Title: Six Days of Bliss
Pairing(s): Harry/Ron, Harry/Ron/Hermione
Summary: Hermione and Ron will do anything for Harry.
Word Count: 5,200+
Author's notes: Many thanks to djin7, hydaspes, moshi, and shocolate for their excellent advice. This was written for merry_smutmas 2005.
"Harry, will you please be patient?" Hermione said primly, as if she wasn't naked, as if her hand wasn't curled around Ron's cock.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Ron grinned. "Yeah, Harry. Wait your turn."
"Easy for you to say," retorted Harry. "You get to come." His own cock bobbed uselessly. "This isn't --"
"Harry, stop it!" Hermione snapped. "The pureblood has to go first. You know that." She gave a sharp tug to Ron's cock, causing the redhead to let loose a stream of expletives his mum would never, ever want to hear. "And you! You be quiet, too." She yanked his cock again, and Ron growled.
Harry didn't miss the tiny smirk Hermione struggled to hide. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered.
Hermione must have felt his stare. "I'm trying to concentrate." She was. A shiny, red notebook -- filled with runes, translations, and Farsi phrases -- lay in the cradle of her crossed legs, modestly covering her from view, at least below the waist. Her high, pert breasts, tipped with strawberry nipples, were very much visible. Harry didn't care. He'd seen enough of Hermione's tits to last a lifetime. He wanted to come now. This 'thrice-times-denied' was a load of crap.
A golden lamp, right out of an Arabian Nights fairy tale and polished to a blinding lustre, was at her side. Harry glared at that too.
He had discovered the lamp behind the grimy glass-fronted cabinets in the drawing room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place a few weeks after he'd moved in. A yellowed, crumbling parchment was tucked in the handle, and Hermione had gone into near hysterics on sight of it.
She babbled about genies, wishes, myths, and Voldemort, and after a few squeals and mutterings that held absolutely no meaning for Ron or Harry, she stopped talking, clearly noticing their lack of comprehension.
She Disapparated within five minutes, and returned three days later, arms laden with the rune book, numerous other scrolls, and a face full of fear and determination.
"It's called Djinn's Bliss. If done properly, the djinn inside the lamp will wake up and grant each participant a wish. The spell requires three people." She took a deep breath and rushed ahead. "Their love must be pure, and they'll have to pleasure each other for six days." Her face was pink and her voice shaky when she added, "I mean . . . we will."
"Pleasure?" Ron had blurted after a few seconds. "You mean like sex?"
"Exactly like sex."
She nodded. "And me."
"Cool." Ron had stared at Harry, his face full of hope and calculation.
Harry had simply looked between them, mouth open in shock, but swiftly realised that sex with both Ron and Hermione could be a very, very good thing.
Ron's babbling brought Harry back to the present. "Fuck, Hermione. You're so fucking good at this. Don't you fucking stop, don't ever fucking stop."
"I’m not going to stop," said Hermione. "Are you going to be a gutter mouth for the next five days?" And then, to Harry: "Put your finger inside me."
"Please, Harry. I need your finger now," she said.
Harry crooked a finger, and with a wary glance at Ron, wriggled a finger inside. She was very tight and very hot and very wet.
"Oh, oh. That feels really, really nice. Feel around for a tiny nub. No, go left. Okay. Oh. My. God. Right there, Harry. Okay, okay. Where's my book? Oh, still feeling nice. So nice. Oh -- where's my book!"
"Right here." Harry pushed the little book toward her, grinning at her loss of control. He rubbed and pressed on the little pebble of flesh over and over.
Ron groaned raggedly and reached for his own prick. "No," Harry said, shoving Ron's hand away. "Don't touch. Hermione has to do it."
Ron growled at Harry too. "You just wait, Harry."
"Harry, don't stop!" Hermione shrieked.
"You stopped with Ron!" Harry said.
Hermione fumbled with the pages with her left hand, and clumsily fisted Ron with the right. "Rahaanidan, rahaanidan, rahaanidan. Release, release, release."
