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Chapter Text

Harry had quickly learned that the wizarding world was nowhere close to the images conjured up by the imagination of a young eleven year old boy dreaming of escape. What with evil megalomaniacs hunting him down for sport, a corrupt government, and magical sex determination, Harry’s sheltered upbringing had been thoroughly destroyed (and there was quite a bit of sex going around to divest him of any lingering innocence). Granted, the majority of the Dursleys’ efforts had left him socially inept, what with his only friends being spiders and beetles in his cupboard. He had a lacklustre elementary education, interspersed with long bouts of being locked away, starved, hidden from neighbors and the public. That all changed when he entered the wizarding world. Hogwarts was magical, but this only meant that it did a bang-up job of offering culture shock after culture shock to the Muggle-raised. 

Just last year, Hermione had sprouted a dolphin tail, shocked all by demonstrating alpha characteristics, and tried mating with Professor McGonagall of all people. Really, at the age of 18, Harry should have been ready for whatever magic had to throw his way, but his inheritance still shocked him to his core.

The modern human species had evolved as close cousins to chimps - that much muggles and wizards could agree on. The main difference requiring further distinction between muggles and magic users? Wizards had magic and muggles did not (or so it seemed). No other magical race had such a dichotomy. Admittedly, skill levels differed, but a certain level of trait plasticity was expected in anything that wasn’t immediately necessary for survival. Additionally, wizards were clearly not just human. Muggles were not able to hybridize with mermaids, giants, centaurs, goblins, nagas, leprechauns, or any of the other magical sentient humanoids. But wizards were. And even without this parentage, wizards always gained some sort of trait to set them apart. A set of wings, horns, fur, fangs, claws, the typical witch or wizard possessed some combination of animal characteristics modified to fit the human body - the likely source of many religious iconographies across the globe. These were the basis for 'creature' inheritances. And still, wizards demonstrated their peculiarity; a goblin was unable to procreate with a mermaid, but a wizard would stumble out of that threesome with both partners pregnant. Somewhere along the way, a unique gender and sexuality spectrum had developed, erroneously called the alpha-beta-omega dynamic based on unsubstantiated claims made by wizards and muggles in regard to wolf pack dynamics of all things. Whatever made wizards special was likely the topic of a thesis that Harry would no doubt read for his Mastery. But he didn’t have to worry about those yet.

He was 19, a few weeks away from 20, and a one-hundred-percent legal adult in both the magical and muggle world. Having graduated from Hogwarts, he had a handful of NEWTs under his belt, and what was more? He was on his way to the Weasley’s - the freaking best people in the world, if you asked him.

Harry had loved his time at Hogwarts thus far, but entering into a new world at 11 was jarring. The public stared and speculated, but the Weasleys always offered a secure backbone that he could fall back on. Molly certainly took no nonsense from gawkers and photographers. They, and a handful of others, were Harry’s support network, and he was fiercely loyal to those he considered his own. Dumbledore had refused to allow Harry to live with them full-time, but now that he was an adult, and had graduated, the headmaster couldn’t stop him or enforce weird magical laws to keep him contained. 

The meddling man had good intentions, but Harry couldn’t quite overlook his readiness to throw Harry to the wolves. The philosopher’s stone, basilisk, Sirius’s apparent innocence. Harry was almost glad that he had been thrust into the Triwizard Tournament. It had lit a fire under his ass large enough for him to be prepared for any confrontation with Voldemort. Dumbledore was so focused on keeping Harry in the dark that he didn’t pay enough attention to what Harry was doing with his time. In a graveyard ritual crash, Harry had unleashed chaos. Wormtail was a shockingly incompetent duelist (but somehow a masterful escape artist as he had managed to get away and not been seen for years), Nagini was strangely docile in the face of parseltongue and Muggle elephant tranquilizer, and Voldemort was defenseless in his mutilated baby form. 

It was laughably easy to set up his own ritual and to rid the world of Voldemort’s wraith once he had slain the homunculus. The setup had been the difficult part. Using a combination of Hindu, Egyptian, and Greek principles in reference to rebirth, whatever Voldemort’s soul had become had been reincarnated as a rather ghastly pale white tree that seemed to be the start of a new magical species. All he had to do was finally pay attention to Seamus’s rants about banshees, use his research on dementors from his third year, go on a few illegal trips to some unscrupulous book stores, strike up an alliance with a grove of dryads he met through Luna Lovegood, make a deal with a coven of vampires he had approached in his first year when Quirrel had been suspicious about the undead blood drinkers, interrogate Padma and Pavarti on some magical lore and trade for a sample of water from the river Ganges, find an obscure relic from an Egyptian tomb (courtesy Bill Weasley), and utilize knowdlege from the Black, Peverll, and Potter grimoires. He was very thankful for having nicked Hermione’s time turner and the guidance of all those he had befriended outside of the school. His fifteenth year of life had actually been two for him, with the caveat that he had only sent an astral projection into the past in order to keep himself from prematurely aging. His knowledge of the creatures of death and the undead had given him quite the advantage in his face-off with the immortal bastard. And he did all this without crossing the line into becoming a necromancer. What fun.

As he swung out of Number Four Privet Drive, he wondered what the Dursleys would think of Fred and George’s goodbye present. He hadn’t asked questions, but secretly he hoped that whatever it was would permanently disfigure them.

The twins had once broken him from the barred upstairs room he had been shuffled into. His trunk had been downstairs in the cupboard he had slept in until he was 11. George had spotted a sign pinned up on the cupboard's interior wall, ‘Harry’s Room’ with an incriminating number of candles drawn out from over the years. It was a damning piece of evidence that had nearly sent the Weasley twins into a murderous spiral. Harry had enjoyed stopping the twins' plots that summer; looking back, he knew it had become a game for them to spend time with him. They had tried to voice their concerns to their mother, who in turn sent howlers to the headmaster, but nothing came of the situation. Arthur had put feelers out in the ministry but was blocked at every turn and almost lost his position as Head of the Department. After the revelation of Harry’s homelife… things changed. If the twins made sure to give him a pat on the back or an extra helping of treacle tart for dessert after that? Harry was only too happy to return the favor and shower the twins with prank ideas and his help with their experiments.

In the present, George tossed Fred the keys to their dad’s flying car, and both boys shot Harry a wink that was filled with far too much flirtatious energy. They had come into their inheritance young. And built up quite the reputation in Gryffindor for being a tantalizing fruit that never put itself on the dating market. The devilish little imps. Sure, they would flirt and tease, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan had both even been taken as dates to the Yule Ball, but no one ever had a chance of holding either twin's heart. Whatever they planned with their luschievious looks, Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He was free.

Settling into the Burrow came easily to him. The love and affection showered his way was addicting and so distant from the life he was once used to. The heart and compassion that was steeped into the Weasley family was like a pot of golden coins, and Harry was the greedy Niffler desperate to hoard it for himself. Hell, it was almost enough for him to forget about his new heritage - almost. All Weasleys from this branch of the large family were to be in attendance for the party later in the evening. The children all sported some kind of insect wing, with Ginny having gone through her inheritance earlier in the school year, beating Harry out by quite a bit (he was a little more than a late bloomer). Harry figured their buggy wings must have been from the Prewitt side as Mr. Weasley had tufts of feathers poking out from his neck occasionally, but no wings to speak of. Black feathers inherited from his Black mother, Cedrella Weasley Nee Black whom Harry had met only last year. She had thankfully been a pleasant conversationalist who had enough connections to finally help get Sirius healing from long term exposure to dementors. 

Bill had moved back home as pressure from the Dark side had made the family feel more secure with another skilled wizard under the roof. (Plus, he had gone through a rather nasty breakup with his crazy ex-girlfriend, a goblin in Egypt). Harry had grown close with him two summers ago when the older boy had taken it upon himself to help Harry out with his finances at the Goblin-owned bank. The older boy went the extra mile, and Harry found himself going through a Goblin customs curriculum and picking up a bit of Gobbledygook from the older cursebreaker. Bill had grown his hair out down to his back, but it was usually kept in a tight bun. He had a set of blue eyes that glowed brightly - a sign of his magical sight. The ginger held the title of the second-tallest Weasley sibling, Ron having just barely out-inched him, but his wings were the biggest, being those of a monarch butterfly. What was even more interesting was the giraffe spots and osicones he occasionally sported.

Charlie was still technically living in Romania, but he was looking to transfer to the Welsh Dragon Reserve. He had shown up in June, based on Ron’s letters, and been in and out of the house all summer. Charlie was the brother Harry was least familiar with, but each time he met the second eldest Weasley child, he made sure to spend a bit of time with the dragon tamer who seemed to have energy pumping through his veins twenty-four seven. His legs were always tapping, his hands fidgeting, or his gum popping. He was barely taller than Mrs. Weasley, with everyone (including Ginny) looking over his head. He carried himself with confidence, which was likely at least partly due to the heavy musculature along his entire body. He was buff and right fit. His hair was kept in a short crew that occasionally sported burnt strands of scarlet red. He had a set of leathery wings that were somewhere between those of a pterodactyl and a wasp, pointy green so dark it bordered black, and fast. Some questioned his figure as a seeker, but Harry knew he had been built for speed. The wolf paws he sometimes used to cut through dinner only confirmed Harry’s theories. Magic worked in strange ways, and a lack of aerodynamics wasn’t stopping Charlie from being a speedy little demon in the air.

Ginny, Percy, Ron, Fred, and George had all stuck inside the strange tilting house filled with so much joy. None of them even considered abandoning their parents' home. Already, space was tight, and galleons were even tighter, but they made it work. This was one of the protests Harry had given as to why he shouldn’t move in with them. Molly and Arthur had been heckling him all year. Harry knew that his addition to the household was welcome, but he didn’t think his heart could take the rejection if they suddenly realized they couldn’t keep him along with all the rest. It didn’t help that they adamantly refused any mention of rent. Percy, of all people, had been the one to finally break through his thick skull that he was not a burden. The older boy had fit into their group while Hermione was struggling with her inheritance. Percy had stuck around Hogwarts as a Master's Apprentice for Professor Flitwick after his graduation. He had managed to get his own ‘Mastery in Charmstry and the Arcane Arts of Magical Bonds, Oaths, and Promises’ earlier in the year (the overachiever was only 23!). He was the only other semi-aquatic Gryffindor in the castle and had to fill a mentor role for Hermione. The girl quickly learned her needs ,and the pair was frequently spotted in the black lake doing laps. The duo had initially been terrifying, assigning readings and study times, running Harry and Ron into the ground after only a month and a half of tyranny. Finally, Percy made a breakthrough that Hermione had been stepping around for years: Harry and Ron were hands-on learners. After this revelation, Harry’s grades had soared (at least on the practical work). Long study sessions in the dueling hall with Percy had helped him leap across several mental barriers. Harry also experienced a boost in ego, realizing that his skills in defense were more than up to par as from a very early stage he was able to easily best Percy, not that he would rub it into the older man’s face. And the peaks of Percy’s willowy arms while they fought reaffirmed Harry’s attraction to the same sex (not that he was going to tell the older boy that). The duo then worked on mastering all number of charms, transmutations, curses, hexes, and more, applying them to real-world situations and the battlefield. One day, when the dreaded topic of moving in came up, Percy had broken down each of Harry’s protests like a chisel carving at his stony walls. They had both cried; naturally, Ron and Ginny were on standby, and they had a great big heart-to-heart. Meddling twats - but it worked - it was still bizarre to think that he was accepted as one of them. Family.

He was to bunk with Ron once more, but as he set down his trunk inside the highest room in the house, Harry couldn’t help but feel a wave of fear rush over his face. Where was his cot? Why was Ron’s room not ready? What did he do wrong? Ron had glued himself to Harry’s side, a casual arm draped over his shoulders as the taller boy pointed to the ladder that went up to the attic, a space used for storage.  Trying to contain his lingering doubts he morphed his expression until all the others saw was bafflement that only received evil grins from his twinly entourage. With those two, it was hard to tell if something awful was about to happen. Harry crept his way up to the Burrow’s overflow storage space. He had stayed in the same cot bed every summer for the last several years when he took his place here in Ron’s orange room. But now? Where a pile of boxes had previously sat in their attic home, a cozy full bed rested in a plain wooden frame. A small dresser stood beside it, engraved on the top drawer, he saw his name in clear letters with small lightning bolts on each subsequent drawer. The Weasley family ghoul nowhere to be seen.

A punch to his arm from Ron was followed by a ruffle of his hair by Fred. George wiped faux tears from his own eyes, but he knew they weren’t mocking him. Despite being smaller than the three boys surrounding him, Harry managed to manhandle them into a group hug. None of the others fought hard enough for it to have mattered. 

And if there was a new wet spot that had sprung up on Fred's shoulder where Harry’s head had rested? No one paid it any mind. 

Dinner was a lively affair in itself as jostling chairs, laughs, and merriment were abundant. Harry found himself seated securely between Ron and Percy, who had won the chair after Fred had teamed with Bill and challenged the unholy alliance of George and Charlie for the honor. How they would have split the chair between the duos was anyone's guess. But the fight had only ended when they realized that calculating Percy, who now had sights set on magical policy, secured the coveted position at Harry’s right hand. Groans had gone out, somehow Percy had snagged the ‘best seat’ at least according to Ron, who looked far too smug at Harry’s left hand. Harry hadn’t quite managed to stop the blush from forming on his cheeks from their theatrics. A fact that Ginny was far too quick to point out - the traitor.

