This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. I do not own any of the characters here within.
Harry and Hermione bopped their heads to the dance music playing over the sound system. If those were the right words to call the apparatus the twins used to fill the club with music. The pair sat at a horseshoe-shaped booth just large enough to seat four people and uncomfortably sit a very skinny fifth person.
Three glass beer steins and a pitcher of muggle beer sat on the table. Harry's mug was almost full because he'd been nursing it after already polishing off his first full serving. He felt buzzed, but he didn't think he was quite drunk yet. Hermione was still on her first glass, having only sipped down a quarter of the dark brown brew.
The third stein belonged to their friend Ron. Harry saw Ron down two pints before pouring a third and down half of it before he announced he was going to dance. Harry and Hermione shared a look and rolled their eyes as Ron staggered to his feet and hand jived his way onto the crowded dance floor.
"Is he going to dance wearing most of his uniform?" Hermione asked.
The only piece of his uniform Ron wasn't wearing was his robe.
"At least his shirt's un-tucked," Harry replied.
"That's nothing new," Hermione said and rolled her eyes. "He better not come back all gross and sweaty!"
Most of House Gryffindor, a handful of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and even a few Slytherin came by to enjoy the Weasley twins' attempt to mimic a muggle nightclub. Harry's cousin had invited him to tag along to a few clubs over the last summer. If Dudley hadn't been making a genuine effort to reconcile, Harry wouldn't have gone inside the noisy, intimidating places, but in the end, he was glad he did. The music and dancing had been exciting, drawing Harry in until he let go for the first time in ages, and had a lot of mindless fun.
Fred and George had done their homework setting up the Gemini too.
The Twins' club had a less industrial look than those Harry had gone to that summer. Instead of being made of brick and metal, the Twins transformed an old abandoned storage house made of stone and wood to suit their needs. They used an Extension Charm to expand the interior, so it was large enough to fit two hundred people inside. The dance floor could hold up to fifty people at once and leave room for some pretty broad dancing. Dozens of tables, some small and intimate, others long enough for banquets, bordered the dance floor and could seat all two hundred potential patrons.
The bar, which was at the very rear of the club, stretched across the back wall. Twenty upholstered stools were placed in a row from one end of the bar to the other. While Gemini was meant to be a nightclub, the overall aesthetic reminded Harry more of pubs Dudley dragged him to sometimes.
The sound system wasn't one you expected to find in the muggle world. Music blasted from a dozen pavilions hanging from the wooden ceiling. The base was heavy, despite there being no sub-woofers or speakers attached to the magical sound system. Floating lanterns near the ceiling pulsated like strobe-lights, their red, blue, yellow, and green strobing magically syncing with the beats and rhythm of every song.
Harry had no idea where the Twins bought the muggle music being played, or what media it played on, but somehow the Fred and George mixed the magical with the mundane flawlessly.
"Why on Earth is he dancing like that?" Hermione asked.
She was referring to Ron, whose right arm only barely missed hitting the other dancers as he twirled an invisible lasso over his head.
"Oh, we watched a bunch of musicals last week," Harry said. "He liked Grease."
Hermione gave a horrified look. "Should we be scared?"
Ron threw his ropeless lasso at a nearby Ravenclaw and pulled her towards him with exaggerated yanking motions. When she refused to be reigned in, Ron shrugged, then raised his arms over his head and started doing his version of the Twist.
"Terrified," Harry said.
Harry and Hermione watched Ron as his gyrations became wilder and more carefree. They watched until their secondhand embarrassment finally forced them to turn away and begin talking about schoolwork and how awful Umbridge was to everyone.
When Hermione began talking about some bit of lore she found during one of her endless study breaks, Harry tuned her out and let his attention wander back to the dance floor. He'd just taken a swallow of beer when he saw Ron shuffle to his left and then to his right, before transitioning to the 2-Step. Ron was doing just well enough not to make a fool of himself, but his big goofy grin and overly overenthusiastic demeanor were cringe-inducing.
Harry was about to bring his focus back to Hermione when he noticed Ron do the Running Man. Again, Ron was dancing well, but he was recklessly backing into other people on the dance floor. Some gave him looks of annoyance, while others seemed to be impressed by his moves as they moved out of his way. Eventually, Ron made his way to the center of the dance floor and the crowd drew back together and he disappeared from Harry's view.
"He's having fun," Hermione said. "I feel like a shrub sitting here watching him have such a good time."
"Yeah," said Harry. "But I think we'd have to drink way more beer to get sloshed enough to have that much fun."
When Ron reappears just as the track changes over from a pop song Harry never heard before transitioned to horn intro to 'Jump Around.' Ron went completely still. And then with a delighted look on his sweaty face, stares up at the ceiling as though the heavens had opened up and shined its holy light down upon him.
