Chapter Text
The penthouse overlooking wizarding London was quiet except for the soft click of Hermione’s Mary Janes against the marble floor. She paused in the doorway of the sitting room, one hip cocked, knowing exactly what she was doing.
The tiny plaid skirt barely skimmed the tops of her thighs—shorter than any school uniform had a right to be. No knickers underneath, of course; Daddy Draco had forbidden them after last week’s “incident” in the lift. Her white blouse was tied in a knot just under her breasts, the top three buttons undone so the lace bralette peeked out, nipples already pebbled against the thin fabric from the cool air and anticipation. Thigh-high socks with little bows. A thin black choker with a silver “good girl” tag dangling at her throat.
She twirled a curl around her finger, biting her lower lip as she looked between them.
Draco lounged on the leather sofa, one ankle crossed over his knee, tumbler of firewhisky dangling from long fingers. His grey eyes raked over her slowly, possessively. Theo sat beside him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened, smirking like he already knew she’d misbehaved today.
“Look at you,” Draco drawled, voice low and dangerous. “Strutting in here dressed like a little tart. Did you wear that to your meeting with the Minister this morning, princess?”
Hermione shifted her weight, thighs pressing together. “Maybe,” she whispered, voice small and sweet—the little voice she used when she wanted to be punished. “It was so short when I sat down… I think Pansy saw everything.”
Theo let out a dark chuckle. “Our slutty little girl flashing her cunt to half the Ministry. Should we be proud or should we bend you over right now?”
She whimpered, already aching. “Both?”
Draco set his glass down with deliberate calm and crooked a finger. “Come here.”
Hermione crossed the room on shaky legs, stopping between their spread knees. Draco reached up, hooked a finger in the choker, and tugged her down until her face was inches from his.
“You like being shared, don’t you?” he murmured against her lips. “Like knowing both your Daddies can use this perfect little body whenever we want.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she breathed, pupils blown. “I love it. Love being your slut.”
Theo’s hand slid up the back of her thigh, under the skirt, fingers brushing bare, slick folds. She gasped, hips jerking forward.
“Already dripping,” Theo observed, voice rough. “Just from walking in here like this? Pathetic.”
Draco’s mouth curved. “Show us how sorry you are, baby. On your knees.”
Hermione dropped instantly, knees hitting the plush rug. She looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes that didn’t match the filthy way she licked her lips.
Draco unzipped first, freeing his cock—thick, hard, already leaking. Theo followed, longer, curved, veins standing out. She made a needy sound in her throat.
“Both at once?” she asked hopefully.
Draco gripped her hair. “Greedy little thing. Open.”
She did, tongue out, and they took turns sliding into her mouth—Draco first, slow and deep until she gagged softly, then Theo, holding her head still while he fucked her throat with shallow thrusts.
“Good girl,” Draco praised, thumb wiping drool from her chin. “Taking us so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be passed between us.”
Theo groaned as she hollowed her cheeks. “Fuck, yes. Our perfect little cockslut.”
Hermione moaned around him, one hand slipping between her own thighs because she couldn’t help it. Theo tsked and pulled out.
“No touching. Hands behind your back.”
She whined but obeyed, clasping her wrists at the small of her back while they took turns using her mouth again—harder now, messier, spit dripping down her chin onto her exposed breasts.
Draco pulled her up suddenly, spinning her around so her back was to his chest. He yanked the skirt up over her hips, baring her completely.
“Spread your legs, princess.”
She did, trembling.
Theo knelt in front of her, dark eyes glittering. “Look how swollen you are. Just from sucking us off.”
He dragged his tongue up her slit in one long, slow stroke. Hermione cried out, head falling back against Draco’s shoulder.
Draco’s hand slid around to toy with her nipples through the thin blouse. “Tell us what you want, baby.”
“I want—” She gasped as Theo sucked her clit. “I want both of you inside me. Please, Daddies. Fill me up. Use me.”
Draco bit her earlobe. “Such a filthy little girl. Bend over.”
Theo stood, guiding her down so her hands braced on the sofa cushion, arse in the air. Draco slicked himself with her arousal and pushed in first—slow, stretching her open while she whimpered and pushed back.
“Good girl,” he growled, bottoming out. “Taking Daddy so deep.”
Theo moved behind, pressing the head of his cock against her already-stuffed entrance. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me in.”
Hermione keened as he worked in alongside Draco—tight, overwhelming, perfect. They stilled for a moment, letting her adjust, hands stroking her sides, murmuring praise.
“You’re doing so well,” Draco whispered. “Our perfect little whore.”
Then they moved.
Slow at first, alternating thrusts, then faster—harder—until she was sobbing with pleasure, begging, shaking between them.
“Come for your Daddies,” Theo ordered, fingers finding her clit.
She shattered instantly, clenching around them so hard they both groaned. Draco came first, spilling deep with a curse. Theo followed seconds later, grinding in as he filled her.
They stayed like that for long moments—sweaty, panting, still buried inside her—until they gently pulled out. Hermione collapsed forward, boneless and blissed-out.
Draco scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. Theo pressed soft kisses to her temple.
“Our good girl,” Draco murmured.
“Always,” Theo added.
Hermione nuzzled into them both, already drifting. “Love my Daddies,” she mumbled sleepily.
They shared a look over her head—smug, possessive, completely in love.
And they knew she’d be back in an even shorter skirt tomorrow.