Threesome time!!! 1 of 2

[dysonrules]

Happy Birthday to Lorett!!!  Hope you like this, even though it didn't quite turn out... the way you were hoping, lol!

This is supposed to be a threesome with Draco/Harry/Hermione, but it sort of turned into a D/H... with Hermione.  (I'm obsessed, what can I say???)  Anyway, the humor quotient is quite high on this one.  I had fun with it.  And many thanks to Tasha for coming up with the title, because my brain couldn't manage that part.  In two posts because of length, sheesh.

Title:  Trelawney's Teacups
Author:  dysonrules(obviously)
Rating:  NC-17 I suppose, for smuttiness
Words: 7272 in two posts, dang it!
Summary:  Draco, Harry, and Hermione are trapped in Trelawney's classroom on a hot summer afternoon.  Draco maneuvers them into playing cards to pass the time.

Trelawney’s Teacups

 

PROLOGUE

 

            It was a fluke, really, that the three of them were even in the same room at the same time. Harry’s presence, of course, was easily explained. He had fallen asleep in Trelawney’s tower classroom, lulled into peaceful dreamlessness by the stifling heat and the droning, endless predictions of doom and gloom.

What Harry didn’t realize, having fallen asleep, was that Trelawney had been fetched from the classroom. In the process of shuffling the students out, Harry had been overlooked. Well, not completely overlooked. Lavender Brown had spotted him and nudged Parvati Patil.

 

            “Look, Harry’s asleep. Should we wake him?”

 

            Parvati, still nursing a grudge from the whole Yule Ball fiasco, scowled.

 

            “Let Hermione Granger wake him.  Isn’t it her turn to watch him, since Ron Weasely is in the hospital wing with that… rash thing?”

 

            Lavender giggled. “I suppose you’re right.”

 

            The two girls climbed out of the tower, leaving the Chosen One to his slumber.

 

            Downstairs, Hermione was waiting for Harry when the two giggling girls plodded by. Hermione graciously kept from rolling her eyes at them and merely insulted them silently as they passed. There was no sign of Harry, so she sighed and went to get him, figuring he had most likely fallen asleep without Ron there to prod him awake.

 

            Even farther downstairs, Trelawney paused in the hallway, realizing she had left her favorite Divining teacup in her room. She thought she might need it, if Dumbledore wanted to speak to her about some matter of future importance. She snagged the robes of a passing boy, not noticing the look of shocked horror bestowed on her as a result of the unexpected manhandling.

 

            “Halt, boy,” she said brusquely. “I need you to go to my classroom and fetch my Divining teacup. The one with the pink roses and gold border, not the one with the red roses and green border.”

 

 

DRACO

 

            Draco Malfoy snatched his sleeve from Trelawney’s grasp. Horrible woman, what the hell was she thinking, putting her claws on a Malfoy?

 

            “Excuse me, did you say fetch?” he asked in an imperious tone that had sent many an underclassman scrambling away in fear. However, Trelawney was no underclassman. She was also battier than a vampire convention.

 

            “Yes, boy, fetch. And bring it to Dumbeldore’s office at once or there shall be points taken from—” She looked at the green badge on Draco’s robes, “Slytherin.” She sneered the word silently and Draco glared. “Lots of points,” she added.

 

            Draco spun on his heel and stalked toward the bloody entrance to the bloody tower. Damned barmy creature—threatening a Malfoy. He’d fetch her stupid cup. And hide all the others so well that Dumbledore himself would never find them. In addition, he would compose a letter to his father suggesting that she be permanently removed from the school for inflicting mental trauma upon him.

 

            Draco was unpleasantly surprised to find the room still occupied, and beyond unpleasantly surprised to find it occupied by none other than Granger the Magical Mudblood and The Boy Who Lived to Annoy the Fuck out of Draco. He sneered.

 

            “Am I interrupting a shag?” he drawled. “Be sure to give Potter plenty of instruction, Granger. I’m sure his virginal arse has never been touched… unlike yours.”

 

            Granger’s face flared hot and angry and Draco smiled in delight. Honestly, Gryffindors were so bloody easy, he barely had to try.

 

            “What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she snarled. Potter was reclining on the pillows, looking around blearily and rubbing the back of his hand over his lips. His hair looked messier than usual and Draco’s gaze sharpened. Had they been snogging? Potter yawned and stretched, and Draco realized the idiot had merely fallen asleep. He sighed in relief.