"Oh, no," Harry moans, and sure enough, Ron starts jumping up and down like a loon and bopping his head to the song's frenetic beat.
It turned out Ron's enthusiasm was catching because a lot of kids around him started jumping to the song as well until the dance floor turned into a mosh pit. Harry then quickly loses sight of Ron again in the gyrating crowd of banging heads and leaping bodies.
Harry was tempted to go out there and join in on the fun, but when he glances over at Hermione watching the dance floor with trepidation, Harry reconsiders.
Hermione hadn't wanted to come with them when the Twins invited them to the Gemini's grand opening. She was nervous about being off-campus so late, and reproachful when George mentioned there would be muggle beer served on the premises. Only fifth-years and up were allowed inside the Gemini so they wouldn't be breaking any laws serving the beer. But Harry could tell Hermione still had reservations about being somewhere where people were drinking alcohol—even if it was just beer.
No, Harry decided, he wouldn't leave Hermione alone in the booth.
It's a good thing Ron left me and Hermione to bounce around like an idiot on the dance floor. I've been wanting to spend more time with Hermione, just the two of us, for a while now.
They'd grown closer since the school year began—no, even earlier than that. When Ron got in a snit with Harry about the Goblet of Fire tournament, Harry and Hermione spent a great deal of time together. She'd been there for him after Cedric too. And over the summer when they were apart, Harry realized how much he missed being near her.
Except when their fifth year started, the trio more or less fell back into familiar patterns, and Harry couldn't find the nerve to break the trio's formula. He, Ron, and Hermione were all finally on good terms again, and it felt dangerous to upset the easy balance that existed between them. Only—it was getting harder for Harry to ignore how beautiful Hermione was when she smiled at him. Or, how amazing it felt when she hugged him. And, Harry wanted to kiss Hermione way too much to keep pretending everything was still the same between them.
Then there was Ron. Ron cared about Hermione too. How much Ron cared about Hermione, Harry couldn't get a handle on, but Ron and Hermione—clicked—better than she and Harry ever have. The way they could argue, then make up a second later like nothing happened showed how comfortable they are with one another, and it made Harry unreasonably jealous lately.
When Harry and Hermione fought, however rarely it happened, it took ages to work things out with her. And when Hermione refused to talk to Harry after they quarreled, he discovered it was harder to cover up how much her silence hurt him.
Harry thought what felt worse was not knowing if the tension between them was all in his head. They'd been friends for so long, but Harry was sure he wanted more now—much more. And while he could face down a murdering bastard like Voldemort, and his slimy cohorts, Harry was far less courageous when it came to telling Hermione he might be in love with her.
The song changed to another song Harry never heard before. It was slower than Jump Around, but still had a fast rhythm to keep the kids on the dance floor, and their hearts racing. Harry drank some more of his beer—he was down to half a glass. Hermione's stein was still more than half full.
Soon the next song started playing, this one was slower and Harry fretted it was a love song. He looked at Hermione. Should he—could he—ask her to dance? And now that he was thinking about dancing with Hermione, it struck Harry how much he wanted to dance with her. They'd danced together the year before, at the Yule Ball, but as friends. It wasn't awkward, really, but the only parts of their bodies farther apart than their arms was every other part of their bodies—all very decent and nothing anyone would consider inappropriate.
If I ask her to dance, could I hold her closer? Feel her pressed against me with my arm wrapped around her waist? Front to front, her chest against mine? Would Hermione be okay with that?
Harry felt like he was getting very warm. He looked at Hermione as he took another swallow of beer, then another. Hoping if he got buzzed enough he'd find the same devil may care bravery that carried Ron's feet onto the dance floor and ask Hermione to—
"What the bloody hell is Ron doing!" Hermione said, aghast, with a look of complete horror on her face.
Harry followed her line of sight onto the dance floor. At first, Harry couldn't tell what had Hermione so bothered—there were just a modest number of students slow dancing to what Harry could hear now wasn't a soft ballad. It was an R and B track Harry found vaguely familiar, with lyrics about not letting go and lovemaking. Unsurprisingly, there weren't a lot of kids slow dancing as couples—the song was too sexually charged. Also many in the Wizarding world weren't too keen on that kind of muggle music. The people who were still dancing were mostly half-bloods and muggle-born, about who'd you'd expect to enjoy the song.
"What about Ron?" Harry said as he scanned the crowd of swaying dancers. "I don't—"
It took so long to spot Ron was because Harry had been looking for a lone red-head dancing in the crowd. What Harry wasn't looking for was Ron sandwiched between Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. And Harry definitely had not been looking for Ron to be letting the boys gyrate their bodies against him.
