With Three You Get Eggroll

With Three You Get Egg Roll

By FenrisWolf

~~~~~

"Hermione! I'm home!"

Harry tossed the post on the hall table and jogged up the stairs, his mind still on the case he'd just wrapped up. His career as a Special Auror wasn't as glamorous as being a high-profile professional Quidditch Seeker would have been, but it was far more satisfying. Every time he busted another Dark wizard, every time his office shattered another cabal in the making, it felt like he was nipping the next Voldemort in the bud. Besides, it drove Hermione crazy when he introduced himself as "Potter...Harry Potter," in his best Sean Connery impersonation. Speaking of which... "Hermione? Are you home?"

"I'm in here, Professor Potter."

Uh-Oh.

Harry pushed open the door of his study and swallowed. She was perched on the edge of his desk, wearing a pleated little plaid skirt that had to be a solid six inches shorter than any school's regulations had ever allowed. Her white blouse was also at least two sizes too small, the buttons straining and the tails knotted in front, exposing her taut, flat stomach. She was wearing white stockings in place of knee socks, and gloss black pumps with three-inch heels in place of Mary Janes. Her bushy hair was done up in pigtails, and her full lips were pouting. She was a walking advertisement for statutory rape, and he could feel his body reacting.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Granger? What sends you to my office this time?"

"I'm so sorry, Professor Potter," she cooed in her best little-girl-without-a-brain voice, "but I didn't finish my Divination essay on time. Professor Trelawney sent me to you to be...disciplined."

"Dear me, that is serious," he replied in his best I've-got-a-stick-up-my-ass voice. "We can't have students skiving off and not doing their homework, Miss Granger. I'm afraid you will have to speak to Mr. Wood about your behavior." Harry reached up and lifted a slender rattan cane down from the wall. "Now, turn around and bend over, young lady. Yes, that's right..."

~~~~~

Hermione winced as she settled into the chair at the kitchen table. "Need another pillow?" Harry asked with a smirk as he put together their tea.

"No thanks," she muttered, "But I am checking the cushioning charms on Mr. Wood; I don't remember being quite so sore last time."

Harry chuckled. The charms were designed to make certain that nothing more than a stinging sensation arose from the use of 'Mr. Wood', but even stings had a cumulative effect when...enthusiastically applied. He didn't know where she'd found that particular prop for their playacting, but her little squeaks and squeals as he applied her 'punishment' always drove him crazy. Of course, by the time they finished that little scenario, he was usually the one begging for mercy, but given the end results, he couldn't say he really minded.

No one at Hogwarts had ever guessed that quiet, bookish Hermione Granger had a playfully kinky streak a mile wide, and when it was blended with her blinding intelligence and creativity, it made for a combination that would have destroyed a lesser man. Of course Harry had seen the first warning signs after they had become a couple during their seventh year; she'd 'repaired' his glasses yet again, and then showed up at his last game wearing a set of robes made of a fabric his glasses were now charmed to see through--and hadn't worn a stitch under them. He's almost plowed headfirst into the ground when he first caught a glimpse of her, and while he quickly figured out what she'd done, it hadn't help control the effect she had on his concentration, especially since she insisted on jumping up and down and waving every time he passed by. It had taken him three times as long as usual to catch the snitch, and only the fact that the Hufflepuff Seeker was completely thick had saved the day.

She'd actually been a bit nervous about how he'd react to her mischievousness, but once Harry made it clear how much he enjoyed her antics, she let her imagination run wild. Combined with the Marauder's Map, Harry's invisibility cloak and the judicious use of silencing charms, the young lovers had probably shagged in more public places than any couple since the school was founded; the tub in the prefect's bathroom, the chamber on the third floor where Fluffy had been kept chained, the greenhouses (all three), the Slytherin common room, the floor in the Great Hall, and even Professor Dumbledore's office (site of the first appearance of The Professor And The Schoolgirl).

After the end of school and the subsequent defeat of Voldemort, they'd finally been married, and anyone who thought that marriage would make them settle down had had a rude surprise. If anything, they seemed to take marriage as a challenge not to get all stodgy. Harry daily thanked Merlin that his Quidditch drills and Auror training had given him the stamina of a bull, because otherwise he never would have been able to keep up with his wife's insatiable demands. He still remembered his near coronary when she'd shown up at the Auror training camp in a black leather trench coat, a garter belt, and not a hell of a lot else.

His wife tapping on the table interrupted his reverie. "Harry? Is anyone home in there?" she teased.

"Sorry, 'Mione. You were saying?"

She looked at him quizzically. "You had the oddest expression on your face just then. What were you thinking about?"

Dangerous though it was, he couldn't help blushing. "I was just remembering...things..." he admitted, a smile creeping across his face.

"Oh, things," she said throatily, arching her back so that her nipples tented the fabric of her shirt.

"Gods, woman, are you trying to kill me? If you keep that up, I'll never get to work today," he growled.

Hermione laughed. "Well, we can't have that; who else is there to save the Wizarding world from the Forces of Darkness besides Special Auror Harry Potter?"

"Well, the Forces of Darkness will have to wait a day or so; I'm going to be sitting through meetings and debriefings for the rest of the week. At least it means you can count on me being home at night for a while." He grabbed the last piece of toast as he lifted his cloak off the back of the chair. "Are you still meeting Ginny for lunch today?"

"Yes, we're meeting at that new café in Diagon Alley." Hermione frowned. "I think she and Jeremy are having problems."

Harry's face fell. "Damn, I thought he was going to work out. They've been together for what, over six months?"

She nodded. "Closer to nine, actually, but I think this has been building up for a while. Maybe I'm imagining things, but she seemed really unhappy the last time I Flooed her."

Harry grimaced. Ginny had been Hermione's best friend since their sixth year at Hogwarts; she'd been Maid of Honor at their wedding, and he knew they both wanted to see her happy with someone. Unfortunately, none of the relationships the youngest Weasley had seemed to last for more than a few months. True, a couple of them had been real losers that she was well rid of, but the others seemed like decent enough chaps. Harry knew Hermione had tried to talk to her friend more than once about why she had so many disastrous break-ups, but so far Ginny had refused to talk about it with anyone, not even her best friend.

