Title: Thin Line
Ships: Harry/Ron/Hermione
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: There is a thin line between being friends and being more.
Authors Notes: I like to think of this as the final piece in my unofficial trilogy of unconnected Harry/Ron/Hermione PoV fics -the first being Three (Ron PoV) and the second being All That Matters (Hermione PoV). Dedicated to inell for coercing me. *grins*
50_smutlets prompt: Touch



Thin Line

They say there is a thin line between love and hate.

I don’t believe that. I think there is a gaping chasm the size of the Grand Canyon between love and hate. What I do believe is that there is a thin line between being platonic and being involved. Although, maybe that just applies to us.

It happened so gradually I barely noticed a change before it was obvious we had crossed that line. We were always close. We were always tactile and affectionate, something I put down to our years at school when every year brought a new, life-threatening adventure. On a subconscious level, we wanted to make sure the other two knew that no matter what, even if we were fighting or angry, we loved each other.

To live together after we left school was such a natural decision we didn’t even discuss it. We just began using sentences like, “When we leave school together…” and “When we get our own place…” and “I can’t wait until we have our own space.” The sentence, “Do you wanna get a place together after we leave Hogwarts?” never came up, not even once.

I love our house. It is everything I have always wanted in a home.

Home. It’s such a loaded word. I have never had a true home until now. The closest I have come was Hogwarts, but there is something inherently wrong in calling a school a home. But this, this building that contains my bed and my photos and my clothes, can only be considered my home because the two people I love most in the world are here with me.

People used to give us the weirdest looks, whether we three were out shopping or relaxing in the park. They still do, in fact. At first I thought it was simply because they were gawking at the saviours of the wizarding world. That is until I remembered that we were in Muggle London and these people knew absolutely nothing about what we had done for them. So their looks perplexed me. The way they would look at us, as though we were some puzzle they were missing a piece to. But now I realise it was because they saw something we didn’t see. And we didn’t see it because it was so ingrained in our relationship, it was part of who we were.

I remember one day we spent, relaxing in Hyde Park. We were lying on a blanket under some trees. I was reading a book, while my fingers were entwined with Hermione’s. I could hear Hermione and Ron talking in hushed tones, clearly trying to remain quiet for my benefit. I smiled when a hearty laugh broke the peace and I briefly turned to look at the two of them, heads together and talking animatedly. Glancing up from my book, I could see some random stranger looking at us. They were trying to be subtle. They were failing. I knew Ron and Hermione hadn’t seen them, as they were too involved in their conversation. I returned to my book but could still feel the stare of this person on me. At first, I just assumed it was because they knew who we were and had never seen anyone so famous before. But then logic kicked in and I figured there wouldn’t be too many wizards in Hyde Park, except for us, of course. So why were they looking at us so intently?

I was pondering this for a good twenty minutes, in between attempts at returning to my book. But then I heard Ron laugh and Hermione squeezed my hand. And then I understood. They were staring because of the way we were laying together in the grass, how the three of us were so intimately situated. And it honestly hadn’t occurred to me up until that point that there was anything remarkable about the way we were positioned.

It never occurred to me that the way we acted was wrong or unusual. How many times had we sat on the couch, Ron with his legs resting on mine and Hermione’s laps? How many times had we fallen asleep together in Hermione’s king sized bed after watching a late movie? How many times had I squeezed their hands as they were walking past me, just to get a smile out of them? And not one of those acts felt wrong. On the contrary, nothing had ever felt more right.

The way our relationship evolved and changed was subtle. Even crossing that line between friends and more was a slow process. Though I suppose, if one must pinpoint a starting place, it would have to have been Christmas Eve.

We were lying together on my bed, a queen sized one which meant we were more cramped than we would have been in Hermione’s room. It was late and we had long ago stopped talking. But we were reluctant to leave each other too. I had my arm around Hermione, she nestled warmly in my arm, her head on my shoulder. Ron was on the other side of her, lying on the crook of his arm facing us, idly playing with the hem of her t-shirt.

Hermione shifted slightly in my arm, leaning up and kissing my jaw. The feel of her soft lips on my rough stubble sent tingles throughout my body. She kept kissing, lingering slightly. So I leant down and captured her mouth with my own.

It wasn’t your typical, passionate embrace. It was soft and sweet and definitely over the line from platonic.

We slowly pulled apart. We looked each other in the eye, which now that I think about it was quite a brave move. She smiled at me, and I felt my lips tug upwards in a return smile. Then she turned away from me and looked to Ron.

He had seen us kiss. I knew he had. But he didn’t look mad or jealous or confused. And then, Hermione laid a hand over Ron’s hand on her stomach. They looked at each other and Ron leant forward and kissed her.