Ron looked up at Dean with a half-cocked smile as he gripped the taller boy's loosened red and gold striped tie in his hand. Ron leaned away from Dean's chest, yet kept their groins pressed distressingly close together as he swiveled his hips. Ron's other hand rested high on Seamus's upper thigh, very near his arse.
Seamus's hands were on Ron's swaying hips, and he was looking down, salaciously focusing all his attention on Ron's ass.
"Harry! What movies did you show him?" Hermione asked accusingly.
"I-I-I—" was about all Harry could stammer out as he watched Ron let Dean ease one of his long legs between his thighs and push in even tighter against him.
Dean leaned his head down until his mouth and Ron's mouth were barely an inch apart, and just when Harry thought their lips would meet, Ron let go of Dean's tie and turned away to face Seamus. Very much to Dean's chagrin. Seamus was caught off guard by the sudden switch. But his surprised look quickly turned to one of lusty appreciation when Ron grabbed a fist-full of his shirt, then thrust his hips against him—Finnigan was quick to reciprocate.
Ron gave Seamus the same come hither, half-smile he'd given Dean, prompting Seamus to reach up and comb his fingers through Ron's hair and lean in for—once again Ron evaded the potential kiss by leaning away and resting his head and shoulders against Dean's waiting chest. Then Ron curled his other arm around Dean's neck, waving his shoulders slowly from side to side. Ron maintained eye contact with Seamus while he mashed his groin against the massive bulge poking out from Seamus's crotch.
No, Harry! Don't think about it. Don't! Harry warned his mutinous brain, but it was too late: his trousers suddenly felt very, very tight.
It wasn't so much watching Ron dry-humping two blokes the way he was that sparks Harry's arousal. It was his awareness—Harry's clear understanding of just how good it felt to rub his cock against Ron's body. He couldn't stop thinking about how hard he was when it happened, and how close he'd been to coming.
On that weekend Harry would like to forget, Fred and George were staying at the Burrow depriving Harry of his normal sleeping arrangements when he was over at the Weasleys. So he had to share the bed in Ron's room. Harry was a little worried at first because he'd never slept in the same bed with another person before. But when Ron didn't make a big deal of it, Harry decided sleeping next to Ron wouldn't bother him either.
The next morning is when the bother started. Somehow Harry ended up behind Ron—his groin pressed solidly against his friend's ass.
When Harry woke up and found them in that position, it mortified him. Before he woke up, though, his unconscious mind quite enjoyed the sensation of his erection rubbing over Ron's rear. Harry's sense of arousal had been more intense because his drowsy brain let the pleasure wash over him, and not worry about the luscious indecency of his cock sliding against Ron's body.
If Harry had woken up fully before then, he would have been able to shift away before anything bad happened—before he inadvertently took advantage of being scooched in tight behind Ron. If he had done exactly that, Harry would have felt embarrassed, but he'd have let the incident go and resolved it was all very innocent on his part. But Harry—didn't—wake up all the way before he started humping Ron's ass.
Harry had no idea how long he was doing it before he woke up, but it was long enough for him to almost climax. The tight, electric tingle in his gut that signaled Harry's impending orgasm forced his brain to full consciousness. His eyes snapped open and he found himself the big spoon to Ron's little spoon. His hand was under Ron's tee-shirt, and his fingers dug into Ron's stomach as he pulled Ron back against his cock.
Harry's nose was buried in Ron's hair, and his mouth was on the back of Ron's neck. The soft, freckled skin there was wet—Harry must have been kissing Ron while he was half-asleep. And Ron smelled warm, clean, and—male. Harry thought it should bother him more that didn't bother him at all.
The blankets covering them had fallen to their waists, likely when Harry was dry humping Ron. Harry pulled his lips away from Ron's neck and saw his erection was exposed—it had popped out from the flap in front of Harry's pajama bottoms. It was nearly purple with arousal and only seconds away from erupting all over Ron's arse.
Harry carefully unstuck his chest from his friend's back, but pulling his erection away proved to be trickier. Harry sensed almost any movement could set him off and make him come. If only Ron's arse wasn't so soft and springy—
Stop thinking about how good Ron's butt feels!
Slowly, Harry eased away from Ron's ass, leaving behind a large wet spot on Ron's pajama bottoms. Once that was done, Harry still needed to deal with a very hard cock he was in no position to take care of. The thing probably wouldn't go away until he had a good wank.
Maybe if he could make his way to the bathroom without Ron waking up, or running into any of the half dozen Weasleys currently staying in the Burrow? No. Harry didn't like his chances of getting away with any of—this—with his dignity intact.
