A/N: This was originally intended as a bonus story for a fest but after the Fiendfyre of 2014 I wanted this up and out for the general audience immediately. My thanks to M for the beta on it – and hope that others can appreciate my "difference of critical opinion" and not "I'm mad at the Creator for blowing holes in my writing" philosophy. – DG

A noise woke Harry from a sound slumber. He stretched his arm to find his wand and glasses on the nightstand table. Books lined the opposite wall of the bedroom he was sleeping in. Recognition dawned on him in the half-sleep state.

Harry had stayed the night with Ron and Hermione.

They had been working extremely late on a particular case. Ron offered to let him crash the night at their place so he wouldn't be alone in the brownstone. Ginny was off on tour for another two weeks with the Harpies and the letters she sent home were hot enough to leave him quite frustrated. They had to be back in at the office at 8am to continue their frantic work on the case at hand.

Another noise bounced through the wall. Is Crookshanks running loose in the flat? Or is that Ron digging for a tin of biscuits at 5am?

Harry pulled back the warm bedclothes and padded to the robe hanging on the door hook. Most of the time it was Hermione's study, complete with desk, books, a comfortable chair that looked straight out of the 1970s, and a daybed on the other wall. Harry used it some, and so did Charlie and others on occasion. Ron too, I reckon, if he and Hermione have a row. Or even Hermione locks herself in here when Ron's being a right foul git.

Harry opened the door and heard the noise again. He looked at the door across the hall and it was open and dark. He looked to his right and saw their bedroom door barely cracked. Figures. I probably heard Ron snoring or something like that.

I might as well get a glass of water or a biscuit myself.

Harry took three steps and stopped suddenly. The kitchen light was on and his two best friends were at the small table, completely starkers. He stepped back into the shadows and disillusioned himself.
It wasn't the first time he'd see Ron out of his kit. Sadly, it wasn't the first time to see Hermione like that, either.

The two of them had a penchant for shagging on any convenient flat surface. After the first half dozen times, he quit counting or paying attention.

Ruddy garden gnomes! Rabbits shag less than they do.

Ron was kneeling on the floor next to the table, feasting on his wife. If anyone realized how much these two were mad for one another, no one'd believe me. But Harry stood there and watched the couple enjoying their mutual pleasure. At least this time I don't have a graphic display of what's happening. There was that one time when I saw them on the couch at home –

A moan broke his chain of thought.

Pansy would pay a vault full of galleons to see or even hear what's going on. Her reporters are nothing more than strumpets and harridans, only reporting the negative, the insulting, the salacious. They'd never appreciate what I see. They're so mad for one another and they're so good for one another, no matter what the gossip mongers have to say. Only Ron could coax her into such actions. Only Ron could get her to act this way, letting go of her high strung side to surrender to him. Only Ron unwinds her so much to relax and embrace the love and pleasure he gives. And she pushes him to be better. She inspires him to be the best he can be. No one else can motivate him like she does.

Harry watched Ron run a hand up her trembling body to rub her breasts in time with his other ministrations. Hermione arched her back in response, moaning even louder. "So close," she groaned. Ron's large hand slid from her breast and under her hip. He lifted her slightly and settled back between her legs. She shifted them wider, accommodating his axe-handle shoulders and broke into a litany of gibberish. She was wiggling under his touch, reacting to each lap of his tongue on her private flesh. Each broken syllable from her was music to his ears, watching the tips of his ears grow redder in each passing second.

Ron shifted his arm and moved his fingers. She keened to his touch and froze, paralyzed to the breaking point.

"So fuckin' good," he growled before twisting his lips further.

Harry stood stock still while watching her. He was eager to move back to the bathroom but knew Ron had hearing like a bat. He had time to see his other best friend in her state of bliss.

"Ron!" She screamed in contented bliss. She quivered under his strong arms that held her in place so she wouldn't hurt him or herself. Ragged breaths from her punctuated how much she appreciated his affections.

They were close – closer than family, really – and that was everything he wanted from her. She was the family he never had, and when he realized that she was family, nothing else came close to filling the gaping hole in his heart. She was beautiful, but not in a way that would make his head turn on a busy street. Between Ginny and Hermione – and let's face it, Luna too – they were all gorgeous in their own ways. Each had something to offer when it came to the feminine form.

However, there was no comparison between the three favorite witches in his life. The other two paled in comparison to Ginny. He loved the way her red tresses flowed down her back, or twisted just so into a braid off her shoulders. Hermione's wild and almost alive hair wasn't a favorite. Neither was Luna's soft curls that didn't seem to feel that… solid… under his fingertips. But Ginny's hair felt warm, and it smelled of pudding and cinnamon and fresh baked bread. Those smells just from her hair reminded him of home, of warmth, and love of family.

It didn't hurt that her lips were so alive under his touch. She knew how to snog and snog well, even the first time they kissed. Alcohol didn't stir him like her snogging did.

Why doesn't Hermione turn your head? Harry watched her try to come down from her climax. It's her lips. They're too thin, too severe, too harsh for me. Ron doesn't seem to mind though. Get'im pissed on Firewhiskey after a mission goes to shit and he'll brag about them for the entire time, much less other parts of her you don't need to know about.

Ron stood up from the floor. Harry got an eyeful that would require much scrubbing of his eyes or a nice Obliviate to make him forget what he just saw. Merlin, put that beast away! Oy! Ron was standing, and standing at attention. He wrapped his hand around his impressive member and was slowly stroking it in his hand.

Harry felt his pants twitch but he could hold off until he went in the shower and wanked to Ginny and what she did with him last weekend. One lone thought passed his eyes, of her looking up at him, wanton and sultry, red hair everywhere while she gave him a knob polishing. His prick twitched again while thinking of Ginny and her talented mouth.