“Boy’s no roughhousing at the table-” Molly tried to stop Ron from snatching a roll from George’s plate, but was distracted by Charlie trapping Ginny in a headlock (Harry admittedly hadn’t been paying enough attention to that conversation to know what warranted the younger girl's predicament).

“No dessert for anyone but Harry if you all keep this up!” Molly shouted over the mayhem. Silence reigned in the crowded dining room. No one dared breathe. Even Mr. Weasley looked chastised. Eyes flickered back and forth, weighing the punishment. Somehow, a unanimous decision was met without verbal communication. This was a fine-tuned machine that had years to work out any kinks, smoothing out friction and oiling mechanisms so that the family unit would function with gusto. Harry felt strange to consider how he might fall into this dynamic. Was he a cog helping do the pushing? A switch that activated something? Perhaps a button that needed to be pressed?

“So Harry-” Fred started.

“Do you like what we’ve done-” George continued on from where his twin left off.

“For your room?” They finished together.

Harry gulped, but was kept from responding by Bill, who rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Don’t listen to the two menaces. Charlie’s the one who built the furniture, all they did was help clean things up and move stuff to the shed.”

Turning quickly, Harry caught a smug smile on Charlie’s face that faded as the green-eyed boy caught his brown eyes in a stare. “You made it? The dresser? The bed? For me?”

Charlie, for lack of a better word, was short-circuiting, “I didn’t make the uh, bed, err well I made the frame, I mean the mattress. Percy picked that out for you at the store,” the normally ambiverted boy seemed to have reverted back into his body. His ears took on their wolfish appearance and tucked against the sides of his head balefully, an untrained reaction. Percy was the only introvert in the house, but even he was able to be outgoing as he seemed to shine under the attention in this moment. Charlie was typically straddling the line, preferring spending time with dragons more then his fellow humans most of the time. That didn’t mean he wasn’t the life of a party when he felt up for it. Maybe he mistook Harry’s reaction?

“REALLY? That is amazing! Thank you so much, Charlie! It means a lot to me…”

Charlie let in a gulp of black mead as his cheeks heated. What had Harry done wrong to get the 25-year-old so red in the face?

“Percy also helped stitch the designs on the bedspread, dear,” Molly chimed in calmly, steering the conversation. She let a look of exasperation wash over her sons, half of whom were grinning like maniacs at their brother's predicament.

Percy, for his part, remained composed. “I remembered you mentioning how you had never gotten to decorate a room before. I wanted you to have something personal to start with.”

Harry felt his breath catch. He had spotted the embroidered blanket and thought that it must have been an heirloom. It was gorgeous with depictions of various magical creatures and botanicals, all of which were things that he had mentioned liking to Percy over the last year…

“You didn’t have to-”

“Yes, he (I) did!” The room chorused as one. 

Harry looked down at his lap for a second before looking back up, a tugging sensation loosening in his back. Gasps rang through the room. Turning quickly, Harry realized his mistake.

Bronze bat-like wings had sprouted from his flesh parallel to the length of his spine; a small smattering of onyx and emerald stones faceted the sturdier parts of the wings. Thankfully, his magic meant that they somehow phased through his shirt rather than the cloth constricting his features.

“YOU HAD YOUR INHERITANCE?”

Ron snatched him out of his chair quickly, food forgotten; that’s how you knew things were serious. Harry barely had time to stumble onto his feet without ending up planted in the tall ginger’s lap.

“Bloody Hell! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Ron shouted over the catcalls and whistles. Before he could answer, Ron continued. “Can you show us? Please, Please, Please?”

The look in the boy’s eyes was near deranged, but plenty excited. 

“Only if you are comfortable, Harry,” Molly shot a glare at Fred, who had started pulling up Harry’s shirt. And when did he get there?!

“This is a personal matter- Fred, sit DOWN!” Arthur raised his voice to wrestle control of things. This time, silence didn’t have a chance to form, excitement was too high. “Harry, if you would like to show us your inheritance, that is fine, but don’t feel any obligations. Do I make myself clear, children?”

A chorus of, “yes, Dad,” rang through the room. But eager eyes remained. Ron had stood beside Harry with a weird glint in his eyes.

Harry was many things, but coward is not an adjective he would associate with himself. And now was the time to really see if he scared them off. Some features were considered dark in the wizarding world: goat's horns, bat wings, serpents - the rise of Christian Muggleborns in the wizarding world had labeled such attributes satanic.  

Popping his shirt off, Harry was braced for the gasps. He knew he wasn’t the most attractive. He stood at five foot five on a good day, with a lean build not helped by years of the Dursleys’ starvation. Thankfully, a regimen of nutritional supplements, potions, and a balanced diet had stuck some flesh onto his skeleton while correcting a large portion of his internal issues. Even if his ribs no longer stuck out like the keys of a xylophone, there were still several scars marring his skin, making the brown complexion shift like warm, wooded tree bark. He had a particularly sparse sprinkling of chest hair and a coarse trail leading to his pubic region, but none of the rugged masculinity shown by many ‘Alphas’. The term was antiquated and out of date. It was understood that there was a vast spectrum of dominance and submission, fertility and virility, and those who held onto such arbitrary titles were often the sort to avoid. But a resurgence of the dynamic had occurred as a result of romanticism since the end of Voldemort’s reign of power. Several of the people in his year had sported books with covers that showed what they thought a proper Omega-Alpha pairing should look like, and Harry wasn’t… that. He knew that all the Weasleys were what the old classification system would call Betas, but that could mean anything based on their reactions (if they even guessed that he leaned towards either end of the spectrum).

Trying to get things over with Harry conjured up the traits hiding under his skin. Scales blossomed across parts of his body, the same bronze, a more metallic shade than his skin, with shifts of gold. Green and black gems decorated his decolletage, shoulders, arms, and knuckles. Claws lengthened at the tips of his fingers into acute, sharp points. The most noticeable attribute outside of his wings that grew in size? The nest of snakes that his hair morphed into, black and green serpents that he was able to control by thought. Gorgons were not a separate magical species; they were a distinct set of traits found in certain witches, or in his case, wizards. Of course, he didn’t actually meet the criteria, what with his lack of rooster legs, but that was besides the point.

Harry braced himself for hatred, vitriol, swearing, anything but what he received.

The room was eerie, loud breaths were inhaled, and a faint mumble of words was spilled. Harry couldn’t make out what was said, but he could have sworn that there was a low whine that went with them.

Looking up, Harry saw Ron’s eyes as they scanned over his body quickly, doing an appraisal. The youngest Weasley son had developed his own magical sight, different from Bill’s. While the curse breaker could see wards, traps, runes, and enchantments, Ron was able to gauge the strength and purpose of something, the intentions behind a spell, etc. But his eyes were glowing much brighter than typical.

“It’s only fair I finally show you all of mine now, right?” Ron let out, straight-faced, apprehension causing his shoulders to tighten.

“Boys, honestly,” Ginny grumbled out as she slammed her head against the table. Molly said something to commiserate with her, but Arthur just looked confused as he started helping Molly grab dishes.

“What if we all show you ours?” George chimed in from his spot on the opposite side of the table, mischief and something more circling around the older boy’s head.

“Brilliant idea,” Bill seconded as he stood, near ripping his leather jacket off his body.

Before Harry could get a word out, all the men stood, some sort of competitive nature spurring them on. Ginny scurried out of the room, making excuses about helping out her mom and dad that were ignored. The table was spelled empty of platters and was quickly covered in shirts, vests, and other pieces of clothing.

Somehow, none argued about the absurdity of the situation. Harry wasn’t sure if it was some wizard thing he had yet to learn. He wasn’t about to look weird or prudish. He had seen at least Ron and both twins semi-nude in the locker room at several points (and secretly imagined their forms late at night after he had accepted his own gayness), but he had never actually looked upon their nakedness, not sure if it would break him. Luckily, no one went that far, or Harry was sure he wouldn’t have been able to hold his fangs back. Already, he saw several delectable pale expanses of flesh he would loveee to mark up. Harry stopped that dangerous line of thought before it could go much further.

Harry looked on in adoration as one by one, each man showed off his features. Bill was the first to step forward with his monarch wings and a tale that he had never seen before. The giraffe spots suited his coloration and made his blue eyes pop even more clearly. Bill also had a rather plump arse that stuck out from his body, bringing further attention to his backside clad in only loose boxers. God's Harry was doomed.

Charlie was next with his wider waspish wings matched by wolf ears, paws, and a tail. A small pair of antelope antlers poked out of the red locks. What Harry had never noticed before was the fact that the boy had a thick carpet of chest hair that seemed to have been spun by Ariadne herself; the red strands faded until coming back full force to form a delightful landing strip of hair heading down into his trousers. Outside of Harry’s horniness, he also noticed a small razor-sharp blade springing from both of the dragon tamer’s palms - stingers.

Percy was the first big surprise. The boy had the wings of a dragonfly, with the delicate membrane gracefully wrapped around him. His legs had fused into a long fish tail, complete with gorgeous cerulean and violet scales. The dominant color was actually lilac, but in this dimmer lighting, it was hard to tell. Different from a mermaid in that he still had mammalian genitalia that was barely covered by a discarded t-shirt. And oh sweet Merlin, Morgana, and Mordrid. Percy is hung! That bulge against the fabric’s outline was undeniable. Harry had only ever seen the boy swimming with Hermione from quite a distance. In addition to the previous features, the boy also sported an additional set of arthropod-like arms completed by a pair of crab pincers that sprouted from his head like horns. In fact, now that Harry was looking for it, all the Weasley boys sported ‘horns’ of some kind, likely a trait inherited from their father.

Fred and George were playfully trying to cover up Charlie and Bill with their own parts. They had a matching set of modified praying mantis wings that fanned out of their backs to create a pleated display. They sported similar color stories of cherry blossom pink and pastel green. Fred, however, had the legs of a tropical bird that matched his wing colors with a bright pink that turned darker and iridescent in his tail feathers. George had twin snake trunks for legs like the Greecian Dracaena’s sported. His tales were striped in a light pink-orange, the same red as his hair, and white, like a coral or milk snake with a faint green sheen that tied back in with his wings. They were each stunning in their own right, and somehow their colors only seemed to complement each other. Sprouting lowly from the back of their heads and curling slightly were a unique triad of horns. They may have been identical as humans, but magic helps determine your forms, a reflection of more than just genetics. Harry tried to ignore the small bits of fabric protecting George and Fred’s descencies.

Finally, there was Ron. The boy had stood beside him, barely glancing up to look at his brother’s theatrics. Harry had grown beside this man into who he was today - the master strategist had come into himself, and found security in his skills, no longer overshadowed by his brothers. His wings sprouted from his back in a burst of fluff. They looked like an amalgamation of gold, narrow feathers, but Harry had seen these wings in action. They weren’t a feature he knew on any normal animal, but they worked by buzzing like a bee's and the large ginger just sort of floated about… Harry didn’t know how it worked. What was new was the antenna popping from Ron’s head and curling down close to the floor. A prehensile tail wrapped itself around Harry’s wrist as he stared. The final addition to Ron’s form came in a pair of frog-like legs in a bright green color. His best mate had kicked off his jeans and was left in only his pants, which were a set of form fitting Chudley Cannon boxers that Harry was trying very hard to ignore.

“What do you think?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows while Percy sighed in exasperation. “Oi! You were thinking it too!” Percy did not deny Fred’s protest; instead, he turned his head to look Harry’s way.

“You don’t… Mind?” Harry asked with all the delicacy of an elephant in a china shop. Or an Ocamy in the great hall of Hogwarts.

“Mind what?” Charlie was the first to speak up, rage burning in his eyes. “Has someone been giving you trouble?!” The dragon tamer’s eyes quickly locked on Ron, who shook his head vehemently. 

“No… It’s just that… You are all fine with me being… you know…” Harry hoped that the ground would swallow him up as he gestured to his body, vaguely communicating his queery.

“Harry. You could cast the killing curse in the middle of Diagon and we would still love ya,” George stated solemnly.

“Here, Here!” Fred followed with a salute and a cheeky grin.

“You love me?” Harry’s head snapped up and stared intensely at George, who only seemed to grow more confident.

“Of course, Harr-Bear,” Fred jested.

“Obviously,” Percy huffed as he flicked a wing out around Harry’s back and nudged him closer to the table. The translucent structure was somehow sturdy enough to accomplish a shove. “You are part of this family one way or another, Harry.” Harry purposefully ignored the strange glint in Percy’s eyes as he communicated the words.

Ron, who had followed along as Harry pulled the tip of his tail like a leash, only nodded in agreement as his eyes zeroed in on where Harry rolled the tip of the fuzzy tail between his fingers in a gesture that was oddly comforting for Harry's frazzled brain.

“Oh,” Harry stated smartly. Ushy gushy emotions rose up in his chest that he wasn’t used to feeling outside of when he cast his patronus. Love - Harry knew what it was, but he wasn’t used to it. He couldn’t let himself feel it just for it to be stolen away; it would break him. But now he could he accept this luxury?

Relaxing into his chair, Harry felt a wave wash off of him, a barrier he hadn’t meant to erect having dissipated. A series of nostril flares went through the room. Charlie even lifted his head to bask in the smell of something… Harry couldn’t pick up on anything, but he figured dessert would be done soon. That must be it.

“I’m gonna go check and see if Molly needs any help,” Harry chimed up for lack of a better way to escape the strange turn things had taken. Bubbly feelings still in his chest, he crossed into the kitchen, where Molly and Arthur praised his form. Ginny only made one late bloomer joke before being silenced by a glare from her mother, who let out her own bumblebee wings through slits in her cardigan and blouse for Harry to see. All was good. He was home.

