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Hermione felt her lover watching her as she walked down the aisle to her groom.
She gripped her dad’s arm a little tighter, keeping her gaze on the carpet unfurled before her, lined with flowers and leading her towards Ron, the love of her life.
Eyes forward, don't stumble.
Don't look at George, who had made her come just the night before, first with his fingers and then on his long cock, arms braced on each side of her head as he sucked a love bite onto her neck.
Ron had been downstairs while she was with his brother, helping his mother count out crisp programs and dinner menus, then checking on bouquets and boutonnieres. Steady, sweet Ron. He would take such good care of her.
George was at the very end of the line of groomsmen, a bout of pettiness from Ron. He’d placed him behind even Percy, and made him walk down the aisle with Hermione’s least favorite Granger cousin. It had been hard to find enough bridesmaids to pair up with four brothers, plus Harry, Neville, and Dean.
The harp music crescendoed as she reached the front of the church.
Her dad lifted her veil and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I can't believe my little girl is getting married.”
Her parents adored Ron; he’d been an encouraging presence as they got their memories back, visiting Australia with her as frequently as possible and bringing laughter to the difficult times.
“I love you, Dad.” She hugged him hard enough to send some of the petals from her bouquet fluttering to the floor.
This was it, she would be starting a family of her own. An unconventional one, but perfect for her. Ron took her hand and helped her step up onto the altar, while Ginny spread out the lacy layers of her dress on the wide stairs behind her.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the minister intoned placidly.
They stood, they knelt, and the ceremony dragged on. Hermione tucked a loose curl back into her updo and tried to listen to the songs and sermons at least closely enough to be ready for the part when she would recite her vows. She didn’t turn around, even during the speak now or forever hold your peace part, when she heard George clear his throat meaningfully.
This was all a strain on him, but the promise of reward must have been a good enough motivation to behave. She curled her toes in her satin high heels. Maybe she would leave them on.
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The wedding reception was outside at a beautiful estate, where they would be spending the night along with many of the guests. It had sweeping gardens, enchanted fairy lights, and a perfect striped card holder that she and Luna had painted together.
The toasts had gone well; Harry’s especially had brought both tears and laughter. She tossed her bouquet over the wide stone balcony and into her crowd of friends below, then made the mistake of turning around to see who caught it.
George stood in the center of the group of girls squabbling over the bouquet, his arms crossed.
“Now?” she mouthed, her stomach clenching at his nod.
She gripped the railing of the balcony, calculating the best way to disappear from her own wedding.
Ron was chatting in a cluster of old classmates, and she grabbed his wrist to get his attention. “I need to go to the suite and get something.”
“Something?” His eyes narrowed.
She shrugged, trying not to look too eager. Did he suspect what she was about to do? If he did, he didn’t try to stop her, just bit his lip and turned back to their friends.
Hermione’s suite was empty, swathed in warm darkness except for a single lamp on the side table. Most of the room was taken up by the enormous round bed, which had made her laugh this morning when they saw it, but now felt appropriately decadent.
And there were two doors leading to the two adjoining rooms on either side of hers.
She checked the brass doorknobs, making sure they were both unlocked.
Wedding dress on or off? She fell back onto the bed, a cloud of lacy fabric billowing around her. On, if only because she’d probably need help unlacing the corset back. She ran her palms down the sides of her nipped in waist and admired how her breasts spilled over the top when she lay down like this.
The door on the left opened.
George.
“Mrs. Weasley,” he growled her new name.
“It’s Granger-Weas—”
George cut off her words with his mouth hard on hers. No tender lead-up tonight, nearly frantic as he pushed up the layers of her skirt and found her silk bride knickers.
“So pretty and pure,” he murmured, as though he hadn't already fucked her in every hole. “It was torture seeing you like this all day.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.” He traced her inner thigh, then dragged a finger across her waiting cunt before pulling her knickers off.
She bucked against him; the anticipation had gotten to her too. The room was too dim to see George’s face clearly, but she could feel his satisfaction in the form of two fingers rubbing the length of her in smooth strokes.
So wet, despite the lack of warm up. She’d been feeling herself in her sexy wedding dress and must have turned herself on. George pumped his fingers steadily on each side of her clit the way she liked.
“Would you have left with me if I said something during the ceremony?”
Her thighs were already shaking, the building sensation scattering her thoughts.
“Yes.” Her voice was a rasp. “I wouldn’t have had a choice.”
“Good girl.” He slowed on the compliment, pushing deeper and curling his fingers in to make her arch off the bed and grip the blankets.
“I would have fucked you right there in front of everyone if you would have said the word.”
Thank Merlin he hadn’t, but the visual of it was rocketing her even closer to orgasm. All of their eyes on her as George pinned her against the pulpit and thrust into her with hard strokes. Spread wide, exposing her to be ravished as they watched.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” George kissed down her breasts and she yanked the corset down enough for him to reach her nipples.
Fuck, it felt so good. She groaned her pleasure, letting her body be moved by him, used and filled and licked.
Then the door on the right opened.
Ron.
He turned on the overhead light, a spotlight glare on them. George’s fingers stilled, frozen as he looked at his brother.
“Did you try the Cucumber Collins?” Ron raised the drink in his hand. “I had them add fresh mint.”
George stroked her clit again, finding his previous pace. “Nah, I stuck to the Worldhopper Negronis.”
They’d teased her for bothering to create custom cocktails, but clearly it was appreciated.
“Thanks for waiting until after the toasts.” Ron set his drink down and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. “Are you two almost done?”
“You’re welcome and no. Get out until we’re finished.” George dropped his head back to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth while keeping eye contact with his brother.
