the agonizing moment of fantasies.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The clock's insistent ticking echoed through her empty flat and through her hollow body. There was this emotion sitting heavily in the void of her chest she had a hard time acknowledging it and even more so admitting to herself.

Lonely.

Hermione felt lonely.

She huffed, determining that it was only because of the fantastic sex. That was it. But a tiny voice in her head reminded her that she had never felt that way when Viktor left. Merlin, there were times she had left in the middle of the night and never had she felt like this!

And now she was back to square one.

Rationally, she was not stupid. Her sudden bout of feeling left out was because she became attached. She grew feelings and affections for Theodore and Draco when she knew full well that she could not.

But holy fuck.

Last night of the Ministry Ball made her mind foggy and hazed in lust and the pure need to press her body to theirs. When she woke up this morning, alone and in her bed, disappointment sat heavy in her bones. Of course she blushed like a schoolgirl and hid her face in the pillows as she recalled the way they had claimed her and how she claimed them. But she made the decision to leave.

So she better Gryffindor up and accept her actions, even while the guilt for leaving the two Slytherins ate her up alive.

.

.

.

She had issues getting up for work Monday morning. Her bed was too warm for her to leave, the shower was even more so difficult to vacate, and she had stood at her door for a long, agonizing ten minutes before forcing herself to leave her flat.

Her heels clicked soundly on the cool, sleek floors of the ministry. But to Hermione, it only sounded like the rhythm of the damn muggle clock ticking down to the second as she marched to face the Slytherins plaguing her mind. Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, and her clothes were neatly pressed and crisp cleaned. It was the slight bags under her eyes that gave away her distraught that could barely hide behind her light beauty charms and smudges of make up.

She felt like a cornered rabbit. Her eyes bounced in all directions, hoping to not catch sight of Draco and Theo, her anxiety making her heart thump hard in her chest. She mentally scolded herself over and over again not to be some tart over this! But she ducked her head in the lifts as quickly and as quietly as she could in hopes to not to be noticed.

It seems her efforts paid off, as she opened her office door and snapped it shut without any sight of her once lovers. Her eyes squeezed shut, her back pressed against the door, she let out a long breath through her nose, hoping the calm the nerves churning in her stomach.

It was fine.

She was fine!

She can get through today, and the rest of days, without her pathetic life crisis like a mature adult she was.

Hermione Granger was a powerful witch in all rights! She will not let any wizards torment her! She will not torment herself—

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

Her heart stopped working when it suddenly met the acidic pit of her stomach. Eyes flew open and her back straighten off of the door and she was staring at Theodore Nott. . . looking cold, distant. . . and dear Merlin. . . he looked angry. The emotions were thinly veiled. . . far from the taciturn expression he wore in public. He was sitting in her green chair, her desk still in a chaotic mess she had left it Friday afternoon. His eyes were fixed on her, not in a lust filled gaze as it had been last week, but in a frozen vexation that had her suppressing a shiver that crashed down her spine.

She was Miss Granger to him. . . not Hermione.

Words or any sound refused to come out of her vocal cords, and Hermione only stared at him, feeling like a rabbit again and not a lioness she was known to be. The silence was nearly tangible and charged with so much negative energy that it was choking her. Her cheeks were losing their tinted color, paling when all the man continued to do was watch her.

As the seconds ticked by, she managed to steel herself, bracing for anything that might be thrown her way. Was he here to ask clarify that it was just a fling between them? He did not need to tell her!

But. . .

He looked livid.

Was he angry that she had left? What rational reason was there? Unless. . . unless something happened between him and Draco?

Hesitantly, she licked her dry lips and tried to push a good morning from her throat, but it seemed that her motor skills were useless at the moment.

"Hello," she finally uttered softly.

"Are you free for lunch?" he asked, and his tone made Hermione flinch. It was hard, cold, and the voice he used with practically everyone else with the exception of Draco, and herself. Hell, he was even less mild around Harry! It was like a whip that had be lashed against her. She shifted awkwardly under his never wavering stare that lost none of its intensity. When all Hermione could manage to do was shake her head yes, he jerked his chin sharply. "Good. You're taking us someplace muggle."

Hermione bristled slightly at the command and caught herself just before she shot back a haughty reply as the stubborn pride rose itself suddenly from her stomach, but she caught it with her teeth. Theo's tone suggested no argument what so ever. Already this one night fling with Theo and Draco had ruined what odd friendship she had with the man in front of her. Regret was eating her alive! Merlin, she shouldn't had done this!

She wanted to bang her head against her door and groan. What had she done?

Hermione couldn't help but to pipe up. "Us?" she squeaked.

"Draco," he replied, his face slightly hardened and his nostrils flared just the briefest of moments.

Now Hermione was truly scared. She . . . she couldn't have wrecked thing up with the two of them . . . could she? Tearing her gaze away from the general direction of the wizard, she took in a deep breath to gather her wits. Waving her hand, her small purse and coat floated to the hook as she stood awkwardly in the middle of her office and shuffled her feet.