"Tell you what," he said as he headed towards the living room to apparate to work, "Why don't you invite them to dinner on Saturday? Maybe we can keep this one from crashing and burning like the others."

~~~~~

Hermione sat at her table at the sidewalk café, waiting for Ginny to arrive. Truth to tell, she was more than a bit worried about her red-haired friend. Ginny had turned into quite a beauty her last few years at Hogwarts, and her position as a professional Quidditch chaser for Puddlemere United kept her in excellent physical condition. Hermione often thought that, if she hadn't been such a sports fanatic, she could have made a good living as a model for any of the Wizarding Fashion magazines - or the Muggle ones, for that matter. But for all her beauty, wit and intelligence, none of her relationships lasted long, nor did they seem to end well. In fact, the only one she could remember that had ended amicably was her brief liaison with Harry, when she was in fifth year and he was in sixth. She hadn't dated anyone after Harry until they were all out of Hogwarts, and to the best of Hermione's knowledge every relationship had lasted less than a year, and some were far shorter than that.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sight of a head of red hair moving towards her through the café. A moment later Ginny was standing next to her table, and one look at her face told the tale. "Jeremy?" was all she asked, and Ginny nodded, obviously fighting back tears.

Hermione made a snap decision; lunch they could eat anytime, but this sort of girl talk demanded privacy. Rising, she tossed a couple of Galleons on the table and took her friend's hand. "Come on, we're going home," she said firmly, towing her out of the café.

A few minutes and a quick Apparation later, they were sitting in Hermione's living room and she was putting a stiff drink in Ginny's hands. She settled in the chair across from her and waited as her friend drained half the glass, hiccupping a little. She then took the glass away and set it aside, saying, "Now, tell me."

Ginny shrugged, avoiding Hermione's eyes. "What's there to tell? Jeremy and I had another fight. This time it was a bad one. We broke up End of story."

Her friend shook her head. "Oh, no, not this time. We have gone through this one too many times, Ginny Weasley! You meet a new man, they seem like really great guys, you get along swimmingly for a month or two--or in this case, nine--and then it goes sour. You're a basket case for a couple of months, and then it starts all over again. Well, my bestest of girl friends, my little sister I didn't have, this time, I'm going to have answers. You are going to tell me what is getting in the way of your happiness, or I will--will--I will turn you into a ferret and set you up with Malfoy!"

Hermione chuckled at Ginny's mock gasp of horror. "Seriously, Ginny, I'm worried about you, and so is Harry; for that matter, so is that prat of a brother of yours, whenever he's off the Quidditch circuit long enough to notice what's going on around him." She leaned over and put her arms around her friend. "Please, tell me; what went wrong this time."

Ginny sniffed, and finally whispered, "Jeremy...called me a...frigid bitch."

"He WHAT?"

She nodded her head, not raising her eyes to Hermione, and the words started spilling out. "He said that, and he said I was a prickteaser, that I didn't know how to take care of a man, that he was sick and tired of being with a woman who turned into an iceberg every time he came near her...and he was right, Hermione! He was!" She sobbed into her friend's arms. "It's true, I couldn't stand to have him touch me, I couldn't stand to let any of them touch me! They get close to me, and all I can hear is Tom's voice, whispering to me...and then I'm back in the Chamber, in the cold, with the basilisk slithering behind me, and I'm so cold..."

Hermione continued to rock her friend as she cried, a look of horror and compassion on her face. She knew Ginny had had problems after the incident with Tom Riddle's diary, but she'd never had a clue that the aftereffects were obviously still going on. "Ginny," she said softly, her hand moving comfortingly in small circles on her friend's back, "are you telling me you've never...?" She got her answer in her friend's renewed tears.

"I've wanted to, Hermione, I have! I'm not a prude, or a tease; there are times I've wanted to so bad I could scream! But the moment it goes past a little kissing, I just lock up. I turn into little eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley, lost in the dark, waiting to be rescued by--" she stopped and bit her lip.

Hermione smiled. "By Harry Potter? It's all right, Ginny, he's my husband, not my property. Besides, you dated him before I did." A thought occurred to her and her brow crinkled. "Wait a minute, I seem to recall you covering up some truly spectacular love bites while you two were going out. You mean you and he never, to put it delicately, 'consummated your relationship'?" Hermione knew that she and Harry had both been inexperienced when they got together at Hogwarts, but she'd always thought Ginny had had the honor of being his 'first'.

Ginny's laugh was a little hysterical. "Oh, well, I guess there was some pretty serious snogging going on, but we never got much past that. I don't think I would have minded, but he already had it bad for you, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. After a while it just sort of petered out, and we stayed friends. But I thought you knew all this, Hermione, I told you everything back then."

Hermione's analytical side was starting to make some shrewd guesses, but she needed to do a bit of research before she acted on them. In the meantime... "Well, all I can say is, that it's their loss, Ginny. If Jeremy is willing to be an insensitive prat about your problems, you're well rid of him." She hopped from her chair, pulling Ginny up with her and towards the kitchen. "I have two half gallons of ice-cream with our names on them; Ben & Jerry's Merlin's Medley and Dumbledore's Delight, and we are going to eat it all and dissect all the flaws of the male of the species."

Ginny's expression was decidedly doubtful. "Hermione, I don't know if I'm in the mood for...."

"Which is precisely the reason why you are going to do this," Hermione said firmly. "Chocolate may be the antidote for a Dementor attack, but nothing cures a Bad Boyfriend attack like Ben & Jerry's."

With a sniff and a laugh Ginny let her friend drag her off to the kitchen, and for a while, make her forget her troubles.

~~~~~

Much later, after she had given Ginny a long hug and made her promise to come over for dinner on the weekend, Hermione sat in a chair by the fireplace, flipping though a large album of wizard photographs. Something had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since she had finally managed to break through Ginny's reticence about her problem, and she wanted to follow up on her hunch.