“Actually–” Hermione shivered from the graze of teeth. “What if Ron stays? Since it’s a special night.”
They were usually careful to take even turns, following schedules that Hermione made up for the week. It was unconventional, but the perfect relationship for the three of them. Ron and George had grown closer in the aftermath of losing Fred, and Hermione had found her place being a comfort to both of them.
“What makes you think I want to see this?” Ron leaned down to kiss her, mint and vodka sharp on his tongue.
“Please.” She let her voice fall into a breathy plea. “Husband.”
The agreement had been that Ron would claim her in public in a traditional marriage. George needed a special privilege too, so they decided he could have sex her whenever he wanted; any time, anywhere. Free use, Hermione had explained, watching both brothers’ eyes darken at the concept.
It was only fair.
“Fine.” Ron held her jaw, studying her for a moment before looking to his brother.
George shrugged his acceptance too, never breaking the lazy movements of his fingers inside her. She was dripping, the conversation only winding her up more.
“Strip her down and turn her around so I can see what you're doing.” Ron moved up on the bed so his back was against the headboard, hands clasped behind his neck and legs spread out in front of him.
She sat up and helped George unlace the corset, air caressing her back bit by bit as he freed her from the stiff fabric. It felt heavenly to suck in a breath, then melt into George, her back against his chest.
“Like this?” He spread her legs, naked except for her lacy blue garter and satin heels.
“Put the veil back on.”
Hermione obeyed, letting her hips sway as she crossed the room to get it from where she’d draped it on the side table. There was something delicious about sashaying around bare while they were both still dressed in their suits.
She anchored it back into her curls, the translucent fabric settling whisper soft against her skin.
“My perfect wife.”
Ron’s approval felt like a caress. She crawled across the bed to get back into place against George. Heels on the blanket felt naughty, a thought that nearly made her laugh out loud, considering what they were about to do.
“My perfect girl.” George squeezed her breasts from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.
She held onto her ankles, quivering a bit as his hands drifted down to her belly and thighs, then finally gripped her hips and moved her flush against his hard bulk through his trousers.
Could Ron see how wet she was? There would be evidence on George’s grey wool fabric, since rocking against him was becoming less a choice and more of a necessity; she was about to explode.
Ron snarled, but unbuckled his belt. His jealousy and temper had been a nuisance when they were young, but now it had transformed into something entirely better. A spark of fire that had him ripping off her knickers and throwing her over his shoulder to carry her to the bedroom, a motivation to earn every moment with her.
“Legs wider apart.”
Her fingers dimpled her skin as she spread herself farther open, leaning on George for balance. He took advantage of the shift in position by plunging in two fingers deep, his palm slapping her clit on every thrust in.
Ron’s cock was already half hard when he pulled it out, running his thumb across the end. She ground against George’s hand, the sight making her crave more inside of her. She was being stretched, but not deep enough, not quite what she wanted.
“I need to be filled. Can I?” she asked Ron.
He let out a disbelieving breath. “Yeah. Take care of her, George.”
The fingers withdrew with a last slap of his palm and George shifted her forward, onto her hands and knees, her stance still wide. The veil fell forward, hanging over her face. He dragged her back by her hipbones and plunged in to the hilt.
There. She nearly sobbed; it was exactly what she needed. Her head dropped to the bed, bracing herself against the fullness, falling apart with every thrust.
“No.” Ron lifted her back up, cradling her face to look at him.
He watched her as she came, her eyes half closed and mouth open in ecstasy. George’s fingers dug hard into her hips, drawing her attention back to him as the aftershocks clenched around him.
“You like it when I fill you up?”
“Yes,” she cried. She liked anything they wanted to do to her body, trusted them to know what she needed.
George’s pace stuttered, holding her tight as he emptied inside her cunt. She squeezed her thighs together until he was done, taking every last drop.
“Fuck.” Ron finally dropped her face, possibly because her eyes had rolled back into her head instead of holding his gaze.
George pulled her to face him for a kiss, tender and spent.
There was a moment of silence except for their breathing, until Ron shoved his brother to the side. “My turn.”
Impatient. Ron’s face was pink and he was panting nearly as hard as she and George were.
Hermione fell back on a pillow, boneless and buzzing from her orgasm. Ron knelt on top of her and lined up his ready cock. It was a stretch since he was thicker than George, but she was dripping wet with cum and the slide in felt incredible. She gripped his shoulders as he moved, already jerking like he was close. Maybe George wasn’t the only one she’d tortured today.
“Husband,” she whispered into Ron’s ear, the word pushing him over the edge.
She crossed her ankles behind his back, the points of her heels digging into his skin. All of him tensed as he came deep inside of her, where she was already full from his brother. She clenched as hard as she could manage, locking them together to hold all of it.
From this day forward, she belonged to both of them. A greedy little witch who had gotten everything her heart desired.
Ron brushed her hair back gently, all of his irritation washed away with the surge of pleasure they’d just enjoyed. It always felt like an emotional release with him and not just a physical one.
“You’re right, the extra mint was a good idea.” George leaned against the bed, finishing the last of Ron’s drink.
“I love you.” Hermione closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the happiness of the moment. “Both of you.”
How lucky she was to have her boys, their willingness to do this with her and build a new family between them. They seemed to sense her overwhelm and both cuddled in, pulling up one of the soft blankets to cover them all.
“That was good.” Ron pressed a kiss to her temple.
“It was amazing,” George added.
Hermione nodded, a bit giddy at the prospect of their future. The first thing on her to-do list? Getting an extra armchair for their bedroom.
Facing the bed.