 

            Wait a tick… relief? What the hell? He certainly didn’t care if Granger and Potter had been snogging! Not one bloody bit. Not even the tiniest iota. Not one single, solitary— He became aware that Hermione was staring at him and slowly rewound his mind back to her question.

 

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he sneered, knowing it was a foolish comeback, and had been delivered far too late to even be vaguely effective. She rolled her eyes.

 

            “Whatever. Come on, Harry. Let’s go see Ron before our next class.”

 

            Potter allowed her to drag him to his feet. Draco dismissed them and scanned the room for the infernal teacup. Bloody hell, it was hot in this ridiculous room. He ignored Potty and the Gryffindor Brain Trust as they headed for the door, which suddenly slammed and locked just as they reached it.

 

            “Hey!” Potter yelled predictably. He began to bang on the door, succeeding only in bruising his fists, the imbecile. Granger, at least, used her modicum of intelligence and cast several spells at the door in an attempt to open it. Potter swung around to glare at him.

 

            “Is this some sort of trick, Malfoy?” he demanded. “Open the door!”

 

            “Oh yes, it would be so like me to lock myself in a stifling inferno of a room with the two people I most despise.”

 

            Hermione sighed while Potter’s little mind crawled over Draco’s words to sift the useful bits from the sarcasm.

 

            “Why would Malfoy lock us in here, Harry?” she asked.

 

            Potter glared. “Who else would?” he snarled.

 

            “Perhaps one of your global enemies? The scions of darkness? Fanged, wicked creatures from the depths?”

 

            “Your relatives, you mean?”

 

            Draco actually thought about that for a moment. It was possible. Father hadn’t been exactly thrilled with Draco’s scores on—he shoved the thought aside.

 

            “Don’t try and distract me, Potter. Just get us out of here.”

 

            “How do you propose I do that?”

 

            “I don’t know.” Draco waved airily. “Use Granger’s brain.”

 

            He ignored the Gryffindors while they scrambled about trying to open the door. Draco made his way to the windows and opened them all, though the pathetic breeze gained was hardly worth the effort.

 

            “It’s no good,” Hermione said finally. “We’re stuck here until Trelawney returns, or until someone lets us out.”

 

            Draco sprawled on the pile of pillows Potter had vacated and Levitated a teacup out the window before allowing it to drop. He grinned as he imagined it braining some hapless Hufflepuff. Several more teacups followed the first.

 

            “Malfoy! What are you doing?” Hermione demanded.

 

            “Punishing the unwary,” Draco replied.

 

            She ran to the window and looked out. “You nearly hit someone! I think it’s… Colin Creevey.”

 

            “Only nearly? I missed him? Bloody Gryffindor luck.”

 

            Granger turned back, and barely ducked in time as another cup winged past her.

 

            “Stop that!” she yelled.

 

            “Do you want me to Levitate you out there?”

 

            “And drop me like a teacup? You wish!”

 

            Potter spoke up. “Hermione, could you Levitate me? I could get help.”

 

            Granger looked uncertain. “I don’t think so. It’s too far down… I might drop you.”

 

            “You could Levitate Malfoy.”

 

            Draco did not even bother to comment to that bit of blithering nonsense, but he did give Potter a look.

 

            Harry blushed suddenly and Draco panicked a bit, wondering if the look had been misconstrued as some other sort of look. Because he certainly would never give Potter one of those looks. Never. 

Absolutely never, ever. He glared at Potter just to get the point across. In your dreams, Potter. In your dreams.

           

HERMIONE

 

            Hermione watched as Malfoy Levitated a collection of Trelawney’s teacups into a swirling cloud over his head before sailing them out the window. He really was impossibly wicked.

 

            If only he wasn’t also impossibly gorgeous. He had flung off his robes somewhere along the way, and now he lounged on the pillows with his tie loosened and several buttons open at the throat. His eyes were half-closed and he held his wand in a casual three-finger grip as he flicked it about the room. His hair covered the dark blue pillow like a silver curtain. She scowled and spun away to remove her own robes. It seemed to be getting warmer in the room with the door closed. Harry had already thrown his robes next to Malfoy’s.

 

            “So, what do we do now?” she asked.

 

            “Bollocks. I’m out of teacups,” Malfoy commented plaintively. “Shall I start on the chairs?”

 

            “No!” Hermione cried.

 

            “Let him,” Harry said. “If he kills someone, he’ll be expelled.”

 

            “What if he kills Angelina? Or Seamus? Or Ginny Weasley?”

