Jan 7th, 1997

"Harry still not up yet?"

Ron shook his head, batting away the wad of parchment Seamus had lobbed at him. "No. But he got in late. I didn't even hear him go to bed last night."

"Like that means anything, you're pretty much out once you crash," Dean said.

The three of them were lounging in the chairs by the fireplace in the Common Room. They had just gotten back from breakfast and now they were full and lazy, primed to waste away the early morning free period before Herbology.

Seamus dug his elbow into Dean's side, a lewd grin on his face. "Wonder who the lucky girl is."

Ron was about to correct Seamus before he considered that Harry might not want people to know he liked guys, not girls.

Or at least not just girls, there had been that thing with Cho Chang last year, he remembered. Or did Harry not like girls anymore? It had been a while since he'd really talked to his friend.

Christmas break didn't count, they had done just about everything except talk.

Seamus noticed his hesitation, misinterpreting it. "You know who he was with?" Looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Come on. Spill. We won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, right," Dean laughed, knocking Seamus in the arm. "You couldn't keep a secret to save your life."

"Could too!"

"Could not."

"Hey, shut it!" Ron hissed, looking around furtively. The idiots were drawing attention he didn't want. "I dunno what he was out doing, alright? I was out with Lav all day."

"Making up for lost time?" Dean smirked. "Often as you two were at it before, I bet Christmas break felt like bloody torture."

"Yeah, nothing gives a guy blue balls like spending time with the family." Seamus grimaced, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Y-yeah, definitely." Ron nervously rubbed at the back of his head, hoping they thought his sudden bashfulness and flush was from talking about sex with Lavender and not...the whole mess of bad-wrong he'd indulged in over break. He still didn't know what to think about the unnatural desires that gripped him even now, wanting to fuck his best friend and his sister.

And then there was that weird thing with Bill...Ron thought about how good his big brother's cum felt as it leaked from his ass while he lay dazed on the floor.

The filthy memory sent a shiver of want up his spine.

His cock gave a hopeful twitch.

"Welp, it's getting on, I'm gonna try to pry Harry outta bed." Ron hastily stood, needing to get away before his thoughts (and his budding erection) became noticeable.

"Aw, come on, let him sleep —"

"Yeah, mate, there's still loads of time before Herbology!"

Ron waved them off and took the stairs to the dorm two at a time, eager to get away. He slipped into the dorm, closing the door behind him. Heaving a grateful sigh, he leaned back against it. That had been too close for comfort. His cock was still sporting a partial chub, but then that was its natural state lately.

Before him, Harry lay in bed, still dead to the world, just as Ron had left him.

Since returning to Hogwarts two days ago, Ron had avoided him.

On purpose.

He felt bad about it. Before Christmas, Ron would ditch Harry to fuck Lavender (because, really, who wouldn't?). Now he was ditching Harry because of the strange thoughts in Ron's head, which were worse than the memories because the memories had already happened and the thoughts that tripped around Ron's head made him itch to create more memories—

It felt like something inside of him was twisted, wrong.

Ron grit his teeth. What the hell was wrong with him? Harry was his best mate. He shouldn't want to pin him down and fuck him silly against every available surface.

Not to mention what he wanted to do to Ginny every time he saw her—

Something about that night had changed everything, like a switch had been flipped inside of him.

Ron surged away from the door, anger starting to coil in his gut. This was Harry's fault, he thought, stalking up to his mate's bed, glowering down at him.

Harry must have enchanted him, put Ron under some kind enthrallment. Did Harry have creature blood? Ron was vividly reminded of Fleur Delacour, a part-Veela who could walk past a guy and drive him crazy, who had half of Hogwarts, including Ron, pining for her, aroused and struck stupid when they got too close. Ron couldn't remember Harry acting funny around her, like he'd been immune to her or something...

Or maybe Harry was an incubus, or a siren (were there any male sirens?)—

Harry shifted in his sleep from his side to his back, mumbling something incomprehensible before settling again.

Unconsciously, Ron's eye wandered over his friend, looking his fill of Harry's creamy skin, his pitch-black hair tousled against the pillow, and those lips, soft and puffy, as though they had just been wrapped around a—

Ron shook his head to dispel the unwanted thoughts. Now his stupid cock was straining against his robes.

Because of Harry.

Maybe Ron got hard because he was so pretty? Harry was definitely a boy, but a pretty one, lithe and still rather small for his age. If it weren't for already being Harry Potter, tHe cHoSeN oNe, he would turn heads anyway.

Fuckable little Harry, seducing the masses just by walking down the hall, like Fleur—

Ron clenched his fists, trying to will away his stupid erection.

With no success.

Maybe distance would help.

He stomped over to his own bed, teeth gnashing in frustration. Sitting down, he glared at his wayward cock.

He couldn't go back down to the Common Room like this, he'd never hear the end of it.

Ron chewed at his lip.

