"Yer a wizard, Harry." Hagrid had said. To this day, 'wizard' was the most wonderful word Harry had ever heard. It meant he had a future, friends, family, a life full of magic which he'd never until then dreamed of.
That year was the beginning of his schooling at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was the year he defeated Voldemort and found friends in Hermione and Ron.
Now it was the dawn of another year at Hogwarts. Harry sat in the cabin of the Hogwarts Express, listening to his friends Ron and Hermione talk about famous historical wizards of which Harry knew nothing about. Ron talked animatedly about the historic figure, his red hair tossing around him as he shook his head, disagreeing with Hermione. Harry's mind began to wander.
Supple lips began to caress his skin, making their way to his exposed and throbbing member. Harry's head lulled to the side as the lips surrounded his shaft and the tongue swirled around the tip of him, making his toes curl.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione's voice cut through his daydream.
"Huh?" Harry replied, snapping back to reality.
"You were moaning, mate. Stomach ache?" Ron asked, concerned.
"Yeah." Harry said hastily. "A stomach ache."
"Go see the nurse right away when we get there so she can take care of it." Hermione said.
"Don't worry I'll take care of it." Harry promised.
When they reached the station, Harry let out a sigh of relief. Harry couldn't even think with Ron and Hermione doting upon him, let alone continue his daydreaming.
When they reached the castle, Harry took a right when others took a left. "I'm heading to the nurse," He told Ron and Hermione, leaving before they could say a word.
"Isn't the nurse the other way?" Ron asked Hermione, who shrugged.
Harry hurried along the corridors until he finally reached his destination. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It was perfect for him. No one ever came near the bathroom, giving him peace and quiet.
Once inside, Harry went over to one of the sinks and washed his face. The cool water seemed to help, but it didn't wash away the heat beneath his skin. Harry shook his head. There was no helping it now.
Unbuttoning his pants, he unleashed his throbbing member. It pulsed in his hand, as if anticipating Harry's next move. Harry began to stroke himself, first slowly then faster and faster, as letting out his sexual frustration. He looked at himself in the mirror, into his eyes as he jerked at himself, watching himself smooth his hand over his member over and over again. Harry bit his lip. The pressure was building.
Suddenly, Myrtle giggled from behind him. Harry gave a start, but he had expected as much. Every time he snuck away to the bathroom the previous year, she would find him sooner or later with his pants down.
"My, you just got back. Come to visit me so soon? I see you… missed me."
Harry said nothing, and continued to stroke himself. He turned back to the mirror and watched once more as he pleasured himself. Myrtle was in the background, giggling and smiling widely. She slowly removed her ghostly shirt, revealing a frilled bra covering supple deathly breasts. Harry immediately stopped in his stroking, having noticed Myrtle's nakedness.
"Please, Myrtle, you know that only distracts me." Harry said.
"Oh come now. Sometimes I wonder if you even like me at all." Myrtle said in a huff.
Harry frowned and gripped himself tighter. He began to jerk himself faster, harder. "I like you, Myrtle." Harry said, attempting to keep her from sobbing. That always ruined the mood. "See? Look how much I like you."
Harry was thinking of everyone but Myrtle as he played with himself. He felt the pressure build again and finally he could take it no longer. The pressure burst and overflowed, sending waves of pleasure through his body. White seed flowed out of him, spreading on the sink in front of him and on the mirror. Harry looked at himself through the seed-stained mirror and smirked. His load was everywhere.
"Oh my, that sure was a lot." Myrtle said, coming over to examine the mess.
"Shut up, Myrtle." Harry said, looking away from the mirror. He placed his still hard member in his pants and positioned it to hide it from sight.
He turned on his heel and left Myrtle to her sobs. Exiting the bathroom, he looked around for any sign of someone being near. All was silent. It seemed his mischief had been managed just when Hagrid turned around the corner.
"Harry!" Hagrid bellowed. "What're you doin' up here? Thought Ron an' Hermione told me you were goin' to the nurse."
Harry's body shivered at the sight of Hagrid. His booming voice cut straight through him and made his bones rattle. If he'd been ten seconds slower, Hagrid would have found him.
"I had to use the bathroom on my way back to supper. Shall we go then?" Harry said, averting his eyes from Hagrid's.
Hagrid smiled almost knowingly. He patted Harry on the back. "Alrigh', Harry. Feel better?"
"Loads." Harry said, hiding a smile.
After supper, Ron, Hermione, and Harry headed to the common room. Once past the Fat Lady, they plopped themselves down on the couch in front of the fireplace. They stayed up half the night talking and catching up.
When the hour got too late, Hermione headed to bed, leaving just Ron and Harry.
"So where'd you really head off to earlier?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry.
"The nurse," Harry lied, averting his gaze.
"Yeah right. That's a load of bull and you know it." Ron sat closer and lowered his voice. "Come on, you can tell me." He poked at Harry's side.
Harry felt a surge of heat flow through him to his crotch. Great, he thought. He knew after myrtle interrupting him, it wouldn't satisfy him. Whenever the female ghost said anything to him, it always ruined it.
"I'm being honest." Harry lied again. He shifted in his seat.
Ron frowned. "Don't lie to me!" He began to tickle Harry, and Harry wouldn't have it. He stood up, angry. He rounded on Ron to pick a fight, but immediately regretted it. The bulge of his crotch was now square with Ron's face.
Ron's eyes grew wide and he looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, mate. Guess that answers the question."
Harry nearly cried out in embarrassment. He bit his lip and grabbed a throw pillow to hide his erection. Without another word, he ran up the stairs to hide in his bed until morning. He drew the curtains around his bed and sat in the darkness, wide awake, for hours. He heard Ron come to bed shortly after him, but Ron made no attempt to speak with him.
