Edge Of Sorrow's Blade
Because eevilalice and kitty_fic suggested I post here. Co-winner (with the beautiful solas_divided) of the last round at hp_3forfun!
Title: Edge Of Sorrrow's Blade
Author: rivertempest
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The war didn't end exactly the way Harry thought it would.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is Goddess divine and owns everything Harry Potter. The characters aren't mine (though God knows I wish they were), and I make no money whatsoever. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for hp_3forfun, prompts: Anything's socially acceptable if you do it with enough confidence and A morning of raspberry tea and cinnamon toast. How I came up with something like this from such innocuous ideas, I have no clue. Too much Jell-O, perhaps? Thank you to my kick-butt betas: dusty273, solas_divided, and ssddgr. You gals rock!
“He frightens me sometimes,” Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear. He tightened his arms around her, shivering in the predawn hours.
She turned slightly and pressed a kiss to his angular jaw. “You’ve never really seen him angry, just brassed off.”
The focus of their hushed conversation stirred on the other side of Hermione, the silken sheets falling low to reveal a nicely rounded arse. Though Harry continued his deep breathing as if still asleep, his eyes were wide open, staring into their bedroom that the three had shared for over a year.
Harry never truly slept, never achieved the deep state that most people do after about an hour of their head touching the pillow. Instead, his mind was constantly filled with a lifetime of shadows, heated or whispered conversations that remained elusive upon waking, and terrifying imagines that propelled him out of bed on more than one occasion. Several times he was caught sleepwalking about the mansion, nearly tumbling headfirst down a flight of stairs, so Draco had set up wards to prevent it happening again.
How Draco and Hermione tolerated his nightmares and such truly boggled Harry’s mind.
But he loved them for it. They had clung to each other after the war, emotionally adrift in a sea of public adoration for Harry and Hermione, and vilification for Draco’s. All three were too scarred for any type of normal relationship, so they formed one of their own. And it worked perfectly for them.
Fuck the rest of the world if they had a problem with it. Besides, anything was socially acceptable if you did it with enough confidence. And they had confidence in spades.
Sensing that his lover was awake, Draco reached over Hermione and let his fingers drift down Harry’s back in a soothing motion. “What happened this time?” he asked quietly, grateful when Hermione joined in stroking Harry’s skin.
Harry drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I killed innocent people.”
Hermione knew that was one of his worst fears. “You or...”
Harry wanted to indulge in their lingering touches a little longer, so he didn’t turn over to face them. It made it easier to accept their affection sometimes. “Both of us,” he admitted softly.
Both meant that Harry and the fragment of Voldemort residing within him had committed the atrocities in his dreams. While Harry had offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb at the end, Lucius Malfoy had taken advantage of the Dark Lord’s inattention and sent an Avada his way, ending the creature in their midst.
Harry hadn’t known what to do: cry in relief that Voldemort was gone, or mourn the fact that he still had the ability to come back due to the piece of soul that was slowly trying to consume Harry. He’d chosen the former, as the only people who knew he still carried the fragment were caressing his flesh and loving him regardless.
Struggling to banish the images constantly whirling in his head, Harry finally turned to his companions and returned their embrace, burying his face in the crux of Hermione’s shoulder while he wrapped his arms around Draco. “I love you both,” he said on a choked sob.
Nothing more was said; both Hermione and Draco knew he needed distraction from the thing inside him. Trailing his hand down Hermione’s thigh, Draco lifted her leg and settled it back on his hip, to dip his nimble fingers in her already wet quim.
She moaned and arched her back into Draco’s erection, her own hands finding and stroking Harry’s hard length.
When he felt as if he would explode, Harry batted her hands away and rubbed the blunt tip along her dripping slit, earning a heated, “Please!” for his actions from Hermione. Obeying, he slipped inside her warm depth and began pumping.
Draco loved watching them like that and purposely delayed his own gratification just to bask in their presence. A particularly heady moan made his cock jump, though, and he whispered a lubrication spell for both his prick and Hermione’s arse, delighting in her squeal of surprise.
Harry slowed long enough for Draco to press past her ring of muscles, temporarily loosened from their previous bout, and seat himself fully inside her arse. He only resumed his thrusts on Draco’s slight nod, swivelling his hips to hit that spot in Hermione’s welcoming heat.
Filled beyond imagining, she road with them both, loving the driving motion of Harry’s thick cock and the agonizing pressure of Draco long one. Her body felt on fire; the two men had her screaming in no time and quickly followed her over the precipice. All three panted heavily as they lay there, the first rays of light making their way to land on the sated bodies of the lovers. Draco’s stomach rumbling effectively dampened the mood.
“What? Shagging you two works up an appetite,” he grumbled when Hermione tsk’d in disgust.
“Off with you, then!” she said flippantly. “I think we deserve a morning of raspberry tea and cinnamon toast, and you’re just the person to fix it.”
A loud slap on her bum was his response. “Then I’m taking you with me.” Draco pulled her out of Harry’s arms and slung her over his shoulder, sprinting out the door with her kicking and screaming.
Harry smiled at their antics and rose from the rumpled bed to follow, but stopped before the French doors to peer outside at the coming weather. Writhing snakes suddenly filled his vision, and he screamed... but only inside his head.
When Harry Potter next opened his eyes, there was a decided red gleam about them. He rolled his neck and shoulders, dark power creeping up his spine. Scanning the dimly-lit room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, smiling wickedly and licking his lips.
Next thing he spotted was all three wands lying on the nightstand on Draco’s side of the bed.