Chapter Text

Harry, for lack of a better word, was shit faced. Not drunk. No, no, no. Uncle Vernon’s alcohol ladened breath as he cracked a belt over his figure, hissing out a disgustingly vulgar diatribe of words, was enough to prevent Harry from ever having anything stronger than a butter beer. Dinner itself had featured the spiced old-fashioned wizarding drink, and a bottle of the mead that Charlie, Ginny, and Arthur had all sipped at. Dessert had been paired with a hard cider that complemented the caramel theme Mrs. Weasley had come up with. And after the meal was well and truly done, a mysterious bottle of Flavorius FizzyWine and Ogden’s Fire Whiskey had shown up along with a goblin moonshine brew Bill had procured through unscrupulous sources.

Ginny had been forced up to her bed earlier in the evening by a frazzled Mrs. Weasley, who had finally picked up on her daughter's drinking. Celena Warbeck had come on, and after she had tired Arthur out, Harry had taken the older gentleman’s place (after being coerced and heckled by the audience of leering redheads). He had proceeded to thoroughly wear Molly down with a series of dramatic and elaborate dips, bobs, twists, and twirls, which he had led just as often as she did. There was no coordination; Harry still had no talent for dance, but the charisma had been there. Sometime along the way, he had let his snakes out while Molly had fluttered out her wings to float through the room like a jubilant queen bee. 

That had been hours ago. Harry now stared at his empty cup, fully understanding that his head was gonna hurt in the morning from the massive amount of blood that had drained from it. But fuck, it was worth it. He was regretting his own sobriety greatly.

If Voldemort came back (again) at this exact moment, then he could eat a fucking giant bag of dicks. Harry had killed him at one with the first rematch happening at eleven by way of Quirelmort. The rest of his Hogwarts years had gone similarly deranged. He was twelve when he faced Diary Tom Riddle, thirteen when he had to break through the wards of the Room of Requirement to stop a crazy Diadem controlling an army of trash monsters, he had been fiteen when he had transformed the main Voldemort into a tree, he was sixteen when Dumbledore had decided to hunt down that bloody murder ring that had started summoning angry spirits from a muggle graveyard, he was seventeen when a deranged locket wearing house elf had gone cannibalistic, and finally just last year at eighteen he had helped the golbins at Gringotts deal with a debilitating magical wasting disease after an audit revealed a goblet drenched in pathogenic death magic. 

But that was neither here nor there. 

Only Ron and Percy were awake enough to chat. Ron had only matched Harry’s more sedate drinking (which for him was the epitome of restraint) while Percy had abstained, being sober and all. He had a bad experience at a club, after getting pretty roughed up and almost kidnapped, the boy had sworn off the hard stuff.

The only thing keeping Harry from going to his room (and wasn’t that a bloody brilliant thought) was the head currently lying in his lap - the reason for his lack of blood supply to the head used for critical thinking. Bill’s hair had been fanned out over the side of his thigh while the rest of his head lay plopped into the kind-of-gorgon’s lap. Making everything that much more intense was the way the older boy’s nose was nuzzled into Harry’s stomach. The straining erection in his pants would have been embarrassing if Bill hadn’t literally passed out from his drinking game with Fred. 

As yet another stalemate fell on Percy and Ron’s chess match, it was time to call it a night. Percy started levitating bodies up the stairs while Ron tidied the room. Bill was saved for last, much to Harry’s consternation. Percy had only laughed as Harry blushed wildly. How was he gonna walk up the steps without anyone noticing his rather visible problem? 

The second Percy cast his leviosa, Bill whined. Not just a complaint. But a full-blown Hecate blessed whine. The sound was glorious. Harry wanted to distill it and keep it close to his heart so that he could hear the longing forevermore. The cursebreaker snatched his arms out to clutch desperately to Harry’s lap, still half out of it. Ron had laughed while Percy fumbled with his wand. Finally, the drunkard’s grip was released, and Harry was left free (it didn’t feel rewarding at all).

“Come on, mate. I’m more knackered than mum, and she was one stumble away from crawling up the steps,” Ron snickered as he misinterpreted Harry’s reluctance to extricate himself from the sofa as lethargy. 

The kind, brilliant boy decided to slip an arm under Harry’s shoulder despite his protest. As Harry stood, his situation became even more obvious. A six and a half inch wand tented Harry’s denims, and his holly wand was eleven inches; there was no way to mistake the situation for anything else but what it was.

But miraculously. Ron didn’t notice. Stumbling up the steps, Harry let himself bask in the warmth of Ron’s side. The boy was unnaturally hot, and the heat now permeated Harry’s flank and brought a flush to his cheeks. Did hormones have the same effect on the body as drunkenness? Maybe Harry could pioneer the magical field of sexology for his mastery… As they finally stumbled to the top of the landing that would lead Harry to the attic, the bespecaled boy realized he might actually be able to get away without the situation turning awkward.

“Good night, mate,” the towering ginger said, reaching his other arm around for a quick hug.

Fuck, Harry thought as Ron squeezed his body close, turning the pious embrace into something more meaningful. And of fucking course Harry’s erection hadn’t flagged as it poked the tall flaming boy in the thigh before pushing up slightly in a gentle thrust against the muscled leg. Harry let out a slight gasp, and a flare of pleasure coursed along his body from the tip of the glans to the end of Harry’s nose that traitorously inhaled a whiff of Ron’s cologne (a gift from none other than Harry himself this last Christmas; something ridiculously expensive and perfect for the taller boy who had worn it every day since). And Ron? The boy froze. Harry matched him, still as a statue. Tucked into Ron’s shoulder, Harry couldn’t see the boy’s face. But he could hear the rapid beating of Ron’s heart; it was like a jackhammer trying to work through concrete.

If Ron wasn’t going to say anything, then Harry would be silent. Silence meant he didn’t have to confront the way Ron’s arms seemed to drag him in closer. Whatever face he could save, Harry would take it. But his erection was practically throbbing, trapped against Ron’s side. And Merlin almighty, it felt good. Another wave of something, just like at dinner, left Harry’s body, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what. Ron let in a shaky breath, the first sound he had made since the start of the encounter.

“Harry…” Fuck here comes the embarrassment. “Tell me when to stop.” 

Huh? Harry had enough time to question the bewildering words before he was pressed against the door to Ron’s room, head forcibly tilted back, and suddenly, Ron’s face was descending on his own. The second the chapped pink lips pressed against his, Harry knew he was a gonner.

A pleased hum shot through Ron’s throat, vibrations buzzing between where they connected. Harry yanked the giant boy’s head down further so that he could thoroughly plunder the treasure that was Ronald Billius Weasley’s pretty little mouth. If he only had this one shot, he was gonna make it bloody well worth both of their times. Harry desperately kept his fangs back. Now was not the time for Harry to get territorial.

Harry’s hand wound its way into Ron’s shorter tresses, roughing up the styled locks. His other palm quickly gravitated to Ron’s ass via the intrinsic magnetic pull that it possessed for Harry’s eyes, and apparently, his grippy hands. With a minute squeeze, a well-deserved moan was brought forth from Harry’s first friend. Fuck fuck fuck. If Ron kept making those sounds… that only meant Harry was doing a darn right spiffy job. Yeah. Merlin, it was good. He just needed to keep in control of his… urges.

One of Ron’s arms yanked from Harry’s body. The raven-haired boy was near feral and hissed displeased into the taller boy’s lips at the loss of contact. The older boy was forgiven as the door swung open, and they were able to stumble to the bed.

And that’s when it hit him.

“You’re drunk, Ron-”

“Less fucking excuses, more fucking,” Ron mumbled as he ripped his polo shirt from his body and threw it into a dark corner of the room, all the while stumbling out of his jeans. Unfortunately, he hadn’t grown out of his gangly clumsiness, and he nearly fell in his haste to divest himself of the legs of his denims that twisted about his ankle. Harry darted forward to catch the ginger, good friend that he was. Unfortunately, he was still very much hard and had been leaning back to fuss with his trousers ineffectually. This left Ron eye level with the small wet spot starting to grow in Harry’s crotch fabric. 

“If you don’t let me see your cock tonight, I am gonna crawl into your bed tomorrow and suck the soul from your body, then spit it back into your mouth to prove my point. “ Ron stated soberly, all the while still staring at Harry’s pubic mound. 

What beautiful poetry. But even still, liquor speaks louder than most people are usually willing to. And Ron had definitely drunk more than Harry’s pitiful butterbeer.

“Ron, I don’t want to take advantage-”

“Bloody bollocks, Harry! I was sober enough to fucking carry your ass upstairs-”

“I didn’t need you-”

“Harry. Shut up.”

And so he did. Ron ripped his gaze away from Harry’s tented trousers and stared into twin spinning marbles. In this lighting, it was difficult to decipher if Harry’s eyes truly glowed or if it was just the shafts of moonlight reflecting in the pearlescent ocular organs. Either way, the gaze was hot and everything Ron wanted to see.

Harry, for his part, was living out some very raunchy dreams at the moment as Ron stared up at him with bedroom eyes while kneeling on the floor in a very suggestive position. If he moved a bit closer, Harry was sure that he would feel the lanky boy’s breath on the shaft of his dick. Although not too lanky anymore, come to think of it… Harry saw a small bit of pudge that had started to accumulate on Ron’s midriff. He wanted to sink his fingers into the boy’s plush love handles and go to town on that ass-

“Have you ever done stuff with a bloke?” Harry desperately tried to distract himself from the dangerous thoughts spinning in his head. Control, breathe in, breathe out, Harry hoped that he wasn’t about to go feral.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweet Merlin, Loki, and Freya help him.

“Ron, this is serious!”

“And I’m serious, Harry!” Ron hopped up and, in a clean motion, scooped Harry off the ground and tossed him on the bed. Harry begrudgingly admitted that it seemed well-rehearsed. Harry’s erection unhelpfully bent, putting a painful pressure on his crotch, forcing Harry to readjust slightly, drawing further attention to his aching predicament. The air was too hot, or Harry was way too far gone. The bed beneath him felt so familiar; Harry had never actually slept on Ron’s mattress proper, but he had spent many summers playing Wizard’s chess here, gossiping, laughing, and basking in Ron’s presence. Now Harry was more focused on the fact that this was a twin-sized bed barely big enough for one full-grown wizard. Ron seemed to figure out the same issue as he let out a low huff of despair and collapsed to the ground close to the heaboard.

The boy looked like a supplicant ready to worship at the altar of Harry Potter, the patron god of lusting after people he couldn’t have.

“Ron-”

“No, Harry. I’m done listening! I drank just as much as you, which is bloody nothing! Blimey, the only way I’m pissed right now is at you for thinking that your lame ass excuse is any reason to stop going.”

Harry blinked rapidly as Ron reached forward and snatched one of Harry’s hands into his grasp, holding it tightly while running a teasing thumb gently up and down the dorsum of Harry’s hand. “I’ve shagged girls, Harry. Fuck, I had a scare with Lavendar, thought I was screwed, thank Morgana’s barren fields that she only had a false alarm. So what if I’ve never fucked a guy? It can’t be that different. I want to feel it, pull the stopper out, and chug. You’re here, I’m here, let’s do this-”

Harry couldn’t listen anymore. His heart felt like it was cracking slightly. He restrained an enraged growl just barely. That’s what this was? Just a quick fuck? Ron wanted to experiment?! Harry snatched his hand back out of Ron’s previously soothing grasp, disgusted by the way his traitorous flesh went up in goosebumps at the loss. “If you want to experiment? Get your dick wet with a different lad.” Harry did his best to keep the anger from his voice. Even more, he tried to disguise the hurt. Ron had been his first friend, and pretty darn close to his first crush. Harry had forgiven Ron when they had their falling out years ago. They had grown even closer, nearly inseparable. But now, looking at the object of so many of his desires, Harry felt disgusted that the boy he dared to love would treat him so callously. Harry had truly thought Ron better than that. A quick shag wasn’t dastardly - except when you were using your friend to get your rocks off!

“What-” Ron was cut off as Harry jumped to his feet, as quiet as a cat. No need to wake the rest of the household. 

“I genuinely can’t believe you, Ron.” Harry’s erection shrank as he walked briskly towards the bedroom door he had been pinned against moments before. A few traitorous tears popped into Harry’s eyes, but he refused to let them release. “I thought I meant more to you than that. I can’t believe I thought-”

“What the bloody fuck are you talking about?!” Ron shouted confusedly as he scrambled to his feet and ran to block Harry from escaping through his bedroom door. 

“Keep your voice down,” Harry hissed, looking to the floor, desperately hoping no one came up asking questions. 

“I had Bill put up permanent silencing wards,” Ron waved off the complaints while guarding the door against Harry’s escape. And what an imposing figure he made standing against the dimly lit wall, wearing nothing but a pair of Chudley Canons boxers and a singular maroon sock that hadn’t quite made it all the way off in his hurry. Harry hated the fact that he still looked beautiful. “Would you stop trying to… hey, that’s cheating-” Ron shouted, catching onto the change in Harry’s plans as the menacing bat wings sprang from the shorter boy’s back, with Harry starting to make his way to the window.

“Harry, would you just listen!” Ron seemed desperate. This was more than Harry would have expected. He had seen Ron in the past walking ashamedly into the dorm room with scorched clothes from a bad breakup. He had always been good at taking rejection with grace and never forcing himself onto a partner who wanted to end things. Was he just that horny to press for more?