He could always wank it away...go back and tell the guys Harry wanted to lie in for a bit longer...Yeah, a nice wank sounded pretty good, actually, and for once the room was empty, if one forgot about Harry.

Which he couldn't. Because Harry was the reason he was rock hard in the first place.

He palmed himself over his robes. That lovely mouth of Harry's would be helpful right about now. Harry knew just what to do with it too, and he was eager—

Breathing harder now, Ron freed his aching cock, gripping it punishingly tight at the base. The traitorous thing twitched in his hand anyway, swaying like a weird, lazy snake.

Harry could talk to snakes.

His brain was being less and less helpful.

Ron licked his lips.

Maybe—

Ron looked over at the door, hesitating for a long moment before his libido won out, forcing his hand. He cast a locking charm at the door and a silencing charm for good measure, then returned to Harry's bed, standing awkwardly beside it. He felt equal parts silly and turned on, standing fully clothed with his cock out like some creepy warlock, the kind his mother used to warn them about while marching them past Knockturn Alley.

Ron Weasley, the pervert. Turn ons: incest and illicit wank sessions.

How messed up could a guy get?

Too bad none of that softened his cock.

At all.

He scowled, berating himself under his breath even as he gripped his cock, giving it a good, solid stroke. It was all Harry's fault, having cocksucker lips and pretty green eyes…

Ron stared at those lips, finding a steady rhythm with his hand. When he sought out Lavender the day before, the first thing he did was hurry her off to the nearest secluded spot and get her on her knees. It had been amazing, as always, but having Harry's lips around his cock had come with a certain zing. Fucking Harry had felt so wrong and yet so right at the same time; desire had licked up his spine and curled his toes watching Harry suck him all the way down — and that was nothing compared to how it felt with Ginny.

Ron jacked his cock, wishing that he could have Harry like that again, have those lips around him. He could always wake Harry up, ask him for a go…

But the very thought terrified him. Ron wasn't ready to acknowledge...whatever it was that was wrong with him, because he was sure wanting gay sex with his friend and very illegal straight sex with his sister didn't just come from nowhere.

Not that his dick cared one whit about what got it hard.

Come on, you stupid cock, come on his face already! Ron thought angrily at his dick. His wrist was starting to ache from the fast pace, trying to get off quick.

It seemed to have the opposite effect.

Frustrated, Ron's hand slowed.

He sighed. It was going to take more than just staring at his friend's face to get off. Maybe he could get Harry to suck him while sleeping? Like a baby with a pacifier.

Excited, he tried to run with that idea, got a knee up on the bed even, but the slightest bit of his weight dipped the bed and Harry began to stir, head thrashing a little against the pillow. Ron froze, waiting for Harry to open his eyes, catch him in the act — then nothing.

Except that Harry's face was now turned to the opposite wall, laying further from the edge on that side of the bed, making his lips even more out of reach than before.

Ron very seriously contemplated levitating himself over Harry's bed just to fuck that mouth, but decided that if he didn't want to accidentally wake Harry up, then he really didn't want to accidentally crush Harry if he lost control of the spell.

He decided to change tactics.

The blanket covering Harry was nearly shucked off anyway so Ron nudged it off the rest of the way, leaving Harry in overlarge, ratty pajamas. The top was easy enough to work with, the handful of buttons quickly undone. The top fell open, baring Harry's torso; he was scrawny, ribs slightly protruding, with the barest sprinkling of hair on his chest and trailing from his naval into the threadbare pajama bottoms.

Ron paused, eyeing the strange ripples of white scars that began at Harry's naval and arched out in all directions on his lean belly. Just the sight of them made Ron feel queasy. He couldn't imagine a curse that would leave marks like this behind. He shivered. He knew precious-little about the attack on his friend, but he was thankful that Dumbledore had been there or who knows what might have happened to Harry.

His hand hovered over the grooves and twists of scarred flesh, tempted to trace them, maybe even lick them—

He moved on.

The pajama bottoms were cinched at Harry's waist by a complicated-looking tangle of drawstring. Ron nearly cast a severing charm to get through the mess, but eventually he worked it out. The actual girth of the bottoms was so wide that Ron didn't have to pull them down at all to reveal Harry's cock.

It lay flaccid.

Disappointing.

Ron frowned. Well that wasn't very helpful.

He reached out again and this time he did touch, running the tip of a finger up and down Harry's cock, light and gentle as a breeze.

It twitched.

Grinning, Ron ignored his own hardness for the moment, leaning down to blow across Harry's testicles. He froze when Harry squirmed, waiting for any sign of consciousness as he resumed his gentle touches, growing bolder. His thumb caressed the wiry hairs on Harry's balls. His fingernail trailed up the underside of Harry's cock, then worried at the sensitive spot just under the crown.

Over Christmas break, he'd never touched Harry like this. Then again, Harry had always been hard during their trysts, Ron never had to coax and tease the sensitive flesh to fill and lengthen until it curved towards Harry's belly.