As was usual, Hermione's organizational bent extended to things as mundane as their collection of Wizarding snapshots. There were albums devoted to just she and Harry, albums of each of their vacations, and albums that were devoted to certain close friends. The one she was flipping though now contained all the pictures she had of Ginny, either alone or in group photos, and it was the group photos she was looking for now, or more specifically, the group photos that included Ginny's past boyfriends.

The first post-Hogwarts photo was of a young man named Michael, who was, unsurprisingly, a fellow chaser on Ginny's team, Puddlemere United (Ron had been chuffed when she didn't try out for the Chudley Cannons, but Ginny had sworn Hermione to secrecy, and then admitted she wanted to play for a team that had a chance of making it to the playoffs once or twice in her lifetime). Michael had the same, lean build that seemed to mark all professional Quidditch players; he also had short-cropped black hair and turquoise eyes. In point of fact, he looked more than a little bit like...Harry. Their breakup had been sufficiently acrimonious that he'd actually asked to be traded, just to get away from her.

She flipped forward a few pages. Thomas wasn't a Quidditch player, which was a plus in Hermione's book; unfortunately, he liked the game even less than she did, which should have been a definite minus in Ginny's book. Even so, they'd been an item for a solid four months. He was an auror, albeit a much lower ranking one than Harry, which meant his hours were a bit more regular. He was able to reasonably accommodate Ginny's game schedule, and they'd been very happy for a while. The photo Hermione was looking at was one of the last ones of the two of them together; Ginny was smiling at Thomas, her arms around his waist, looking up into his eyes. His green eyes. His hair, cut in a fashionable style, wasn't black; it was a red so dark that, except in the brightest sunlight, it might as well have been.

After Thomas there had been Sean, a bartender from the pub in Diagon Alley that served as the Puddlemere's unofficial headquarters. Black hair, blue eyes. Then there was Lucas, another Quidditch player, this time a reserve beater for, of all teams, the Chudley Cannons. Dark brown hair, green eyes. There'd been one or two others, neither of whom had lasted long enough to make it into the albums, but to the best of Hermione's memory, they'd followed the pattern. And finally, there'd been Jeremy.

Hermione remembered the first time she'd noticed the eerie resemblance between Harry and Jeremy. They'd all been at the beach; Hermione and Ginny had been playing a little one-on-one beach volleyball, while Jeremy and Harry sat on the sidelines and watched, each cheering on their own girl, while not so subtly ogling the other's. After Ginny's greater athletic ability scored game point, they'd turned back to their towels, only to have Hermione come up short, as she really looked at the two men side by side. Same height, same build (as evinced by their Speedos), same green eyes, same glasses (with different frames), and same black hair, though Jeremy's actually obeyed a comb. Then Ginny plopped down next to Jeremy and laughingly ran her fingers through his hair, completing the illusion. The two of them looked enough alike to be brothers; if they'd looked any more alike, they would've looked like twins.

She turned to the picture she'd taken on that outing. Ginny was standing between Harry and Jeremy, her arms around their waists. They were all laughing, and then Ginny reached up and tousled Jeremy's hair, making it even harder to tell them apart. 'And their relationship lasted the longest', she thought. She had the beginnings of an idea as to how to help her friend, but first she had to run it past her husband.

~~~~~

Pumpkin juice sprayed across the kitchen table. "You want me to WHAT?"

"I want you to make love to Ginny," Hermione replied calmly.

When Harry had returned home, his first question had been about her lunch date with their longtime friend, and he had been suitably saddened to hear that another relationship had ended badly. Hermione had then related the bare bones of Ginny's confession, and he had been shocked to learn that she was still suffering the aftereffects of her traumatic experience in the Chamber of Secrets.

"I wish there was something we could do to help her," Harry had said with all honesty, which was all the opening Hermione needed for her suggestion.

Hence the pumpkin juice.

Harry took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, put his glasses back on, and nervously ran his hand through his hair, all while his wife continued to wait calmly for his response. "All right, let me see if I have this straight," he said at last. "My wife, who, aside from a VERY active imagination in certain areas, has never given any indication that she finds the physical side of our relationship in any way lacking, has just asked me to cheat on her with her best friend, under the misguided assumption that my tupping said friend will provide her with some much-needed psychotherapy. Does that about cover it?"

Hermione sniffed and gave her sarcastic husband a very prim look. "There's no excuse for getting shirty, Harry, I have a very good reason for making the suggestion I did, and for your information, you would not be cheating on me." At his clearly disbelieving look, she huffed, "Honestly, Harry, for you to be cheating you would have to be sneaking around behind my back. You can't very well call it cheating if I give my permission in advance."

He stared at her for a moment and then snorted. "Well, all I can say is, I don't think that's quite what the minister had in mind when we made our wedding vows, Hermione."

"Harry, please, I'm serious about this."

He stopped and really looked at his wife, his eyes narrowed. "You are, aren't you?" he finally said. "Bloody hell!"

"Harry!"

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you're talking about me shagging your best friend. I think a little profanity is called for."

She took a deep breath and took a firm hold of her temper. Getting into a row with her husband was not going to help her best friend. "Harry, before you start planning on hauling me off to a marriage counselor, will you at least listen to my reasoning?" When he grudgingly nodded, she explained how she had come up with her idea; how she had noticed that all Ginny's boyfriends had resembled Harry, how Ginny had let slip that the only time she had ever felt comfortable enough to be intimate with someone was when she was dating Harry. Finally she told him what she thought the core of Ginny's problem was, and why she thought Harry could help her get past it.

After she was finished, Harry no longer looked upset, but he was still clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "I just don't know, 'Mione," he admitted. "It sounds like you're making a lot of assumptions, ones that might end up doing more harm than good. Ginny's already had a rough time of things, I don't want to be responsible for adding to her problems."

"But you admit that I might be right, don't you?" Hermione pressed. "And you don't find the idea of making love to Ginny repulsive, do you?"

Harry snorted. "'Mione, at the risk of upsetting my very beautiful and powerful witch of a wife, no male with a pulse and a penis would find the idea of making love to Ginny repulsive; well, not unless he was batting for the other team like Percy."

Hermione snickered. "Well, at the risk of bruising your delicate male ego, I'm not upset. In fact, to use your own analogy, I have to admit that Ginny is pretty enough to have made me think about switch-hitting a time or two..."

"Hey!"

"Take it easy, Harry, I'm kidding...I think," she couldn't resist teasing. Her demeanor became serious. "Honestly, Harry, what do you think of my idea?"

"Honestly? I think it's one of the craziest things I ever heard, and I have a really hard time believing that a roll in the hay with me is some sort of magic bullet for anyone's sexual hang-ups...but if you really, truly think it would help Ginny, and not hurt her in any way...I'd be willing to give it a try." Harry shook his head. "I can't believe I just said that...Ron will kill me if he finds out."

Hermione smiled and gave her husband a hug. "Thank you, Harry."

He just shook his head. "This has to be one of the strangest conversations I have ever had," he muttered. "You are certifiable, you know that, right?" Another thought occurred to him. "I suppose you've already come up with a brilliant plan to accomplish this plot of yours?"

Hermione nodded with a cheerful grin. "Ginny is coming over for dinner Saturday night. You just leave everything to me."

"Mental," Harry mumbled, returning to the title Ron had bestowed on his wife all those years ago.