 

            Malfoy got to his feet to look out the window. “Is the Weaselette down there? If so, I’ll actually aim this time…”

 

            Hermione rolled her eyes. He was dreadful.

 

            “Damn. No Gryffindors in sight. The rain of cups must have frightened them away. Pity, I should have started with the chairs.”

 

            Hermione sprawled in one of the chairs in question—a too-soft armchair that made her feel like it was eating her as she sank into the cushions. She cast a spell to stiffen it up a bit.

 

            “We could play cards,” Malfoy suggested suddenly. He Summoned a deck from his robes without waiting for them to respond.

 

            “You carry cards around with you?” Potter asked. Malfoy looked at him with a puzzled expression.

 

            “Of course. You never know when you might run into a Hufflepuff ripe for fleecing.” He laughed. “Hannah Abbot is so far in debt she owes me her firstborn child. I’m not sure what the hell I’ll do with it, but I’m sure there is some sort of black market for the babies of morons. I’ll most likely auction it.”

 

            “I’m not even going to dignify that with a comment,” Harry said dryly. Malfoy ruffled a thumb across the deck.

 

            “Game? We won’t even play for money, since you Gryffindors have an unhealthy aversion to gambling. No, Granger, we won’t be playing for firstborn children, either.” Malfoy shuddered. “God, who would want—“

 

            “Don’t start, Malfoy!” Harry shouted and brandished his wand.

 

            “Well, we could duel, but since it’s two against one, I’ll pass. It’s cards or nothing.”

 

            “Then it’s noth—” Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

 

            “Fine. We’ll play,” she said. Anything to keep Malfoy occupied, otherwise he and Harry would be at each other’s throats and Hermione would be forced to hex them both into unconsciousness. Which was not a bad idea. Harry gave her his “traitor” look and rolled his eyes.

 

HARRY

 

            Malfoy Levitated one of the low tables into the center of the room and lengthened the legs to make a rudimentary card table and the three of them dragged chairs over and seated themselves. Hermione sat across from Malfoy and Harry sat at the head. Or the foot. Or whichever. Malfoy set his wand aside and held his hands up over the cards. He shuffled them without touching them, a move that impressed Harry, though he was careful not to show it. Malfoy always seemed to be jealous of Harry, but he could do things Harry couldn’t, such as Levitating seven teacups at once and have them dance around his head.

 

            Malfoy dealt the cards in the same fashion—wandless, spell-less magic. Harry picked up his cards and Malfoy explained the basics of the game. It was confusing beyond all reason. Rather like Malfoy. Harry looked at Hermione, hoping she, at least, could understand the game and help him. She seemed to be staring at Malfoy—bloody hell, why was she looking at the Slytherin like that? Her tongue was practically lolling.

 

            Harry shifted his gaze to Malfoy, who was examining his cards and still explaining the endless rules. Yes, so the git was vaguely attractive, for a bloke. So he had those bloody chiseled features. And that perfect hair. Although at the moment, Malfoy’s hair was hanging over his eyes a bit and several tendrils near his temples were damp where tiny beads of sweat had started to gather. Harry had the sudden urge to reach out and tuck the hair back over Malfoy’s ear.

 

Oh god, I did not just think that. I did not. NOT. Harry loosened his own tie reflexively, and tried to ignore the fact that his fingertips were suddenly wet on the cards. Malfoy suddenly looked at Granger and his words choked off. Apparently, he had noticed Hermione staring at him with naked lust. Harry grinned.

 

            “Ahem!” Hermione said and began to babble, repeating the rules to Malfoy in an effort to cover her lapse. It seemed to work, as Malfoy shook his head as if to assure himself that he’d been imaging things.

 

            “All right,” Malfoy said. “We’ll play a few games until you get the hang of it. Hopefully it won’t take all afternoon.”

 

            They played four games and Hermione seemed to do well, though Harry was completely lost. Three serpents meant… what? Were pairs of tongs worth five points, or pairs of cauldrons?

 

            “Fair enough,” Malfoy said. “Time to up the stakes.”

 

            “You said it yourself, we don’t gamble,” Hermione said primly.

 

            “Who said anything about gambling? I simply want to make it more interesting. Plus, it’s beastly hot in here, so whichever of us loses gets to remove an item of clothing.”

 

            “You want us to strip?” Hermione asked incredulously.

 

            “Scared of a little nudity, Granger? Are all Gryffindors prudes?”

 

            “I’m in,” Harry said immediately, and then wished he hadn’t as two sets of eyes snapped to him in surprise. “Er… it really is hot. In here. And we can stop at any time, right Malfoy?”

