I do not own Harry Potter.

I just finished the Half Blood Prince and a DracoHermHarry threesome fic. Got inspired.

ZOMG RonHermHarry fic. No angst. What on earth am I on?

Good Morning

Ron opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight burning through the curtains. He quickly moved to burrow his head into the pillow. He's not much of a morning person.

Stirring against his back was Harry, who, like usual, was gradually pulling the covers towards him. He was always very possessive of the blanket, but since Ron usually ended up in the middle he didn't get the brunt of blanket-less chill.

Hermione, on the other hand . . .

"Ron," she whined lowly, her breath warm against shoulder as she attempted to snuggle closer to a heat source. "Blanket, please." When she asked like that, groggy from sleep and uninhibited, Ron would do anything. He nudged Harry with his elbow until he heard the scarred boy curse.

"Whadaya want?"

Hermione lifted her head to look Ron's shoulder at Harry. "You hog the blanket, Harry," she said simply, and tugged on the little bit of it she had.

The lecherous red head nuzzled her throat, grinning ear to ear. "Why cover yourself? I like you in only your bra, Her—"

He doesn't get any further than that before Hermione slaps him half-heartedly. "You pervert!"

Harry tried to quiet them, but to no avail. Once those two got going, there was no stopping them.

"Didn't mind it much last night, didya?"

"Please, Harry contributed more to my orgasm than you did!"

"What, do you calculate that kinda stuff? Was twenty-eight percent of it me while eighty-two of it was Harry's!"

"Twenty-eight plus eighty-two is a hundred and ten, idiot! And no, I don't calculate those things, but who was trying to get me off while you were fuc—"

The rest of Hermione's argument was cut short by Harry throwing the two of them off the bed. Then he turns on his side, wraps the blanket carefully around himself and goes back to sleep, the scent of sex in his nostrils and his toes nice and toasty.