Add a Little Spice

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Story Notes:
The smell of freshly cooked bacon draws Pansy out of her slumber. It takes her a moment to orient herself because there’s no reason her flat should smell like bacon, and her bed isn’t this large or comfortable. When she realizes where she must be, she opens her eyes and sits up quickly. The bed is empty, cool in the middle but slightly warm on the far right, which means it hasn’t been long since that one woke up. Looking around, she can see morning light surrounding the outside area of the drapes, which means she’s overstayed welcome.

Bloody buggering hell.

One of the few things in her life that she’s started to enjoy, not that she’d ever admit it to them, is now ruined because she’s a lazy slag who can’t remember unspoken rules about married couples who invite her into their relationship for a bit of sex. Pansy collects herself and decides that it’s not her fault but Granger’s. Well, not Granger anymore, but Hermione will always be Granger to anyone who knew her before, and no amount of marriages will ever change that. Pansy feels better turning the blame around to someone else, even if it doesn’t fix the current situation.

It’s been nearly six months since she’d run into Ron and Hermione at a pub with a reputation as being the sort of place to find company for the night. All free and legal, of course, just a place where singles could go if they wanted no strings sex and didn’t want to go hunting about for a partner. When married couples went to the pub, it was usually because they weren’t aware of its reputation or they were looking to spice up their relationship. It hadn’t taken ten minutes of exchanging catty remarks and trying not to stare at Hermione’s breasts for Pansy to be pressed against the sink in the bathroom with a pretty face between her legs and a stiff cock in her hand.

After that night, they’ve met dozens of times. It had started off once every couple of weeks, but it became weekly and has recently been a couple of times a week. Pansy receives an owl from Hermione usually but occasionally there’s a parchment in Ron’s scratchy handwriting. They’ve been to the Muggle cinema together, to a West End Muggle play, to a concert with a wizarding orchestra that Hermione enjoys, to a variety of different restaurants where they play footsie under the table, and numerous other activities that tend to become more like foreplay as the evenings progress.

Despite all that, Pansy always leaves after the sex. Sometimes, they doze after one round, but she’s learned their unconscious signals and knows when they’re randy enough for another round later or when it’s a one round kind of evening. She’s good at not overstaying her welcome, especially since she’s started to develop these annoying feelings regarding the two goody goody Gryffindor heroes. She’s still rather angry with herself for that betrayal. She’s a modern woman who has no use for anyone but herself, after all, and now she’s feeling more like a fifteen year old schoolgirl with a crush. It’s ridiculous. Not that it matters now anyway. She’s spent the entire night in their bed, so whatever this is between them is going to end because she knows the rules. Sex is great but don’t complicate things.

“Oh! You’re up.” Hermione steps into the room and smiles shyly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Ron said you were still sleeping when he woke earlier.”

Pansy feels awkward and defensive. Hermione’s standing there in a pretty robe and what appears to be nothing else, while she’s in their bed with dirty sheets around her. “You should have woken me,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head stubbornly. “I’d have left without a fuss, you know? It’s not my fault I’m still here.”

“You were tired, Pansy. Why would I wake you if you needed rest?” Hermione shakes her head. “You’re so difficult sometimes!”

“Me?” Pansy gapes at her, fully aware that it’s probably unattractive to have her mouth hanging open this way but unable to stop it. “I’m the easiest lover you two have ever had. I’m the Queen of No Strings!”

“Only,” Hermione interrupts. Her face is flushing in the way it usually does when she’s getting annoyed, something Ron and Pansy both enjoy seeing which is their justification for constantly riling her up. “And you’re the bloody Queen of Walls, too. Walls so thick and sturdy that no one can get through them no matter how hard they try.”

“That’s why we climb over, love, or wait for the door to open to let us in,” Ron speaks up, entering the room with two trays floating behind him. He steps up behind Hermione and kisses the spot under her ear that makes her melt then winks at Pansy, like it’s perfectly fine that she’s still sitting naked in his bed when its daylight out. “Sleeping beauty finally wakes, I see.”

“Very funny, Weasley,” Pansy sneers, rolling her eyes because it’s more difficult than she ever imagined staying angry at Ron when he gives her those cheeky smiles and focuses those bright blue eyes on her. “What’s this nonsense about walls that your wife is nattering on about? Should I contact St. Mungos to ready a room for her next to crazy old Lockhart?”

“No heavy conversations during breakfast,” Ron says. “It’s a Weasley rule, and we always follow it. Best way to start the day is with good food, pleasant company, and talking about random shite.”

“Weasley rule my arse,” Hermione mutters as she climbs onto the bed and gets situated. Her robe comes open, and Pansy can’t help but stare at those beautiful tits that she spent nearly an hour playing with last night. That’s probably another reason she overslept, which is another mark in the column of why this is Hermione’s fault.

“And what a delectable arse it is.” Ron reaches over to swat her arse before she sits down, earning a glare from Hermione and a smirk from Pansy. Once he’s settled onto the bed, he brings the trays over with a wave of his wand. “We weren’t sure what you enjoy eating in the morning, since you always run off before we can find out, so we made a little bit of everything. Well, Hermione did most it, but I helped.”