 

            “Certainly. Any time you Gryffindors get too frightened, you can back down,” Malfoy goaded with a smirk.

 

            Things didn’t turn out quite the way Harry had planned. He lost the next four hands and removed his tie, shoes, socks, and belt. The next item to go was either his shirt or trousers, and neither Malfoy nor Hermione had removed a thing. Harry not only had to wipe his hands on his slacks several times, but he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine.

 

            When he looked at the cards on the next hand, biting his lip with frustration, the rules suddenly gelled in his head. Bloody hell, no wonder he’d been losing.

 

DRACO

 

            Draco flicked the edge of his card with a thumb and grinned. Potter was hopeless, he really was. It was actually miraculous that Draco was beating the Gryffindor at something. Malfoy had begun to think he really was the Boy Who Never Lost, but there finally seemed to be something Potter sucked at.

 

            Until the next hand. Which Draco lost. Potter grinned happily as Draco removed his tie in annoyance, although he was glad to see it go. He felt as if he were perspiring quite unbecomingly. Even Granger’s hair was beginning to droop in the heat. If she kept licking her lips like that, they were going to dry up and crack. Her tongue flicked out and drifted slowly over her upper lip. Draco felt a sudden lurch in his loins and snapped his gaze back to his cards. The heat was getting to him. First Potter and now Granger? What the hell was wrong with him?

 

            Hermione lost the next hand and dragged off her tie with an almost grateful expression. Then Draco lost. Then Granger. Draco. Granger. Malfoy scowled at Potter, who was far too noble to cheat, but apparently the bastard had recovered his astounding luck from wherever he had hidden it. Potter hummed as Draco lost again. Malfoy wasn’t wearing a belt, so he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He glanced up, and told himself that Granger was not looking at him like she wished she could run her hands over his chest and then follow said hands with her tongue. She wasn’t. Draco looked at Potter, who gazed intently at the ceiling. Was Potter blushing? Hmm, he wondered if the sight of so much flesh disturbed the Chosen Virgin.

 

            Granger lost the next hand and she wasn’t wearing a belt, either. She swallowed hard and slid out of her skirt, though neither Potter nor Draco could see anything due to the table. Draco didn’t care to see the Mudblood’s legs, anyway. Her bare legs. Her long bare legs, because she was actually the same height as Draco, not that he’d ever noticed that before, and would admit to nothing under torture. Granger lost the next hand as well, and inhaled sharply as Draco grinned and Potter looked at her with abject apology. It was either shirt or pants. The clever girl fooled them, though. She removed her bra though some feminine contortion and held it up with a triumphant grin.

 

            Draco’s trousers were the next to go, leaving him clad in black boxers. Potter was smiling at him rather disturbingly, and Draco realized the time had come to cheat. He shuffled the cards once more, and then laid them in a specific pattern almost faster than the eye could catch. Unless the eyes were brown and belonged to a certain hyper-intelligent witch named Hermione Granger. She scowled. Draco flicked a suggestive gaze to Potter. Granger’s lips thinned. She nodded minutely. Draco suppressed a grin.

 

            Potter lost the next hand. And the next. And the next. Which left him beet red with embarrassment and completely naked. Draco practically purred with triumph. Hermione looked guilty, but as she was down to panties and shirt, she dared not speak up and expose Draco’s cheating.

 

            When Potter lost the next hand, Draco realized he was about to get his overdue revenge on his two least-favorite Gryffindors.

 

HERMIONE

 

            “Er… isn’t the game over?” she asked. “Since Harry can’t take anything else off?”

 

            “No, it’s just achieved the next stage,” Malfoy said casually.

 

            “The next stage?” Harry asked sharply and Malfoy smiled wickedly. Hermione caught the panic in Harry’s voice.

 

            “Yes. When the loser—that would be you, Potter—cannot remove any more items, the winner—that would be me, Potter—may challenge them to a dare.”

 

            “A dare? And what happens if I refuse?”

 

            “Then you forfeit the game, and I call you a spineless coward for the rest of eternity.” The emerald eyes glared at Draco beneath his spectacles and Malfoy smiled again. Hermione suppressed a sigh. Honestly, all you had to do was suggest the word coward to Harry and he would leap through the gates of hell to prove you wrong. She realized they really needed to work on that.

 

            “What’s the dare?”

 

            “Well, since we’re the only three here, our choices are a bit limited. You have to kiss Granger.” Hermione blinked in shock.

 

            “What?” Harry bellowed. Hermione glared at him, affronted.