"And . . . where might he be?" she softly asked, looking up at him from under her lashes as if to shield herself from any more scorn Theo might throw her way.

Instead, he was standing from his, well her, seat, not even sparing her a glance. "He is already in the Potion's Lab. We will meet you at noon." Then he was brushing past her, still refusing his gaze to linger upon her once she was dismissed, and was out the door.

The door shut behind with her a soft click.

Merlin. . . what had she done?

Numbly, she came and gingerly lowered herself down into her seat, still warm from Theo. Her shaking fingers idly tidied up the desk into a more appropriate manner, her mind a void of everything else but Theo's angry stare and the lack of Draco. Her eyes were glossed over and blurred her vision as she tried to read the memos that floated on her desk.

An owl tried to greet her from the window and she nearly flinched, the bird was the coloring as Viktor's owl. . . and that was not something she could deal with at the moment. Instead, it was different owl, affectionately nibbling at her fingertips to try and cheer her up as Hermione let the bird inside. But all the witch could do was to untie the note from his little talons, hand him a treat in a lackluster manner, and stare at the familiar scrawl.

The unshed tears finally leaked, clinging to her lashes and rolling down her cheeks. She needed someone to talk to. To let all of her distraught emotions into the air, to finally let out the whirlwind of her confusion and nerves and worries and . . .

She hiccuped.

Abruptly, she stood from her chair and tossed the unopened note on her desk, the little owl following her and perched on her shoulder. She gathered her work files and purse before fleeing her stifling office where the linger of Theo's distinct scent filled her with every shaky breath she took.

Hermione ignored all of her coworkers who stared at the witch with an owl on her shoulder. She made sure to dry her silly tears and fix her face a bit before storming out into the very exposed halls of the ministry. Inside, she was quivering. Why did Theo want to go to lunch with her? Both he and Draco? The muggle part of it wasn't so odd, having venturing out together before. She occasionally took the pureblood to the muggle world for lunch on their scarce outings, as she rarely took her lunch break. But it was with his coaxing and her growling stomach to get her to normally leave her office. They even did take out once in awhile. She had never brought Draco with them, nor had Theo mentioned his boyfriend in tagging along.

Hermione didn't want to be stereotypical and assume that Theo and Draco did not go into the muggle world when not prompted. . . but she assumed they didn't.

But that wasn't her problem, muggles or not, it was the fact that Theo was angry. And instead of scolding her or blaming her or anything else, it was a demand for lunch.

Merlin forbid! Lunch!

She had no idea what that meant. Did they want to talk to her about that night? How they didn't want to repeat it? Did they want to tell her they regret it? Did they want to tell her they were drunk and they weren't accountable for their actions? Well, that last one might be a stretch. If anything, Hermione was the one who consumed quite a bit of elf wine.

She groaned miserably, startling some of the other workers as she made her way through the maze of the ministry. The witch needed someone to talk to. She needed her best friend.

When she stepped off the lift, the little owl recognized where it was and took off, paving the way to his owner's office.

She stepped up to the door that was cracked open, knocking once before pushing inside.

Harry Potter was sitting at his desk, a slew of memos and case files decorated his desk haphazardly. His owl hopped up on its stand, hooting softly at Hermione. Green eyes flickered up to meet hers and surprise crossed his face before an affectionate, friendly smile graced his lips.

"Hermione! Been awhile since you visited me." Her best friend glanced at his desk and then shrugged, turning his attention back to her. "Sorry about the mess, but you could have just responded to my lunch invite. . ." he trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he peered at the witch. "Hermione?"

Harry stood up then, cautiously and slowly, like she was still a little rabbit. He came around his desk to stand in front of Hermione and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "'Mione, what's wrong?"

With a sniff, she pressed her forehead against his chest, seeing how he somehow grew several inches since the war, if that was possible. She took in the comforting scent and warmth as Harry immediately envelop her in his arms.

"Can I talk to you?" she breathed into his shirt.

Harry pulled back a little, his scar peeking out from his unruly hair. "Of course you can. Don't even have to ask that rubbish question."

She let out a small, watery laugh as she delicately swiped the tears trickling silently down her face. She sat herself down as Harry retook his seat at his desk, rolling it so he was next to her. The edges of her files were quite the distraction her fingertips needed and she suddenly could not look at him.

"It's. . ." she mumbled, her cheeks tinting pink a bit. It all seemed so silly now, bursting into Harry's office, during work and crying to him about her personal problems. He had a family to take care of. . . he did not need her silly frustrations to try and hold onto. Harry had carried the world on his shoulders for so long, he would not hesitate to lift hers as well.

When her eyes sought the floor, Harry reached over and clasped her fidgeting hands with his own. "You can tell me anything, Hermione. Anything."