Ron shuddered and slumped over. His 'thrice-time-denied' cock shot thick, white strings of come all over Hermione's small hand and Harry could smell it: their sweat, their need, and the tangy, thick scent of sex.
Hermione gave a little squeal and with a sudden surge of strength, she pushed Harry's finger away and clamped her legs shut, thighs aquiver. Her eyes were closed and her face was flushed. She fell back against the dark red pillows of the huge bed. Her brown hair lay in a messy, damp tangle -- it stuck to her forehead and cheeks -- and a wistful smile curled her lips. Harry had never seen her look more beautiful. "That was so nice," she murmured.
"Nice," Ron mimicked, tracing a lazy finger along her sweaty thigh. "That was fucking brilliant."
"It certainly was!" leered Bartleby Black, the horniest portrait Harry had ever met. His oil-on-canvas prick was in his hand.
Harry's fingers were drenched in Hermione's juices; Ron was sighing happily, sprawled out in naked, freckled glory. "Hermione," Harry snapped, "Now?"
"What? Oh, yes! Sorry."
Ron surprised Harry by grabbing his prick eagerly. "Allow me, mate." He stroked Harry confidently.
A scant thirty seconds later Harry lay alongside Hermione, staring up at the midnight-blue canopy overhead.
"Day one done," said Hermione. "Five more to go."
"Perfect," said Ron, looking inordinately pleased.
Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. She had insisted they sleep in the same bed the week before starting the six-day ritual. It would increase their comfort levels, she said, and make the job easier. It was convenient too. Hermione had determined it best to perform their daily act in the mornings. It was better than being tense all day worrying about the task. They spent their afternoons cleaning the old house, and their evenings playing chess or flying, while Hermione studied the runes, the spell-poem, the translations, and worked out the next morning's pleasure. It was charmed to resist memorisation so Hermione had to study and have the book with her during each act.
Harry yawned and looked to his left. Hermione was close to the edge and curled in a ball. Ron was sprawled out on Harry's right, and the dark blue sheets -- Hermione made them change the sheets each day -- were twisted low around his hips. His chest was bare.
Harry rolled over and slowly traced Ron's nipples, wondering at the strangeness of the past days, the days to come, and when it was that this Weasley had been the one to truly spark his desire. He flicked a glance at Hermione; she was still sleeping soundly. Harry loved her, as much as Ron even, but it was Ron's body that called out to his.
Harry smiled, remembering their second night of sleeping together. Ron had taken Hermione's assertion of 'comfort levels' seriously.
"We should be naked," he'd said. "All the time."
"All the time?" Hermione asked.
"Sure." Ron had promptly pulled off his shirt, and grinned at Harry.
"I don't know if --"
"Come on, Hermione," Harry said in coaxing tones, as he too shed his shirt.
Hermione had gulped and looked between their naked chests.
"Okay," she said. Later she showed them the translation of the scroll that dictated the thrice-times-denied condition. Harry thought that denying himself for three days before day one of the spell would be easy.
It wasn't. Not with Ron walking around, as proud as a peacock, displaying his 'feathers' for all to see.
Now, watching Ron's nipples harden under Harry's careful pinches, he wanted him, wanted to be taken by him.
"Harry," Ron rasped sleepily, not even opening his eyes as he pulled Harry on top of him. The sheet was a poor barrier between their hard cocks, and Harry was glad of it; he slowly moved his hips, aligning their cocks perfectly.
"Harry," Ron said again, louder now. He slid his hands over Harry's back then down to his arse where he kneaded the flesh, pulling and rubbing. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep and lust.
"Ron," Harry said anxiously. He leaned down to lick the warm skin of Ron's collarbone, and worked his way up to his lips, which were parted and waiting for him. Their tongues met and swirled together gracelessly.
