Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR; I'm here only for fun. Please let me know what you think!
Harry sighed with frustration as he gazed around the crowded common room. Though it was getting late, considering it was a weeknight, a good number of Gryffindors continued to linger throughout the room, doing homework, chatting about their day, and generally getting in Harry's way. It seemed to Harry that it might be dawn before the room finally cleared out. He sighed again.
"Don't these people have any need to sleep?" Ron muttered under his breath, as he pretended to work on his History of Magic essay.
"I know," responded Harry, morosely, "It's as though they're trying to keep us from doing this." Harry dropped his quill to the table, tired of his essay, even if he hadn't really been working on it.
Malfoy was up to something. Harry was positive of it. And what's more, Snape knew what was going on. Though Ron had seemed dubious when Harry informed him and Hermione of his suspicions, Ron knew better than to contradict him on this point. Harry had become convinced of Malfoy's undefined evil intentions after a particularly successful evening of spying on him in the library. Whatever he was planning to do, it would occur the following night. Harry was insistent that he and Ron be present to stop it. Though he had done his best to draw Hermione into the plan as well, she would have none of it, being aggravatingly confident that Harry was incorrect in his suspicions. Adamantly refusing to take part in what she described as their "half-baked plans" to foil Malfoy, she had flounced off to bed much earlier than usual.
In order to put some sort of plan of action together, Harry and Ron needed time to discuss privately what Harry had discovered. But it was near impossible to locate a place where they could talk without risking being overheard. By the time Harry had learned Malfoy's secret, the library was closing and students were expected to be in their dormitories. The common room would have been ideal, but as it was going on midnight and a dozen students remained out of bed, it was looking less and less likely that they'd be able to accomplish anything there.
Suddenly, Ron's face lit up and he turned to Harry excitedly, whispering, "I know! We can go to our room!"
Harry rolled his eyes at Ron. "Why didn't I think of that? Of course we can't go to our room, Neville is already up there, and I'm sure Seamus and Dean will be up there soon. We should just wait here for the room to clear out."
"No, Harry, I mean, we could use our room now, even with Neville in there. We could draw the curtains on one of our beds and put and Imperturbable Charm on them. No one would ever hear us."
"I…" Harry trailed off as he began to contradict Ron, thinking over his suggestion. "Of course! That's brilliant, Ron!"
Ron turned a lovely shade of pink as he received Harry's compliment and they both took off for the stairwell to the Seventh-Year dormitory. Entering the room, they were greeted by the low snores of Neville, who had retired earlier in the evening. Seamus' and Dean's beds were still empty. Harry and Ron jumped onto Harry's bed and Harry pulled the red velvet bed hangings closed, placing the Imperturbable Charm as he did so. Almost as an afterthought, he muttered, "Muffliato," swishing his wand simultaneously.
"Just in case," he explained to Ron at Ron's quizzical look.
Sitting cross-legged and face-to-face, Harry pulled out the Marauders' Map, which had been stowed in his robe all evening, and spread it out across their laps. Immediately, the pair launched into a discussion over whether Malfoy was up to something relatively harmless, or whether he was out to truly do some damage, and if so, where it would occur.
For nearly an hour, Harry and Ron sat on Harry's bed, their heads bent over the map, arguing theories and strategy. So intent were they on their mission that, at first, neither heard Seamus and Dean enter the dormitory. A dropped book across the room finally alerted Harry to their presence and he jumped.
"Do you reckon they heard anything?" Harry whispered to Ron, causing Ron to break into a grin.
"They can't hear us at all, you idiot, remember?" Harry sighed in relief as the memory of the Charms set on his bed came to mind.
"Oh right. Of course." He had forgotten that he could hear what was happening in the dormitory, but no one could hear them.
The two returned to their planning, but it wasn't long before they were interrupted once more. But this time, neither Harry nor Ron was eager to comment on the cause of the interruption.
From the direction of Dean's bed came the rustle of sheets and clothing, followed by a quiet moan. Harry stared hard at the map in front of him, careful not to look at Ron. It wasn't the first time he had heard such sounds coming from the other side of the room. In fact, they were becoming more and more frequent.
At some point during the middle of their sixth year, Harry had become aware that something was happening between Seamus and Dean. It wasn't overly apparent to the rest of the class; Harry assumed he noticed it because he lived with the two and knew them so well. Though Dean was in a relationship with a Ravenclaw a year behind them, and Seamus had numerous girlfriends at any one time, Harry had not missed the looks that passed between them and the secret, if brief, hand-holding and caresses.
Even had he not noticed the secret exchanges taking place between Dean and Seamus around the castle, he could not possibly have missed what occurred at night in their dormitory. True, they had begun clandestinely enough, smothering moans and choking back laughter. But over time, the pair grew bolder and their lovemaking became more obvious.