There. Now that was something to look at.

Ron stood up properly and grasped himself again, precum slicking the way as his fingers slid up and down, going faster…and faster…

A whimper made Ron freeze.

Harry was rubbing his face into his pillow, squirming just a little. His breathing had become shaky, uneven. A flush was blooming across the pale skin of his cheeks, spreading down his chest, his nipples peaked into rosy buds.

Harry's hips bucked into empty air.

Clearly aroused, Harry continued to make little helpless sounds and squirms, but his eyes never opened.

Ron's hand slowed as he gaped down at the enticing sight.

Had he inspired...a wet dream?

Arms bound behind his back, kneeling at his uncle's feet, Harry opened his mouth wide. His eyes fluttered shut, groaning as his Uncle Vernon's large cock slid over his tongue. Immediately, it pressed in as deep as it could. Meaty hands held Harry's face to Vernon's crotch, right where the man wanted him. Pubic hair tickled Harry's nose.

Eager for a throatfucking, Harry swallowed again and again, teasing his Uncle, trying to make him lose control, to just move damn it! Harry whined, growing more and more desperate. He couldn't even touch his own dick, which leaked so much precum that his length and balls were covered in it, dripping down to the floor, a tiny puddle forming between his legs.

"Suck me, freak," Vernon panted, his cock twitching in Harry's throat. "Suck me like the whore you are. Take it!—" He gave a short, mean thrust, the head of his cock punching at the back of Harry's throat.

Moments like this, Harry was glad of his lack of gag reflex. Vernon loved to take his time, loved to make Harry nothing more than a cocksleeve.

Harry loved it too.

Patiently, Harry sucked at his Uncle. Drool began to slick his chin. He hummed, breathing in deeply, taking in Vernon's musky scent.

His own cock throbbed, ignored.

"You love this, don't you, freak? Do you have any idea how much I want to take you to work with me?" Vernon groaned. "I'd keep you under my desk all day and you'd sit there, holding my cock in your mouth like a good cockwarmer should. I'd jack off into it, piss into it, whatever and whenever I want. You'd be naked and bound, my cock in your throat—"

Vernon finally started to rock a little, barely pulling out and pressing Harry's nose back to his crotch.

"—I'd pass you around the office. Your ass would be gaping by the time work ended. I'd get you in the car sitting next to me so that, on the way home, you'd blow me nice and slow until I'd have to pull over."

Vernon began to fuck his face in earnest then. Harry moaned, sucking him harder because he was so turned on by the fantasy Vernon was spinning and from the heavy cock dicking his throat with increasing violence.

"I'd drag you out of the car, push you up against it. Your hole would still be dripping wet and I'd slide right in, slicked by all the loads of the men who came before me, pound your arse right there. Cars would pass us by. They'd see how well you take me, how you beg for your Uncle to fuck you harder and harder—"

Vernon's cock and balls were drenched in spit. When his balls hit Harry's chin and throat, the sound of flesh on flesh grew obscene, wet and loud.

Harry whimpered.

He wanted to come.

He needed to come.

All he could do was curl his tongue against his uncle's dick as it abused his throat, moaning every time the tip hit the back and kept going. It felt so good having Vernon fuck his face. Not as good as having that thick cock in his ass, but he always felt way more used like this, in his true place in life: a dirty cumhole, a cocksleeve, a nice warm mouth for the taking.

"—you'd come on my cock, unable to stop yourself and I'd fuck you until I come so hard, my seed takes days to seep out of you, breed you like a whore—"

Harry whined, his eyes falling shut, on the brink of his own orgasm. His thoughts were fraying as need took him over, slipping into that fuzzy headspace...

But then he noticed something strange.

The hands clutching Harry's head felt different, less...meaty.

And Vernon's deep, pig-like grunts had changed into soft sighs, higher pitched. The rhythmic click of Vernon's loose belt buckle was gone, as was the bulging gut Harry's face had been pressed into.

Harry opened his eyes, seeing flowing black cloth instead of the garish plaid his uncle favored in his work attire. Confused, he looked up—

—straight into burning red eyes.

Harry froze.

He would have reared back in shock if not for the long, spider-like fingers holding him still, so Harry was forced to stare up at the monster that had taken Vernon's place, his lips wrapped around the oddly scaled length of the Dark Lord.

That lipless mouth twitched, the corners upturning into a cold facsimile of a smile. Voldemort stared down at him with what eerily looked like fondness (if demented serial killers could feel something as human as affection).

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort crooned down at Harry in parseltongue, the sensual hissing sent shivers down his spine. One large hand carded through his messy hair, brushing it from his eyes ever so gently. "Pleasure me."

Harry's heart pounded. Fear coursed through his veins, clear-thinking impossible as panic began to set in.

Where was Uncle Vernon?