There’s so much food that Pansy could survive a week on it easily. “How long were you cooking, you daft bint? I don’t even usually eat breakfast.”

“Well, you’re eating it today,” Hermione snaps, glaring at her as she reaches for a glass of orange juice. “Breakfast is essential for starting your day and giving your body nutrients you need so you don’t get tired and cranky. No wonder you’re always in a mood if you don’t eat the most important meal of the day.”

“Don’t argue with her. She’ll just get out charts and study data to support the claim,” Ron warns, reaching over to brush Pansy’s hair back from her face. “Eat something, yeah? She spent a lot of time stress cooking and fretting over making sure there’d be something you’d like.”

“Ronald! You don’t have to tell her everything.” Hermione is blushing as she ducks her head, and Pansy is starting to get even more confused. When Hermione glances up at her, Pansy hates the feelings that hit her in her gut. “You never stay. I’ve been planning what to make for breakfast if you ever did for months, but I panicked this morning when I realized you were finally still here, so I couldn’t even remember my planned meal.”

“What?” Pansy reaches for a rasher of bacon just to have something to do with her hands and mouth because she’s feeling rather foolish right now. Staring at the trays, she realizes that this isn’t the first meal they’ve ever shared, but it’s certainly the first one in bed. Yet Hermione’s just said she’s been planning it for months, but it’s Pansy who has prevented her from making it before.

“I forgot the jam. I’ll be right back,” Hermione says, sliding off the bed and hurrying out of the room. Pansy doesn’t look away from the pile of fluffy eggs to watch her go.

“If sleeping over was just a mistake, it’s probably best if you eat up quickly and go on home,” Ron says lowly, giving Pansy a curious look when she glances up. “If it was because you actually are finally ready to become part of our relationship, that’s bloody brilliant. I don’t want Hermione hurt because she made assumptions based on you actually being here in the morning.”

“Part of your relationship?” Pansy shakes her head. “What are you even talking about, Weasley? You owl me for sex when you two are wanting to spice things up. What kind of relationship are you referring to?”

“You’re either really bloody stupid or oblivious.” Ron snorts. “While it started off as sex, because Hermione’s had those feelings about wanting to try something with a bird and, well, I’m not about to say no to that, am I? It hasn’t been just about that for months now, and you know it. We’ve been courting you, Pansy, and you’ve been allowing it, so we thought you were open to the idea or else you’d have told us to bugger off by now. It’s hurt her more and more every time you get up after sex and rush off like what we’re doing is something to be ashamed of or just about getting off to you.”

“I’m not stupid,” Pansy snaps, but maybe she is because she can’t believe what he’s saying. But it starts to make sense now, like a blurry image that’s suddenly sharpened so you can see it all clearly. There’s a part of her that maybe has suspected but couldn’t believe it, so hadn’t wanted to ruin a good thing by assuming or doing something rash. “You Gryffindors are supposed to be blunt and brave. Why take all this time playing at being subtle and courting when you could have just asked me outright ages ago?”

“We took you as our guest to Harry’s birthday party!” Hermione has come back into the room carrying a jar of jam. “We introduced you as our Pansy, for Merlin’s sake! What else did we have to do? Harry teased us for days about being kinky and falling for a bloody Slytherin, and here you are saying we needed to be even blunter?”

“I just assumed you were a lot more open about your sexual lives with your friends than anyone else I know!” Pansy shrugs a shoulder and smiles sheepishly. “Sure, now it makes sense, but I don’t have experience dealing with this type of thing, so how should I know?”

“Pansy, do you want this to be more than sex?” Ron asks bluntly, smirking when she blinks at him. “We’re talking commitment here. No seeing anyone else or picking up other couples in pubs by fondling their tits and talking dirty as soon as greetings are over. This means sleeping over, possibly even moving in at some point, having breakfast every morning because Hermione sulks if you miss it, and dealing with all the silly shite that comes along with a relationship, only worse because there are three of us who are all opinionated, stubborn, and not the best at communicating obviously. So, what do you say?”

“You make it sound so appealing,” she drawls, moving her gaze from one to the other. They’re serious, and she’s stupid for not recognizing the signs before. Some Slytherin she is. If Draco hears about this, she’ll be forced to surrender her house tie for not being at all cunning or sneaky enough to outsmart a couple of Gryffindors.

“Well, there’s also a lot of sex,” Hermione adds sweetly, deliberately opening her robe now and moving the spoon of jam over her nipple. “Ronald has a large dick, and you seem to enjoy my breasts, so there’s three perks right there.”

“That’s not playing fair, Granger,” she mutters, licking her lips as she stares at the hard nipple. Hermione covers the other nipple, and Ron leans over to lick at it, moaning as the jam touches his tongue.

“All’s fair in love and war.” Hermione’s prim tone is a contradiction to the smirk on her face and the sexy look in her eyes as she fondles herself.

“Obviously, you two need me around to keep you out of trouble and to add a little spice,” she says, leaning over to lick at Hermione’s nipple. Glancing up, she smirks. “Count me in, but I want to celebrate this whole emotional relationship shite with amazing sex before we worry about breakfast.”