~~~~~

The rest of the week seemed more than a bit surreal to Harry. Whenever she was home from her research position at Stonehenge University, Hermione was walking around with a little smile on her face, and making special trips to the store for things like scented candles, fine wine and special foods. It reminded Harry of the sort of things he'd done when he and Hermione were dating and he wanted to create a special evening for her, and the idea that his wife was assembling a similar evening for her husband and her best friend was too bizarre for words.

When Saturday arrived Harry was as panicked as a mouse in a roomful of Kneazles, and his nervousness only grew worse as the day progressed. By mid-afternoon his agitation had reached a fever pitch, and Hermione finally cast a calming charm on him and made him take a nap before dinner. It didn't help his state of mind one bit when she told him that he needed the nap so he could "keep up his strength" for the conclusion of the evening.

Much to his surprise, the charm and the nap helped, and while he was still nervous about the whole idea, he was able to get ready for dinner without shaking like a leaf. Since they were dining in he was dressed casually but nicely, in comfortable black dress slacks, a long-sleeved fawn shirt with a Nehru collar, and black loafers. Hermione's clothing was similarly understated, casual enough to be relaxed, while still being fancy enough to show she had made an effort for their guest.

7:00 arrived and with it came a soft knock on the front door. Harry opened it to Ginny's smiling face. "Hi, Harry!"

Harry's breath caught a bit at the sight of her, standing on their porch in a simple, emerald green sundress, the rich color complementing her bright hair, which was swept up into a French braid, with a few loose tendrils framing her face. She wore only a ghost of makeup, just a hint of shadow, blush and gloss that went perfectly with the golden tan she always had from paying Quidditch. The lightweight material of her shirt ended just below her knees, showing off her slender, toned legs to good effect, and her small feet were enclosed in a pair of strappy sandals with low heels. All in all she looked stunning, and with what Hermione had been planning all week, he couldn't help feeling himself respond.

"Hello, Ginny, glad you could make it!" Hermione called, reaching past Harry and drawing her best friend across the threshold. The two of them chatted amiably while Harry closed the door, trying to get his somewhat confused emotions under control. This was going to be the weirdest evening...

Hermione and Ginny were quickly chatting away with the ease of friends who had known each other most of their lives, with Hermione discussing the latest faculty soap operas ("Some of the non-tenured professors are such drama queens!"), while Ginny relayed some of the more amusing training mishaps of her Puddlemere teammates. Harry mostly let them do the talking, throwing in a comment here and there as he puttered in the kitchen fixing dinner. Much to Harry's amusement and Hermione's annoyance, he was a far better cook than she, and whenever the occasion called for a truly fabulous meal, she grudgingly surrendered the kitchen to his skills. This time, though, while Harry was doing the preparation, Hermione had selected the dishes.

Hermione had done her best to assemble a menu that would create the right atmosphere for the evening, foods that were fun, even sensual to eat. Almond soup for the first course, partridges with oyster stuffing for the main course, fried celery as a side dish, a Yorkshire pudding, and a raspberry fool for dessert.

After dinner they relaxed in the living room, sipping the aperitifs Hermione had picked up especially for tonight. The drink was called Aphrodite's Delight, and its blend of aged cognac, tropical fruit juices, and herbal infusions both settled the stomach and subtly relaxed one's muscles while enhancing the senses. Hermione had picked it out specifically because she knew Ginny's weakness for sweet. tropical drinks, and while there was nothing in it that could even remotely be considered a drug, it would help her overcome any lingering inhibitions that might interfere with Hermione's plan.

After a while Ginny was relaxed on the couch, watching the flames in the fireplace, a look of contentment on her face. Hermione caught Harry's eye and nodded for him to make himself scarce for the moment, and after he'd slipped out, she sat down next to her best friend. "Ginny?"

"Hmmm?" Ginny replied, leaning her head on her friend's shoulder.

"There's something I think we need to talk about."

"All right, 'Mione," she agreed, unconsciously using Harry's pet name for her friend.

Hermione took a deep breath. "It's about what happened with Jeremy." She felt Ginny tense up, but she didn't pull away. "Gin, it's all right, I understand what's going on, I do." She glanced down and bit her lip as she saw the silent tears flowing down her friend's cheeks. "Ginny, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to think about it, really think, before you answer, all right?" At her friend's slow nod she continued. "Do you trust me?"

Ginny was as good as her word, and didn't answer immediately. When she did, her tone was serious. "Yes, Hermione, I do. I know you would never do anything to hurt me, not willingly."

"Next question: do you trust Harry?"

Unsurprisingly, given that she had been warned by Hermione's first question, the second answer was faster, a simple "Yes."

Hermione took a deep breath; now came the hard part. "Ginny, I've been doing a lot of thinking since you told me about Jeremy, and more, what you told me about what's been troubling you for so long. I only wish you'd talked to me about it sooner."

Ginny sniffled, still not moving away from her. "It's not your fault I'm messed up, 'Mione," she replied softly.