The fingers of the hand not petting him flexed, the pads digging into Harry' scalp minutely, swirling...swirling...massaging slow and hypnotic…

Despite his fear and shock, still barely comprehending that it was Voldemort in his mouth, Harry felt himself easing, little by little, back into that fuzzy headspace, soothed by the tender touch and his enemy's mesmerizing red eyes, eyes which were still so much like Tom RIddle's dark ones even with the slitted pupils, beautiful and terrifying all at once.

As Harry fell deeper and deeper into the trancelike state, his residual ardor surged, twinning with his terror, twisting it into an electrifying sizzle of want that left Harry shaking on his knees. He stared back into the blood-red eyes of evil incarnate and, trembling like a leaf, began to suck.

Slowly, Harry worked with increasing vigor, taking more and more.

Voldemort sighed, petting him."That's it, pet," he crooned in a soft hiss. "Show your devotion to your Master."

Some lingering higher brain function processed that and anger valiantly tried to cut through the lust and fear that made him so docile.

Master?

No one owned him.

Harry growled, but to Voldemort it was a tease.

"Mmmm...defiant even now, as you worship me on your knees." Voldemort smoothed his thumb over Harry's cheek, rubbing at his cock through the layers of skin. "So beautiful in your submission...the loveliest whore…"

Submission? Harry wasn't submitting, he was being forced—

"Are you? How can I force you...when you want it?" Voldemort pulled his hands away, holding them inches away — only Harry didn't stop moving. He kept suckling at Voldemort's length, rolling his tongue against the thick vein on the underside, moaning as the first taste of precum met his tongue.

It was all Harry.

Tears coursed down Harry's face.

He's right, Harry thought, taking the Dark Lord deep into his throat, shivering at the deep groan Voldemort made. Shame coursed through him. I want it...I'm a dirty, disgusting—

"Why?"

Those hands finally did force Harry — to stop.

Voldemort pet him, gentling him. Careful hands brushed away his tears. "Why should you be ashamed of your desires? Is it because those you call 'friend' won't understand you? You fear their disapproval, their betrayal, for being anything less than their perfect snow-white savior. It's human to have wants...needs… Why should you be denied your own? There now…"

Voldemort stroked his hair, his expression soft in a way Harry had never seen, looking perfectly content to wait for Harry to calm down.

Harry took a deep, shaky breath in through his nose and out. In and out.

He should be ashamed for this, for being so weak against his desires. Voldemort had killed so many, had killed Harry's parents, had brought about the death of his godfather, and yet here Harry was, sitting docile at the Dark Lord's feet, still nursing at his cock like an infant with a bottle.

Harry knew this man was evil and that this was wrong, so why did it make him so hard it hurt?

Why did he want more?

"Shhh...none of that, Pet...None of that matters. Not here."

Voldemort's fingers were everywhere...brushing feather-light across his shoulders...through his hair...over his face…

When Voldemort cupped his nape, squeezing ever so lightly, a shock of heat and want flashed down his spine, throbbing deep in his groin, and Harry whined, eyes falling shut as bliss threatened to overwhelm him.

Why did that feel so good? Harry whimpered, sucking harder, moaning like the filthy whore he was.

"So good for me, Pet...yes…" Voldemort hissed out, eyes falling half-shut as Harry began to pleasure him in earnest. His pupils were so dilated the red was nearly eclipsed. His breathing was labored, clearly affected by what Harry was doing to him.

—and what a thrill, to bring the dark wizard down to his knees.

It made Harry so hot and bothered that precum began to leak down his cock once more.

"My pretty pet whore…" Voldemort groaned.

Harry stared into his eyes, forgetting everything Snape had said about occlumency and legilimency, uncaring that his mind was utterly defenseless. If Voldemort wanted, he could steal every last secret from Harry with sickening ease. None of that mattered, not now, not when he had Voldemort leaking precum into his mouth, not when the Dark Lord was visibly fraying under Harry's tender care.

This wasn't shameful.

This was power.

Long fingers dug into Harry's scalp, squeezing Harry's skull like a lifeline.

A shot of cum filled Harry's mouth just before Voldemort made one single thrust, burying himself to the hilt, stilling in Harry's throat and emptying the rest straight down it. Harry swallowed, desperately trying to savor the taste of the man, of his greatest enemy, as lust and pride overwhelmed him.

He'd made Voldemort come—

Harry woke, gasping and thrashing as he came, his belly and chest splattered with his own mess. Breathing hard and very disoriented, he collapsed back into the mattress, feeling tingly and pleasantly exhausted, his toes still curling a little into the bedclothes.

He hadn't come that hard in ages.

And he'd come from—

Images flashed through his mind: Vernon, using Harry's mouth, whispering filth, and then Voldemort —

A great shudder went through his body.

It had been a dream. Just a dream.

But still...

Harry's stomach rolled.