She sniffed once before nodded, her brain trying to sort out the right words to say to him. Oh, this was not the conversation to have with your best male friend! "I. . . erm. . ." Her eyes fell shut, swallowing roughly and taking a breath in through her nose.

Harry remembered many times she, Ron, and Harry himself had to use the method of calming themselves after the war. The words seemed too thick and too heavy to roll off their tongues and even more difficult to find a way to simply form the words to speak. After several seconds of Harry sitting so stiffly still and Hermione's deep meditative breaths, she quickly pushed out, "I had sex the night of the ball." she whispered quietly.

Harry failed to cool his surprised expression as his eyebrows rose up into the fringe of his hair. That was not what he was expecting. His eyes glanced off to the side and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Many things popped into his mind; pregnancy, someone hurting her, babies. . . If she was pregnant, then Harry will hold her hand and help her in any way he could.

Once upon a time, Harry would have tossed this conversation to his wife, who reveled in the details of sex, especially when Hermione was involved. But he knew Ginny could be a bit. . . much. So he kept his lips sealed.

Besides, Hermione came to him, and as her best friend, he needed to listen to her. It has been a while since Hermione Granger was ready to speak about her personal life. For years, Ginny and sometimes Hannah had tried to coax Hermione into speaking about her personal life. . . her intimate life. Not for the glory of details, of course his wife had always enjoyed them, but they were worried about her. She barely let anyone get close to her. She never let anyone in. She would over and over repeat like a chant that she was perfectly fine. The life she had was filled with flings and she claimed she loved the blissfully empty flat and she had all the family she needed in her life.

Harry knew that was a lie.

He had always believed it had something to do with her parents. Her father could never walk her down the aisle if. . . hopefully more like when, she would marry. He could never dance with her, nor could he threaten the poor sod that captured Hermione's heart that if he hurt her, he will skin him alive. Of course her father would be the first in line, in front of Harry himself, then Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan. Her mother would never be able to pass down her wedding gown. She would never be able to do her hair and whisper encouraging words in her ear affectionately, nor joke about grandchildren and how she wanted to spoil them rotten.

Harry felt similar, but only for a brief moment. He never knew his parents, but he had a family. Dudley had even came to his wedding, clasping his hand, smiling a little wanely of all of the magic, but truly happy Harry had found happiness in his life.

He wanted his best friend happy. He wanted her to have the world like she rightfully deserved.

"With Viktor?" Harry asked softly, to keep the conversation going when it painfully lagged after her soft, but abrupt, confession. That had been the wrong thing to say as more tears welled into her eyes.

"No. I ended things with him."

Harry hesitantly nodded. "Okay. So not Vicktor then."

And when he just looked at her, Hermione's lip quivered and the tears started to roll down her cheeks as the words spilled from her lips. Harry's cheeks tinted pink as she spoke of from the very first step into Nott's office a week earlier, to the sneaking glances, to the intoxicating feelings, to Malfoy's and Nott's jealousy about Krum. . . And then to the Ministry's Ball that, thankfully, Hermione kept those details sparingly. But then she spoke about retreating home in the middle of the night and how Nott was waiting for her in her office this morning and how he demanded that she met with him and Malfoy for lunch.

Harry's ears were even flushed along with his cheek, but he had stayed silence as she unloaded all of the past events to him.

"So. . . you mean to tell me you. . . slept with them both. . .?"

Hermione miserably flopped her head against his desk. "I don't know what to do," she mumbled against the wood.

Harry sighed, running his fingers through his already messed up hair. "I dunno, Hermione. How do you feel about them?"

It seemed like a stupid question, considering she must of felt something for the snakes if she went and slept with them. But then Hermione's face bloomed in color and she let out a sad whine as she lolled her head to the side to peer at him through her curls.

". . . I like them," she admitted so inaudible, like it was taboo.

"Right," Harry gulped again, still unable to digest his best friend sleeping with not one, but two Slytherins. No, perhaps it wasn't the fact that she was developing feelings for Nott that made things hard for Harry to process. . . but it was Malfoy. Who in their right mind would enjoy spending time with that git?

He folded his lips inward to try to keep that comment to himself.

"And have you told them this?"

Hermione shot up in her seat so fast that Harry leaned back into his chair and almost grabbed his wand at the sudden movement in reflex. "Tell them? I possibly ruined their relationship!"

He shook his head. "I mean. . ."

"Telling them might split them apart even further! Merlin, I shouldn't have done this!" Hermione started mumbling to herself over and over, worrying about her actions to the point Harry had to reach over and stop her from pacing in his office.

"Just go to lunch with them. See how things go," he told her firmly.

.

.

.

Hermione left Harry's office five minutes to noon, of course with her best friend shoving her out of his office when her courage hid under all of her nerves and fear.