"No, it's not," her friend agreed, "but if I'd known what was happening, maybe we could have done something about it, and you wouldn't been so unhappy for so long."

"There's nothing you could've done," Ginny demurred. "Let's face it, Hermione, I'm damaged goods--"

"Now you just stop that, Ginny Weasley!" Hermione said fiercely, hugging her. "You had something awful happen to you a long time ago, but you are too strong a person to let this beat you! You just need to let someone help you get past it and heal!"

Ginny shook her head. "I know you mean well, Hermione, but there's nothing you can do about this...problem..."

Instead of contradicting her, Hermione asked, "Did you mean it when you said you trusted Harry and I? Trusted us not to hurt you?"

"Of course I meant it. Why?"

"Because I think I might know a way for you to get rid of Tom Riddle once and for all," Hermione replied, and Ginny jerked up in shock.

"What--what do you mean? Ginny breathed.

"Just hear me out before you say no," Hermione cautioned. "You let something slip when you told me what happened with Jeremy. You said you froze up with every man who ever touched you...except Harry." She watched Ginny flush, and pressed on. "You told me you wanted to go further with him, but that he wasn't willing. I think that, since your feelings for him were there before you handled the diary, and because Harry was the one to save you, he might be the only one who can break through whatever is left of Riddle's enchantment."

Ginny stared at her for a moment, surprise and realization chasing across her face, followed by sadness. "You might be right, but that doesn't really help, does it? After all, he's married to you now."

Hermione took the plunge. "So what?"

Ginny's face went white as the meaning of her words registered. "Hermione! What are you...you don't mean...I can't sleep with Harry!"

Hermione smiled. "Ginny, you're my best friend, and you're Harry's friend. I'm not saying I want to start going to swinger's clubs with Harry, or have him start shagging every brainless fangirl who throws herself at him. I am saying that I don't mind sharing him with my best friend, not if it means helping her finally come to terms with something that should have been dealt with a long time ago."

Ginny blushed a deep crimson. "And what...did Harry say?"

"You mean after he finished spraying pumpkin juice all over the kitchen table?" Hermione snickered as a small chortle escaped her friend's lips. "At first I'd say he was as skeptical as you are, but being reasonably intelligent for a man, he listened to me," she said cheekily before turning serious. "Ginny, he cares about you as much as I do. He's willing to do whatever is necessary to help you, even to going along with what he thinks are my somewhat bizarre notions of psychotherapy."

Ginny stared at the floor. "But does he even find me attractive anymore?" she wondered, her insecurities surfacing. "Hogwarts was a long time ago..."

This time Hermione's laugh was richer. "I don't think you have to worry about that. His exact words were, and I quote, 'No male with a pulse and a penis would find the idea of making love to Ginny repulsive.'" She pulled her friend back into a hug. "Look, I've told you what I believe the situation to be, and I've given you my advice as to what to do. And for what it's worth, I've also given you and Harry both my permission to explore this option." She released her friend and stood up. "And now I'm going to go to bed...in the guest room."

Ginny's eyes locked with hers, panic rising behind them. "Hermione--wait--"

"No, Ginny," she answered firmly. "Now you need to talk to Harry. I don't say you have to go through with this, but think about it and talk to him. You deserve that much, at least, and if I'm right, perhaps much more." She grinned. "Besides, I always thought Weasleys didn't know the meaning of fear."

Ginny watched her friend go out to speak to her husband, her mind a jumbled whirl. A few moments later Harry entered the room, and she thought, 'Fear, no. Mind-numbing terror, yes, but fear, no.'

"Hey," Harry said self-consciously, sitting down on the couch without touching her.

"So..." she replied, desperately looking anywhere but at those green eyes. The silence stretched between them, filling the room. Suddenly one of the logs in the fireplace popped, the sharp report of the exploding pine resin making them both jump.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered and suddenly pulled Ginny into a hug. She squeaked and held herself stiff for an instant, and then melted against him, relaxing in the comfort of her friend's embrace.

After a minute or two they gently separated and settled back on the couch, no longer touching but no longer uncomfortable with each other's presence. "So, you want to talk about this?" Harry asked.

Ginny smiled. "I suppose we should. Your wife is crazy, you do know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, but it's a good kind of crazy," he replied and they both laughed. "I never know what sort of daft stunt she's going to come up with next."

She nodded. "I remember some of the things you did the last year at Hogwarts," she admitted. "She was always showing up mussed at the most unusual times, and I was sure you were going to get caught and cause a huge scandal or be expelled, but she'd just laugh..."

"Believe me, she's only gotten worse since graduation." At Ginny's clearly disbelieving expression he chuckled and began relating a few of their more adventurous moments, causing her to alternate between laughter and furious blushes. Finally the laughter tapered off and they fell into silence again. Harry looked at her profile in the firelight and cleared his throat. "So, what do you really think about this?"

Her face heated and she stared at her hands. "I--don't know what to think, really," she admitted. "I mean, Hermione's theory makes sense, I suppose, but her solution is just crazy talk..."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked softly. At his words her eyes met his, and he gently caressed her cheek. "Hermione's right about one thing, Ginny; we both care about you, and we both want to see you happy. I don't want to do anything that might hurt you in any way, shape or form, but if you think it might help, if you want to try, I'm willing, and we can do just as little or as much as you feel comfortable with."

"Why?" Ginny whispered. "Why would you do that?"

For a fraction of an instant a glib answer struggled to escape, but Harry realized this wasn't a moment for glibness. "Because we love you, Ginny," was all he said. He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace, crying.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm turning into Cho Chang," she mumbled, and Harry laughed; it was amazing how many former Hogwarts students used that simile, and all of them instantly knew what it meant. He conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her, banishing it after she'd blotted her eyes and blown her nose. Then he tipped her chin up and gently kissed her on the lips.