No one discussed what occurred between Dean and Seamus in the dark of the dormitory. But Harry knew that he could not have been the only one to lie in bed at night, listening anxiously to the cries coming from the closed bed hangings. Night after night, as he stretched out in his bed, growing more and more aroused, he wondered whether Ron and Neville were listening as intently.
Of course, sheer embarrassment prevented Harry from ever raising the issue to Ron. But it did not stop him from imagining what was happening behind Ron's closed bed curtains. Over time, his initial wonderment as to what Ron was thinking as Seamus and Dean carried on evolved into a fantasy in which Harry could picture, quite clearly, Ron reclining in his sheets, his clothes off, his erection rising from his groin and standing tall and hard above his stomach. Harry had never actually seen Ron in a state of arousal, but had seen enough of him without clothing while showering after Quidditch matches to be able to imagine.
In his fantasy, Ron's long, thin, nimble fingers flew swiftly over his stiff cock, pumping in rhythm to the cries of Seamus and Dean. And in Harry's mind, Ron was fantasizing about Harry. That thought, coupled with the sounds of his friends just a few beds away was enough to get him off. More times than he could count, he found himself jerking off in his bed while listening to Seamus and Dean and imagining Ron, until he came, biting his pillow to stifle his groans.
And so this practice had become something of a ritual, a fantasy that was entrenched in his evening routine. Never, however, did Harry ever imagine that he would find himself in the current situation. Never had he considered Ron actually sitting before him while their roommates went at it a few feet away.
Seamus and Dean were becoming a little louder, the sound of skin on skin accompanying their moans and murmurs. Harry, who had been in the middle of explaining a particular route through that castle on the map, cleared his throat, feeling his blood creep into his face.
"Erm…so, what do you think of this route?" he asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. Flicking his eyes upward for an instant, he took in Ron's face, which was as red as Harry's felt. He, too, was staring intently at the map.
A long pause hung in the air after Harry put his question to Ron, and Harry wondered for a moment if he had even heard him. The moaning across the room increased. Against his will, Harry realized that he was beginning to become aroused. His semi-engorged cock was slowly beginning to creep up, and Harry was entirely grateful for the fact that the Marauders' Map covered his lap. As he ruminated on this point, Ron cleared his throat and raised a shaking finger to the map. Harry stared hard at Ron's hand as he placed his index finger gently on the parchment and began to slide it forward.
"Okay," he began in a quivering voice, "you're saying we should take this route. But I think if we come from here, in Gryffindor Tower-" Ron moved his finger to rest on the Tower, just above Harry's left knee, "-I think we'd be in a better position to get to the Great Hall more quickly…"
At the words "Great Hall," Harry's eyes shot to that spot on the map. Directly above his crotch. His aching cock, now fully hard, stood straight up, the tip just touching the underside of the map through his layers of clothing. As Harry realized this, he watched Ron's finger begin to trail along the path from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall. Ron's face was still red and his breaths were coming shorter and faster. But his eyes remained firmly on his hand as it slid along the parchment.
Harry held his breath as Ron's fingertip came closer and closer. Any moment, he would reach his goal. He couldn't possibly know what he was doing…
He was at the entrance hall. His hand paused for just the tiniest fraction of a second and then made the final push forward. Harry couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it was jump from his chest. His cock was agonizingly hard.
And then Ron's finger was there, sliding right onto the spot marked, "Great Hall." Beneath the map and his clothing, Harry's cock surged and he tried not to jump at the pleasurable shock of the pressure of Ron's finger on his head. As he reached his goal, Ron's finger stilled for a moment, resting on the parchment. Then, slowly, amazingly, he began to twirl his finger in the tiniest of circles.
It was all Harry could do to keep from letting out a low groan. This couldn't be an accident. Finally releasing a small breath and immediately sucking it back in, he screwed up his courage and placed his own finger onto the middle of the map.
"Maybe we have this all wrong," he said, his voice a barely-audible whisper, "Maybe we should be focusing on the Astronomy Tower." As he spoke, he began to slide his own index finger along the map to the location of the Astronomy Tower, directly on top of where he estimated Ron's erection to rest. If he had an erection, of course. Harry held his breath, hoping against hope that he was right.
A few moments later, he hit home and knew it. For as his finger came to rest on the Tower marking of the map, Ron sucked in his breath sharply. At the same moment, the two dared to raise their eyes, locking gazes. Harry was taken aback by the fire he found behind Ron's pale blue eyes.