Harry continued to rock his hips against Ron; he wanted -- needed -- to feel that hardness. It wasn't enough. He moaned into Ron's neck, breathing harshly, briefly wondering where this frenzied desire was coming from. Their 'practice' sessions, four days earlier, had been slow and awkward with much fumbling and giggling.
"Don't you fucking stop, don't ever fucking stop," Ron said, and he pressed Harry's arse downward as he thrust up, grinding their cocks together brutally.
"I want," Harry said desperately, unable to stop. "I want you --" He licked and kissed the long line of Ron's neck with abandon, lost in heat and lust and desire. "Nnguuh . . . I want you to fuck me."
"I want to," Ron whispered fiercely back, and he cupped Harry's face in his hands and held him back and steady, even as their cocks slid back and forth. "We can't yet. We can't," he whimpered, and then, shockingly, "Fuck, I don't care." He rolled Harry over on to his stomach, ripped the sheet away and grabbed at Harry's hips, forcing him onto his knees.
Harry turned his head and saw Hermione staring at them with her mouth open, and her hand in her knickers. She, too, seemed entranced.
Harry rolled away. "Not yet, Ron. Not yet."
Ron growled in frustration but Harry pulled on his arms and Ron collapsed on top of him; their cocks crashed together just as Ron's mouth descended on Harry's.
Ron shuddered against him, panting and smearing his seed over Harry's abdomen.
Hermione's softly spoken, rahaanidan, rahaanidan, rahaanidan, washed over them as Harry exhaled hotly into Ron's neck, coming and coming, gasping and shaking. He felt completely drained.
Ron laid his head on Harry's chest; he reached out toward Hermione and lazily tweaked her nipples. Harry watched in fascination as she convulsed on her own finger.
Her face was serene as she put aside the book. She reached behind her, snatched the golden lamp with two fingers, and held it aloft. It flashed a bright, bright blue then slowly faded back to gold.
"Today, one of us had to watch," she said, her voice heavy with fatigue and satiation as she set the lamp down. "That was me. Four days to go." She yawned prettily and went back to sleep.
"If Ron had given you a good seeing to, we'd have had to start all over again," Hermione said.
"The spell is working against us?" Harry asked.
They were polishing the frames of the portraits on the third floor landing, discussing the morning's events.
"I don't know that it's working against us, so much as testing us," Hermione said thoughtfully. The golden lamp was at her feet, as always, and Harry peered at it, wondering if the djinn inside was working some weird lust magic on them. He looked at Ron -- who was eating -- and felt his cock rise, and decided the djinn was still asleep.
"Well," Ron threw in, after eating roast chicken, and licking his fingers. "I'd have to agree with that. I mean, I usually wake up with a hard-on, but I don't normally want to fuck Harry senseless."
It went without saying the three of them had come a long way for Ron to make such a statement when Hermione only answered with, "Yeah."
"I can't talk at all?" Ron asked incredulously.
"No," Hermione said. "This is the rough translation: tell none of lies, ask nothing of question and speak with no words."
"Well, that's just stupid," Ron groused. "Talking is the best part."
"I think it's romantic to be so lost in pleasure you can't speak," Hermione insisted. Harry figured she'd forgotten how talkative she'd become back on day one.
"We've got to be able to make some noise," Harry said.
"Murmurs are okay. Sighs are good. Breathy whines are fine. But actual words will defeat the requirement and we'll have to do this day over."
Ron pulled Hermione into his arms. "Let's make magic."
She giggled and Harry rolled his eyes.
Ron held an arm out for Harry then yanked him down, too. He kissed the top of their heads and sighed. "I love being a wizard."
Ron's head rested in the hollow of Hermione's breasts. His eyes fluttered open and closed again and again as Harry stroked him over and over. Harry couldn't believe how good it felt to hold Ron's cock and how much he liked doing it. He used two hands -- one to grip Ron firmly as he moved up and down, the other to cup his balls, or to thumb the wet slit, or to tug on his foreskin. Hermione said the strange sounding Farsi word, Gereftaari, each time Harry swept downward.