...to have dreamt something like that…

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He shivered, unnerved by his own mind, then shivered again, feeling cold, bare—

Harry looked down at himself and blinked. His pajamas were pulled down and his shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal his chest. Cum pooled in the grooves of his strange white scars.

Why was he half-naked?

Suddenly, Harry became aware that there was someone standing over him.

Panic seized him and all thoughts of his strange-wrong dream evaporated in the face of imminent danger. Yelping, Harry rolled over to shield his privates while fumbling at his nightstand for his glasses, cursing his piss-poor eyesight for the billionth time.

Standing over him was Ron, hard cock in hand, gaping down at Harry like a fish out of water. A spurt of precum dribbled down Ron's knuckles. His face was bright red and he looked incredibly guilty.

Harry looked back down at his own disheveled state and put two and two together.

"Did you...undress me?" Anger began to cut through the hazy of his orgasm. Harry knelt up, sitting back on his haunches, purposefully not covering himself as he faced Ron. "I don't get it. You blow me off for days like you can't stand the sight of me, yet here you are—"

"This is your fault!" Ron croaked, hastily tucking himself away into his robes. It wasn't very helpful, the tented robes did nothing to protect his modesty. "If you hadn't done this to me—"

"Done what?" Harry scowled. "I haven't done a thing to you. YOU fucked ME, if you'll remember—"

"I DO remember! It's all I can bloody well think about! Do you know how awful it is fucking my own girlfriend and thinking about you?!"

Harry blinked, trying to parse that out. "I— Why is that my fault?"

"You must have done something to me." Looking rather feverish, Ron ran both hands through his hair, tugging at it fitfully. "I wasn't like this before, I never wanted… I don't like—

The door to the dorm opened.

Harry and Ron both turned to see Seamus, Dean, and Neville standing in the doorway, gaping at the scene they stumbled upon.

"Well so much for Harry still being asleep," Seamus quipped absently, his wand loosely held in his hand, clearly regretting his actions.

Dean elbowed him. His eyes darted between them, taking in first Ron's aroused state then Harry's exposed skin, his gaze lingering…

And Dean wasn't the only one looking, Harry noticed.

Harry's blood quickened, arousal coiling deep in his belly. As though his wet dream never happened, his cock twitched, beginning to thicken once more.

Maybe if he played his cards right...

Harry didn't bother trying to cover himself. Instead, he shifted on his knees so that his front was better angled to the door, subtly putting himself on display...oh, yes, those were definitely looks of appreciation.

With luck, Harry might not have to wait until Saturday.

"Um," Seamus swallowed hard, looking at Harry and trying not to look like he was looking (and failing). "Are we interrupting?"

Harry glanced over at Ron, frowning. The ginger stared at their fellow roommates, apparently frozen in shock, though his impressive erection didn't seem to flag in the slightest.

Whatever.

Sniffing, Harry gave Ron an ugly look.. "No, you're not. It's not like Ron —" Ron turned to him so fast Harry was swore he heard bones crack "— was actually going to fuck me." Harry watched with mild interest as his friend turned an awful shade of puce. Let him get mad, he thought, jaw clenching. Harry was used to being hurt and used by people who didn't care about him, but Ron was his friend and, frankly, Harry expected more from him. Ron couldn't have it both ways, ignoring Harry then crawling back when his cock needed satisfying.

Harry did have some standards, at least where his friends were concerned.

Or perhaps his expectations had grown too high.

Harry's eyes prickled with tears he refused to shed.

This was getting unbearable. So many eyes were on him, teasing him. His cock was at full attention, uncaring that it was his classmates he was bared for, that this was dangerous and wrong and could backfire in his face in a thousand ways. And then there was Ginny to worry about. Her stupid rivalry had prevented Harry from this sort of thing the whole of first term. They had fallen into a tentative truce of sorts over the Christmas break, unspoken. For all Harry knew, that truce was over, now that term had resumed and her father wasn't around to force her to play nice.

Harry's cock throbbed. He felt painfully empty. There was no plug inside of Harry, having been too tired to remember it before falling into bed the night before, so his ass clenched on nothing, bereft of his usual means of relief from the cloying need that had plagued him since the summer holiday, when his base urges came to life.

Harry felt empty and he hated it.

The room was dead silent.

Reluctantly, Harry broke it himself. "Look," he said from between clenched teeth. "If you don't want to help me, fine. Then get out so I can take care of things myself!" His voice cracked, his throat choking up with more emotions than he could name. With all his friend's eyes on him, Harry felt like he might just explode from it all. It was all he could do to keep from touching himself.

He swallowed a frustrated growl.

The room was so quiet that Harry began to seriously wonder if he was still dreaming, his nightmare having morphed into a fun, new way of driving him mad.

Then—

"H-happy to help," Neville was the first to say, blushing bright red behind Dean and Seamus, who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," Dean walked in and sat on the foot of the bed. "Whatever you need, mate." He stroked Harry's thigh, licking his lips.