 

            “Thanks a lot, Harry,” she snapped.

 

            “What?” he asked again, bewildered this time.

 

            “You act like it would be the most horrifying thing imaginable!”

 

            “Er… no, that would be kissing Malfoy.”

 

            “Think of it as an experiment, Granger. Take notes, Potter, as I’m sure you’ve never had a real kiss before. Oh, and make it a good one. None of that sibling peck business.”

 

            Malfoy had the gall to lean back and cross his arms behind his head, stretching out the muscles of his chest and showing off a flat expanse of abdomen. Hermione’s mouth went dry and she noticed Harry gaping at him, as well. Probably in horror at the thought of kissing her. She snarled, reached over, and grabbed Harry’s face.

 

            She planted her lips on his and nibbled at them a bit until Harry began to relax. She trailed her tongue over his lips, and then pushed it between his teeth quickly, knowing the Slytherin bastard was watching with clinical detachment. Harry’s tongue hesitantly met hers and Hermione pulled away in relief. She felt smug satisfaction at Harry’s dazed look, and the fact that his glasses were slightly askew. He adjusted them with one hand.

 

            “I didn’t think you had it in you, Granger,” Malfoy drawled approvingly. She sneered at him.

 

            She lost the next hand and stared at Malfoy accusingly as she slid her panties off and set them aside, thankful for the table and the fact that her shirt was long enough to act as a makeshift dress. However, the shirt was all she had left. She gnawed at her lip worriedly and noticed Malfoy watching her. He looked away quickly.

 

            Harry lost the next hand, but Hermione won. Harry grinned at her weakly, expecting her dare to be something simple.

 

            “Harry, I want you to kiss Malfoy.”

 

            “WHAT?”

 

            Harry would probably not speak to her for three months, but oh god, revenge was sweet.   As a bonus, Malfoy was looking at her like she’d sprouted six heads. She nearly giggled.

 

HARRY

 

            Harry gaped at Hermione, wondering if she’d gone completely mad. Had Malfoy hexed her while Harry wasn’t watching? Had the heat fried her brain? Had… had…? It was simply inconceivable. He shifted his gaze to Malfoy, who was looking rather the same as Harry felt. Stunned and horrified.

 

            “But… but… Hermione!”

 

            “That will teach you to object to kissing me,” she said primly. “Besides, it’s not as if either of you will enjoy it. Although, I do expect it to be a real kiss. What was it you said, Malfoy? Take notes? Harry’s not a bad kisser.”

 

            Harry vowed never again to underestimate the power of a woman scorned.

 

            “This is the worst moment of my life,” he said dismally. Malfoy’s grey eyes flicked to his and the smirk returned.

 

            “That’s what you think, Potter,” he drawled. “Unlike Granger, I actually know what I’m doing.”

 

            With that, Malfoy mimicked Hermione’s gesture and reached out to grasp Harry’s chin. Malfoy pulled him forward into a kiss and Harry’s stomach flipped over. Hermione’s kiss had been… nice, but Malfoy’s was… oh god it was like traveling by Portkey—the same wrenching sensation somewhere in his gut and everything melting into a swirl of color, although this was accompanied by the rush of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Malfoy’s tongue was—bloody hell, it was everywhere, and it was a marvel… Harry felt his hand touch Malfoy’s skin and it jolted him enough that his eyes snapped open to meet Malfoy’s silver orbs. The Slytherin looked just as shocked as Harry felt. Malfoy’s hand was still on Harry’s face, but it was cupping his jaw gently.

 

            Harry snatched his hand away from Malfoy’s neck and sat back with a gasp. Malfoy pulled away. Was he… blushing?

 

            “Well, that was interesting,” Hermione said in a voice heavy with amusement.

 

            “We will never speak of this,” Malfoy said hoarsely.

 

            “Ever,” Harry added.

 

            “No argument,” Hermione said and then giggled. They both glared at her. “Well, who would believe us, anyway? The three of us playing strip cards and kissing? I think You-Know-Who would faint dead away at the idea.”

 

            Harry relaxed under the comforting onslaught of Hermione’s logic. He could almost pretend he hadn’t been turned on by kissing Draco Malfoy. Except for one painfully hard physical reminder…

 

            Malfoy seemed both astonished and mortified when he lost the next two rounds, which disposed of Malfoy’s last item of clothing and left Harry with the winning hand. Harry grinned at Hermione almost maliciously. Make him kiss Draco Malfoy, would she? Let’s see how she liked it.