Chapter 3
If her assumptions were correct- and she didn’t often like to assume, knowing that it made an ass of her- these were her neighbors. They were surprisingly quiet, the building next door only really showing any signs of activity at night, which she had never minded. What she couldn’t believe though was the fact that she never, not once, had any indication of who the shop owners were.
Draco peered down at her, obviously concerned. “Are you alright?”
She shook her head as if to clear it and nodded once, terse. “Sorry, I must have ran into you harder than I thought.” She gestured toward the other man with a tilt of her head.
He spoke again in his deep, gravelly voice- “Theodore Nott.”
Hermione felt her eyes pop comically out of her head. This was Theodore Nott? Surely not- as the Nott she remembered looked completely different, barely as tall as her and weedy, barely able to snap a twig. This man was massive, entirely built of muscle and sinew, shoulders wide and leading down to a deliciously tapered waist. He was almost as tall as Draco, who easily dwarfed her five foot five frame. Draco wasn’t as muscular but was close. Standing together in the morning light they made a stark picture- Draco pale, covered in vibrant ink, and Theo’s tanned skin covered in shades of black and grey. Hermione felt like she was the naive girl about to get railed in her favorite smut novels.
She struggled to keep her cool and felt her cheeks redden. “I take it you’re my neighbors?”
Draco nodded. “It looks like it.”
Hermione laughed a short, loud laugh, and pulled her hair out of its thick ponytail holder, shaking her fingers through her long, wild curls. “Harry forgot to mention it when he was here.”
Theo laughed then, and it sounded like it started in the bottom of his belly. Between Draco’s piercing stare and Theo’s voice, Hermione felt herself clenching her thighs together. “That sure sounds like Potter.”
After a few more moments, Hermione made her excuses, determined to run off the sexual tension coursing through her her veins, and was a little less than surprised when the pair decided to run alongside her- Theo on her left and Draco on her right. They shortened their significantly longer strides and together they made a decent pace- their run through Diagon Alley had taken only 48 min, and they found themselves breathing heavy in front of the diner across the street.
Together, they decided on breakfast, having worked up strong appetites along their run. For some reason, spending time with the two burly, tattooed men- who were wildly different than expected, after all- wasn’t nearly what Hermione expected.
Her morning solo runs now contained at least one other person- sometimes it was Theo, sometimes it was Draco, and sometimes it was both of them. Neither ever chose to cover their tattooed chests, and she found it harder and harder to ignore the flex of their muscles as they ran, harder to break herself of daydreaming about licking the beads of sweat dripping from their pectorals to their firm stomachs…
And she found herself truly thanking whoever it was that created mens grey joggers.
She spent much of her alone time now wondering what it would be like to be with one- or both- of them, sweating for much more delicious reasons than running.
Business was still booming- there were no shortages of book worms or tea lovers in the world- but Hermione’s happiness no longer felt completely fulfilling, and Henry Dwyer Davis- her battery operated vibrator, packages with HDD on the label- was no longer fully scratching her itch.
It might be the fact that it had been well over a year since she had a good lay, but whatever it was- she needed more.
Sometimes she thought they living feel the same level of attraction- she could swear, more than once, that she felt their gazes linger on her longer than a friend might- but their relationship also had her frazzled. Sometimes it seemed like there might be more to them than just friendship, as she witnessed a prolonged caress, one of the men eyeing the other as if they were the last thing on earth- but really, she was clueless on all fronts.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t spending her time fantasizing about being the middle of a Theo-Draco sandwich though.
As Summer now bled into Fall, she found herself spending longer stretches of time with them. It was coming up in a year of the store being open, and Hermione had hired two more employees each for the store and shop, shouldering only the responsibility of bookkeeping and operations. She was spending more of her time procuring desired works and focusing on her physical fitness, and that meant more runs- and more daydreams.
Theo and Draco both had spent ample time trying to convince her she needed to embrace the needle and get her first tattoo.
She wasn’t so sure.
She had spent more than enough time tracing the lines, peaks and valleys of theirs with her eyes, but couldn’t get the thought of the pain associated out of her mind.
Harry was the tipping point.
“It’s orgasmic,” he gushed at her. “The vibration of the machine, the needle passing ink into the skin… it’s like sex without the penetration.” His eyes had glazed over as he spoke, and he flexed his fingers around Charlie’s knee- he had looked equally affected by Harry’s description.
Hermione could use “orgasmic”.
She started planing, sketching out the intricate vine and flower work she wanted tattooed, starting at her hip, wrapping tightly around her thigh and trailing down to her toes. She was an overachiever, and for her first, she wanted nothing short of epic.
Theo and Draco were thrilled.
“You’re sure?” Draco stated down at her, and she was sure she saw hunger in his gaze.
“Absolutely.”
Theo and Draco had nodded at each other in their odd, silent communication- another point to something deeper than the bond of friendships- and they agreed to set an appointment for two weeks time.