When she did reach her office, both Draco and Theo were waiting at her door, neither turned to greet her, nor even look at her as her heels clicked against the floors. Her heart squeezed uncomfortably and she desperately wanted a time turner to go back and smack her past self stupid. Seeing Draco. . . he did not looked like a glorified Slytherin Prince. He looked like he had just received his sentence after the war. He was cut off, stoically and just a hint of either anger or depression. Her throat was dry and she too, did not utter a word as she briefly stepped into her office to place the files on her desk and retrieved her coat. When she had emerged, the two Slytherins simply followed her along the halls in silence.

Theo had been smart to choose the Muggle World, seeing as there would be no scandalous reporters trying to get the next scoop and their picture taken at just the right moment to be splattered all over the morning papers.

Oh, in any other time, how she wished she could enjoy Draco's experience in the Muggle world, but her nerves were keeping her from even looking at him. But the blond wasn't even paying attention to the surroundings and mechanically followed Theo and Hermione. His head was bent down, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Not once did he look up to spare her a fleeting glance. He was normally a proud man, a man the hid his emotions and kept his face blank and stark; but walking through the muggle streets, he looked more and more closed off with each step they took towards her favorite little bistro.

When they came up to the small door, Theo took a long stride ahead of her to open the door like the pureblood gentleman he was. She ducked inside, the warmth meeting her, yet it did nothing to soothe her anxiety. Draco followed closely behind, his grey eyes flickering around curiously. It was slightly busy, giving it was lunch hour, but there was a specific table that was oddly empty and Hermione wondered if Theo had used the muggle phone she had gave him a while back and called. . . It was a wonder that he knew where she was going to take them.

"Ah! Hermione! Good to see you again. Hello Theo!" An older woman gushed over the counter as she placed a plate down for a customer. Her jolly voice and merrily greeting only made Hermione wince. "Oh, and another charming fellow?" she giggled, much to Hermione's chagrin, but Theo effortlessly pulled a fake smile on his face.

"Afternoon, Ms. Morrison." Theo gently placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, while the other on the small of her back, gently leading them further inside. The contact felt like a spark of fire and Hermione forced herself to keep herself from shying away from his touch. "We'll be taking our usual seat."

Ms. Morrison didn't bother with his authority, waving the three off with her hand while telling them to enjoy their lunch. Further back into the small bistro they went and Hermione took a seat while Draco and Theo settled next to one another. She watched with rapt attention when Theo had slipped his hand underneath Draco's, curling their fingers together.

That. . . that was good, wasn't it? A small part of her was soothed a little by the small, fond action.

Finally, they all raised their eyes to meet each other. Draco and Theo stared at her, while she flickered her gaze back and forth between the two. Theo was definitely angry, but it was Draco's expression cause her throat the clog and she found it difficult to swallow. He reminded her of the times after the war. Broken and trying to put the pieces back together but having no more energy to do it. But she did not understand why! It was just one night of sex—bloody fantastic sex, but that wasn't the point. Did it mean something more to him—to them? Mentally, she scolded herself. Let's not gain hope in the smallest form of possibilites. She licked her lips nervously before opening her mouth to start firing a million questions and apologies at them but again was proven to stuff it when Theo pinned her with a glare.

A glare from Theodore Nott made her want to Avada herself.

"Hello there Theo! Hermione!" a voice jolted her backwards into her seat a little as two cups of tea were placed between them and she glanced up at the waiter, Aaron. He smiled apologetically to Draco. "Sorry there, mate. I've had their drinks memorized months ago. What can I get you?"

Actually she preferred something strong and burning, but she doubt they carried alcohol.

Draco nearly started when the muggle man began to talk to him, but he shrugged half heartedly. "I'll take whatever he has," he calmly said, jerking to Theo's drink. Aaron nodded, before walking away to retrieve Draco's beverage.

The awkward silence thickened the air between the three of them. But the sight of the two wizards holding hands, Theo's thumb dragging over Draco's white knuckles, made her a little less anxious.

But only just a little.

Aaron dropped off Draco's tea and they ordered quietly, Theo suggesting dishes dotingly for Draco when he looked a bit lost. Quite honestly, Hermione did not feel at all hungry.

Her mind was rushing a mile a minute, trying to come up with possible scenarios of why in Merlin's name was she here and why Theo looked severely peeved yet still clasping hands with Draco so it couldn't have been her biggest fear of ruining their relationship. . .

Once Draco had ordered and Aaron had left, they were alone again.

Clearly, she wasn't supposed to be the one to open this horrible conversation they were going to have, if Theo's glare was anything to go by.

It was Draco to break the silent stalemate. He lifted his head again, silver eyes capturing Hermione's. "Why did you leave?" he asked roughly.

The question caught her a little off guard. . . the little tiny bit of silly hope flared enormously in her chest, but then was smothered by guilt of actually leaving for her own benefit of protecting herself and her pride. Asking her that. . . could it mean they had wanted her to stay? Stupid, rash Gryffindor! Did that night really meant that much to them? As much, even more, as she allowed herself to feel that night?