Ginny flinched, and then, hesitantly, began to return the kiss. She'd missed this so much, she thought, missed holding Harry, touching him, kissing him. When they'd broken up she'd thought it was gone forever, that the most she'd ever feel again were pecks on the cheek, or perhaps a chaste kiss under the mistletoe. She knew that Hermione was the great love of his life, and that he would never cheat on her. She'd tried to resign herself to it, even before the nightmares started and the coldness settled into her heart, but she'd missed him so much. And now here he was at last, in her arms again, even if it was only for one night. She waited for the familiar coldness to rise, to steal away her pleasure, but all she felt was the glow of a delicious warmth building in her like a furnace too long left unlit.

His mouth opened against hers and she moaned as she felt his tongue glide along her lower lip. She opened to him in turn and their tongues began their familiar dance, touching, teasing, exploring each other's mouth. Ginny felt little shocks of pleasure running along her nerves, travelling to her extremities. Harry's hands began to roam over her back, leaving trails of fire through the thin material of the sundress. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling the tail free so she could slip underneath to his bare skin, her nails scratching gently across his back, sending shivers up his spine.

His hands drifted to the front of her dress, cupping her small perfect breasts through the thin fabric. His lips left her and traveled to her ear and down her throat, making small, pleasure/pain nips as they went. Each time his teeth touched her skin she shivered, the jolts running to her breasts, her hardening nipples, down her belly to her sex and the moist heat rising between her legs.

Ginny felt the straps of her sundress being pulled aside by his teeth, felt the fabric slipping down, exposing her skin, soft and white where it wasn't tanned from playing Quidditch. She felt his eyes on her breasts in their lacy white bra; she knew she wasn't as well endowed as Hermione, but what she had was round and firm with pink nipples that were aching to be suckled and caressed.

Harry's hand expertly worked the clasp of her bra and her breasts were revealed, the pale blue veins ghosting across the milky surface. His mouth dipped and his lips closed around her nipple, its nubbin instantly hardening under his tongue's attentions. She gasped as his hand fondled the breast being ignored by his mouth, and after a few delicious moments he switched, giving each pink nipple equal attention, the aureoles growing pebbly under his ministrations.

The pressures growing within her were becoming unbearable and she gasped, "Harry..."

He paused, afraid he'd pushed too fast, too far. "Yes, Ginny?"

Her eyes were dark with hunger. "Take me to bed and make love to me," she breathed, blue eyes fixed on green.

Needing no more invitation, Harry lifted her in his arms and carried her from the room, heading for the bedroom and the huge four-poster where the rest of the night's drama would be played out.

~~~~~

As the tremors subsided and her vision cleared, Ginny looked up into the face of her longtime friend and now her first lover. "Wow," she said, smiling as he chuckled.

"Wow, indeed," he replied. He pushed her sweat-dampened hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he said quietly, smiling at her bemused expression. "For trusting me, for letting me be your first; for letting me reclaim a moment I thought I'd let slip through my fingers so many years ago."

"Harry--" she started to speak, but he put a finger across her lips.

"I'll try to explain, Ginny. I love Hermione, and I couldn't imagine living a day without her, but you were my first real girlfriend, the first girl I loved enough to want to be with, like this. I was too insecure, too afraid to follow through on my desires, and, well, I guess even then my subconscious knew where my heart lay. So I let you go, and there was always that little regret that I never showed you, in this way, how much you meant to me. So, thank you."

"Thank you, Harry," she replied, her eyes closing as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Thank you for freeing me, for making me whole. Thank you for being such a good friend, and for having enough room in your heart for Hermione and me, even if it is for only one night..." Her words trailed off as she recognized the rhythmic breathing beside her, and cracked one eye open to see that he'd fallen asleep next to her. "Thank you."

~~~~~

It was around 4:00AM when the door to the master bedroom swung inward and Hermione slipped silently into the room. She looked at the entangled forms of her husband and her best friend and smiled, glad to see the look of contentment on Ginny's face. It looked like she'd been right after all.

She sat down on the side of the bed and gently stroked Ginny's forehead, slowly bringing her to wakefulness. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said softly.

Ginny's eyes grew wide as she realized who was sitting on the bed next to her. "Hermione! Oh, god, I'm sorry--" she gasped, clutching the sheets to herself as she struggled to sit up.

"Shhh, Ginny, it's all right," Hermione soothed. "My idea, remember?" She tugged on her friend's hand, urging her to move over beside her on the edge of the bed. Blushing furiously, Ginny wrapped the sheet around her body and moved to join her.

"So?" Hermione teased. "I take it you and Harry had a good time?" She laughed as Ginny made shushing noises and glanced nervously at Harry's sleeping--no, snoring--form. "Relax, Gin. Harry's a dear, but after a really good shag he goes out like a light. It would take an earthquake or the rising of a Dark Lord to wake him up. So, give!"

Ginny blushed. "It was--He was wonderful. I was so scared, I was afraid that I would never be free of what happened to me, but Harry just kissed me and held me and it all just melted away." She looked over at her lover's sleeping form and smiled. "I think I'd just about given up believing that I'd ever be able to let any man touch me that way, but he was so gentle, even when he...you know..."

"Popped your cherry?" Hermione asked with a wicked smile, and Ginny blushed furiously.

"You are shameless! Yes, even then, he made it something sweet and memorable, not something to get out of the way. You're an awfully lucky woman, Hermione."

"Don't I know it!" her friend replied fervently, casting a fond look at her husband. "I wouldn't want him to get more of a swelled head than he already has, but I thank Merlin every day that we found each other." Her smile turned wistful. "I don't think anyone would have blamed him if he had turned into the biggest prat in the world, what with the way he grew up, and then all the hero worship and awards for The Boy Who Won, but he just shrugs it off. And I can't count the number of women I've seen who deliberately hide their intelligence from their spouses, just to keep from threatening their egos, but Harry is proud of how smart I am."

She wiped a tear from her eye. "Did I ever tell you what he did at the first big award banquet we went to together, where I was the guest of honor?" At Ginny's shake of her head she continued, "There was an announcer at the door, one of those major-domo types with leather lungs that call out the names of each arrival. We were in the queue, waiting to be presented, and the man started gushing over 'the Great Harry Potter'. Well, Harry pulled him aside and talked to him for about a minute, and when it was our turn, he announced to the room, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Hermione Granger!""

"He didn't!"