"I mean, I'm all for helping out a friend," Seamus grinned. Following Dean's lead, he sat on the long edge of the bed, furthest side from Ron, looking unabashedly at Harry's erect cock. "Fuck yeah, we'll help out if Ronnie-kins can't keep up."

Coming out of his shock, Ron glowered, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Really? You mean it?" Harry blinked. He hadn't really expected a positive response. Hoped for, sure, but not expected. "It's not...too weird?"

Dean shrugged. "I've got a bent cousin. It's not weird to me. Besides..." His grin became wolfish, hungry. "It's not like you're hard to look at."

Harry blushed. For all his...experience, being told he was attractive, even in a roundabout way, was surprising and made him feel oddly vulnerable.

Beside Harry, Seamus nodded in agreement. "Yeah, definitely not a hardship." He dragged a fingernail down the swell of Harry's ass, smirking at the shiver that ran through Harry.

"Horndog," Dean mocked, shaking his head, eyeing the faint pink scratch mark on Harry's skin with interest.

"Hey, you're the one who said he looked good."

Neville, still quiet and nervous looking, closed the door, spelling it locked.

"Good thinking, Nev." Seamus cast a silencing charm on the room. "Just in case."

It took Neville a few more seconds to screw up his courage before walking up to Ron, gently nudging him aside. Now having plenty of room, Neville opened his robes, exposing himself. He had a decent-sized cock, more average than anything. It was at half-chub and rising, even under the gaze of his friends.

Harry was surprised Neville could be so bold.

A Gryffindor indeed.

Well, if Neville was offering...

Hobbled by his own pajama bottoms, Harry wiggled around, so that he could face Neville on all fours. Absently, Harry wished he could lay down into a more comfortable position, but that was difficult with two other boys on the bed with him. Wrapping a gentle hand around Neville's cock, Harry pumped him up to fully erect, enjoying the feeling of soft skin over hard flesh. Neville reached out to pet at Harry's mop of hair, weaving his fingers in it so that he could gently tug Harry closer... closer...

The tip brushed his lips. He let Neville guide the pace and, slowly, the nervous boy was pressing into his mouth, the cock a lovely weight on his tongue. Harry gently sucked, doing his best to not scare Neville. For all Harry knew, thus was his first time and that made Harry a little worried about going too hard too fast.

The others didn't seem to have that issue.

"Come on, Neville, fuck his face." Dean had pulled out his own cock and was stroking it lazily. "You can do it."

"Yeah, fuck that sweet mouth..." Seamus was running his hands up and down Harry's sides and hips, swirling his thumbs across Harry's asscheeks in a deep tissue massage that made Harry moan and suck harder despite himself. "Fucking hot..." Seamus took up working the flesh of Harry's ass, groping it, groaning at the teasing glimpses of Harry' tight hole.

Ron remained silent, watching everything with wide eyes, but his hand had started to work his thick cock over his robes. He didn't appear to notice he was doing it.

At least he wasn't freaking out too badly.

Neville grew bolder. He held Harry's face in his hands and started thrusting his hips, working his cock in and out of Harry's mouth in small increments, barely hitting the back of Harry's throat.

Harry needed more than that little tease though.

Gripping Neville's thighs, Harry leaned into the next thrust and forced his head down until his nose was buried in his friend's pubes.

Then he hummed.

Neville gasped, tugging frantically on Harry's hair. "Harry! I'm— if you don't stop I'll—"

Harry didn't stop.

Hungrily, he bobbed up and down, sucking hard. The bitter tang of precum was on his tongue, making his mouth water. Before long, Neville's cock and balls were a sloppy mess of spit, and then Neville was pulling out of Harry's mouth to spurt thick ropes of cum, the mess landing all over Harry's face and hair.

Harry licked his lips and pouted. He'd wanted a better taste of that…

"Fuck, Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you—"

Harry laughed. "It's fine, Nev. But for the record, it would take quite the effort to hurt me." He winked.

Neville blushed.

"Damn..." Dean was squeezing his cock at the root in a tight grip that made Harry ache to look at. "That was nice, Neville, but...I think he needs something a little rougher. Right, mate?" Dean kneaded at his heavy balls. At Harry's wide-eyed nod, Dean knelt up on the end of the bed, drawing Harry around with a firm grip on his soiled hair. Dean slapped his cock against the tip of Harry's nose. "Nuh-uh, not yet," he admonished softly when Harry tried to get his mouth on it. "You haven't earned it yet."

Once Harry settled again, Dean took his time. He nudged at Harry's nose with the tip, drawing it up and across an eyebrow, smearing precum as he went, the dark skin of his cock alluring against the flush in Harry's pale skin. Gently, very gently, Dean prodded at Harry's eye, getting very close to it before Harry's lid closed and he smeared precum there too. Dean worked his way around Harry's face, marking up Harry's skin, rubbing the length of his cock in lazy thrusts against Harry's cheek before prying Harry's jaw wide open, his fingers spreading Harry's lips almost painfully apart, looking inside Harry's mouth. "Not much room in here. You sure you want my cock in it?"