She had felt complete. It was a wonderful feeling; perhaps not because her sexual tension was finally shagged out of her, but the closeness and the bout of affection. . . Logically, her brain argued that Viktor had done the same thing. . . but, damn it, she didn't want to be with him, but with them!

In her inner turmoil and her silence, Draco's expression shuttered and tried to instill a strong mask to hide his sorrow and anger replaced the gleam in his eyes. Gone was his vulnerability and she was now faced with a Draco Malfoy she knew. "Is it because of the war? Because I'm a Death Eater?" he suddenly spat. Theo had turned to looked at his lover, his jaw set and his fingers curled more firmly around Draco's. When she did digest what he said, her mouth popped open and her weariness suddenly transfigured into sudden absurd vexation and disbelief.

"What?" She stared at him, hard, and incredulously. "Y-you think what?" It was exceedingly difficult to keep her jaw from slacking. That timid, awkwardly shy part of Hermione retreated and suddenly, she found herself uncontrollably scolding him. "I swear to Merlin, Draco Malfoy, if this turns into some sort of pity party because I didn't bloody well stay and cuddle you're sorely mistaken!" Her face flushed red angrily as her hair sparked in her irritation. She blinked for a moment, shaking her head as she watched Draco's eyes narrow viciously and Theo's teeth seemed to grind as his jaw tightened. Quickly, the witch raised her hands and waved, as if to swat the words she had just spat right out of the air.

"No, wait," she pleaded softly, but firmly. "I didn't mean it like that." The anger that flew into her chest like a stampede of Hippogriffs took off again just as quickly and replaced with a sincerity that she just needed to convey to them. "Don't bring up the past, Draco. . . We were children forced to grow up much too quickly to fight a madman's war." She swallowed thickly, wishing she took a sip of her tea. Her eyes found Theo's, holding his gaze before trading to Draco's. "That night. . . it was wonderful. . . but I was a coward. I. . . I didn't want to wake up with the possibility that our night together could go no further. . . a one night stand I wanted to last longer. . ." Her cheeks burned hot at her confession. "Even if it is just that," she quickly stammered, hoping to not make herself look like a lovesick fool. "I can accept it. And. . . and. . it just was bloody hot!" Hermione suddenly snapped. "It makes sense that you Slytherins are comfortable in your cold common rooms. You two were like bloody furnaces! I was sweating! I don't know how you two stayed asleep like that!" she ranted, trying to cover the mortification of her confession and lay out why she had wiggled herself free from between them in the first place. When she noticed the server coming along with their order, she leaned back into her chair, not noticing that she was inching closer them.

Neither of the two men sitting across from her said a word. Though when she did gather her notorious courage, she lifted her eyes to Draco first, who looked slightly taken aback and still a little irritated. Theo, well, his lip had twitched oh so slightly upward at her rant, though still displayed his displeasure at her disappearing act, it seemed.

She blew out a breath through her nose swiftly, still agitated. When she took a sip of her tea to wet her mouth, she licked her lips and shield her eyes under her lashes and away from their heavy stares.

Theo looked up and gave the muggle girl a nod as she set down their sandwiches and chips. Her heart swelled a little bit as Draco too nodded to the girl, who blushed like a schoolgirl and scampered quickly away.

Silence resumed at their table.

Theo sighed loudly, tapping the space of the wood table between them with delicate, aristocat fingers. "Hermione, look at us."

She gulped, lifting her eyes from the plate of food in front of her and to Theo's green eyes. The anger swirling in them had lessened, though she could hazard a guess he was still peeved.

"What made you think that we wanted something as trivial as a one night stand?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders delicately, her eyes falling again to her plate. "I don't know. . . curiosity?"

At that, Draco let out a humorless laugh. "Curiosity? Honestly Granger? We have separately had our own share of witches before finally accepting what me and Theo have now. You honestly believed that we would want a witch between us to fuck and then let her go on her merry way?"

She flinched a little at his words, but Draco continued with a growl.

"No, we don't. That night was not a fucking mistake or a curious shag. We want you."

Hermione's cheeked flushed a bit pink and heat flooded through her, almost feeling like it was keeping her heavy heart afloat. They. . . they wanted this like she did? When her anxiety bitten lips parted to speak, Theo quickly intercepted.

"Don't over think it, Hermione."

She couldn't stand looking at them; Draco's silver smoldering stare and Theo's warming gaze only made her dizzy.

They wanted her.

A mixture of emotions balled up and swelled in her chest.

She idly dug into her chips to distract herself, popping one into her mouth and chewed slowly to gather her thoughts. Never had she believed herself to be so thick before all of this. She faced a few lovers before, but never where they Slytherin and never has she been so conflicted and confused in her life. It was utterly exhausting!