"He ruddy well did! Spent the whole night correcting anyone who tried to call him 'Potter', too." Hermione's eyes grew even mistier as she watched her husband sleep. "He overheard one of the pureblood society snobs making a crack about it, something about it was bad enough that Harry was polluting his family's blood without insulting the Potter name, and I thought he was going to skin him alive. He told them," and she sniffled, "that what I had accomplished with my life was far more important than anything he had done because of an accident of birth, and that he would be proud to be known only as the husband of Hermione Granger for as long as he lived."

"Wow..."

"Yeah, 'wow' is right," Hermione agreed. She suddenly realized how mushy she was getting and consciously shook herself. "Enough about me, this night is supposed to be about you!" She pulled Ginny into a hug. "So, do you think Tom is gone for good, now? No more nightmares about the Chamber of Secrets to get in your way?"

Ginny smiled a little tremulously. "No, no more Tom haunting me," she agreed. 'Now there's a new ghost', she thought to herself.

"Well, then, we need to start looking to find you a replacement for Jeremy!" Hermione enthused. "What?" she asked at her friend's expression. "You think this was a quick 'Wham, Bam, thank you Ma'am,' and you'd be on your own? Not likely, Ginny! You have a lot of catching up to do, and the sooner we find you a decent guy, not a jerk like Jeremy, the better." She missed the pained look that flickered on her friend's face for a second and asked, "So, what sort of a man will it take to make my friend deliriously happy?"

The question was too much, and Ginny flung herself to the bed, sobbing. Hermione stared at her in shock for a moment, and then, as her gaze shifted between her crying friend and her sleeping husband, comprehension finally dawned on her. She reached out and pulled Ginny back to her embrace, refusing to let go when she struggled for a second. "Ginny, I'm sorry, I didn't realize..." she soothed. "This isn't just about that business with the diary is it? You're still in love with him..."

"What am I going to do, Hermione?" Ginny sobbed. "It was hard enough before, but now? How am I supposed to just forget about last night?" She tried to control her tears and looked up at her friend. "I tried to fight it, but I was so jealous of you two...don't look so surprised," she scolded. "When you grow up with six overprotective older brothers you learn how to hide things. And just because I was jealous never meant I didn't want you two to be happy.

"So I hid how I felt; once we were out of school and I wasn't around you two every day it was easier. I think I even managed to convince myself I was over him, but now? What do I do now, Hermione? I had him for one night; that should be enough, right? What do I do if it isn't? How do I go on?"

She pulled away and buried her face in her pillow, her shoulders shaking, and Hermione tried to figure out what to do about the mess she had created by meddling in her friend's life. It seemed she had cured one problem, only to replace it with a worse one. Now it was her responsibility to find a solution they could all be happy with.

Hermione gently ran her hand through Ginny's hair, trying to provide some comfort while she furiously ran through all their options. She'd meant every word she'd said to both Harry and Ginny earlier, that she loved them both enough to not feel threatened by sharing Harry with her to help her heal, but this was different. Ginny's reaction made it clear that her feelings still ran strong and deep, and Hermione mentally castigated herself for not realizing it sooner. Nor could she blame her for her feelings, or even resent them. Hermione had told Ginny that she didn't mind sharing her husband with her best friend, and she hadn't lied. She smiled as she recalled her discussion with Harry, and his somewhat shocked reaction when she'd half-jokingly said that Ginny had tempted her to switch teams--

Her hand froze on Ginny's head as the idea blossomed in her head, and her insistently logical side started picking at it, trying to find the flaw. Her hand resumed its soothing motion as she tried to consider the notion from every possible angle, and then realized that trying to apply logic to emotions was what had gotten them in this mess in the first place. Perhaps it would be better, just this once, to jump without looking, to make a leap of faith. "Ginny?"

"What?"

"What if it wasn't for just one night?"

Ginny's head jerked up, her expression shifting through several emotions: confusion, surprise, shock, doubt and hope all warred for dominance, and in the end, hope won. "Hermione, do you really mean--?"

"Well, we have to ask Harry as well, of course, but somehow I don't think he'll object all that strenuously. And even if he does have any reservations, between the two of us we should be able to...persuade him to give it a try?" Hermione smiled encouragingly at her, gently running her hand down her friend's cheek.

Ginny's expression continued to shift between hopeful and doubtful as the possible consequences of such a decision ran through her mind. "What will people say, though, if we live together? What will our families think?"

Hermione snorted. "Well, let's see; after they retired, my mum and dad joined a swinger's club. They don't think I know about it, but I do, so if they say one word I can cut them off at the knees. Harry just has Remus and Sirius; Remus is married to Tonks, who can be a different woman every day of the month--and has been, I've caught them more than once. The first time I almost killed him because I thought he was cheating on her!

"Sirius, well, how can I put this gently...oh, hell, the man has the morals of a tomcat. Thank Merlin for magical prophylaxis and protection, or there'd be little Grimms all over the place!

As for your family...Ginny, I love them all, but every one of them is as bent as Snape in drag." They both shuddered a little at the visual, and then Hermione continued: "Ron is shacked up with both Padma AND Parvati Patil; Gred and Forge swap off between Angelina and Alice almost as often as they trade jumpers; Bill is married to a half-Veela; Percy is 'married' to Justin Finch-Fletchly; and I think Charlie would marry one of his dragons if he could figure out how to post the banns. And your parents love them all, and could care less what--or who--they do. Do you think it will matter to them that you're living with Harry and I, once they see that it makes you happy?"

"What about you, Hermione? Won't you mind sharing Harry with me?"

Her friend just smiled at her. "I didn't mind last night, Ginny; if once was all right, who's to say something more permanent wouldn't be better? Besides, there's another question that's just as important as whether or not I mind sharing Harry with you."

Ginny eyed her a bit warily, all too familiar with her friend's earthy sense of humor. "And that would be...?"

"Whether or not I'm going to mind sharing you with him," Hermione whispered, and kissed Ginny on the lips.