Harry felt Ron tense up.
"I want -- Ngguhh -- God, Harry. Don't you fucking stop, don't ever fucking stop," Ron moaned deliriously.
"STOP TALKING!" Hermione yelled, and tried to push him off her body. "YOU'RE RUINING THE SPELL!!"
"YOU TELL HIM, MUDBLOOD!" Mrs Black shrieked from the entrance hall.
"You stay out of it," Hermione yelled back, still glaring down at Ron.
Ron collapsed against Hermione, pinning her to the bed, his cock sputtering weakly all over Harry's hand; Harry hadn't stopped touching it. "Fuck, Hermione, it feels good. What did you expect?"
"I expect you to control yourself! HARRY WASN'T GOING TO STOP! Why on earth would he stop? Now we have to do this day again!" She finally managed to extract herself from under his heavy limbs and scrambled off the bed. "Ughh! How the hell do you expect us to finish this?" Her eyes narrowed. "You just want us to have sex every day for the rest of your life. Don't you? Don't you!"
"Er," Ron said.
Harry gave Hermione a solemn look. "Hermione, yelling at Ron isn't helping."
Hermione's eyes shot death glares at Harry, but he pressed on anyway.
"Um, since Ron messed this up, can I toss off, too?"
Hermione threw her hands in the air. "FINE! Ron can suck you off for all I care!" She jumped up, breasts bouncing, and stomped out of the room.
Harry looked over at Ron, who was watching Hermione's arse as he called out, "So, no talking, then?"
"Don't talk this time, Ron," Hermione warned, unsnapping her bra. Her breasts tumbled free.
"Tell Harry not to make it so good," Ron said.
Harry and Hermione shared grins.
"What?" Ron said, looking between the two of them suspiciously.
"Nothing," Hermione said sweetly.
"Harry, tell me."
Harry simply pushed Ron back, straddled his chest, and pushed his already hardening prick toward Ron's chin.
"If your mouth is full, you can't talk."
"Today, we kiss."
"That's it?" Ron said.
"Yes," Hermione answered. "And that's all we do," she continued firmly. "Clothes stay on."
They were fully dressed and sitting in the blue room, a small study with plush, little couches, deep chairs, and softly-furred rugs.
Ron yawned. He rose then flopped back comfortably in a large, cushiony, maroon chair.
Harry and Hermione stared up at him pointedly.
"Sorry," said Ron. "I thought we'd be doing something fun today is all."
"Ha!" Hermione exclaimed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Nothing," she mumbled.
"C'mon, Hermione. No secrets here."
"Yeah," Harry added. "Look what we've been doing. What can you possibly have to hide?"
"I guess Lavender wasn't as good a kisser as she thought," Hermione said smugly.
Harry laughed at Ron's red face and pulled Hermione onto his lap, knocking the golden lamp on its side. "Let's show Ron how it's done."
Hermione pressed her nose to Harry's. His glasses pushed against her forehead, and she swept them off, dropping them carefully to the side, taking a moment to set the lamp upright.
Ron barked a quick laugh, and Harry looked over to see his arms crossed over his chest, watching them speculatively. "Carry on, then," he said, waving his arms magnanimously. "Show me."
Harry settled his hands on Hermione's waist, sliding one around to the small of her back to keep her in place.
Her brown eyes were bright and she bit her lip anxiously.
Harry grinned mischievously, tilted his head to one side, and moved in. He heard Ron snort behind them, but Harry ignored him and gently opened Hermione's mouth with his own.
This was the first time he had kissed her, and as the kiss deepened, he wondered why he never had before. Her tongue moved slowly around his, tentative and delicate; Harry responded in kind. His tongue slid against hers, twining and curling, wet and warm and thick. Her mouth tasted of tea and mint; Ron's was always sweet, like the chocolate frogs he loved so much. Hermione's breathing quickened and Harry moved his hand from her waist to cup her breast.