A spell blasted at the window, the latch disappearing as Harry’s fingers went to flick it. Harry’s palm clutched tightly as he thought through his options. If Ron wanted a confrontation, then so be it. 

Turning back around, Harry’s wand was in his hand with a small flick. He had begun to carry it in a dueling grade holster that he had been gifted by Bill and Charlie on his seventeenth birthday. With a few flicks of his hand and several nonverbal spells, Ron lay in the middle of his bed wrapped up in his own treacherous blankets, his wand rolled off the bed and rattled against the floor. Ron had been silent as he flew through the air, too surprised to speak. Now that he registered his predicament, rather than yell or protest, he blushed a rather vibrant red. 

“If this is what it takes, then fine,” Ron huffed out from his compromised position. “But for fucks sake Harry, what is wrong?!”

Ron finally took in Harry’s face and realized something profound: he had fucked up BAD. A small trail of tears tracked down Harry’s cheek angrily. The dam couldn’t hold back Harry’s disappointment.

“What’s wrong? I thought I fucking meant more to my best friend than to be a quick fuck, Ron!”

Ron cringed back, his head turning to the side as the words attacked him. “That’s not what I meant-”

“No? What you wanted a couple of uses to see if you could be into guys before you got rid of me?!” Harry couldn’t stop the tears now as they flew down his cheeks. He wasn’t expecting a relationship; the hope was there, but it wasn’t a requirement. But he would not be used, not like that. Was he close to a rut? Why did he want to bite the Circe damned traitor so badly?

“Harry-”

“What are you gonna brag to Seamus and Dean about it? I know they have been hounding me to hop into their sheets; you want to get some experience before you take them up on the offer?”

“Harry. Please-”

“Were you even gonna get me off or would you cream your pants and expect me to clean up the mess-”

“HARRY!” Ron finally screamed, stopping Harry’s tirade. Whether it was the volume or the desperation in Ron’s tone, Harry shut his lips with a small scowl, all the while his eyes remained a tiny bit puffy. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I will chop off Dean’s dick and feed it to Seamus the next time they try anything on you. Third, and most importantly, I don’t just want to shag!”

Harry huffed. The fight leaving him. He scrubbed a hand at his face, desperate to clear away the pain that caused the tracks down his cheeks. “Yay, you. Do you want bonus points for knowing what foreplay is?”

“Harry shut the fuck up! I’m bad at this, okay? Words are hard!” The boy whined from his spot, still stuck to the bed. 

Harry didn’t know if it was the tone Ron used, or the way he wiggled in his bindings trapped against the bed, but he giggled. And then he couldn’t stop himself from plopping onto the foot of the bed and staring at his best friend, who was spread eagle trapped on a twin-sized by blanket bindings that were coming loose. Harry really liked Ron being in this position, under Harry’s control…

“Harrrrry-” Ron continued to whine. “Please focus-”

Harry did his best to dampen his tongue. Even if he was being confusing, Ron deserved the opportunity to speak.

“I would never use you like that, Harry. Please believe me, you mean so much to me, to all of us,” Ron’s eyes pleadingly gazed with Avada green irises, unable to break away now that they had started to see reason between each other. “I don’t want a one-night stand, a small romp in the sheets - I want you, all of you, all the time, and well, yes, I do want to... You know,” the boy attempted to move his arms but seemed to realize again that they were trapped against the bed. Harry filled in the blanks regardless and felt the blush creep from his face down the column of his neck. A content noise tried to escape his throat, but Harry held it down. He needed to get control of his horny/possessive body! Thank goodness it was dark. The shadows hid most of Harry’s indiscretions; this one was equally appreciated.

“You have never once brought up a gay thought; forgive me for not fully believing you.” Harry’s words were more to buy spare time to formulate his thoughts than anything else. While the boy had never explicitly talked about an attraction to masculinity, Ron had always been attentive to Seamus and Dean’s graphic stories and Justin Finch Fletchley’s crude homoerotic jokes.

“Maybe I was just holding out for the best,” Ron protested back easily. His eyes started to darken in color, being consumed by his pupils, the moonlight bright enough to show as the lighter blue was overtaken.

Harry chuffed out a hoarse laugh. “Sorry to say, but you’d be waiting a while if you wanted the ‘best’ Ron-”

“I remember a certain Blaise Zabini bragging about, what was it? Ah, yes, you could ‘suck a marble through a straw,’ I believe?”

“Shut up,” Harry blushed as he slapped at Ron’s nearby calf.

“Never!” Ron laughed out as a happy burst of delight filled the awkwardness, Ron patting himself on the back for having managed to turn the situation around. As the laughter pattered out, Ron looked contemplative once more. The master strategist could maneuver a battlefield, but when it came to matters of the heart, he lost all technique. It was adorable. “I used to take peeks at you in the showers,” Ron finally admitted as the silence ended.

“What? How?! The stalls are floor to ceiling?” Harry wondered what wonderful opportunity he had been missing throughout his Hogwarts career.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ron hurried along, a small squeak to his voice. “I think that’s when I started to figure things out. But I didn’t want to admit it. Thought you didn’t feel the same way. Then I had Lavendar, and you were coming back late at night, doing the entire shagged out walk. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You mean so much to me, Harry. I never want to lose you-”

Harry leaned over during Ron’s rant, a looming presence contemplating Ron’s restrained body and the captive boy’s words. The redhead didn’t seem to register the movement. Harry’s hand left the bed and covered Ron’s lips. The boy had a bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome, and it was best to stop him before he got too much further. Harry tried not to think about all the ways that he could gag the redhead.

“You mean to tell me that you have been wanting to… get with me… for years, plural, and are just now trying your luck?” Harry questioned neutrally, trying to keep his composure. A heat built inside his chest, making it near impossible to hold back. Some may call it an alpha instinct - Harry didn’t buy into the philosophy, but he understood well now what texts had described as carnal hunger. The redhead looked so good sprawled underneath him, warm breath being panted onto Harry’s hand was added to by Ron’s tongue that dashed out to lick lightly at the gap between Harry’s index and middle finger.

“What have you done with a man?” Harry asked as he retracted his finger slowly, dragging it lightly down the side of Ron’s cheek before fully releasing contact with the freckled face. Harry desperately restrained the way his inherited features desperately tugged at his mind, desperate to be released. He had to control himself.

“With a man? Nothing. With girls, I have pretty much done it all, and even…” Ron’s face looked to be twisting into something bashful, embarrassed, and demure. Harry was entranced.

“What? Tell me,” Harry whispered out, eyes dragging over Ron’s upper arms, shoulders, and chest, his words more of a demand than he would have liked. It was unfair that only one of them was unclothed. Harry would have to fix that soon.

“Well, uhm, you see. There was one time that Padma she… triedtodobuttstuffwithmebut-”

“Ron,” Harry stopped the boy by clamping his lips shut for a second time. He gave him a second to calm down before releasing the thin lips from his pinch. With a small reassuring nod from Harry, Ron released his breath.

“Padma wanted to do stuff with my butt. She was wearing lots of rings and her nails were bloody sharp… Let's just say I didn’t go for a repeat performance - and my dick? It was like pulling Ghosty Taffy.”

Harry would have busted down laughing if it were any other situation but this. As it was now, he did his best to maintain composure.

“So… you have never done anything like this with a guy,” Harry phrased it like a question as he gestured first to his chest, then back down at Ron as if demonstrating some invisible connection.

“I only wanted you,” Ron confessed after an eternity of Harry waiting. And fuck it, that wasn't the perfect thing to say.

Chapter Text

Harry squinted at Ron for a long moment before making up his mind. 

Standing up gracefully from Ron’s bed, Harry was doing his best to take it slow and not show how crazy the boy’s statement made him feel. With the care of a fastidious laundress, Harry smoothed the fabric of his shirt down along his body so that it cupped around his frame tightly. The cotton was relatively soft underneath his fingertips, but the texture was heightened now in this sensual atmosphere. Harry felt the exaggerated weave of the material as he brushed against his sides until he reached the bottom hem of his shirt. He had been shirtless earlier at dinner, had seen Ron, and had been seen by Ron plenty of times without a top. This wasn’t the difficult part. Retracting his wings back in was the start, but Harry had to think carefully about what was next. His body seemed to rebel for a moment, protesting hiding itself. Harry knew people would call it his ‘inner alpha,’ but that had to be ignored right now. But in the future….

Slowly, Harry’s seeker fingers came up to his bottom button and ran around the circle of it once before popping it out of its hole. One after another, Harry trailed up the length of his shirt until his chest and stomach were free of their cloth prison. Harry’s hands were slender enough to slip through the arm holes of his sleeves without much effort, and finally, his first article of clothing fell to the floor. 

Ron let out a choked sound that Harry ignored as he ran his thumbs down either side of his belt, starting at his sides and ending in the front beneath his belly button. “Bloody hell,” Ron mumbled in the background as Harry focused on his striptease. He played with the idea of dragging things out, but ultimately knew he didn’t have the patience for it. The belt latch let out a jingle as the metal released. Without a second of hesitation, Harry popped the button of his trousers and yanked down his fly in a smooth move that had been perfected in cramped crannies and school broom closets. Ron was letting out needy huffs of air and writhing back and forth in his bindings. No real words were spoken, but Harry understood that the redhead was getting impatient and would start mouthing off soon. He wasn’t so far gone as to be without his temper - Harry liked the fire creeping into Ron’s desperation.

Harry realized his mistake as he started to yank down his jeans, only to gaze at his treacherous trainers. In a brilliant burst of non-verbal wandless magic, Harry’s shoes vanished, hopefully back to his new room, but possibly from existence. Harry was glad that he had already slid his wand back into its holster when he went to sit on the bed. It made it easier to send a burst of magic to slide his legs out from his trousers and send them on their way to the corner, where they folded into a neat pile. 

From the bed, Ron had suffered enough. Finally, the blanket restraints failed, and his hands were free. Leaning forward, Ron trailed a hand down Harry’s stomach, gulping as his digits grew closer to the line of Harry’s boxer waistband. 

“Together?” Harry offered as a peace offering to Ron, who seemed to be suddenly malfunctioning.

“Bloody fuck yes,” Ron mumbled out as he snatched his hand back away from Harry and hooked his thumbs under his own undergarments, yanking the tented fabric down without much thought. Ron’s erection sprang forth from the material, pitched high in the air before slapping down against his lower stomach. All five and a half inches stood proudly against a bed of coppery curls that formed a tantalizing prize Harry wanted to explore with his tongue. Patience was not in the pool of emotions that either boy was experiencing.

“So eager,” Harry breathed hoarsely as he reigned in the urge to pin Ron down.

Harry dropped his own underwear to the floor; the hesitation at being pantsless with his mate was lessened by Ron’s obvious desire. Harry thought Ron should have been more timid, seeing as this was his first male sexual encounter - Harry should have known that Ron’s horniness outpowered any hesitation.

Looking at the twin-sized sleeping area with an affronted scowl, Harry thought that Ron himself deserved a bed upgrade. That would be for later. With a quick brainstorm through lust-addled thoughts, Harry summoned out his wand back from his holster, scowling lightly at the in and out repetition slowing things down. Quickly, he cast an engorgement charm on the mattress and wooden frame. As the entire thing grew in size, Harry realized his mistake as the larger furniture lifted the bed several feet higher into the air. Ron cursed from his position on top of it; he didn’t seem keen on being smashed against the ceiling. Harry couldn’t see him but knew that the boy wasn’t pleased with the development. The ginger poked his head over the edge of the enlarged bed and leveled Harry with a playful scowl. With a mischievous grin, he most definitely picked up from the twins, Ron launched something at Harry. His remaining sock. What an idiot. Harry was mesmerized. 

With a bit of improvised transfiguration, the bed was lowered back to the ground, now a respectably obscene sprawl of haphazard blankets and a rather plush expanse. A lazy lumos was cast from Harry’s wand before being set on the small nightstand that had seen better days. Lying towards the bed's center with an excited grin, Ron sprawled out leisurely, stroking his cock from base to tip. His right hand wrapped around the shaft in a loose grip clearly meant to provide minor relief in anticipation of what was to come. Ron’s wasn’t a large cock, but it was by no means small. What really set it apart was its symmetry. It might just be the most bilaterally neat cock Harry had ever seen, standing straight without dip, bend, or curve. The boy was truly freckled from head to toe and everywhere in between. The pale skin that Ron sported was complemented by the rosy tip dribbling pre in between Ron’s fingers. It was a darker shade than Harry would have expected, but contrasted the redhead’s lighter body hair well.

“Well, are you just gonna stare?” Ron teased with a smirk that would usually make Harry slap his arm. Now all he wanted to do was kiss it off his face.

“Like you peeping on my showers?” 

Ron ducked his head to concede the point, a blush returning to his pale face. He was the type to redden in anger, and apparently in bed. Harry wanted to see how low the flush would expand over the creamy expanse.

Harry crept towards Ron, hand ghosting up the boy’s leg as he crawled along the length of the resized bed. He didn’t let himself linger, too focused on what he really wanted. It was late, and he knew neither of them was in the mood for teasing. But he still wanted to explore a bit. If Ron’s words were to be believed, then Harry would have plenty of opportunities to explore further depths.

As Harry’s hand slid along Ron’s thigh, he pulled away.