Taking them, he followed the sound of the lovers downstairs and into oblivion.
Title: Edge Of Sorrrow's Blade
Author: rivertempest
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The war didn't end exactly the way Harry thought it would.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is Goddess divine and owns everything Harry Potter. The characters aren't mine (though God knows I wish they were), and I make no money whatsoever. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for hp_3forfun, prompts: Anything's socially acceptable if you do it with enough confidence and A morning of raspberry tea and cinnamon toast. How I came up with something like this from such innocuous ideas, I have no clue. Too much Jell-O, perhaps? Thank you to my kick-butt betas: dusty273, solas_divided, and ssddgr. You gals rock!
“He frightens me sometimes,” Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear. He tightened his arms around her, shivering in the predawn hours.
She turned slightly and pressed a kiss to his angular jaw. “You’ve never really seen him angry, just brassed off.”
The focus of their hushed conversation stirred on the other side of Hermione, the silken sheets falling low to reveal a nicely rounded arse. Though Harry continued his deep breathing as if still asleep, his eyes were wide open, staring into their bedroom that the three had shared for over a year.
Harry never truly slept, never achieved the deep state that most people do after about an hour of their head touching the pillow. Instead, his mind was constantly filled with a lifetime of shadows, heated or whispered conversations that remained elusive upon waking, and terrifying imagines that propelled him out of bed on more than one occasion. Several times he was caught sleepwalking about the mansion, nearly tumbling headfirst down a flight of stairs, so Draco had set up wards to prevent it happening again.
How Draco and Hermione tolerated his nightmares and such truly boggled Harry’s mind.
But he loved them for it. They had clung to each other after the war, emotionally adrift in a sea of public adoration for Harry and Hermione, and vilification for Draco’s. All three were too scarred for any type of normal relationship, so they formed one of their own. And it worked perfectly for them.
Fuck the rest of the world if they had a problem with it. Besides, anything was socially acceptable if you did it with enough confidence. And they had confidence in spades.
Sensing that his lover was awake, Draco reached over Hermione and let his fingers drift down Harry’s back in a soothing motion. “What happened this time?” he asked quietly, grateful when Hermione joined in stroking Harry’s skin.
Harry drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I killed innocent people.”
Hermione knew that was one of his worst fears. “You or...”
Harry wanted to indulge in their lingering touches a little longer, so he didn’t turn over to face them. It made it easier to accept their affection sometimes. “Both of us,” he admitted softly.
Both meant that Harry and the fragment of Voldemort residing within him had committed the atrocities in his dreams. While Harry had offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb at the end, Lucius Malfoy had taken advantage of the Dark Lord’s inattention and sent an Avada his way, ending the creature in their midst.
Harry hadn’t known what to do: cry in relief that Voldemort was gone, or mourn the fact that he still had the ability to come back due to the piece of soul that was slowly trying to consume Harry. He’d chosen the former, as the only people who knew he still carried the fragment were caressing his flesh and loving him regardless.
Struggling to banish the images constantly whirling in his head, Harry finally turned to his companions and returned their embrace, burying his face in the crux of Hermione’s shoulder while he wrapped his arms around Draco. “I love you both,” he said on a choked sob.
Nothing more was said; both Hermione and Draco knew he needed distraction from the thing inside him. Trailing his hand down Hermione’s thigh, Draco lifted her leg and settled it back on his hip, to dip his nimble fingers in her already wet quim.
She moaned and arched her back into Draco’s erection, her own hands finding and stroking Harry’s hard length.
When he felt as if he would explode, Harry batted her hands away and rubbed the blunt tip along her dripping slit, earning a heated, “Please!” for his actions from Hermione. Obeying, he slipped inside her warm depth and began pumping.
Draco loved watching them like that and purposely delayed his own gratification just to bask in their presence. A particularly heady moan made his cock jump, though, and he whispered a lubrication spell for both his prick and Hermione’s arse, delighting in her squeal of surprise.
Harry slowed long enough for Draco to press past her ring of muscles, temporarily loosened from their previous bout, and seat himself fully inside her arse. He only resumed his thrusts on Draco’s slight nod, swivelling his hips to hit that spot in Hermione’s welcoming heat.
Filled beyond imagining, she road with them both, loving the driving motion of Harry’s thick cock and the agonizing pressure of Draco long one. Her body felt on fire; the two men had her screaming in no time and quickly followed her over the precipice. All three panted heavily as they lay there, the first rays of light making their way to land on the sated bodies of the lovers. Draco’s stomach rumbling effectively dampened the mood.
“What? Shagging you two works up an appetite,” he grumbled when Hermione tsk’d in disgust.
“Off with you, then!” she said flippantly. “I think we deserve a morning of raspberry tea and cinnamon toast, and you’re just the person to fix it.”
A loud slap on her bum was his response. “Then I’m taking you with me.” Draco pulled her out of Harry’s arms and slung her over his shoulder, sprinting out the door with her kicking and screaming.
Harry smiled at their antics and rose from the rumpled bed to follow, but stopped before the French doors to peer outside at the coming weather. Writhing snakes suddenly filled his vision, and he screamed... but only inside his head.
When Harry Potter next opened his eyes, there was a decided red gleam about them. He rolled his neck and shoulders, dark power creeping up his spine. Scanning the dimly-lit room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, smiling wickedly and licking his lips.
Next thing he spotted was all three wands lying on the nightstand on Draco’s side of the bed.
Taking them, he followed the sound of the lovers downstairs and into oblivion.