I can’t describe my thoughts and feelings when I saw them kiss. And still to this day I don’t know if it’s because I felt too much or not enough. But then they pulled apart and Ron lay back down.

We fell asleep not long after, the three of us in my bed, without saying a word.

The next day was our first Christmas in our home. We got up and had breakfast and exchanged presents before heading off to The Burrow for lunch. We spent the majority of the day with the Weasleys, laughing and playing and talking, before we went to Hermione’s parents house for dinner.

It was late when we finally made it back home and we were exhausted. We separated at the top of the stairs, heading to our own rooms and bathrooms to wash up and get ready for bed. But then, when I emerged from my bathroom in my pyjamas, I saw Ron in the hallway, seemingly waiting for me.

We stood there for a minute, just looking at each other. Then he stepped forward and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and headed to Hermione’s bedroom, bringing me with him.

Her room was empty and we could hear her in the bathroom. So we climbed into her bed and waited.

Hermione surfaced not long later and looked only mildly surprised to see us. She turned off the bedroom light then came over and got into the bed beside me.

She shifted, trying to get comfortable. She ended up on her side, her arm over my stomach with her hand resting on Ron.

“Goodnight,” she whispered into the dark.

“Goodnight,” Ron sleepily replied.

I smiled. “Have sweet dreams.”

I felt so happy and comfortable and relaxed, nestled there between the warm bodies of my best friends. Although, even then, I knew they were more than my friends. And that on some level, perhaps they always had been.

I never wanted that feeling to end. I knew that as long as we had each other, everything would be okay. That might sound simple or cliché, but I genuinely believed it to be true. I still do.

Not much changed after that Christmas. We just went back to the way things were. Though I will admit that there were subtle differences. Hugs lasted longer than before. Hands rested on each other more often. The kisses that used to be quick pecks on the cheeks or lips now lingered a bit longer.

The next milestone on the line from there to here would have been about a month later. I was in the kitchen with Hermione, making dinner for us. We were in the weirdest mood, laughing at random things and unable to go more than a few minutes without some kind of stupid comment or burst of laughter. Hermione tasted some of the food she was preparing for dessert, but a fit of laughter caused her to miss her mouth, leaving a blob of chocolate on her lips. We were laughing at her lack of coordination and I reached out and began to wipe away the chocolate. The laughter stopped suddenly as the room became flooded with tension. I just stared into her eyes for the longest time. And then I crashed forward, pressing my lips to hers. She met my kiss with equal enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around my neck as our mouths opened to one another and I backed her up against the bench. Her hand rested on my cheek as I ran my hand over her breast and slipped my hand under her top, touching her soft stomach. She moaned, kissing me more desperately. But mere moments later the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed loudly in our house and we broke the kiss and quickly backed away from each other before Ron entered the kitchen. He gave Hermione a hello kiss then came to my side, slapping me on the back and enquiring about dinner.

I didn’t know if anything similar had happened with Hermione and Ron. I didn’t ask and they didn’t tell. Though I had my suspicions.

After that Christmas the three of us sort of developed this habit of all staying in Hermione’s bed every weekend. It was never spoken about of course. It just happened. A few weeks after the kitchen incident, we were lying in Hermione’s bed watching a late movie. Hermione had had a long day at work and fell asleep rather quickly, leaving me and Ron to ourselves. The movie finished about midnight but we weren’t tired. So we just lay together, heads bent close and whispering so as not to wake Hermione. I can’t remember what we were talking about. Probably Quidditch or how bad the movie Hermione just made us watch was. What I do remember is when Ron reached up and brushed my long fringe out of my eyes. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. We looked at each other, both aware of the sudden tension between us. So I did the only thing that was in my mind at that moment. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

It was nothing like the kiss I shared with Hermione. That was so instant and urgent. My kiss with Ron was slower and gentler, but it still did the same things to my body that kissing Hermione did. I rested my hand on his cheek as we continued our slow embrace, neither one of us wanting to scare the other. Ron finally deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and tracing my lips with his tongue. I happily opened my mouth to him and as the kiss became more frenetic, he wrapped an arm around me and we pressed our bodies closer together. Who knows what would have happened, had Hermione not stirred in her sleep and we broke apart from each other, breathing heavily.

I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep that night, lying between the two of them and so crazy with desire I could feel it running through my veins. But sleep I did and when we awoke in the morning, nothing had really changed.

Not much happened after that. No more stolen kisses with either Hermione or Ron. We went back to simply being the three best friends who were maybe slightly more than that. There were lingering touches and tighter hugs and the tension in our house nearly made me mad.

There was no relief. Not even when I was alone in my room at night or in the shower, touching myself with an almost violent intensity as I thought of Hermione or Ron. Or, most of the time, both. It wasn’t enough.