“Bloody fucking tease,” Ron whined as he tossed his head back dramatically on the pillow, as Harry snickered. “Be a Gryffindor! I consent to you touching my bits! Pleaseeeee.”

Plopping down beside the taller boy, Harry pressed his side against Ron’s, feeling the heat radiate between them. Harry cursed the socks still planted on his feet, but resolved himself to the fact that he would be stuck with them on. He would prefer to be in his holster and nothing else, but the circumstances, however, meant that his brain couldn’t think up a banishing spell to rid him of his pesky socks. Really, it was Ron's fault for looking so needy.

Harry had no choice but to gulp at the desire cloyingly sweet radiating off of Ron (plus a healthy dose of consternation). The faint scent of his butterbeer breath filled the space, adding to the slight musk the freckled boy built up over a day of summer shenanigans. How could Harry resist him when he was right there, open and ready for the taking?

Reaching a hand up, Harry ran his fingers over the creamy jaw line, admiring the contrast between Ron’s light complexion against Harry’s tanned fingers. One of the few differences between Harry and James Potter was their skin tones. James had boasted a desi heritage by virtue of his mother, Harry’s grandmother, whose darker Indian complexion had shown through in her son, the duo matching each other quite well based on the few photos Harry had found. Harry had lost some of the melanin (Lily Potter was as white as some ghosts), but still retained his permanent tan-ness, the Dursleys had ridiculed him for. In this moment, he enjoyed that fact as he watched his fingers trace the features of Ron’s face. The contrast was intoxicating between the creamy freckles and bronze. Red eyelashes battered closed as Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips back down onto Ron’s in a softer kiss than what was shared at the top of the stairwell.

Lips pressed together, and Ron distracted Harry knew it was time to act. Reaching down quickly, Harry grabbed Ron’s left wrist, still steadily working at teasing Ron’s erection (not that the older boy needed much to keep himself hard). Harry yanked the arm up and pinned it over Ron’s startled head. 

“I seem to recall you saying something about a blowie. Sucking my soul out through my cock, was it? I’m cashing in,” Harry smirked at Ron’s shocked stare before laughing lightly as he rolled onto his back and tucked his arms under his head to get comfortable. “You said to be a Gryffindor, didn’t you?” This was gonna be fun to watch.

“Bloody hell,” Ron mumbled and gulped. The boy had skipped past any irritation and was going straight towards panic as the reality of the situation set in.

“Ron. Now is not the time for performance anxiety. It’s a cock and a couple of bollocks. You’ve got all the same parts. Do what feels right on you, start with a hand, make sure everything is plenty wet, don’t grab too tight, nothing fancy, and for Merlin’s sake, no teeth.”

Ron continued staring, eyes flickering between Harry’s grinning face and his boner that bounced slightly as he readjusted. Blossoming terror oozed from the taller man; no movement or progression of any kind would happen unless Harry nipped this in the bud.

From Ron’s initial blunder in trying out for Quittage, Harry knew that incentive was the key for Ronald Weasley's Performance Anxiety.

“Maybe this will help,” Harry nodded to himself, not knowing if Ron was paying enough attention to realize that he was moving.

Harry let his inhibitions fall further, in for a knut in for a galleon or something like that. Harry still hadn’t mastered all wizarding expressions. Ron needed some encouragement, and Harry was feeling like he had the cheer to provide.

Sitting up and straddling Ron’s stomach, Harry lightly squeezed the plusher boy’s midriff with his thighs. Running his hands down Ron’s shoulders towards his chest, Harry made sure to look reassuringly at Ron’s gobsmacked expression. Eyes strayed towards Ron’s neck; he lacked a scent, but that didn’t mean anything. Harry would gladly sink his fangs into that juncture between neck and shoulder, marking Ron as his. Fangs ached in Harry’s gums, wanting desperately to be let out. Harry had to swallow down the urge to give in.

“I thought-”

“Ron. I’m not throwing you into the deep end. Relax, and learn…”

Harry lent more of his weight back onto his knees, aiming his butt backwards slightly until...

“Hecate’s triple cunt!” Ron cursed as Harry’s ass rubbed against Ron’s dick. 

Harry allowed himself a small self-satisfied smirk as he continued to lightly grind against Ron’s member. This was a good way to ease back into the mood.

“Now pay attention,” Harry mumbled out as with the next grind, Harry flopped down across Ron’s body. Making sure to distribute some weight to his elbows, Harry ran small kisses along Ron’s chest and then stomach, feeling the muscles beneath the soft layer of plumpness Ron had built up. Harry would love to add a couple non non-permanent marks, but he didn’t have permission for hickies yet.

A trail of kisses down Ron’s V-line had the ginger sucking in a large gulp of breath. Worry or anticipation, Harry didn’t know, but the dribble of precum seemed to suggest the latter. Opening his lips, Harry planted an open-mouthed kiss against the head of the shaft, making sure to flick his tongue over the tip, letting his mouth drool on his treat.

With half an eye peaking up, Harry knew that Ron wouldn’t last long, judging by the fist that the redhead had buried into his pillows.

“I thought you said you had experience?” Harry teased as he released his lips from the tip.

“Shut the fuck up, you- OH SWEET CIRCE!”

Harry would have laughed if it weren’t for the cock currently buried in his mouth. Unfortunately, Harry still had a bit of a gag reflex that he had to work through at the beginning of oral sessions. He hadn’t quite mastered deep throating, but he made up for that with suction power, tongue swirls, and determination. The feeling soothes the desire coursing through Harry’s body. If he couldn’t mark the boy, at least he could stake a claim in this way and show the potential mate all that Harry could offer. Harry tried to ignore the way his surface thoughts were slowly being corrupted by his inner nature.

Ron smelled stronger down here, not quite unpleasant, but Harry knew well that he would need a shower come morning. Ron’s pubes lightly rubbed against Harry’s nose as he took a moment to bask in what was happening. I’m sucking off Ron. I’m gonna make my best friend cum. I’m gonna make my best friend beg. He will be so pretty cumming down my throat… 

Hollowing out his cheeks further, Harry slowly rose u,p taking his time exploring the length of Ron’s shaft. There were parallel veins that he lapped at with his tongue, the seam along the bottom of the shaft that Harry wanted to follow down to Ron’s bollocks, and a tantalizing bit of pre that needed to be lapped up at the tip as Harry approached the glans.

“How am I doing?” Harry asked with a small amount of smug satisfaction as he popped his lips from his prize. Reaching out, Harry realized that he hadn’t yet felt the boy’s junk in his hands. That had to be corrected immediately.

Ron meweled slightly, struggling to respond as his dick was jerked off lightly, maddeningly slow; it was torture (Ron never wanted it to stop). His hands were planted firmly in the sheets on either side of him, the only thing keeping him from burying his hands in Harry’s hair. “Merlin, Zabini wasn’t kidding. What- Hey!”

“Don’t bring up my ex in bed,” Harry took his hands away and placed them on either side of the freckled hips, raising an eyebrow as Ron whined.

“Got it. Lesson learned. Awful topic anyway. Let’s get back to what matters, like how bloody fucking amazing you are with your mouth.”

Harry squinted some more before nodding decisively. Leaning back down, Harry lapped lightly at Ron’s taut bollocks before running his tongue along the tantalizing line that connected sack to shaft. It was really a beautiful package. Reaching the tip, Harry lapped a couple more times before taking in the situation. Ron was already half out of it. The evening hours combined with the demanding day were clearly catching up to him as he lay panting on the bed, looking like a soft blanket would be all it took for the boy to pass out in bliss and comfort. Harry was a generous lover, but he wasn’t a masochist. He was gonna get off, and it wasn’t going to be on his own.

“You can cum in my mouth-”

“Oh bloody fuck, yes please-”

“IF… You can hold out long enough to help get me off.”

Silence. Harry stared up daringly at Ron, who seemed to be malfunctioning.

Perhaps challenging Ron was a bad idea, Harry reflected as Ron’s arms bolted forward and grabbed onto his shoulders, flipping him onto his back now with Ron huddling above him. Harry held in the growl that threatened to escape as the boy flipped positions; he would let Ron have this semblance of control if it helped. But Harry understood that he was the one in charge.

The gangly ginger moved quicker than Harry would have thought possible as he scuttled down until his face flushed level with Harry’s slightly larger member. 

Ron paused momentarily before looking up at Harry’s eyes. There was so much to see there. Admiration, adoration, arousal, Ron felt giddy on life. He hadn’t done this before, but damned if he was gonna let that stop him. He was a Griffindor for Merlin’s sake!

Looking down, Ron met eye to eye with his opponent. Standing at 6.5 inches, Ron had memorized this beauty long before this moment; he had jacked off enough to this morsel and Harry’s Quittage-toned ass to have prepared himself for this defining snippet of time. 

Spitting into his hand, Ron decided to start off easy. Firmly grasping Harry’s dick, Ron was satisfied to see Harry relax into his fist.

Gotta make sure it’s not too tight, Ron thought to himself as he slowly squeezed more firmly and began his first couple of strokes. It wasn’t any different from polishing his own wand, but still, Ron paid attention to the small differences in preference. Harry seemed to prefer quicker flicks that focused on the head, while Ron liked firm, slow strokes. Easy enough to remember. Ron worked up in rhythm, trying to make sure that he was giving a varied performance. Not quite ready to swallow Harry’s cock, Ron instead figured he would put his mouth to work elsewhere as he kissed along Harry’s thighs. They were the color of warm, wet sand, a tan that grew flushed with a dusty rose wherever Ron nibbled. Harry’s legs were coated in a light smattering of hair that Ron couldn’t help but nuzzle with his face as he let himself bask in the situation. This was gonna be wanking material for years to come.

Harry was bucking into his fist now and giving words of encouragement. Ron would have been embarrassed by Harry’s coaching, but he had grown used to it from the younger boy acting as Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Ron didn’t think it appropriate to address the fact that he kind of liked taking orders. That was a discussion for later.

“That’s good, Ron, now try using your other hand- Yeah, just like that,” Harry mumbled the second half of his words as Ron brought his left hand to rub lightly at the base of Harry’s cock.

Ron decided to explore some on his own as he let his left thumb gently fondle Harry’s balls. Harry’s dick wasn’t too far above average, but his balls were massive, with the left dangling ever so slightly lower. The raven-haired boy kept his pubes neater than Ron’s, with his balls and shaft trimmed clean, framed by soft curls surrounding the pillar and jewels. Ron may have to take notes for his own shaving routine.

“Yessss,” Harry’s letters blurred on the edge of parseltongue, something the other boy usually only did when angry… and horny, Ron supposed. “Cup them in your hand, yeah, just like that, roll them lightly with your thumb. Perfect, Ron, you're doing perfect, so good for me. Good boy.”

Ron’s brain glitched as Harry kept speaking his praises. Ohhh, Ron wanted to be a good boy desperately. Huh. There was gonna be lots to talk about after this.

Ron felt like the moment was drawing nearer. He had no excuses. Harry was offering himself up for the taking. Ron was gonna please him (hopefully he wouldn’t fail spectacularly).

Taking a deep breath, Ron brought his right fist down to the base of Harry’s dick, holding it steady. His left hand continued to softly massage Harry’s balls, making sure that he didn’t squeeze too tightly. Lowering his head, Ron aligned his mouth with his target.

Harry’s hand rested gently against the edge of Ron’s face, thumb and fingers absent-mindedly scratching the back of Ron’s scalp.

“You are doing so good for me, Ron. Think you can take it in your pretty little mouth?” Harry asked, the boy’s voice having gone hoarse, his hips still thrusting assuredly into Ron’s grasp.

Rather than words, Ron shook his head enthusiastically, conveying his consuming desire.

“Good boy,” Harry stated simply before reaching his left hand up to join the right in Ron’s hair and guiding Ron’s head down onto his dick. “Take my cock into that hot mouth of yourssss.”

Ron felt a tingle start at the fingers in his hair and work there way down his body, buzzing along his skin like a thunderbird feather was brushing against him. The praise, the affection, the tenderness, Ron wanted… He wanted to make this count! He wanted Harry to know how much he was cherished.

Wrapping lips lightly around the tip of Harry’s cock Ron felt so…  fulfilled. He knew that Harry was restraining himself, and that thought alone made things so much more comfortable. Harry was trying to make this as pleasurable an experience as possible, and Ron was so thankful for the opportunity. But now he wanted to see what would happen if Harry’s boundaries were tested.

Without a conscious thought, Ron felt as his tale sprang forth from his body in response to his desire. It wagged lightly in the air before getting in on the action by wrapping around Harry’s wrist near Ron’s face. He seemed to have liked that earlier at dinner.

Ron concentrated on the weight against his lips. The tip of his tongue played lightly with the urethra, flicking at it gently. Ron wasn’t sure if it was all that sensitive a location, but he figured he could judge his progress by the salty, bitter flavor of Harry’s precum. 

Ron tentatively suckled, lips sealed on the crown of Harry’s cock. He didn’t dare increase his suction for fear of teeth getting in the way. He remembered Lily Moon from their school year and her Muggle braces… He still cringed away from the memory of bite marks and scraped on scabs.

“There you go, that’s it,” Harry’s hand wrapped lightly around Ron’s tail and rhythmically rubbed at its tip. Ron didn’t realize how good that would feel until this moment. “Don’t take too much. Start small and use your hand on whatever won't fit.”