"So," she sighed. "What do you want from me?"

Draco smirked and Theo chuckled.

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No one seemed to bat an eye when Theo, Draco, and Hermione all walked into her office. By now the other ministry workers knew very well of their dynamic and thought nothing was out of place.

Theo was the sensible one to at least throw a locking and silence charm on the door just as Draco had backed the witch against the wall, pressing his solid, hard, body against hers. Their lips clashed together and Theo stood back, allowing his lover to hash out his frustrations with the witch before he join them.

"Does this feel like I don't want you, Granger?" Draco growled against her lips in a mix of lust and frustration she brought upon them. She whimpered when he unforgivingly bit down on her neck in punishment and pleasure. He grabbed her hand, roughly pressing it between them and guiding it to his growing erection. "Does this feel like my body doesn't want you?"

"Shit," Hermione gasped as the blonde latched his lips and sucked on that particular spot on her neck that made her shiver as he rutted against her hand. "W-wait. . ." she breathed, lightly moving her other hand to gently push against Draco's chest. The man growled, his steely eyes nearly glaring at her but complied with her weak attempt to get some distance between them. Theo stepped closer, tilting his head to the side and wrapped his arm around Draco's waist, who was quivering with need and irritation. He pressed his lips against Draco's ear, gently sucking enough as the other sighed, relaxing a bit.

Hermione licked her lips timidly, watching them with rapt attention before swallowing. "I. . ." She needed to say it before it all went tits up—perhaps literally. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving. . . And I—"

"We're past bloody apologies," Draco's voice rumbled as Theo reached out with his free, large hand and cupped her cheek none too gently to drag her closer to them.

"Far beyond them, Hermione," he hissed against her skin and then his mouth aggressively invaded hers. It all should have sounded frightening. . . but dear Merlin, did it make her want more. Draco pressed himself against her thigh, greedily and unabashedly rubbing himself against her. Her hands found their way up her two lovers bodies, one hand clutching Theo's hair to deepen the kiss while the other latched onto Draco's hip to give herself purchase and assist in pleasuring the blonde.

It was just so hot. The air around them felt like the Ministry was scorched in fiendfyre. Both Theo's and Draco's body felt like it was made of lava as they ran their hands all over her body, underneath her clothes and burning her skin agonizingly. Their lips seared into her, branding her permanently and the witch was nearly faint all over heavy petting and snogging. The excitement she felt expanded from lust and transformed into adoration and rolled and blended and combined. . . swirling into emotions that hazed through her body, overloading her brain to the point where it ceased to function.

Theo, however, seemed to want to make the most of the little time they had together, started to tear at her clothes. Draco forcibly tore himself away, spinning around and waved his wand to clear the clutter off of Hermione's desk. When he focused back onto the other two, Theo had pulled Hermione's skirt up around her lovely hips, her stockings ripped with his fingers buried inside of her. The blonde Slytherin took a moment to watch Theo pumping his fingers in and out of Hermione's dripping pussy, her thighs trembling and cheeks flushed with Theo pressed his face into her curls, growling about her soaking wet pussy and how wet she was for us.

Her climax was glorious; her mouth parted, a moan was suppressed against Theo's shoulder which he did not approve of. Draco could see the clear line of his arousal before they eyes locked with one another. Taking sure steps towards them, he rid himself of his pants and attacked Theo's mouth hungrily while his fingers fumbled with his lover's trousers. Hermione, still slightly shaking from her first orgasm, was pressed slightly between the two, her lips lovingly traced Draco's shoulder. Once Theo was hard and heavy in Draco's hand, he pulled away, taking the witch with him.

Hermione squeaked slightly when her back was pressed against her cleared desk and Draco was yanking her shirt apart so aggressively, she could hear the little buttons ricochet off the desk and the walls. Her heaving breasts were yanked out of her bra, abusingly sucked and pinched and tweaked and—oh gods she loved it. There were no words spoken between them except dark, promising growls over her skin about never leaving again.

Theo pulled his trousers down his legs fully, drinking in the sight of the two of them together. He stepped closer to Draco, pressings he cock between pale cheeks, before reaching around with his long arms and spread Hermione's legs. The witch complied easily and it allowed Theo to take his fingers that were still wet from Hermione's climax and wrap them around Draco's member.

The blond groaned against Hermione's breasts as his lover squeezed, but gasped loudly when Theo guided Draco's prick into her sweet, wet heat. Hermione sighed, her legs shifting to settle at Draco's boney hips and Theo's waist. If that wasn't enough, Theo released Draco once he was sheathed inside and then took a hold on himself, coating himself in her arousal and sliding himself carefully inside Draco.