Months this lasted. On the surface everything was great. We still laughed and joked and fought. But on the inside I felt like I was crawling out of skin.

Christmas came. Again, as like the previous year, we stayed in Hermione’s room on Christmas Eve. We awoke in the morning and exchanged presents and went to Hermione’s parents for lunch and then The Burrow for dinner. It was late when we got home, probably after midnight. In a repeat of the previous year, we separated at the top of the stairs to get ready for bed and when I emerged from the bathroom, Ron was waiting for me. This time I went to him, taking his hand and leading him to Hermione’s room. But when we opened the door, the lights were out and Hermione was already lying in bed waiting for us.

She was in the middle of the bed, so we each crawled into bed beside her. We were just lying there for a few minutes before Hermione took my hand and placed it on her breast. Her bare breast.

I inhaled sharply in surprise. I looked at Ron and in the soft light of the room saw a matching expression of shock on his face. Hermione took advantage of my stupor and leaned across and kissed me, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I barely had time to enjoy it before she broke the kiss.

“I want you,” she whispered, looking straight into my eyes. Then she turned to Ron and kissed him just as hard. “Both of you,” she said to Ron, but loud enough for me to hear.

She lay back down, leaving the ball in our court, so to speak. I looked at Ron, then back to Hermione, and needed no further encouragement. I leaned across Hermione and kissed Ron. I wanted them too.

I heard a soft moan from Hermione. We broke apart to see her looking at us, her face flushed with lust. I began massaging her breast, feeling the nipple harden beneath my palm. She closed her eyes, giving over to the sensations.

I released her and pulled the blanket down enough to expose her beautiful chest. I bent down, taking her nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, eliciting a whimper from her. As my mouth focused on her breast, licking and sucking and kissing, my hand travelled down her stomach and I quickly discovered she was completely naked.

“Oh God,” I moaned against her, my breath tickling her taut nipple.

I put my fingers into her soft curls and she spread her legs for me. I slid my fingers down, into her wet folds, and I thought I might die. It was too much.

I watched Ron running his tongue along the length of her breast as I ran my fingers through her. My touch was light and exploratory but she didn’t seem to mind as she began writhing between us. I found her clit and began rubbing and teasing.

Hermione was breathing heavily, throwing her head back and whimpering. I took advantage of this and began placing open mouthed kisses on the exposed column. I stopped when I felt Ron’s hand on my arm. I looked at him and though he had his mouth to Hermione’s shoulder, he looked back. We locked eyes as his ran his hand down my arm, placing his hand atop mine as I teased Hermione.

I thought I would explode. There were no words to describe the feeling of having Ron’s rough and calloused atop me and Hermione’s warm and wet beneath me. But before I could enjoy it for too long, Ron continued moving his hand down and when he inserted a finger, Hermione shook.

Still looking at each other, Ron and I began to work a rhythm. She squirmed between us, breath coming in short gasps, moaning our names. We both turned to look at her, wanting to see her face when she came. And it was just as amazing as I imagined.

I lay flat on my back when it was over, Hermione still shaking slightly in her aftermath. I had an arm thrown over my eyes, wanting to block everything out just so I could take a moment to make sure this memory was firmly imprinted on my brain.

It then came as a great surprise when I felt a soft, warm hand sneak under my pyjama pants. Hermione took me in her hand, which was slightly wet, and began stroking.

I groaned in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut. And then I heard a moan from Ron, one I had heard a few times at school in the dead of night when Ron had evidently forgotten to put on a silencing charm. The thought that Hermione was wanking both Ron and I at the same time sent chills down my spine. I began thrusting my hips, driving into her hand. Her movements became faster and I moaned her name. I came not long later.

I was breathing heavily but could still hear the slapping of skin over on the other side of the bed. And then I opened my eyes and looked over, watching as Ron came.

The three of us lay there, spent. After recovering for a few minutes, I threw an arm over Hermione and kissed her deeply. Ron shifted closer to us and put an arm over her too, resting his hand on my upper arm. They kissed sleepily for a minute before getting comfortable and ready for sleep.

I was the first to wake in the morning. But I soon woke them up, using my mouth and hands. We spent the day in bed, learning each other on a whole new level.

It seems like forever ago now, that Boxing Day in bed. As I lie here, tangled with the warm and sweaty bodies of my best friends, my lovers, my soulmates, my everything, I can’t help but think about that first Christmas night, when I was nestled between their bodies in a far more innocent way. Was that when we crossed the thin line from friends to more, after we shared those few kisses? Or was it that Christmas night a year later, when we finally touched each other in a way we had been desperate to for far too long.

I don’t know. Though I can’t shake the feeling that perhaps even before then, the line had been well and truly crossed.