Hermione whimpered a little, as Harry massaged her, squeezing the soft mound gently. She traced the shape of his lips with her tongue and Harry's cock hardened. He groaned aloud and nearly jumped when Ron said, "My turn."
Ron was there and pulling Hermione out of Harry's embrace, firmly seating her on his lap before Harry could say a word. She sighed in contentment and leaned against his shoulder. Ron tipped her chin up and kissed her deeply.
Hermione kissed him back, arching her body and twisting around so that her chest was pressed against his.
Harry placed his hands under their chins, his thumbs on the corners of their lips. He wasn't sure how to do what he wanted, but he tried anyway. He pushed forward, mouth open and tongue seeking and suddenly Ron's tongue touched his and then they were sucking and licking, mouths sealed together. He wondered what he tasted like to them.
He heard Hermione sigh, so he broke Ron's kiss, leaned in toward Hermione and then back to Ron a few breaths later.
They shared lips and tongues and mouths. At one point Harry was in Ron's lap, and Hermione was on her knees, her hands on their shoulders, alternating her nips and licks between them. Their harsh breathing and Hermione's soft murmurs of "Busidan, busidan, busidan," were the only sounds in the dark blue room.
It was at times wet and sloppy and breathless, but by the time the lamp's colour had changed to blue, signalling their success, Harry never wanted to stop.
"I have to do what?" Harry squeaked.
"It's one of the forbidden delights. The text lists several. I thought this would be the easiest to handle," said Hermione.
"I want to see that list," Harry demanded.
Hermione pulled out her little notebook, flipped to the pertinent page, and passed it to Harry.
He took it and said, "There's got to be something besides sticking my tongue in Ron's arse."
"What was that?"
"You'll like it, Ron," Hermione said. "I've read that it's quite sensual."
"I'll be right back," muttered Ron.
Harry read the list twice. He looked at Hermione. She put her hands on her hips, and raised her eyebrows. "Well. Do you see something better?"
In the hallway, Ron's voice came through quite clearly. "Tergeo. Tergeo. Tergeo! Scourgify! FUCK!"
"Scourgify's not for flesh, Ron," Hermione called.
"Why can't Ron do this?"
"RON IS THE PUREBLOOD! It has to be done to him! How many times do I have to remind you?"
"I KNOW!" Harry complained.
Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm. "Harry," she said softly. "I know this isn't how you expected to lose your virginity. I know that you and Ginny didn't. . . well, she would have told me. You are, right?"
Harry nodded. He marvelled at Hermione for calmly discussing their impending loss of innocence. All in the name of defeating Voldemort. It was surreal. It was draining. And it wasn't fair. "I'm just tired of my . . . my everything being tied to that murderer," he said bitterly.
Hermione squeezed his arm. "I know. I'm sorry it has to be this way. But, we're here with you, Harry. We can be your everything, if you'll let us. This should be fun. I mean, I thought it might be -- could be. And it is, mostly. I see the way you and Ron kiss. But, I know it's frustrating too. I sometimes think we're doing this for all the wrong reasons, and not because we really belong tog --"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "The only reason I'm doing this is because of you and Ron." Harry ran a finger along her face tenderly, and traced her lips.
Ron came in then, a towel swathed about his waist. His hair was dripping wet. "I'm all clean, Harry," he said nervously.
With a brilliant smile for Harry, Hermione pulled Ron's towel free, and immediately began to stroke him. "Ron," she whispered, and kissed his chest, his shoulders, his neck, and finally stopped at his mouth.
Ron kissed her back desperately, hungrily. He gripped her hips and slowly rocked her forward, keeping time with the rhythm of her pulls.
Hermione reached out for Harry's hand and brought it down to join hers on Ron's cock. She urged them both to the bed.