Mouth stretched open on Dean's fingers, Harry nodded. His eyes were starting to water from the stretch at his lips.

"How sure?"

Harry tried to push Dean out of his mouth with his tongue to answer, but his mouth was stretched open even wider for his efforts.

Dean just wouldn't let go of his mouth.

Harry whined, frustrated. "Vewy shuh." He garbled, flushing when everyone laughed.

"You want my cock in your mouth?"

"...yeth..."

They laughed harder.

Harry could tell his face was beet-red, but his embarrassment only served to make him harder. For some reason, he never really minded being humiliated, at least where sex was concerned.

He wondered what that said about him.

Dean took mercy on Harry. Without using his hands, he guided his cock to Harry's mouth, keeping Harry's jaw open wide as he slid in until the tip nudged the back of Harry's throat, only half of his cock inside. Holding Harry like that, Dean gave tiny thrusts into his mouth, trying to set off a gag reflex that wasn't there. Dean frowned. He nudged his way deeper and deeper, eyes wide in shock when he realized that most of his cock was in Harry's mouth and throat now.

"Morgana's tits..." Seamus craned his head for a better look. "He ain't even choking."

"He doesn't have a gag reflex."

Neville, Dean and Seamus looked over at Ron, who had finally taken his cock out and was working it in lazy pumps. Realizing everyone's eyes were on him, he flushed, his pale skin blotchy with his embarrassment. "He spent Christmas at my house," he muttered, as though it explained everything.

Then again, it kinda did.

"Well then," Dean grinned down at Harry, "if you can take it..." He pulled out to the tip before he took his fingers from Harry's lips, moving to get a tight grip on either side of Harry's head. "Then you should take it!" He forced Harry down on him as he thrust up hard, every single inch of his big cock taken by that hot wet mouth.

Harry swallowed around him.

"Merlin!" Dean groaned as he started to fuck Harry's face in rough jabs, nearly yanking Harry's face into his crotch. "Oh, he's taking it...he's taking it..." he rasped, grinding against Harry's face.

Harry was enjoying himself more than a little bit. Every time he felt his throat stretch around Dean, he wanted to scream or cry because he knew that if that cock was in his ass, Harry would have come by now. He was so hard it hurt and half-rutting against empty air wasn't doing anything to relieve his own need.

Harry rocked his hips anyway, flicking droplets of precum all over the bedclothes.

Oh he wanted—

Seamus was still massaging Harry's ass cheeks, gripping them tighter and tighter, then relaxing then gripping again. One hand let go—.

Tears stung at Harry's eyes when a sudden slap! jarred him, pain lighting up his ass at the unexpected spank. Startled, Harry swallowed around Dean's cock.

"Do that again!" Dean groaned. He was fucking Harry's face so hard, his balls were bouncing off Harry's throat.

Seamus humored him, spanking Harry in time with a Dean's thrusts, Neville leaning over to help by striking Harry's other check.

Harry kept swallowing around Dean as his synapses crossed, the pain of every smack turning into pleasure, turning his brain to mush. He arched his back, trying to meet their hands, trying to get them to hit him harder. He sucked the big cock leaking in his mouth, moaning around it, his own cock throbbing—

"Ahh!" Dean cried out, pulsing his cum so deep that Harry couldn't taste it until he pulled out, catching a dribble of the bitter fluid.

Harry licked his lips. Damn Dean tasted good…

The spankings had stopped, which was just as well because Harry was panting like mad, now that he could breathe properly again. His cock was still ached, twitching between his legs. Sucking cock was nice, he absolutely loved it, but what Harry really needed was—

Hands palmed Harry's sensitive ass cheeks again, this time spreading them and holding them apart, putting Harry's asshole on display. Without warning, he felt something warm and wet lap at his hole in confident swipes.

"Guh!" Harry flinched just before he tried to move back, to fuck himself on that tongue. Not enough of his partners seemed to like rimming, which was a shame because Harry fucking loved it.

"That's so dirty, Seamus," Neville whispered, leaning closer to watch his dormmate tongue-fuck Harry's hole, fisting his own hardening cock.

"Wow, that's twisted..." Dean knelt around to watch too, his half-hard cock still out of his robes.

Seamus pressed his tongue deep and sucked hard at Harry's rim, grasping Harry's hips tight, keeping Harry where he wanted him.

Harry gave a loud sob. He was going to go insane if someone didn't fuck him soon. His whole body felt like it was on fire. His hole desperately needed to be stretched wide. Seeing stars, Harry rocked back and forth in little pulses, as much as Seamus allowed at least.

It felt so good—

"Fucking love rimjibs," Ron whispered. He shifted closer so his cock pressed against Harry's lips. "Come on baby, suck my cock. You want my cock, don't you?"