Draco's gaze was unseeing, his cheeks ruddy red, and his mouth parted wide as he was overloading on fucking amazing sensations. He was so wonderfully full from Theo, nearly hitting him in the right spot while Hermione enveloped his cock in her pulsing heat that he nearly lost it right then and there. "Ffffuuuccckkkk," he groaned before latching his lips on a tortured nipple but he could barely focus on his task of punishing Granger when her walls fluttered around him and Theo snapped his hips so fucking hard against his arse.

He was not going to last long at all.

Just when—just fucking when—he was so close, a knock penetrated the sounds of moaning, panting, flesh slapping against flesh, and the blood rushing in his ears.

He never wanted to kill someone as badly as he wanted to kill the Dark Lord before.

"Hermione?"

Draco lifted his head, glaring harshly at the door.

Of course it was bloody POTTER!

Hermione's face was completely red with both arousal and mortification and Theo only chuckled against Draco's shoulder before gently nibbling on his skin to behave. Hermione, still laying on her desk in a right state of shaggable, gently waved her hand to split Theo's silence charm slightly.

"I'm alright Harry, but I'm a b-bit b-busy right now," she nearly moaned before shoot a glare at Theo, who reached around and pinched her clit, making her want to spread her legs wide for him, leaving Draco to sink even more inside of her. "I—I—"

"Fuck off, Potter!" Draco snarled at the door.

Theo chuckled.

Hermione's eyes widen as she imagine just what Harry was thinking as she heard a shuffle at the door before the sound of him clearing his throat.

"I—I just wanted to make sure you're alright," came Harry's much quieter voice.

"The sound of your fucking voice is making my dick wilt like lettuce, Potter. So Fuck. Off!"

Theo's laughter boomed across her small office.

Hermione's face bloomed in color as she stared at the door, barely managing to call out to Harry to she would talk to him soon before she reached upwards and ran her fingers through his soft hair. "You know, if you weren't in love with Theo, I would say you fancy Harry with the way he gets under your skin."

Draco hissed at her fingers before swatting Theo's hand away and pinched his own fingers around her fleshy pearl in warning. "You're paying for that," he growled before moaning once as Theo thrust his hips against his arse once more.

"I thought that was entertaining," amusement tinted Theo's voice as mirth shown in his eyes as he reached around and teased his pink nipples. "Hermione has a point, love. Potter is a fit bloke."

The witch smiled smugly as she watched Draco's face intently. "Imagine Harry inside of you now."

Theo laughed loudly as Draco snarled and glared down at the witch. "I hate you both!"

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.

Hermione did not care that this relationship could possibly ruin them all. Not one bit. She had done so much for Wizarding Britain and if they did not accept her happiness, then she would resign and live out her life to the fullest between two wizards.

But then Draco laughed at her absurdity. The Wizarding World would not cast out Hermione Granger, a war hero who happened to like Slytherin cock. It would take some time getting used to, but Draco and Theo would stand fully behind her to support her, and in front of her to shield her.

They had made their relationship official in the quiet moments in Nott manor after heated coupling and then basked in the tender after glow. But it wasn't until reporters had caught sight of the odd trio in a expensively posh restaurant when their relationship became public. They had knew what they were doing when they had decided to let their relationship out of the restrictions of the Muggle World and their private home life and prepared for it. Hermione was dressed in a stunning emerald color—not because it was Slytherin!—and had sat in the middle of the two wizards during dinner. While they remain appropriate in public, such a display of three known magic folk caught the eyes of nearly everyone in attendance that night. Especially their seating arrangement.

Through fond touching and an wonderful meal, Theo hand pulled something out of his suit jacket, enlarging it and placing the package in front of Hermione once she finished her dessert.

The witch's eyebrows puckered slightly in confusion. "What in the world is this for?" she asked, her eyes capturing Theo's before cutting over to Draco's. When neither spoke a word, she frowned. "Honestly, you two did not need to get me anything," she huffed before inspecting the square box.

It was about the length of her wrist to her elbow, much too large for jewelry, to her relief. She hesitated, but after seeing their anxious faces, Hermione relented and pulled off the top of the gift box.

She blinked, peering down at what appeared to be folded up fabric. When her fingers ran over it to try and push it away to find the intended gift, she shivered. It was cool to the touch and silky.

"They're cooling charmed sheets," Theo said softly.

"So neither of us have to cast it all night long for you," Draco added. Then his lips twitched upwards slightly at the corners wickedly. "Of course, we already tested them out. If you find any stains on them—"

Her hand jerked back. "Ew! Honestly, Draco. You're such a prat!"

Theo took a sip of his wine, gracing the two of them with the slightest, content smile. "Ignore him; he's riling you up."

"It's so easy," Draco teased.

Her eyes settled on the package again, smiling tenderly as she ran her fingertips against the fabric once more. Her skin prickled a bit at the cold sensation, but her mind wildly imagined just how wonderful it would feel against her heated skin. But even as she thought of all the fun things they could possibly do, she was more pleased of the ability to snuggle against them at night and not be over headed by their warm body temperature.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with subdue happiness.