Following the advice, Ron worked his hand gently on the shaft. When it got close to his lips, Ron didn’t quite know how to work the two components together. Fumbling for a second, Ron felt like slapping himself. Merlin’s sakes, it's not alchemy, Ron chastised internally. Using the momentum of his fist, Ron allowed his lips to slide off the head slightly as his fingers rushed near the tip, before dropping his mouth back down around his prize with the broad part of his tongue fanning out along the bottom of the shaft, massaging the stiff rod.

Harry was in heaven. It wasn’t even close to his best blow job, but the combination of things was sending him into a horny spiral. Ron was sucking his dick, his very first dick, and it was Harry’s! Harry had to restrain the urge to shove Ron down; that was for a later time, and there was gonna bloody well be a repeat performance if Harry had any say about it. Instead, he lightly thrust into both Ron’s fist and mouth, making sure that he didn’t go too far.

Ron continued his ministrations, with each downstroke, he attempted to take a bit more of Harry’s shaft. He was maybe at the halfway point when Ron first gagged, the angle hitting his uvula. Ron launched his head off as he coughed lightly, embarrassment making its way down his spine as his eyes watered lightly.

“SO beautiful,” Harry murmured as his hand slid from Ron’s hair down to brush away the tears trailing down the corner of Ron’s eye. The drool at the corner of his lips made Harry inordinately pleased. “You are doing so well. In fact… How about we get onto your reward, hmm?”

Harry’s eyes practically sparkled. Literally. Ron swore that they were fucking glittering with magic, and heat, and intensity, and fuck, Ron was so ready. His head buzzed with a powerful need.

Harry yanked on Ron’s tail with a pressure that had the ginger boy arching his back. Harry would be experimenting with that, but not now. With a concentration Harry was shocked to possess in his compromised state, he focused on the planes and curves of Ron’s body before pushing out a bit of wandless wordless magic. Ron gasped as he floated up off the bed and turned in the air. Harry put extra care into the landing, angling Ron by way of his tail so that the lengthy boy’s body would line up exactly where he wanted it. 

Ron realized what was happening and had to choke down on the drool that flooded his mouth. As he fell down to the bed, straddling Harry’s head, he jumped forward without prompting and got back to work on Harry’s dick, sucking as he had before, lapping with his tongue, and working the meaty length in his fist, luxuriating in the velvety skin and toned muscles underneath his abdomen.

Harry started his own campaign to conquer Ron’s body as he engulfed Ron’s member and completed the sixty-nine position. Yanking on Ron’s tail, Harry controlled the lower half of the boy’s body, getting the creamy thighs to slowly thrust into his mouth in and out, in and out at Harry’s measured tempo. Harry’s other hand kneaded into the flesh of Ron’s ass cheek. He desperately wanted to spank it, but given where Ron’s dick was currently located, Harry declined the action that would have ended in him being choked out.

Instead, Harry worked his fingers into the flesh, massaging the muscles splayed out over his head. He ran his hand up to where tail met spine and then back with the tips of his fingers gracing the edge of Ron’s crack, making the other boy tense momentarily before he relaxed on Harry’s dick.

Harry smirked as an idea came to him. Letting his snakes materialize out of his hair, Harry concentrated on what he wanted, and they obeyed just as his limbs would. His inner alpha seemed to hiss at the idea. Harry relished the new sensation of freedom that came with shedding some of his control.

Ron was doing his best to bring Harry to the edge. He was still stuck at the halfway point of Harry’s cock, but he knew he could get him off with that if he found a way…

Experimentally, Ron wrapped his lips around the sharpness of his teeth and went back down Harry’s dick until he met his fist. With half his brain having left his body, what little focus he had left went to making sure he could complete his new tactic. Increasing his suction in a way he hadn’t achieved before, Ron was rewarded by a small burst of precum. Oh, he was close. Ron wasn’t sure that he enjoyed the flavor, but fuck if it wasn’t hot to think about how he wanted this to end.

Sucking as much as he dared, Ron was momentarily startled by a slithering along his legs. And then even more shocked by the way he felt the tendrils slip around and spread his cheeks.

Harry was sucking him like a fucking champ. He was the best that Ron had ever had, by a considerable margin. The feeling of tongue brushing against the freckles at the base of Ron’s dick, and the way Harry’s hand yanked on his tail, his second hand kneading into Ron’s butt. And-

Oh Mordred’s tight cunt… Ron felt as some of Harry’s serpents, that’s what they must have been, teased at his bollocks while another few licked at his taint, and a solo snake-

Wait, that was his ass! 

Harry was so proud of himself and his ingenious ideas. Ron had tensed all over, but that didn’t matter. The way his cock throbbed, Harry knew the boy was close. And his ace in the hole (pun intended) would be the tipping point. Harry felt his snake strands like he would feel a finger as his serpent slipped its long, skinny tongue into Ron’s asshole; he was so thankful for cleaning charms.

The tongue flicked around the tensing walls and was the precursor for the narrow snout that slid into Ron’s tight rim, regardless of resistance. Harry was fucking Ron’s ass with his snake hair, and it felt perfect. And then Ron was cumming. 

Hot long ropes of spunk slid down Harry’s throat. Harry swallowed them diligently while keeping his face buried deep into Ron’s bush and balls. Not a drop of jizz would escape if Harry could help it.

Ron collapsed from the sensations, his body luckily falling to Harry’s side. Harry released his hold on the globe of Ron’s ass and took the base of his own dick in hand. Lining back up with Ron’s mouth where he had slipped out, Harry made light, shallow thrusts, just a few inches in between Ron’s lips. Ron’s blue eyes stared on dreamily as he suckled lightly, mind far off as satisfaction coursed through his body. 

The buildup and atmosphere were enough to have Harry right on the edge. The pleasure precipice was a short moment. It didn’t take more than that for Harry to feel his orgasm tipping over the scale. Not having had permission to go inside, Harry pulled out and let his release shoot where it may with drops splattering across the side of Ron’s body that sat above Harry and down his own legs where globules were stuck in his black leg hair. It was perfection, the surge of power as Harry marked Ron the only way he was currently allowed. The jolts of pleasure and satisfaction rushed through Harry's body and mind. 

It was so much, it was so right. Slurping down Ron’s cum while he jizzed across the same boy’s body, marking him in a way that made Harry want to purr in pleasure. He had never had a territorial kink, but that was apparently changing. 

Breathing heavily, Harry let Ron’s softening member slip from his mouth. The ginger’s penis twitched lightly but otherwise continued to deflate. Ron finally rolled off of Harry, careful enough not to smash the shorter boy.

Harry felt the bliss wash over his thoughts in the aftershocks. This felt so right, perfect. Harry might have been secretly lusting after the bachelors in the Weasley household, but he had never thought he might actually secure one of them. And now, tentatively, Harry thought he had.

“Bloody hell, Harry…” Ron mumbled half out of it. “Will you be my boyfriend?” Ron's words were called out sleepily, his eyes now shut against the light of Harry’s wand, where his Lumos was still going strong. How fucking cute was that?

“I better be,” Harry muttered as he waved his hand with a silent scourgify, following that scoured the traces of debauchery from their bodies. The soapy scouring sensation was uncomfortable for a small moment before the feeling ceased, leaving the two boys ready for the day ahead of them. “I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“Fuck yeah…” Ron’s words pittered out as he finally seemed to succumb to sleep.

Grabbing his wand and flicking his Lumos out as the wand disappeared into its holster, Harry was content to fall into slumber with Ron’s dick still pointing in his face and Ron’s arm wrapped around Harry’s legs. Harry knew that he would sleep well, even with Ron’s snores. He had a boyfriend now.

Chapter Text

“You little slimy traitor!”

Harry’s eyes flew open abruptly as yelling broke through his sleep. What the bloody fuck was going on?!

Bill stood at the end of the bed, arms gesticulating wildly while Ron matched him defiantly, kneeling on the bed, Harry next to him. What the..?

Oh. Ohhhh. Harry remembered the night before vividly now that the last remnants of dreams left his brain. He had slept with Ron. He had a boyfriend now. And... he was butt naked with Ron’s older brother in the room (who he also lusted after). 

No one seemed to mind the nudity, judging by the way Ron made no move to cover his own birthday suit. Harry had to wonder what wizarding brothers considered improper or vulgar, but the thoughts quickly flew from his head as he tuned back into the conversation.

“-after all the work I did last night, and you came in and stole him!” Bill scathed angrily, his head jerking so harshly that his dangling earring got caught in his long, flowing crimson hair.

“Piss off! We agreed that all of us could have a shot without interference!” Ron shot back with… Well, it wasn’t strictly anger, Harry wouldn’t say that it could be only that what with the smug smile on Ron’s face, making him look like a Niffler who had just stumbled upon a dragon’s treasure trove.

“And you don’t call cock snatching interference?” Bill shouted louder now with his eyes burning like blue fire as they grew brighter. Harry wondered what he saw in the room with his magical sight.

Quicker than Harry would have thought possible, Bill had a wand in his hand. Uh oh…

Ron was wrapped up in bindings as he tried to spring from the enlarged bed to find his own wand. Limbs pinned to his body and a snarl on his lips, the boy looked like a rather ferocious cocoon with the layers of rope overlapping tightly. 

“You leave me no choice but to convene with the counsel!” Bill muttered angrily.

“Do I get an explanation for this, or are you both just gonna leave me in the dark on this one?” Harry let out the question with a great amount of exasperation. He knew well of the squabbles between the Weasley children and had no desire to insert himself in the confusing feud. Harry rolled from the bed and fumbled for his clothes while keeping an eye on Ron as he levitated off the bed with a flick of Bill’s wand.

“Good morning, Harry,” Bill said in a tone that was void of any anger he had previously displayed. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Breakfast is ready downstairs if you are up to it. Help yourself, it’s a free-for-all this morning.”

“Thanks, Bill. Any chance you know when I am gonna get Ron back, we need to have a… conversation to hash out some details,” Harry tried to remain unbothered as Bill’s penetrating blue gaze now swung onto him from Ron. The older man’s eyes were glowing brightly, a light electric crackle emphasizing the curse breaker’s power. Harry could stare into those eyes for hours on end - But no. That wasn’t right. He was dating Ron now; he had to get over himself. It didn’t help the way Harry felt Bill’s gaze scan over the still naked parts of his body. He felt a pleasant buzz along his exposed skin wherever wandering pupils gazed. Thankfully, Harry had pulled on his pants and trousers already.

“You might see him again tomorrow-” Bill stated casually, broken off by Ron’s protests. A quick silencing spell was Bill’s solution. The oldest Weasley boy gave a shrug as if to say, ‘What can you do?’ Harry was slightly disappointed but ultimately accepted that family matters were important. “Hey, Harry… What do you say to some training later this afternoon? That way you can show me just how you got so fit, hmm?” Bill never failed to give off a nonchalant coolness that had Harry's insides purring. What he would do to that man... 

Harry tried to stay relaxed, but it was for naught as a blush spread over his face that he hoped wasn’t dark enough to show. “Sounds great, Bill! And honestly, I’m nothing but a string bean compared to you and Charlie.” Why did I just say that? That definitely sounded like flirting. He was (sort of) taken! Harry wished he could cast a silencing charm on himself.

“We will see about that,” Bill smirked, and oh, that did something for Harry. “Three work?”

“Perfect!” Harry managed to spew out before throwing his shirt on, uncaring if he buttoned up or not. Harry skittered from the room like he had a fiery ashwinder after him. But even as he scrambled in his new attic room for fresh clothes, Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. 

He had a brand new home and a boyfriend. He was doing pretty good, even with the day’s rocky start. Nothing could ruin Harry’s mood.

_______________________

“GUILTY!” Fred screamed at the top of his lungs as he lunged at the chair where Ron sat, starkers and tied up. George, having some sense in him, held onto the back of his twin's shirt and kept him from going full-on combat mode. Both sets of light lime and bubblegum wings sprouted up as they bickered back and forth between each other, George arguing for justice while Fred looked for revenge.

“I should have taken my chance-” Bill lamented from his spot leaning against a tree, head tilted back and hair blowing in a light breeze.

Charlie growled lowly in the back of his throat, on all fours with his paws out, circling the group.

“I didn’t break any rules!” Ron shouted out in his defense.

Percy couldn’t concentrate over the noise. Slamming his wand down onto the ground next to where he sat, the clearing filled with the noise of a courtroom gavel that continued until everyone grew silent.

All eyes were on the third-oldest Weasley child. Percy knew what had to happen. “Enough squabbling. Seeing as none of you are fit to continue, I have taken it upon myself to pass judgment.” They had all scurried off to their usual clearing in the marshy woods behind the Burrow. The large island was surrounded by swampy ground, twisted vines, and sharp-bladed grass. This lone stretch of elevated earth had served as their meeting spot away from the eyes of their parents, where sibling matters had been dealt with for years. Ginny hadn’t been necessary for this particular meeting to convene. Naturally, Percy considered himself perfect for the role of mediator and de facto leader, what with his particular tact for diplomacy and upholding fairness.

All held their breaths as Percy stared at each of his brothers' brown and blue eyes. Percy nodded decisively at each of the,m making sure they felt like their inputs had been taken into consideration. “Ron? You were a little skank," Percy ignored the snickers at his swearing. Ron had been a trollop and deserved at least a bit of scorn. "-and you capitalized on Bill’s efforts to wind Harry up-” at the start of what was sure to be Ron’s protest, Percy glared. He would have respect. The only way this group functioned at the moment was by the sheer fact that Percy was able to be reasonable and unbiased. “-Additionally, you went forward without having had the appropriate conversations with Harry and laid the start of a claim.”

