They lie facing each other. Touching all along their lengths with only her skin, the colour of soured cream, between him and her heavy womb. The hair he gathers into a loose knot at her nape is brown and tends to frizz. Glinting honey highlights pick up the candle light. Her breasts barely fill the palms of his hands and her nipples are dusky brown. Her sex is the same colour as her nipples. It shades to a deep pink, and is surrounded by springy curls of dark reddish brown. She tastes clean and slightly alkaline. Her left little toe is crooked and a dark mole rides the upper curve of her right buttock.
She carries his child.
She is his best friend's wife.
All this he knows just as he knows the man who lies against his back, one arm making a pillow for his friend and wife, the other resting on her hip. The hair that tickles his ear is straight and red. The arm stretched across him is even paler than his own, blue veins traced against the skin making it seem fragile and vulnerable. The erection pressing into the small of his back is not at all fragile. If he were to turn to take it in his mouth it would be dusky with blood. Hot, heavy and heavy tasting.
Harry ponders the situation. Moving forward will thrust his erection most rudely into Hermione's belly. Moving backward will wedge Ron's firmly into the crevice of his arse. Neither one an entirely bad choice in and of itself, but Harry thinks he'll just lie here as long as they let him. Trying to figure out when his life became so rich and strange.
He moves a hand to Hermione's swollen abdomen, spreading his fingers and pushing slightly. His child, or Ron's, moves against the pressure and he feels a momentary tightening of the muscle lying beneath her sleek flesh. There must be a hint of panicked query in his eyes because Hermione smiles slightly.
"Relax. There's hours yet."
Her voice is soft and low, quiet in the quiet room. Ron's teeth graze lightly over the slant where Harry's neck becomes shoulder. The nip is quickly soothed over by soft nibbling lips. Harry rewards him by moving his hips lazily backwards. Ron's hand tightens on Hermione's hip, maintaining contact between all three of them. Nothing urgent. They are all content to bask; greedily storing up contact for when they must part. They're following doctor's orders even. As much contact as possible so their magics all know each other and don't try to root out the foreign invader riding with Hermione's real child, sharing the shelter of her body.
Hermione's hand is over Harry's. Her fingers find the plain gold band on his ring finger.
"Tell me about her."
It isn't a question any more. They are clearly done waiting. For five months, they've given him whatever he's needed. Support and sympathy. A place to hide. A place to hide her child. And last night.
"Her name was Andromeda Fahd. We met at Bill's place in Egypt. Her hair was black and red. It came almost to her knees. She liked strawberries. It was coming up for your first anniversary, remember? I said I had to work, but I really wanted some time with her. I wanted to have her for myself for a while before I shared her with you. I wanted something that was mine, that didn't come to me because I was the Boy Who Lived." And because Hermione had always been for Ron. He would have stayed if only they'd told him he could have this. If only...
He can still taste her. The rose water she used to rinse her face every morning. The cinnamon and orange of her soap. The sweet, clean taste of her pink sex. Every day they'd been stepping closer, discovering more. There were still parts of her he'd never kissed, there were friends she'd never meet. They'd thought they had all the time in the world.
He'd still been inside her, spent and gasping, when the grenade had crashed through their window. The smell of her was on the fingers he'd wrapped around Bellatrix LeStrange's throat. She was wrapped in his shirt when he'd apparated them, in blind panic, into Hermione and Ron's living room.
"We had a year. We were married for three months. You couldn't come there because of your baby. We couldn't go here because of ours. It still hurts that you never met her. It feels wrong that she never met you, that she'll never know the woman giving her child life."
He wonders if she was conscious enough, before the end, to understand what they were doing. He hopes she knows what they have done for her child. He hopes she can understand what they have done for him.
"She screamed when they cut her. The Mediwitch swore she couldn't feel anything, that she was only in shock. Only...dying. They said she couldn't know where she was or what we were doing, that there wasn't...wasn't e-enough...the head-wound. She...they said she was really dead, just her body hadn't all got the message yet."
Ron is behind him, long arms keeping a tight hold against his shivering body. Hermione is before him, kissing tears from his cheeks.
"Then they took the baby out. I didn't know what to do. Stay with her, watch her die. Go with him, maybe watch more people cut you and sew him up inside you, like a bell inside a stuffed toy."
He traces her smooth, unscarred skin.
"In an hour, Hermione, you figured out how to get him safe, how to get him a new home. You didn't stop to think. You never even fucking blinked. I would never have asked for this, not from anyone. I am scared and awed and honoured to have you two for friends."
Their lips meet over his ear and two I-love-yous are whispered to him, sweet and low.
He whispers it later to Hermione as she sits on a throne of his and Ron's thighs, beautiful in travail.
His lips form it against Ron's when he is passed a wet red-haired infant who watches him with curious blue eyes.
He weaves it into a spell above a cradle, twining it around the sleeping heads of the twinned infants. Golden skinned and paper pale. Fire haired and raven dark.
He promises it later to a flower covered grave, for ears that have never and will never hear the words from him.
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Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Simple Gifts
Author: Gulessable [email] [website]
Details: Standalone | R | het *slash* | 6k | 01/07/05
Summary: Because Hermione had always been for Ron. He would have stayed if only they’d told him he could have this.
Notes: OT3! And, uh, f-preg. I hear that freaks some people.
Disclaimer/Other: JKR owns many, many things. Including these characters. I own very little. And owe so very much.
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