Harry and Ron were kissing now. They faced each other, knees sinking into the mattress, sweaty thighs sliding damp and smooth. Hermione's small hands were curled around their cocks. She was very good at this now, Harry realized. Her fingers slipped back and forth across their glistening heads, teasing and tugging, just enough to bring them close to the edge.
Ron licked Harry's mouth delicately, and he mumbled, "Harry, Harry, Harry," between tiny kisses on his eyelids. His fingertips dragged along Harry's flank and each light scrape, coupled with Hermione's confident strokes and even softer sighs, sent Harry spiralling.
He closed his eyes. "I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna . . . don't stop. Please, don't stop."
And when he came, a few breaths later, Hermione was easing him down with one hand even as she gentled Ron onto his back with the other, saying, "Pull your legs up." Harry opened his eyes and for one second he hated her for being so fucking efficient.
He crawled between Ron's outspread legs and propped his chin on the soft fabric, still breathing heavily.
"You have to, Harry. Before he comes," Hermione said anxiously.
Ron's heavy cock, hard and red, bobbed near Harry's forehead. Pulling off his glasses, Harry said, "Lift up your hips a bit more."
Ron complied quickly and now his bollocks were at eye-level, and under them, Harry could see the place he never, ever thought to touch with his tongue. He brought his arms up and used his thumbs to pry at the edges.
Ron jumped as if shocked at the mild intrusion, causing Harry to say, "Keep still, Ron. Apparently, you're supposed to like this."
"Harry," Hermione began tentatively. "There's a manual I can --"
"I don't need a book to teach me how to lick Ron's arsehole," Harry said sharply.
"Jesus, Hermione. Just be quiet," Ron muttered.
She huffed indignantly but kept her mouth shut.
Harry closed his eyes, swallowed audibly, and leaned in. He couldn't help what he did next. He sniffed.
Ron jerked again, and suddenly Harry felt very confident. Ron was just as nervous as Harry was. With his eyes still shut, he nosed his way past Ron's balls. He licked slowly at first. The texture of wrinkles felt odd against his tongue, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was sort of like licking a pair of tightly puckered lips. He licked again, and then he thrust his tongue inside to see what Ron would do.
Ron's murmur of, "Bloody hell," was gratifying, so Harry licked him again, stronger this time, and he opened Ron a little wider, with thumbs and tongue. He grew bolder with each new noise. Ron made little whimpering sounds, and his strong thighs trembled, while the thick scent of Ron filled Harry completely. He wrapped his lips round the edges and suckled once, then twice, and then he was lost, revelling in the sheer dirtiness of his act.
He kept waiting for Ron to say don't you fucking stop, don't ever fucking stop but all Ron did was moan and writhe under Harry's tongue. His own cock hardened again so he ground his hips into the heavy gold bedspread.
Ron arched his back then, crying out harshly and his legs came slowly down, and Harry could hear the pop of his knees as he straightened out.
Harry sat up -- feeling smug and powerful and brilliant and sexy -- to see Ron looking back at him with shining, worshipful eyes. Ron still held his cock in the lazy circle of his fist and his mouth kept opening over and over, but no words came out.
Hermione was sighing at his side, sitting cross-legged, and she ran her fingers through his shaggy red hair. She leaned down to kiss him softly, murmuring, "It's okay, love. It's okay."
Harry simply smirked, started pumping his cock, and asked, "Can I see that list again, Hermione?"
On the morning of the sixth day, Harry woke up alone. He wandered naked through the halls, ignoring the leers of the portraits as he searched for his lovers.
Ron was naked and leaning against the plush velvet couch. His eyes were closed. Hermione was still dressed on her night clothes. She was on her hands and knees, and Ron's cock was in her mouth. The golden lamp gleamed at her feet. Harry felt a tug in his gut that couldn't be denied.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Harry to settle behind her, flip up her nightdress and pull down her knickers. Ron watched Harry with bright blue eyes, encouraging him with a single heated glance, before he closed his eyes again, lost in a haze of deep pleasure.