It was a long night.
The next morning, Ron avoided him. Hermione begged of him why, but he could give no answer. At breakfast, Ron was missing. Hermione and Harry sat together as Harry attempted to steer the conversation away from Ron.
"Come on, Harry. Just tell me what happened last night. What are you fighting about?" Hermione asked, attempting once again.
Harry had had enough of it. He stood up and walked away angrily. He was lost in thought about Ron, and continued walking, not caring where his feet carried him. Soon, he found himself back in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He sighed.
He went to a sink and looked at himself in the mirror again. His unkempt hair was even messier than usual, for lack of sleep. His eyes were dark and glazed.
His mind wandered to Ron. The embarrassed, even hurt look on his face at the sight of Harry's bulge came to his mind. He'd never wanted for Ron to see something like that, but if he was honest with himself, it had only been a matter of time. Harry found himself always having the misfortune to get a random erection when he was with his ginger friend, something that bothered Harry immensely.
The bulge in his pants now grew bigger the longer he thought about it. He moaned and withdrew himself from his pants. Just a quick one, he thought. Just to take the edge off.
Harry began to stroke himself and closed his eyes. He thought of everything that happened yesterday. Hagrid finding him, seeming to know, and Ron seeing his bulge, hurt and embarrassed. "Ron," Harry mumbled, jerking at himself. His pants fell lower as he lost himself to his pleasuring. His buttocks flexed as he began to thrust into his palm, imagining more than just his hand. "Ron," He repeated.
There was a gasp behind him. Harry turned, fully prepared to deal with Myrtle again, but was instead confronted with Hermione. He stood facing her, his cock still erect, his hand still absently stroking it, his pants around his ankles.
"Hermione, I… can explain." Harry swallowed hard. He then rushed to put his pants back on as Hermione ran from him.
He ran after, finally catching her in an abandoned hallway. He grabbed her wrist and flung her around, pressing her against the wall. "Please, don't tell anyone." Harry breathed.
"Like Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Well, yeah." Harry answered, confused as to why she brought him up specifically. "Why?"
"You were talking about him."
Harry gasped and let Hermione go. Apparently he had been talking about Ron unknowingly. Why, though? Was it just what happened that had Ron swimming through his mind, or something else?
"I don't know what to say." Harry said finally. "Just don't tell anyone, right?"
Hermione swallowed and nodded, tears in her eyes.
Harry left her, his heart racing. What was happening to him?
The days passed and Ron still avoided Harry. Hermione tried to pretend nothing happened, and so she and Harry usually sat in awkward silences. They sat up late working on homework one night when finally she announced she was retiring to bed.
After she'd gone, Harry gave up the pretense that he was working and sank back into the couch, his mind on other things. He stared into the fire, his mind wandering.
What was Ron feeling, in all this? Embarrassed, no doubt. Should I just apologize? Tell him it'll never happen again? Was he even thinking of me?
Harry felt the familiar rush of blood to his pelvic region and he sighed. Nothing he did lately satisfied his lust. He continued to think, absently scratching his throbbing area. His scratching turned into stroking.
The sound of the Fat Lady closing behind him startled him back to the present. He glanced around to see Ron watching him, an embarrassed, almost horrified look upon his face. When their eyes met, Ron shook his head violently and began walking toward the room. Harry leapt from the cough and grabbed Ron's arm, yanking him backward.
"Please, just let me explain!" Harry begged. "I don't want you to keep avoiding me."
"Nothing to explain, Harry. It's pretty obvious." Ron tugged his arm back from Harry's grasp. "Just… do it somewhere else. Go find a girlfriend to do that with or something."
"Ron, please." Harry begged.
Ron turned his head and walked away. Harry's heart sunk when Ron closed the door to the room, shutting Harry out.
What's wrong with me? Harry thought, pleading with himself for the answer.
Harry decided it was about time he visited Hagrid.
Wrapping the cloak of invisibility tightly around him, Harry snuck through the castle and down the grounds toward the big man's hut. When he reached the door, he was confronted with a foul stench of something cooking. Harry knocked.
"Who's there?" Hagrid asked before opening the large door.
"It's me, Hagrid. Harry. I need your advice." Harry took off the cloak and began to fold it up.
"Harry!" Hagrid bounded for the door and whipped it open on its rusty hinges. He reached out and gripped Harry tightly, flinging him into his arms. "What brings yeh here this time o' night?"
"It's complicated, Hagrid. Mind if I step in?"
"Of course." Hagrid made way for Harry to come in, and went to his stew pot to stir whatever awful thing he was making. "What's bothering' ya, Harry?"
Harry began recounting what had happened to him over the past few weeks and how for whatever reason, he had the misfortune that it was always Ron who it happened around.
"I don't know what's wrong with me." Harry said finally. His head fell into his palms, his messy black hair askew.
"I know yer problem." Hagrid said, coming to the table to sit across from him.
"You do? How do I fix it?" Harry asked.
"Yer a faggot, Harry." Hagrid announced.
It was the most wonderful word he'd ever heard. It meant that everything he went through made sense, that he wasn't messed up in the head like he thought. It meant he had a full future ahead of him, full of sexual experiences to feed his appetite of which he'd never until then dreamed of.
Harry's eyes widened. Could it be true? It would explain everything. It would explain his daydreams, his aversion to women taking their clothes off, and his erections whenever Ron happened to be nearby. Was he in fact… attracted to Ron? Did he want the ginger boy to touch him the way he touched himself? Harry searched within himself, but he already knew the answer.
Harry was a faggot.
6