It was Draco who leaned against her, pressing his lips to her temple. "You'll be able to stay the night with us and be comfortable."

"And we can have our way with you when we wake up," Theo whispered against her cheek as he placed a gently kiss against her skin.

And at that moment, a flash went off and neither of the three cared.

After that, they were prepared for the next day when the Prophet was published and released into the world. Thankfully, it was a Saturday morning, which they did not have to go the Ministry for work, but it was the mail that flooded through their windows as owls came in swarms to drop off the post.

Some were howlers, disgracing Theo and Draco's alliance as Death Eaters during the war. They claimed that they were the scum of the earth, and that they had poisoned their beloved Golden Girl. Of course Hermione blasted them as soon as they unfolded themselves as a red letter. It became a game between the three, to see which can destroy the howlers the quickest.

So far Theo was in the lead by one.

Others were mostly ignored because they were so curious and nosey and quite frankly, it was none of their blasted business.

Though, Hermione was a bit nervous when a regal owl had flown inside the manor and graced Draco's side. The blonde slightly paled at the owl, even though he gently rubbed its feathered head in greeting. He took hold on the letter and Theo had gave Draco some space and placed his arm around Hermione's waist. "Draco's mother," he murmured against her temple to answer her silence question.

Draco had placed the letter down, glancing at his lovers across the room. "Mother would like to have us over for tea." Narcissa was currently staying at at the small french chateau that was from the Black side of the family. A nervous feeling fluttered through her, but at Draco's slightly torn face, she nodded.

While facing the Matriarch of the Malfoy family, and the remaining direct Black line with the exception of Andromeda, what would be far worse for Hermione would be facing her friends.

So when Hermione flooed to Godric's Hollow for dinner, she was bombarded by a pregnant redhead witch. "Hermione Granger!" She shrieked, causing Harry to wince and and was relieved that the boys were at the Burrow. As the curly haired witch stepped through the fireplace, Ginny was waving the Prophet around like a blasted flag. One the front page was Hermione in her dazzling dress, sitting between Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy, who both leaned in and place kisses on the witch and then it replayed the action over and over. "You better explain this! I know very well about the damn reporters and catching moments that mean absolutely nothing, but. . . but this—THIS!—you need to explain to me how the hell did this happen!"

Harry ducked his head down as his wife yelled at his best friend and Ginny caught the movement like a hawk. "Did you know about this? Merlin's beard, is this true!?"

Hermione lifted her hands, waving them to catch the pregnant witch's attention before she castrated her husband. "It is true. . . " Hermione admitted softly, which caused Ginny to whirl around with wide eyes and the paper hanging limply at her side. "It. . . it is a bit complicated in the beginning. . . but it's true."

Ginny's mouth hung open in pure astonishment before the look morphed into a devious, Slytherin smirk. "Of course it would take two cocks to satisfy you."

"G-Ginny!" Harry squawked, his entire body flushing red. He immediately stood up and turned towards the door. "I can't sit through this conversation."

A bubble of laughter in a mixture of amusement and relief burst from Hermione's mouth as she walked further into the room and allowed Ginny the crude questions. She allowed them as they spoke about Draco, about Theo, about Viktor, about her feelings that were going to burst from her chest. Ginny hung onto every word, not at all angered by keeping her relationship with the 'hot sexy Slytherins' to herself but a bit sadden that Hermione did not tell Ginny right away. She knew that she could be a little too enthusiastic when it comes to Mione's love life, but she wished she could have been there to support the emotional storm. The night went on and dinner was served. Harry had joined them later, but when Ginny mentioned Malfoy's dick, he simply sighed, placing the fork that still had food speared onto it down and left in the middle of dinner. Hermione was gracious enough to take pity on Harr and toss a Statis charm onto his food for later when his appetite returned.

Later, the night found the two witches sitting side by side on the couch in front of the telly, Ginny rubbing her swollen belly idily.

Ginny glanced over at her best girl friend as Hermione sighed happily, gazing out the window into the night sky. It was. . . weird. But a warm feeling settled in Ginny's chest. Never had she seen Hermione like this. Perhaps it was the contentment between getting lots of hot action with Theo and Draco's dick, but it was something else. She hummed slightly.

"Are you . . . okay Hermione?" Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione turned to look at her, a dreamy expression filling her face and it made the redhead's breath hitch in her throat.

It was like the way she looked at Harry. . . or the way that Hannah looked at Ron. . . or her mum with her dad.

By Merlin. . . she looked so perfectly happy.

"Sorry Ginny," she giggled—giggled!—and tilted her head slightly, resting her cheek against Ginny's shoulder. "I'm just. . . happy."

"Perfectly happy?" Ginny questioned. It was Hermione's favorite reply to nearly everything when it came to her life and to be fair, she never wanted to hear that phrase again.

But instead, Hermione shrugged.

"No. Just happy."

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fin