He watched his two best friends making love and it was beautiful to behold. But it was a candle to Ginny's bright candelabra.

Hermione lifted her arms to her husband standing between her legs. "Back with us now?"

"I could go all night," She nodded slightly on the table. "So bloody good."

"Night went hours ago. It's morning, you insatiable wench." Ron chuckled while he adjusted his wife accordingly on the table.

"And you know it. You love when I am this way."

Ron pulled her hips back to the edge of the table and found his way back to her entrance. "Cor, you're so bloody hot." He grinned like a stunned troll.

"Quit teasing you arse."

Ron pulled her hips to him. They moaned in unison, satisfaction dripping from their lips. He stayed still for a moment, letting her get accustomed to his ample appendage. "Blimey, so bloody bossy. Bet you'd get off if I turned you over and pounded you into the table."
"Not like you don't enjoy it however we make love."

Harry palmed the front of his trousers absently. He and Ron would laugh in the locker room from time to time talking about their anatomical gifts. If Ron was a giant, then Harry was a beast. Ginny's never complained about what I have. Then again I never asked her for any comparisons, not like she'd ever tell me anyway.

Harry stood watching the couple slowly get into their much needed shag. Her breasts bounced on her chest while Ron thrust none too gently into her accommodating body.

Ginny's got better breasts. Yes, that's it. They seem smaller and fit my hands just right. Her nipples are just the right color, like apricot flesh sprinkled with cinnamon. And she loves it when I trace the freckles on her chest. She has this giggle that just makes me get so hard. He watched the endowment Hermione had shift slightly and move off of the top of her chest. Ginny's more athletic too. It must be from all of the stairs the team has to run for training.

Ron pulled her legs from his arms and settled her legs along his torso. "Oh that's fuckin' fantastic" Ron thrust again. Hermione nodded her head roughly, banging the back of it onto the tabletop. "I can't hear you."

"Quit playing and just fuck me, Ron!"

He stopped and looked down at her. She looked completely debauched while laid out the table in front of him. "Cursing again, Hermione? You know that turns me on."

Harry couldn't tell but if he guessed right, she winked at her husband standing there. "I'm indulging your kinks, love."

"Rubbish! You love talkin' dirty to me too. You get off on it." Ron ran his hand down her legs. "See? You're turned on just saying those things to me." His large hand reached her bum and gave a none-too-gentle pinch. She squealed in response. Ron shared a huge grin with her and went back to making love to his wife.

"It's not like anyone would believe me if I told'em."

Hermione reached her hand out and took his right one. The fingers interlaced, much like how their bodies were intertwined. "You've told enough already," she gasped out between thrusts. "Bad enough Harry knows."

"Hush. Just bounce your tits for me. I don't want to think of that git right now."

Harry fought to stifle a laugh. Ginny's nowhere near as prudish as Hermione is. She has no shame, walking in the locker room out of her kit. She's worked so hard to have that fit body of hers. But if I talked to her like that, she'd hex me.

"OhG_dRonfaster!"

Ginny doesn't have to boss me. Blimey, she'll ride me for hours when we have time. Blimey, she's got stamina and appetite that I never knew anyone had. She's as bad as Ron. I could blow and she'll still keep going. Maybe that's what it is. Ginny has stamina. We'll screw all night and never get worn out from it. Or that she's just in my head where she doesn't have to do that. She just knows.

Ron moved Hermione's legs to pry them apart. "Let go," Harry heard Ron command her. Harry groaned at the scene before him turning debauched. "Come for me."

Harry shuffled back further into the darkness. Rude noises and coarse epithets from them chased him further down the hall to the loo. I don't need to see anything else. I've seen it all before including their sappy words. Doesn't matter if they are harsh words or candy floss shit, I've heard it often enough. They can bicker like an old married couple and they push each other's buttons often. But that hasn't changed since they were ickle firsties.

Harry remembered some of the conversations he overheard in the locker room from the other Aurors. He remarked that they often only saw the bickering and nagging and constant antagonism.

Bet they'd wonder who those two are if they saw them off the clock. They're always touching when they are away from work and the job. Ron'll look at her just that way when she's not looking, like a bloke who has everything he ever wanted. She does the little things, like seconds of pudding or making him tea just how he likes it. They're most comfortable snuggled on the couch listening to the wireless or reading the paper.

Nah, they demonstrate their love and affection for one another without having to shout about it. Few others pay attention or listen well enough to understand them.

He made his way back to the bathroom, silencing the hinges, and closing the door. He sealed it and sat on the toilet, putting his head in his hands.

I know what it is. How could I be so stupid? I know why Hermione doesn't turn my head. It's 'cause she's always turned Ron's head. He's barmy for her and I reckon he has been for ages. Hell, he's stood up for her since they became friends. I let her fight her battles; he fights them with her, even against me. She never turned my head because she already caught the eye of another and taking that from him wouldn't be right.

Coarse yelling broke his thoughts once again. He smiled and quietly chuckled to himself.

Her hugs are the best thing. There's something comforting about a hug from Hermione. There's so much love there that I don't need anything else from her. I don't need to see her like that, laid out like a dinner feast, to appreciate her. She doesn't have to talk dirty to me to make me smile, or do those things to get me to love her.

I rather sit at dinner with them, talking shit from work, than anything else. Her and Ron fill a place in my heart and soul that no one else does. Knocking out a mountain troll just does that.

Harry stood up and stripped out of his robes before turning on the water in the shower. I'll get ready and go on into work. They won't notice I've left until they see me at the office. Ron'll ask where I went, and I'll just mention I woke early and went back in. He'll see through it – Hermione probably too – but they don't need to know anything else. I don't need to share their love. They share so much with me anyway.