Ginny's eyes flared wide at the feel of her best friend's mouth hungrily plastered to hers. She didn't know why she wasn't more surprised by Hermione's actions towards her; perhaps it was because she was privy to the details of so many of her friend's escapades with her husband, but whatever the reason, it felt almost natural to have Hermione's lips, so very different from Harry's, caressing her own. After only a moment of hesitation she began to respond, accepting that, no matter how convoluted the path had been that led her here, finally she'd come home.

~~~~~

"Hermione! Ginny! I'm back!" Harry called, hanging his cloak on the stand by the door. He carried the packages of Chinese takeout into the kitchen and set them on the table, and then noticed the large, oval box with the note propped on top. Opening the note, he recognized his wife's neat handwriting:

Marshal Potter;

There's trouble in Tombstone.

Come to the Midnight Star.

~your Soiled Dove~

Harry opened the box and lifted out the flat-crowned, wide-brimmed hat. It was black felt with a silver band, and it fitted his head perfectly. As it settled into place, he felt a transfiguration charm pass over the rest of his clothing, and looked down with a bemused expression to see that his outfit now matched the hat; black, low-heeled boots, black broadcloth pants with a button fly, a white linen shirt with a black string tie, a black and silver brocade vest, with a heavy silver pocket watch and fob, and a black frock coat that reached to his knees. A fan of Muggle westerns might have recognized the clothing as being identical to that worn by Kurt Russell in the film 'Tombstone'; there was no doubt that the look suited his broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted form perfectly.

With a chuckle Harry headed for the spiral staircase that led to the basement of the house. Shortly after moving in, Harry had remodeled the large, empty space into a sort of men-only sanctuary, where he and his friends could gather to have a few drinks, share a few jokes, and talk about sports or whatever masculine endeavors caught their fancy without facing the rolling eyes and long-suffering sighs of their assorted wives and significant others. It was decorated in what Hermione had jokingly referred to as Testosterone Chic; wood paneling, leather furniture, pool and poker tables, and of course an enormous and well-stocked bar. The Common Room, as it had come to be called, had been the site of more than one post-Quidditch blowout and bachelor party bash, and while Harry would never admit it, after their bedroom it was his favorite room in the house.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, though, Harry realized that, like his clothing, his sanctum had been transformed. It was still decidedly masculine, but the overall style of the room had changed. The pool table had disappeared to make room for a roulette wheel, The console Wizarding Wireless had been transfigured into an upright player piano, and the comfortable leather sofas and chairs had morphed into a selection of wooden tables and chairs.

Most impressive of all was the change in the bar. In place of the arrangement of bottles, counters and stools that would have been at home in any modern wizard's bachelor pad, was something out of a saloonkeeper's wet dream; a solid mahogany and brass bar, a couple of tons' worth, backed by shelf after shelf of everything from simple butterbeer to 100 year old Ogden's Reserve Firewhiskey.

What really made the bar, and what made Harry's eyes widen more than a bit, was the artwork gracing the wall, an enormous painting of two gloriously naked women reclining together, with only the most transparent pieces of gauzy fabric offering even a token of modesty. He swallowed as one of the women on the canvas fed the other one a grape, and his gaze flicked briefly to the signature. Harry gave a small mental sigh of relief when he saw Justin Finch-Fletchly's signature on the canvas, since it meant he wouldn't have to hunt down and bludgeon some strange Wizarding artist for painting his wives in such a manner. Speaking of which...

He smiled as the two women in his life stepped out of the alcove where they'd been waiting. Hermione, true to her role as his 'Soiled Dove', was wearing a garish dancehall girl outfit, the skirts hitched up to show plenty of leg, and with a skintight bodice of deep red satin that showed plenty of cleavage. A choker of black ribbon with an ivory cameo accentuated the slender column of her neck, and her face was framed by a wave of ringlets and curls. Her makeup, eyeshadow and lipstick stopped just short of garish, and she'd used a beauty patch to accentuate the curve of her cheekbone. She had, in other words, completely 'tarted herself up', and obviously was enjoying the effect.

Ginny's look was, in some ways, even more erotic. She was dressed simply and elegantly in what would have been the height of respectable fashion in 1880s Tombstone. The dress was high necked and long sleeved, with a fitted bodice and a skirt that flared out over a modest bustle. The fabric was a pale peach organdy that complemented Ginny's coloring perfectly, with panels of silk moiré in the front giving it style and character. He noticed that she was wearing fingerless white lace gloves, and that her button hooked shoes concealed and accentuated her slim ankles. It was, without a doubt, the sexiest thing he'd ever seen her wear, and he smiled a little at the thought of what the marshal was likely to ask of the schoolmarm before the end of the night.

Harry knew Ginny was still not asadventurous as Hermione when it came to these little role-playing scenarios. She was a willing and enthusiastic participant, and he knew that Hermione often asked her for her suggestions and desires, but she wasn't about to initiate any of their games on her own. Then again, Harry himself was rarely the instigator (though when he was, they tended to be spectacular; he wasn't the son of a Marauder for nothing), so he didn't feel too concerned about Ginny's hesitancy in this one area. They were all supremely happy, and every time Harry woke up with the two women he loved spooned on either side of him he marveled at his good fortune.

He was listening with one ear as Hermione described the current scenario, something about ranchers and farmers and being a 'confident heterosexual' (whatever the hell THAT meant), and as she spun the framework of their fantasy, his thoughts drifted to. of all things, the luncheon they'd attended together the week before, and Hermione's remarks during it.

"You know, our relationship is a lot like Dim Sum," she'd said out of the blue, once again managing to make Harry choke on what he was drinking, this time the hot green tea served by the Chinese restaurant.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ginny had asked as she pounded on Harry's back.

"Well, take our current selections," Hermione replied, picking an order of spring rolls off the cart as it passed. "When one person orders Dim Sum, they get one entrée and an appetizer, filling, but rather boring. When two people order, they not only get to eat their own entrées, they get to sample each other's. A much better arrangement, but still somewhat limiting.

"But when three people order Dim Sum together, not only does it increase the variables tremendously, but the managemenrewards you with a bonus." She'd reached under the table and given both Harry's and Ginny's knees a quick squeeze, making them jump. "In other words, my dears, 'with three you get eggroll'."

~Fin~