Fate spared Harry from eternal humiliation when a few minutes later when Ron stirred and slid out of bed. Harry curled up under the blankets to hide his erection, but he needn't have bothered—Ron yawned and stretched with his back turned to Harry before shambling out of the room. Harry's heart almost stopped when Ron scratched his backside as he exited. Luckily, Ron's fingers just missed the sticky mess Harry left on his pajamas.
For the rest of that weekend, Harry kept his back to Ron when they slept together. The memory of Ron's arse made Harry hard for weeks. It took even longer for Harry to stop using the memory to wank. Which Harry felt really guilty about—though not guilty enough to stop in a timely fashion.
When the song changed to a slightly faster tempo, Ron broke eye contact with Seamus and closed his eyes while he swayed his head from side to side to the beat of the music. Seamus took that moment to give Dean a questioning look and Dean responded with a bemused shrug before he reached up and caressed Ron's cheek with the back of his hand.
Ron, Dean, and Seamus had attracted the attention of other students on the dance floor. Some looked on with a mixture of shock and disgust at the indecent display, while others seemed bemused. Quite a few watched the trio openly with prurient interest.
"How could Ron do that in front of everyone?" Hermione said. "It's so… dirty!"
Harry's head snapped around to look at Hermione. "That's it!" he exclaimed.
"What?"
"Well, we—um—we watched Dirty Dancing."
Hermione's jaw dropped, and she pinned Harry with an outraged glare. "You let Ron watch Dirty Dancing? Harry!"
"It was a part of our cultural exchange night," Harry replied weakly. "He showed me stuff about Wizarding culture that happens outside Hogwarts, and I showed him what we have in muggle society he's not seen before."
"But Dirty Dancing! To this day, my own parents won't let me watch Dirty Dancing! I had to see it at a friend's house!"
"I didn't think it would leave that much of an impression on him!" Harry said.
"Well, it did! Oh, God, and now look at them!"
Harry didn't want to turn around—watching Ron grind against Dean and Seamus was dredging up the awkward memory of his cock against Ron's ass. But he couldn't explain to Hermione—his best friend who he wanted to be his actual girlfriend, that he accidentally dry-humped his other best friend. It would raise too many questions.
So, reluctantly, Harry turned to watch.
At some point, Ron had turned his front to Seamus once again. Seamus had his arm around Ron's waist and his leg between Ron's thighs as he swiveled his hips and slowly sank down until his face level with Ron's stomach. Ron's put his hands on Seamus's shoulders and aimed a look at the other boy Harry thought might be half seductive as Seamus knelt in front of him. Then Seamus rose until he and Ron were face to face, their lips tantalizingly close.
Dean swayed to the music behind Ron, watching Seamus and Ron with hungry eyes. Waiting for Ron to refocus his attention on him again. But it wasn't to be.
When the song faded to its end, Ron disengaged from the pair and staggered away without a backward glance, lazily bopping his head to the following track as he made his way back to their booth. Dean stared at Ron's back with his arms spread apart and mouthed, 'Are you serious? What the hell?' Seamus's response to Ron abandoning them on the dance floor left him looking equally baffled and frustrated.
When Ron reached the booth, he slid in next to Hermione and almost immediately slouched into a boneless, wet heap on the seat. Sweat had soaked through Ron's shirts, and to Harry, he smelled like the sun and the ocean. After a few moments, Ron sat up, grabbed his beer stein, and used his free hand to push his long, red bangs back so sweat didn't drip into his beer as he drank it down. When Ron set the glass down, his head wobbled and there was a bleary look in his eyes.
"Ron, what were you doing out there?" Hermione finally blurted out.
Ron didn't react at first. His head swayed a bit longer before Hermione's words penetrated the drunken fog he was in. He looked at her and said:
"Wot?"
Then he fell back in his seat and promptly passed out. Hermione turned to Harry with a look that displayed just how very much she blamed him for their friend's drunken, debauched state. Before Harry could say anything to defend himself, Ron sat up so suddenly Harry and Hermione were startled in their seats.
"Guys!" Ron said. "Guys! Guys, guess what?"
Ron waved his hand in a sloppy 'come here' gesture at Harry and Hermione, and there was a goofy conspiratorial grin on his ruddy face.
"Guess what? Dean and Seamus had the hugest boners! Some girls must have gotten them all worked up out there!"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Ron.
"Can you imagine?" Ron shook his head. "So embarrassing!"
Ron snickered, then swept back his hair again and finished the rest of his beer.
Notes: The song playing when Ron's dancing with Dean and Seamus is "Don't Let go" by En Vogue.