The two stared at one another for an instant more and then Ron began to move. With a decisive movement, he quickly pulled the map out from between the two, tossing it to the floor, and settled his entire hand on the bulge in Harry's pants. Harry let out a low groan of longing and, suddenly, Ron was on top of him.
All at once, Harry found himself pinned backwards on his bed, Ron's long, lean body stretched on top of him. Ron's face hovered inches above Harry's and his hand worked quickly to unfasten Harry's pants. Harry was stunned by the quick turn of events and could only lie there, not sure how to proceed. He heart was hammering wildly and he could not tear his eyes from Ron's.
Ron managed to unfasten Harry's fly and immediately shoved his hand into his pants, taking Harry's waiting cock in his warm grip. Harry gasped at the contact and, as he did so, Ron quickly lowered his head, capturing Harry's mouth in a voracious kiss. Almost instantly, Harry felt Ron's tongue seeking his and he accepted it eagerly. The kiss alone was hot and passionate, making Harry feel lightheaded. Coupled with the building pressure in his groin from Ron's manipulation of his hard member, he could no longer think straight. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Ron and pulled him closer as he groaned into Ron's searing mouth.
As if in response, Ron removed his hand from Harry's cock and began pulling insistently at Harry's clothing. In a matter of moments, Harry's tie and shirt were removed and Ron's hands were streaking down his bare chest. Just a few moments more and he was entirely naked. As Ron returned to Harry, resuming their searching kiss, Harry returned the favor, ripping at Ron's clothes, eager to feel his naked form against his own.
Finally, the two had nothing left between them and Ron was on top of Harry once more. As their bodies came together, Harry felt Ron's long erection press against his own and they groaned in unison. Immediately, Harry began to buck his hips, seeking relief from the ever-rising pressure. He moaned once again into Ron's neck as their warm cocks rubbed up against one another, the pressure of their hardness intensifying.
Meanwhile, Ron's kiss was meandering down Harry's throat and eventually reached his chest. His hands continued to wander and eventually made their way back down to Harry's cock, already beginning to seep with come. Ron's slid farther and farther down Harry's torso until his mouth was positioned just above Harry's erection. Slowly and deliberately, Ron pulled the head of Harry's cock between his lips and sucked. Sliding his head down the shaft, he took the entirety of Harry into his mouth, his lips resting upon Harry's balls.
Harry curled his fingers into Ron's shock of red hair and let loose a string of incoherent curses. The extreme pleasure of Ron's mouth on him was nearly too much. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was coming.
Ron slid his head off of Harry's cock and then slid all the way back down, taking his length once more. Picking up speed, he began to bob his head, meeting Harry's pelvic thrusts. As he worked, Ron slid his hand up under Harry's cock to rest on his balls. Very gently, he began to swirl his fingers across and around his balls, causing Harry to cry out. Ron continued to massage his balls while rapidly sucking Harry's cock.
The pressure began to build and Harry twined his fingers tighter into Ron's hair. Gripping his fingers against Ron's scalp, Harry felt his balls contract and then let loose, his orgasm ripping through him almost violently. His come gushed from his cock into Ron's waiting mouth, some leaking from his lips and dripping onto Harrry's convulsing body. Harry let out another low groan as his body ceased jerking and opened his eyes to find Ron on to of him once more. In wonder, he opened his mouth to accept Ron's come-filled kiss, surprised at his own taste.
Equally surprising was his discovery that Ron was still hard – of course, he had done everything for Harry and received nothing for himself. Abashed, Harry reached for Ron, resuming their previous passionate kiss. As their kiss deepened once again, Harry slid his hand between their bodies, finding Ron's pulsing, throbbing cock. As he had fantasized, it was long and lean, a complement of its owner. Taking the cock in his hand, he began to pull lightly, using his own come as a lubricant. Harry began to move his head down Ron's neck, nipping lightly at his skin and licking the small beads of sweat that had begun to appear.
As he traversed Ron's body with him tongue, he began to alternate the pressure and rhythm of his hand job, taking the catches in Ron's breathing as cues. His head moved lower and lower. But just as he reached the small of Ron's stomach, before his mouth could take hold of Ron's cock, Ron gripped Harry's shoulder tightly and released a torrent of come, his orgasm taking hold of his body. Harry quickly lowered his head to lap up the come, sliding Ron's still-hard cock into his mouth for the first time. Ron lay his head back on the pillow, breathing heavily and groaning. When he was finally still, Harry returned to the top of the bed, taking hold of Ron's mouth in a deep and lingering kiss.
When they, at last, were both satiated, Harry found himself lying against Ron's broad chest, while their hands continued idly to explore one another. Sighing with contentment, it occurred to him that they had yet to formulate a plan to deal with Malfoy. And for the first time since coming to Hogwarts, he found he didn't care.