There's soft red hair and freckled skin brushing the side of your neck, and warm hands on sliding under your shirt, but at that moment you don't feel them; all you can see is steel grey eyes staring at you through the half open door.
You don't know how he got all the way into the Shrieking Shack. You don't have any idea if he prodded the knot with a stick or what but it doesn't matter, because there he is. Ron's back is to the door and so he doesn't realise it yet, and when he pulls your jumper over your head you close your eyes and hope desperately that he'll be gone, it'll just be you and Ron there like it always is.
But when you open your eyes and straighten your glasses, he's still there.
Ron senses something isn't right, and he pulls back, frowning. "Harry...?" He follows your gaze, and even though he isn't touching you anymore you can feel every muscle in his body tense.
"Oh, Merlin."
"No, not Merlin, but glad you recognise your betters when you see them, Weasley," says Malfoy, but his tone of voice is somehow lacking his usual biting sarcasm. Something about his voice is heavy and languid and breathy, as if he's been...
...as if he's been standing there, watching you kiss your best friend. And liking it.
You know Ron's about to tell Malfoy to get lost and you find that you're hoping very much that he doesn't, and you don't know why, so you do the only thing you know that's guaranteed to shut Ron up - you grab a handful of his faded Cannons jumper and pull him to you, kissing him hard. Ron kisses you back in a way that's almost possessive, something he's never done before, and you know it's because Malfoy's watching. Because Malfoy's watching and Ron wants to make sure that Malfoy knows who is who. And you want him to know that too, but you also want to know what it might be like to...
.... no, you don't want to know.
Or do you?
Ron breaks off the kiss and looks at you as though he's trying not to look at Malfoy, but he's flushed and breathing hard and you can't tell whether he's angry or just horny or both.
"Seen enough, Malfoy?" says Ron, deliberately concentrating on looking at you.
Malfoy doesn't reply, which shocks you both into looking at him. He's moved on into the room now, standing there with a look on his face you've never seen - it isn't a glare, or a sneer, or a smirk. It's an expression that looks somewhat human, and something else you can't quite put your finger on.
So you lick your lips just a bit, still tasting Ron on them, and say, "You didn't answer him, Malfoy. Have you seen enough?"
He still doesn't answer, but steps closer to the two of you, looking as though he can't quite believe he's doing this. Moonlight shines through one of the grimy windows, reminding you briefly what the whole point of this house was for in the first place, and it glints off his pale hair, making it look almost ghostly white. You wonder if his hair's as soft as Ron's, and you reach out to touch it.
It is as soft as Ron's.
Your other hand reaches out for Ron's hand, squeezing it, because while you're suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to know what Malfoy's hair feels like and what his lips might feel like on yours, you don't want Ron to think you're looking for a replacement, and when he squeezes in return your heart starts pounding madly in your chest. You wonder for a moment how odd it is that you're touching Draco Malfoy's hair and that it's actually soft and not stiff from hair gel like you expect.
"This is fucked up," says Malfoy.
"No shit," replies Ron.
"Did we just agree on something?"
For the first time since you've known them, Ron looks at Malfoy without scowling. "I think so."
You screw up your eyes really hard because you think you've fallen into some bizarre alternate universe where Draco (did you just think of him as Draco and not Malfoy?) and Ron are actually within two feet of each other semi-willingly and without a single hex, and when you open them Draco's face is very close to yours. So close, in fact, that you notice that there is not one single freckle on his aristocratically slim nose, and you have just enough time to see Ron over his shoulder watching with more-than-mild interest before Draco's lips close over yours. It feels very strange to have someone else's lips there besides Ron's, but you get the feeling you could get used to it very quickly when Draco's tongue comes in contact with yours.
You feel like you shouldn't be doing this, and at the same time you wouldn't be able to stop yourself if you tried. When Draco pulls away you open your eyes, taking in a breath to protest until you feel his lips on your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, and you moan in spite of yourself.
"Well, don't just stand there, Weasley," says Draco against your skin, and Ron scowls. You're still holding his hand, your fingers still laced together, and you squeeze it, pulling him to you again. You don't want him to get mad and leave, so you let go of his hand and slip it under his shirt, and then you know he's not scowling anymore because he's kissing you again.
They're both kissing you, on every available inch of skin they can find, and it's driving you crazy. And what's driving you crazier is that you can't figure out what to do with your hands - if you're touching one of them you want to be touching the other. Finally you just give up and let them push you back onto the bed that used to be dusty and dank until you and Ron started coming down here on a regular basis.
You're not quite sure how anyone manages to take off any of their clothes in the mass tangle of arms and legs and various other body parts that ensues, but you're oh so very aware when Ron slides behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your neck. Then a moment later, when Draco takes you in his mouth, it's almost as if your brain shuts down all rational thought. There's nothing else in your universe at this moment except for the two sets of lips on your skin and the two sets of hands all over your body, doing things you didn't quite think were possible but you aren't about to question for fear they might stop.
Draco's mouth slides off you and you want to scream - you were closer to the edge than you thought it was possible to get without falling overboard - and then you feel Ron's hands under your arms, turning you over until you're fitting together just like you always do, with Draco behind you, caressing your back and mumbling something you can't quite make out in your ear. This is both completely familiar and entirely foreign, as while you've topped Ron many a time, he's never topped you; and you're not sure if you want Draco to do it until he slides a slick finger inside you and then you wonder why in Merlin's name you never let Ron do this before.
Ron's holding you and telling you to relax but you don't see how you possibly can as your whole body is tight as a bowstring, and you think that you might just die if they don't let you come soon, and you're somewhat embarrassed that that half-whimpering sound you hear is coming from you, though it doesn't seem to bother either of them in the slightest. And at that moment you desperately want it all - you want both Draco and Ron and you don't much care how. One of your few remaining coherent brain fragments is very grateful that lubrication charms don't require much concentration. Draco must have been waiting for this because not more than a few moments after you enter Ron, he enters you and you feel like something like this shouldn't even be possible, let alone happening to you.
At this point you're wishing to God or Merlin or whatever Higher Power wizards are supposed to believe in that you weren't a skinny hormone filled teenager, because this is something you want to last as long as humanly possible. Draco's breath on your neck is sending shivers up your spine, Ron's kissing you like you're more important than air, and the rest of what they're doing... it's all so surreal it doesn't take you long to fall completely off the edge, taking the both of them with you, and all you can think about is how this is a million times better than flying or anything else you can think of. Draco is hot and slightly sweaty as he collapses against your back, and you're dimly aware that he and Ron are kissing - kissing! - over your shoulder, but you're too drained and sated to even turn your head to watch them.
If someone had told you earlier that you'd be tangled up in bed with not only your best friend but Draco Malfoy as well, you'd likely have sent them to Madam Pomfrey with a suggestion they be shipped off to St. Mungo's to have their brains inspected, but here you are in the middle of two people who couldn't be more different and it feels utterly right. You take one of Draco's pale hands and one of Ron's freckled ones, forgetting about who you are and how you feel and drift off to sleep between them for the moment completely and oddly content.
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