“I only asked if he wanted to be my boyfriend!”

It seemed that Ron wasn’t repentant of his betrayal. “Charlie? Sting him.”

The wolf-eared boy perked up, eyes zeroing in on Ron’s arm. “With pleasure!” Charlie darted towards Ron, stinger jutting from his palm. Charlie quickly pricked Ron’s bicep, his venom deposited directly into meaty flesh.

“OUCH! Bloody fuck thattt… hur… hurtt,” Ron’s words trailed off as quickly as the paralyzing effect took over.

“How long will that dose last?” Percy asked, knowing that Charlie could have someone out of it for a couple of minutes, all the way up to a few days.

“An hour, give or take ten minutes,” Charlie muttered, not looking pleased with the light punishment.

“Good enough,” Percy muttered absentmindedly as he took in his nude, restrained brother. “You did this to yourself, Ron. Now then, you will be blocked from alone time with Harry for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. You will be unable to sit directly next to him during this time. Additionally, I am putting a chastity spell on you that will last for one week.”

Looking around, Percy could only shien a small deranged smile at the cringes coming from his brothers. Bill was the only one who had a shot at unwinding a normal chastity spell, though his specialty really lies in warding and not contractual bindings and curses. Unluckily for Ron, Percy wasn’t going to be using anything typical.

With a swish and flick of his wand, Percy carved out several runes into the air and quickly wrote out the letter of the contract for the spell. Ron wouldn’t be able to use his penis for anything more than urination. Additionally, a subtle reinforcement was woven in delicately so that no one would try and stimulate Ron regardless of his permanent flaccidity. A numbing sensation was placed over Ron’s nipples, perineum, anus, lips, and prostate. The final piece was a clever spell Percy had read about, used by witches in the eleven hundreds. At the time, the winners of Wizard Gauntlets would receive a kiss from their pick of people in the audience. In defense, a clever spell was developed that made a person's lips curl into the gums, disappearing completely, and the breath of the person was an extreme libido deterrent with an aroma of spoilage and excrement. It also caused the tongue to turn blue, but that wasn’t particularly important. Ron's indigo tongue would hardly be noticed after all.

Finally, Percy basked in the praise as his siblings begrudginly complimented him on his work. As they should. That wasn't exactly a beginner-level chastity binding contract.

“It is done. You got off lightly, Ronald. I suppose congratulations are in order for last night,” Percy wasn’t the most upset by this development. He just had to make sure that an example was made to prevent anyone from interfering with his own plans. Percy subtly let his thoughts drift towards visions of Harry basking in sunlight. Snakes writhing around his head, fangs on display, clothes discarded… The boy's bronze skin would look lively, reflecting the rays of light. Perhaps a small smattering of picnic foods and a bottle of something nice would fit into the vision.

“I call dibs on Harry’s left-hand chair at dinner!” Fred suddenly shouted. 

Clearly, Percy had to tune back into the conversation. He had a position to defend now that the others recognized his underhanded tactics. 

Caught up in debate, no one noticed Bill slipping away.

Chapter Text

Harry had spent the day with the house mysteriously empty. Ginny was visiting Luna, Molly had gone out to complete errands, Arthur had an emergency office visit, and not a single one of the Weasley boys was anywhere to be found in the house. This last fact was the most mind-boggling. Usually, someone was home.

Sure, Bill and Charlie had work, but what of the others? The twins' shop, which Harry was so happy to have invested in, was mail order only, and could be run smoothly from the second shed that they had constructed as a laboratory. Unless they had gone to visit a friend, Harry had no idea where they were hiding. 

Percy had his mastery, but he was looking forward to starting up his Wizengamot policy internship at the Ministry. However that wasn’t supposed to start for another few months. Ron was similarly unemployed and certainly hadn’t expressed any plans for the week. Harry guessed that whatever had happened this morning had something to do with his new boyfriend’s disappearance.

Wasn’t that a bewildering thought? He had a boyfriend! His very first committed relationship. Blaise had been a shocking surprise to find at Hogwarts. Harry had thought he would be forced into the role of a sadly single gay celebrity. Not having presented meant that the majority of people held themselves back from pursuing a relationship with the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’. That, and the fame chasers, were certainly not what Harry was looking for. Thinking about his boyfriend, Harry cringed - he had to admit that Ron was at least somewhat of a glory hound, but nowhere near as bad as someone like Lockhart.

Without anyone to keep him occupied, Harry decided to get his correspondence out of the way, letting his penpals and friends know of his change in address. Hedwig was still incensed that he had the gall to send a letter out with Errol, the Weasley family owl. But in his defense, she would truly be overworked today. His morning was thus consumed with writing and placating sassy birds.

After a light lunch, Harry was settling into his latest practice of wandless magic. He now understood that what he was capable of was extremely unusual. Other students had bragged about their wandless abilities and so Harry had thought nothing of his own skills. He should have realized people like Anthony Goldstein and Draco Malfoy were just braggarts with inferiority complexes spurring on their words. Since the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had made an effort to hone his skills, learning to rely less on his wand and more on the instinctual flow of his core magic. It was tough work and extremely difficult considering the majority of his exams mandated wand work as part of the grading schema. But without NEWTs looming over his shoulder and no jealous stares, Harry could practice in peace. He had already surpassed the abilities of Hermione and Percy, which he secretly gloated over. Not being tethered to his wand would mean more versatility in any dangerous or unprecedented situations.

Ron had finally started to put in the same effort under the tutelage of Hermione, while Harry had his own sessions with Percy. Harry had honestly thought that they would have gotten together at this point. Not that Hermione didn’t have a shot, still with many a polyamorous love triangle existing in the wizarding world. It was just that Harry was unequivocally gay and not interested in someone he largely saw as a sister. Additionally, Ron had sorely shot down any chance of a budding relationship when he had shagged Lavender Brown in Hermione’s bed last year. How he had managed to earn her forgiveness, Harry would never know. That line of thought distracted Harry now as he tried to focus on his wandless wordless banishing charm. He needed to be sure that he didn’t lose another pair of shoes. Harry hadn’t been able to find his ratty trainers from the day before; they were seemingly lost to the void. Harry couldn’t be bothered by the disappearance; one less thing to remind him of the Dursleys.

With the foundations of his charm underway, Harry sat back in his chair, gazing intently at the red ball he had been practicing with. Would Ron expect another partner in the future? They would need an omega or female partner if they wanted children. At the thought of sharing Ron with a women, Harry shivered. He would prefer partners whom he could also have relations if they were going to add more to their budding relationship.

Harry flushed suddenly as he thought about his many fantasies that had included partners Ron certainly wouldn’t agree to. Such as all five of his best friends’ brothers. 

Groaning, Harry tossed his head back into the cushion of the bright orange armchair, a crochet rainbow doily digging into the side of his head. Molly had made the Burrow homey and lived in. That didn’t mean she had good taste. Harry had originally come across the thought after seeing the dress robes that she had picked out for him for the Yule Ball all those years ago. The bottle green might have accented his skin and brought out his eyes. The scarlet red and purple striped lining though…

The slam of the front door had Harry perking up. Taking a gander at the magical clock, Harry scanned the hand,s seeing two on the ‘Home’ location, himself and Bill. Harry had been added to the clock years ago on one of the few Christmases when the headmaster had acquiesced on Harry’s release to the Weasleys. 

Just as he stood, Bill came into the room, a large smile planted on his face. Harry found himself stuck somewhere between a swoon and possessive growl. Ultimately, he could only smile back, ready to get on with whatever Bill’s plans were. Following Bill out of the house Haryr got distracted in the views surrounding the Burrow. The house was on the edge of grassy meadows interspersed with copses of trees. In the back of the house, tucked away behind unorderly garden beds and gnome holes, was the swampy lands fueled by a constantly babbling stream.

Bill had said something about wanting to test Harry’s training, of the physical variety, it would seem. Harry mentally blushed at how he had admitted to Bill having a muscular physique. Guys compliment each other’s muscles all the time, right? Right?

“Here should be good,” Bill’s voice full of cheer as they stopped in the middle of the Weasley’s half Quidditch pitch on the edge of marsh. The grass had been freshly cut and the banged up hoops were straightened. Unfortunately, it looked like rising water from the marsh had risen enough to start encroaching on the hoops towards the back of the field.

“Percy was bragging about your progress this past year,” Bill looked at Harry intently now, eyes glowing as they tried to pick the raven-haired boy apart. “I wanted to get my own turn in. If you can get Percy on his ass in ten seconds, how long do you think it will take for you to have me laid out?” Bill wondered aloud as he continued to watch Harry, deeply interested.

Harry choked back on the sputtering he knew would happen if he tried to speak. The images that popped into his head… He needed to get over his embarrassment at some point. It was just hard when the imagery and words made Harry feel like he was going to get hard.

Bill whistled a jaunty tune as he flicked his wand out and took a bow; he wasn’t concerned by Harry’s lack of response. He hoped that his words had the desired effect, but it was sometimes hard to tell when the boy was clumsily stumbling over himself. It was unbearably cute.

Harry bowed back quickly before stumbling ten paces back. Harry sent a mental curse at his traitorous feet, swath, and cool Bill wasn’t tripping over himself.

As Harry turned back around, he tried to take a deep breath. They hadn’t discussed rules or what exactly they were doing, but the bowing indicated a duel of some kind. The informality meant that anything could be happening, and Harry just had to go along with the older man’s plans.

“On three?” Bill hollered from the opposite side of the pitch.

“Sure!” Harry shouted back. “One! Two! Thr-” 

As the last syllables formed on Harry’s lips, already Bill was casting. A swirling flock of glowing blue birds flew from the curse breaker's wand. Harry quickly dispelled the flock with a lightning weave spell that zapped through the birds, forming an intricate fractal pattern that Harry then pushed towards Bill. The older boy had already cast a second spell that was stopped as it met the electric web, both spells exploding in a large burst of light, bits of blue feathers and glitter flying remnants and leftover debris.

And so it went, back and forth, spell for spell. Harry had held back from disarming the older Weasley; he was having too much fun to stop. Plus, he had no intention of embarrassing Bill. The air was charged with power as Harry caculated each of his spells, putting thought into their useage. He would not incapacitate or harm Bill, nor did he seek to damage the surrounding area. Quidditch was sacred. Yet still Harry's teeth ached with each channeling of power that he withheld, his spells purposefully tamed.

Finally as Harry blasted through a wall of thorny pink roses dripping with saccharine nectar, Harry decided to end things as Bill was in no shape to counter the predictable expelliarmus Harry let off. The man who had been panting while trying to construct a ward admitted defeat as he crashed to the ground on his knees, hands in the air.

Breathing rather deeply himself, Harry lowered his own wand. Smiling at the silent approval he could see in Bill’s face Harry wondered how the tall man could pull off the disheveled look so effotlessly. It was the way the corners of the older boy’s eyes crinkled, the upturn at the corner of pink lips, a rosy flush, and a… tongue licking lips? He must need lip balm, that must be it. Harry desperately hoped that the redhead didn’t catch onto any of the vulgar thoughts Harry had coursing through his mind. Who would have thought that putting handsome, roguish red heads on their knees would be such a turn on?

Bill tucked the hair that had escaped his bun behind an ear, pieces still sticking to his face due to a thick layer of sweat that had accumulated. Judging by the dampness along his back and pits, Harry was similarly dank. They had gone at it for fifteen minutes, a typical warm-up period.

“Well, you didn’t quite put me on my back, now did you?” Bill’s face morphed into a smirk as he slowly stood up, popping his back as he stretched to loosen sore muscles. “What I want to know is, why are you holding back?” Now the smirk transformed into an intense expression Harry could never hope to interpret.

“What do you mean?” Harry deflected, scratching the back of his head lightly and pulling on a few wet strands from the back of his neck. 

“Bull shite. You were pulling your punches, and we both know it,” Bill didn’t snarl, but it was close to it. A calculating gleam appeared as the glow built in Bill’s eyes. Before Harry could respond, Bill’s hand snapped up, wordlessly summoning his wand. In the next second, a blast of silver flames shot towards Harry.

What was his deal?! Harry internally hissed as he dodged out of the way, countering with a torrent of water swirling into aquatic serpents that battered against the slowly building tornado of fire.

“Don’t hold back!” Bill yelled out as he ripped the shirt from his back. Large butterfly wings popped out, followed by osicones on the curse breaker's head. Bill took to the air quickly, supported by magical flight and the sheer size of his wings, able to catch the barest breeze.

A large slab of viscous sticky green goop dripped from Bill’s wand as he looped around the pitch. He seemed very confident in his abilities to avoid his own freaking fire tornado! Finally, with the last stab of his wand, Harry's water serpents were able to engulf the flames. With a succinct flick of his han,d the remnants of the water beasts charged into the air after Bill. 

Unfortunately for Harry, Bill was intelligent. The redhead chose to take the hit with the only protection being a standard shield charm. His sacrifice meant that he was able to electrocute the water… which was flowing from Harry’s wand.

Harry felt the shock zap through his entire body before he canceled the spell. His eyebrows were definitely singed. The arcs of energy had done more than burn hair, though. Where the spell had touched, Harry gazed in annoyance at smoking flesh, charred and enflamed. Bill had used an actually dangerous spell. Potentially lethal. What. The. Fuck.

Harry snarled slightly as he was snapped out of his stupor by a piercing sensation in his calf. Embedded through his leg was a thick spear of ice. The blood flow was only stymied by the fact that his leg was being frozen, with frost creeping off of the unnaturally cold weapon.

