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    Summary

    Hermione whispers. “Fuck us, Harry; we need you to fuck us….”

    Malfoy snaps back to himself at that. He coughs and sputters, trying to explain. “We were covered in a potion…. a lust spell of sorts,” Malfoy gulps as he answers, eyes closing, and Harry can see him visibly shaking. “Think of it as fuck or die. She’s out of her mind right now. You need to have sex with her to lessen the effects.”

    Harry nods, still slightly confused but willing and eager to help Hermione (and Draco) in any way he can. “Harry, please…I need—”

    Harry turns to the woman he loves and quits trying to fight her advances. He can smell her arousal this close, and he wants to give in wholly and completely, but he needs to be sure about Malfoy first. And he’s not above using this situation to get what he wants— what he thinks all three of them desperately crave.

    Harry groans as Hermione pulls his jeans and pants down his legs swiftly. She strokes him rough and fast and perfect, but his focus isn't on her right now. Instead, Harry’s green eyes are trained on Malfoy and Malfoy alone. “What about you, Malfoy? Who’s going to fuck you through it?”

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