A flash of unforgivable noise resounded through his head. Pounding, smacking, grunting, moaning…
They were either engaged in a violent brawl or…
"Molly, that's wonderful! Put you're leg up. Yeah, like that. That's great."
"Remus, lift her up…" the voice of Mundungus Fletcher. "Okay, Molly. Are you ready for me?"
"Not him, Remus," Mrs. Weasely begged. "I know I agreed, but not Fletcher…"
"Don't be such a spoil-sport, woman…" Kingsley Shacklebolt. "By the way, how does it taste?"
"Mmmmmm…" Mrs. Weasely.
Harry ripped the extendable out of his ear. He looked at Ron. But Ron remained transfixed.
"Are all of them in there?" he said weakly.
Harry nodded. He couldn't believe it. Mrs. Weasely was getting the snot banged out of her. She, who had, up until now, been the image of motherliness in Harry's eyes, was getting screwed by every member of the Order. He didn't know how to feel about it. But his first impression was blind anger.
From behind them there was the sound of a door opening and then very quickly shutting. Soon there were hurried footsteps coming down the hall. Harry and Ron scrambled to hide the extendable ears.
Harry watched over the railing as the mysterious foot-stepper came into view. It was Tonks.
She completely ignored them, and headed straight for the kitchen. Harry saw that she was unbuttoning her blouse along the way.
She spoke a whispered incantation into the door and it swung open, revealing the wild lechery happening just inside.
He was rewarded so suddenly that he wasn't sure if it was real. Mrs. Weasely looked like a cream-puff caught between two grass-hoppers who were franticly bucking to escape. Harry was sure that she would have liked to have said hello to Tonks, but Mrs. Weasely was never one to be rude, and her mouth was full.
The door began to close. "Sorry, I'm late," said Tonks.
"Oh no. You're right on time," Remus grinned.
The last thing Harry saw, before the rapidly-closing door obscured his view, was Tonks ripping off her shirt.
"Harry," said Ron. "I don't feel so good."
Harry turned. Ron's face looked awfully pale.
"It's going to be alright," said Harry. What was he thinking? Of course it wasn't going to be alright. Ron's mum was engaged in a huge orgy, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Some time while Harry had been caught up in his thoughts Ron had vomited over the railing.
"Let's get you to bed, mate," said Harry.
He dropped Ron off on the way to his own room. The experience tonight had given him a lot to think about. He lay on his bed in silent wonder.
Something was growing in him. It clouded all of his thoughts, inch by inch. It was an incredibly huge boner.
He had come to realize what his initial anger at the situation represented. He wasn't bothered so much that Mrs. Weasely had been de-santified. He wasn't really bothered that she was a slut.
What bothered him was that he was under-sexed.
What really bothered him was that he had been excluded.
He could have named the emotion, but he chose not to, for fear of what it implicated about his character. But if he had named it, he would have called it jealousy.