Need made Harry forget about their unresolved issues. He opened his mouth, letting Ron use his face as he wished, artlessly swiping his tongue over the thick girth of his friend. Seamus spelled his hole slick and worked his ass open with fingers now, first one, then two, working up to four—

Another spell was cast, slicking up his hole again just before Seamus worked his thumb in, wriggling his fingers and twisting at the wrist, his entire hand in Harry's ass, his fist ruthlessly working that spot inside Harry—

Harry screamed around Ron's thick cock, coming hard as he humped empty air, making a mess of the bed and his own chest.

His vision went white and he tumbled into unconsciousness...

Harry's body was jolting back and forth. He was having trouble breathing, probably something to do with how his lips were wrapped around something that moved in and out of his mouth, out of time with whatever it was moving in and out of his ass.

His eyes fluttered open and he realized quite suddenly that he was on his side, being hammered at either end in relentless thrusts.

"Ah—Ah! Harry!" From behind him, an Irish lilt cried out. Seamus stilled, fingers digging bruises into Harry's hips as he pumped Harry full of cum.

Harry whined around the cock in his mouth, which flooded Harry's mouth with so much cum that it dribbled down his chin to the bed.

"Yeah, Neville, make him drink your cum!"

"Awesome, Nev!"

Harry rolled his hips, trapped between two softening, spent cocks. He was hard again and aching.

Both cocks slid out. Harry blearily looked around, rolling onto his belly. Neville was tottering away to lay on his own bed, most of the room on Harrys' bed taken by Harry's sprawling form and the other boys crowding around him. Seamus moved off too, giving Harry a last playful swat on the ass as he went, making room for Dean to take his place. The black boy wasted no time in spreading Harry's legs, then Dean was fucking him in fast thrusts that speared Harry's hole wide around his cock, making Harry whimper and fist the covers, his own hard cock pinned between his belly and the bedclothes..

Merlin, Dean felt good inside him, taking him hard—

"Hey, get his head over the edge, Dean." Ron was jacking his cock, smacking the tip on Harry's face as Dean shuffled Harry's weak body over.

"Hold on." Dean pulled out and flipped Harry onto his back, sliding back in in one smooth thrust that made Harry's toes curl. Dean folded Harry's legs up to his chest, knees spread wide to accommodate the black boy's larger body. "Yeah, you like that?" He changed the angle and Harry was crying and gasping, pleasure jolting through him as Dean fucked his brains out. "Yeah baby, take my cock. You love it, don't you, you fucking whore..."

Harry's head lolled over the side of the bed, brilliantly placed for Ron to straddle his head and fuck his mouth again, going balls deep each time, rough and unrelenting as he used his friend's throat to get off, uncaring if he hurt Harry, that his balls were slapping at Harry's face hard enough to bruise his eyes..

The two boys took their own pleasure, loving how Harry moaned and whimpered with every thrust.

Out of nowhere, Harry's orgasm struck, fire scorching through his veins, white-hot, driving all thought from his mind as he clawed at Dean, spasming on his cock.

"Fuck!" Dean came, fucking Harry hard, filling up his slutty, used hole with another load of cum, the whitish fluid frothing up as he kept rolling his hips. Eventually, he stopped, groaning as Harry's hole still tried to grasp at him.

Ron had pulled out when Harry came, watching as Dean fucked more cum into his friend. His hands flew as he stripped his cock, eyes glued to Harry's stretched out, abused hole where it was clutching desperately at Dean's big black cock. Ron licked his lips at the contrast between their flesh, his heart aching at how beautiful they looked.

Cum seeped from Harry's ass. Harry had been utterly defiled by all of them.

Breath hitching, Ron came on Harry's face and chest, painting his friend in his seed. He leaned down to rub it into Harry's skin, thumbing and pinching Harry's nipple as he did; Harry twitched, a thready whine falling from his lips.

Dean finally pulled out. They watched Harry gape open, smirking at how fucked out and used he looked.

A proper slut.

Harry was vaguely aware of Ron and Dean moving away, the four boys heading to clean up, leaving Harry a downright mess.

Exhausted and half-blissed out, Harry reached down between his spread legs, fingering his open hole, sliding easily through the cum inside.

Dean and Seamus had done that.

He licked his lips, tasting cum.

His friends had used his body and still...Harry wanted more.

Feeling that familiar itch take hold, the clawing need that made him crazy-desperate for a fuck, he buried three fingers in his ass, stroking his hardening cock, whimpering.

He needed...

Harry was writhing on the bed, curling his fingers against that spot inside his. He squeezed his cock, trying to work himself back to that edge so he could fling himself over it again.

This was the scene the boys walked in on, fresh from their quick showers.

"Boys, I think it's time to get back on the horse again," Ron smirked, dropping his towel from around his waist, feeling himself rise to the occasion.