Hermione whimpered at the feel of Harry's fingers as he skated over the warm contours of her arse. He squeezed her cheeks and lifted her hips gently. He licked a stripe along her dripping centre. She whined rapturously so Harry laid lick after lick, following the same path, over and over.
Ron was close now; his moans were loud and ragged. His fingers gripped the velvet cushions scattered about them. "Don't stop, don't you ever stop."
Hermione was whimpering, but Harry knew they were cries of pleasure, as his tongue pushed insistently deeper. She was rocking back with fervour. Harry's cock twitched in anticipation. Hermione suddenly slumped forward -- shivering and sighing as she came -- and Ron immediately slid down to kiss her mouth, his own release held in check.
Harry heard them kiss, his mouth full of Hermione, and he wanted to taste their tongues, to taste Ron, to have Ron taste her on him. He must have made some sound of need, because Ron was suddenly there, and Hermione was free of his grip and they both descended; Ron's strong arms wrapped around him, and Hermione's small pink tongue delicately licked at the corner of his mouth.
"Harry," she whispered between licks, and she straddled his leg, her pussy rubbing hot and damp against his thigh.
"Harry," Ron breathed, and he rubbed Harry's hard cock just as he bent his head to lick open Harry's lips.
Harry feverishly kissed Ron, and then moved back to Hermione, sharing himself between them. His cock was a madly pulsing hardness as Ron stroked faster and faster, almost too roughly. Harry wanted to come, needed to come. He leaned against Ron's shoulder. "I want you to fuck me," he said hoarsely, his voice full of want.
"Yesss," Ron hissed, and then Hermione chanted. The carpet fluffed up beneath them, creating a soft and cushiony space.
Ron had Harry on his back, and he pushed his knees against his chest. Harry stared into Ron's eyes, and then Hermione's as she knelt next to him.
"Ishq, ishq, ishq. Love, love, love," Hermione murmured. Harry saw her wand swish and flick as she voiced a spell. Harry felt a smooth, gel-like substance fill him as Ron settled his hips between Harry's thighs.
Hermione's small hand curled around Harry's cock, and he nearly came at her touch, at Ron's familiar smell and smile and sweaty weight, but then Ron pierced him and Harry sucked in his breath sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.
The pain burned but Hermione's hands were gentle and Ron's whispers of I love you were soothing.
He opened his eyes to see Ron looking anxiously back at him. "I came," he said sheepishly, withdrawing completely.
Hermione giggled and Ron dropped his head between Harry's legs and thoughtfully popped Harry's cock into this mouth. "Mmm," he hummed.
Harry lasted under a minute.
A blue mist leaked out of the lamp, and as one the three leaned forward to watch the smoke coalesce into the small figure of a man. He looked surprisingly like the genie from the movie Alladin, Harry thought -- blue and sporting a prominent chin.
"O purest of hearts and truest of souls," the djinn intoned. "Your deeds of flesh and words have called." He bowed gracefully. "Your wish is my command."
The next morning, Harry and Ron stumbled downstairs, fully dressed, but sated. It was lovely to have sex any way they wanted.
The gold lamp containing the now awakened djinn was secure. They'd decided to consult with the remaining Order members before using their wishes.
They found Hermione at the large kitchen table, hurriedly transcribing notes. Harry peered over her shoulder and saw the official Hogwarts crest emblazoned at the top of a cream-coloured scroll.
It was addressed to Professor Flitwick.
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"You're going to Hogwarts!" Ron accused, snatching up the paper.
Hermione continued to write furiously. "I might, but that's not what this is for."
"What is it then?"
She stopped writing, and incredibly, pinked up for the first time in embarrassment and said, "Well. With all the research I did and the successful execution of the Djinn's Bliss spell, I should at least be able to get a NEWT in Charms out of this."
Harry rolled his eyes, Ron snorted; and then, simultaneously, they leaned down to kiss her on either cheek.
"That's not all you got," said Harry, as Ron wrapped his arms around them both.