This is the sequel to What This Life is For, part of the Some Blissful Dream multi-fandom series I wrote last summer based on the Live song, "Dance With You." This was betaed by the inestimable Eliza and Em, and is dedicated to Vic on the occasion of her LJversary.

Hermione wakes to the sensation of Harry kissing her and the flavor of olives. She opens her mouth and feels his tongue delve inside; feels the soft, wet skin of the olive and savors it, savors Harry and the warmth of the bed she's enchanted to always smell of Greece, the warmth of Ron pressed up against her back, still sleeping.

Harry withdraws, leaving her in sole possession of the olive. She chews as she opens her eyes to his smile, smiles back and then plucks the pit from her mouth, drops it into the bowl he holds out. His eyes shine behind his glasses.

"There's a new cafe opened down the street. The owners are Greek."

"Is that where you got it, then? It was marvelous, just like the ones in Corfu."

"Their daughter Apparates them in every morning." And he holds up a jar of dark, rich-looking olives, floating lazily in liquid turned gold by the morning sun.

Ron stirs when she tugs Harry down to the bed on her other side. She reaches into the jar for an olive, pops it in her mouth, then turns over to wake Ron fully the way Harry did her. Ron responds to her kiss by wrapping his arms around her, one hand going to her back while the other keeps reaching past her. She assumes he's groping after Harry, who laughs behind her.

"Careful, Ron. I don't want to upset the jar and spill on the sheets."

"They'll wash," Ron says succinctly, lifting up on his elbow. Hermione turns her head to see him tug Harry down for a kiss, and a little of the oil in the jar does spill out, onto her upper arm. She gasps at the wetness, then gasps again when Ron breaks the kiss with Harry to drop his head and lick her clean. Harry laughs as she squirms, breaks off with his own gasp as Ron's arm moves over her, and she can only guess what his hand is doing to Harry as his mouth moves up her arm, over her shoulder and then down toward her breast. Behind her she hears a clink that is likely Harry setting the jar of olives on the bedside table.

That's sensible, she thinks, and then Ron has reached his goal and she stops thinking about anything but Ron's mouth and hand and then Harry's mouth, Harry's hand, Ron's cock inside her and Harry's cock and Ron's hand brushing against her buttocks as Ron jerks Harry off. The bed smells like Greece and Ron's and Harry's mouths both taste of olives and the sun coming in through the window is warm and gold like the sun in Corfu, where they first did this, where they first found this rhythm and this heat and where she first learned the best seasoning for an olive is a kiss.

She hopes Harry knows he'll be buying a lot more of those jars.

~END~