Harry felt a burnt eyebrow twitch as pain wracked through his body. Bill was going to regret this.

Shooting a blasting curse at the goal post, Harry sent the shrapnel of wood flying toward Bill. A following curse made sure that the wood took on partial sentience and would stay on an offensive flight trajectory. Even the smallest of splinters would take aim.

Harry fired off a counter charm at his leg until the frost crumbled away and the icicle melted. A quick compression and bandaging spell would have to do. 

Harry ran forward, having the forethought to hop over whatever the green slime was, which now bubbled menacingly on the groun,d looking like one of Fred and George’s failed experiments. 

Bill cursed and yelped silently in the background. That’s what you get, Harry let the dark thought fester as he snapped a spell at his smoking skin, applying burn paste from its location in the Weasley medicine cabinet. Good thing Molly kept that supply up to date.

Suddenly, sheets of rock jutted from the ground parallel to each other with Harry in the middle. Looking up, Harry saw that Bill had managed to dispel the wood shrapnel. Taking his eyes off the stone was a mistake as the rock came rushing at Harry with the intent to smash.

Using a massive amount of instinctual magic, Harry halted the stone’s movement before lifting them from the ground. Almost like a giant fly swatter. Harry sent the first stone Bill’s way. He didn’t condone smashing butterflies, but some bugs were pesky.

With the second stone, Harry subtly began carving the rock into a desired form. A notch here, a gouge there, a crack, split, and pop. The rock slab morphed into a rudimentary statue in the shape of a moth because Harry wasn’t feeling very creative at the moment. Launching the moth into the air after Bill, Harry allowed himself a moment of respite.

An explosion of dust in the air meant that Harry’s moment was short-lived.

“I said DON’T HOLD BACK,” Bill’s amplified voice shook in the air as vibrations echoed in the distance.

A funnel of gravel and dust blasted at Harry, consuming the surrounding area in a cloak of debris. Harry had but a moment to summon up a bubble of air to protect his lungs. A shield spell was added to defend against the onslaught of rocks, which ricocheted off each other, battering against Harry’s reinforced dome.

A chink in the shield had a stray rock hitting Harry in the middle of his forehead directly over his scar. Harry wasn’t known for his cool composure. He was able to withstand Ron’s moody periods for about as long as the average person would tolerate. He had finally curbed his hatred enough with Draco not to snap at the boy like he used to. Harry liked Bill enough and had never had an argument with the older Weasley. With a stab wound in his calf, lichtenberg fractals across the span of his body, and a bleeding scar, Harry saw red.

Growling low in his throat, Harry sprang into the air, unaware of when his features had come out. With wings spread wide, Harry soared out of the dust cloud, knocking away stray pebbles with his flighted appendages and the flick of his clawed fingers. He ascended with the grace of an owl, determined and menacing. Almost as if he had used a locator spell, Harry’s eyes instantly narrowed on Bill. The redhead’s face smiled momentarily before reverting back to his serious expression.

Not wanting to continue this madness, Harry hissed loudl,y speaking in the language of serpents with his hair joining in the spell. Harry brought his wand up and pointed it at the target. Twisting his arms senuosly like the coils of a snake, Harry felt his magic flare dangerously before the ground shook below.

Bill fired off spell after spell, whizzes of amber bubbles, spurts of crimson fluid, and jerking zaps of more suspicious green gunk, but Harry was faster, dodging all that came his direction as he continued his chant.

Finally bringing his hand down to rest, Harry watched with determination as Bill looked around, confused. A loud boom was followed by a dark shadow appearing in the dust motes below. Moving in starling jerks on the ground, Bill narrowed his eyes in on the shadow immediately assessing its magical potential and not liking his odds.

Without warning, the menacing figure erupted from its cover, the hungry maw of a giant serpent snapping open as it funneled its massive figure from the ground. Its body was composed of a union between earth and darkness, accentuated by the glowing green eyes that matched a certain parseltongued boy.

Bill could only close his eyes in resignation as he was swallowed whole, unable to dodge the speedy viper.

Chapter Text

Coming to the waking world in a blur, Bill felt as if his lungs had been stuffed with time-turner sand. An age-old ache and pressure that had been compounded upon for hundreds of thousands of years had Bill groaning, a massive pressure seeming to have built up in his respiratory organs. It felt like a horrible case of a withering wizard's cough, and that wasn’t thrown off the table as Bill heaved up a sticky black substance that looked to be rich garden soil. He would very much take blurred reality over the weird twist of pain at this point.

Taking in the area was difficult as a jolt of pain shot through his skull, head only supported by a pillow of dirt. Lovely. Cracking an eye back open, Bill saw double. Gazing at the weight on his lap, Bill found his methods worth it, for they had brought the sweetest of conciliatory prizes.

“You were still holding back,” Bill managed to choke out over the dirt that still felt trapped in his throat. 

“You. Fucking. JACKASS!” Harry hissed from his position straddling Bill’s legs. His wand had been busy casting the necessary repair spells to put the fields back to rights. His knowledge of horticultural charms was limited, so rather than grass, the half-Quiddith pitch now had a clay field. On the bright side, Bill had been passed out long enough for Harry to form a sort of mote to help stave off the rising marsh water. It was the only thing he could do to keep his mind off the infuriating man underneath him. "Nincompoop, moron, baffoon-" 

Bill had the audacity to laugh. Laugh at Harry’s frustrations. “It worked, didn’t it?” The smug man coughed again now. With a groan, the redhead brought his hands up to his head to cradle what was sure to be a killer headache. 

“Quiet! You will just make the pain worse,” Harry did see the irony in shouting at the boy for being to loud. He just couldn’t be bothered to hold back. “I’m shite at healing spells, you will be lucky if we don’t need a visit to Mungos after this…” Harry fished out what looked like a blessed pain number, which Bill snatched and swallowed down, not caring where Harry had gotten it as his aches eased.

“Ughhhh. Clearly, you haven’t relaxed enough,” Bill lamented, pinching his brow now for a different reason, dispelling the potion vile with a bit of wandless magic. "You just had to be difficult..."

Harry still had his inherited features out. Bill could still work with this. The boy sat with his nest of venomous serpents hissing agitately. Bill knew that they were under the control of Harry, but he still wondered if their noises meant anything in the language of serpents. Greens, blacks, and bronzes shimmered against Harry’s skin, a beautiful specimen if Bill had ever seen one. The scent of warm cinnamon mixed with fresh caramel, it was weirdly combined with a musk that was somewhere between reptile and man. Bill’s nose flared unconsciously at the undeniably tantalizing pheromones wafting off the bespecalled boy. He seemed ignorant of his own allure and definitely had very little control of his instincts, judging by the way he sporadically released his fragrance. Unfortunately for all parties currently invested in Harry, the boy’s nose seemed not to be worth shit. Harry could smell the normal range of odors, but was nose blind to pheromones.

It was a common misconception that beta’s lacked the coveted scent glands. They didn’t have submissive or dominant pheromones, but that didn’t mean they were deficient in standard wizarding biology.

Harry flicked his tongue out to wet chapped lips, a move that may have been seductive if it wasn’t for the small grimace that crossed the boy’s face when he ran into a dirty cut. In a moment of ingenuity, Bill thought about how snakes scented the air with their tongues. It was worth a shot, right? 

“What was the point of this Bill?” Harry finally mumbled out as he leaned back, trying to regain his composure. He was close to snapping again at the older man and didn’t want to devolve further into the anger that simmered in the back of his mind. Harry adamantly ignored the other part of his subconscious that whispered thoughts on how good it was to have the butterfly man underneath him.

“The point was. LET GO!” Bill regretted the volume as a mild pain shot through his head and the effects of the potion, but he ignored it as he reached his arms out around Harry’s head, intertwining fingers between shockingly non-combatant snakey coils.

Without giving his captive time to react, Bill brought Harry’s face down directly to the exposed juncture of Bill’s throat where shoulder met neck and scent glands lay underneath the dermis. He was so thankful that he had the foresight to remove his shirt before the duel. “Lick,” Bill ordered as he wrapped his much larger wings around the smaller man. Unlike a regular butterfly, Bill was capable of bending and contorting his wings in all manner of forms. Cradling the quasi-gorgon close, Bill waited with baited breath.

Harry felt like his heart was gonna beat out of his chest. “What… What was the point of this Bill?” Harry breathily questioned, desperate for a more thorough answer. His head was nestled against Bill’s skin, a naked chest underneath, up closer, Harry realized that both of Bill’s nipples were pierced. Merlin, Harry wanted to suck on the small metal beads that adorned the boy’s pecs. Harry had been right in his earlier approximations. Bill may not have been shredded, but his body was well-toned, not harsh from rigorous training, but instead the figure one achieves when their occupation demands physicality.

“Why don’t you find out?” Bill responded while tightening his wings around Harry, further cementing the boy to his body. Harry had no choice but to tuck his arms so that they framed Bill’s torso rather than lying on them. Removing one more barrier between their bodies. He was now chest to chest with the older man, legs still wrapped around the boy’s lap, forcing their crotches together. Harry felt a slight bulge against his own straining trousers. “Lick it, Harry.”

Gasping, Harry tried to reel in the way the words caused an eruption of blood into his quickly growing boner. With no control left in his body, Harry brought his tongue out between his lips. Using the flat of his tongue, Harry lapped from collarbone to jugular, lapping at Bill’s exposed skin, feeling the warmth underneath and the flavor-

The FLAVOR. Harry had not tasted a more scrumptious morsel. This was better than any treacle tart, pie, pudding, or cake.

Harry couldn’t stop the low growl from forming in his throat. Even if he was aware of the sounds he made, he wouldn’t have cared as he lapped at the decadent reward. He had never been allowed to explore Blaise’s body like this, and last night with Ron Harry had stuck to chaste kisses against the ginger’s skin. 

This sweet sweet nectar… Harry lapped his tongue against Bill’s neck now, the flavor of sweat present, yes, but beside that was pomegranate, rich chocolate, and a faint smoky depth. A delightful fragrance accompanied the flavor, with the odorant seeming to travel from Harry’s tongue to his nose, and from there the smell fulfilled his olfactory desires. It was a peculiar cocktail of warm papers, a tart fruit that must have been the pomegranates he was tasting, and a strangely zappy scent that had Harry wanting to explore more.

“Fuck yes,” Bill muttered as Harry nibbled at the side of his neck now. Bill wouldn’t be satisfied until he had a motley of bruises to show for all his troubles. Trying to bring his hand upwards to guide Harry’s head, Bill was unprepared for the hissing snarl he was met with as he readjusted his grip on Harry’s snake hair. Tiny licks were delivered to his hand, while the serpentine bodies wrapped around Bill's wrist, securing it in place. Bat wings flared out against butterfly, completing their wrappings further as Harry nestled into Bill's neck further.

Harry’s eyes bolted up to the precocious beta. How dare he try and move him from… Harry blinked as he lifted his head as much as Bill’s and his own wings would allow. Blue stared into green eyes. Harry blinked slowly as the full ramifications of his actions sank in. Dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

Bill saw the start of a panic spiral on Harry’s face and immediately acted. Shoving the boy down into the opposite side of his neck, Bill started speaking as quickly as possible.

“It’s okay, everything’s fine-”

“I lost control! Ron just asked me to be his boyfriend-" 

“Ron knows. It’s okay. None of the others will interfere-”

"I cheated on him with his own brother-"

"It's not cheating if all parties are okay with it-"

“What the fuck are you on?” Harry hissed as he tried to shove his head away from where Bill had him planted. His traitorous hair kept itself wrapped around a thin wrist, making things more difficult. He needed to get away from the tantalizing smell if he wanted to get through this conversation coherently.

“Harry!” Bill whisper-shouted, yanking on the boy’s snakes so that he would meet Bill’s eyes now. “We all bloody like you!”

Harry could only stare in confusion as he was forced to gaze into Bill’s eyes. He could easily escape in a number of ways. The simplest would be a quick bite to Bill’s arm, but that wouldn’t solve the problem: a pit of dread growing in his stomach.

“Are you gonna listen or struggle?” Bill asked, now seeing Harry’s curious nature win out. “We have bloody messed this right up, me and Ron both could have had a bit more tact-”

“You bloody think?” Harry mumbled. Bill chose to ignore that and the clawed finger that poked into his side. Harry's talons were sharp, but Bill wasn't afraid of a little pain.

“I know that this is hard to wrap your pretty little head around,” Harry now scowled at Bill, “but we all wanted the chance to court you…” Bill trailed off, realizing that there was no good way to say that six brothers had quarreled over who had the most right to go after the boy before deciding on a mutually beneficial relationship that would bring everyone the most happiness.

Harry blinked several times in quick succession. He looked off at Bill’s wing, processing. 

“Why?” Harry finally responded. Of all the questions, Bill hadn’t been expecting that to be the first one.

“Because we like you? I know that you have some self-worth issues; don’t try to deny them. We all have our things to work on. But really, it's not like it's a difficult task falling for you. You are athletic, and right fit because of it-” Bill only barely managed to rein in the leer he wanted to shoot at the small boy.

“-You are bloody talented in a duel, and would be a great defender of any partner or future family-” Bill mentally cringed at bringing up the possibility of a family before he had even started a relationship, but he knew this wouldn’t be a deterrent for Harry. The boy loved the domestic, and it was no secret that he wanted a house full of kids.

“-you have a good sense of humor and aren’t afraid of a little mischief with a strong set of morals that help steer you-” also true. Bill knew that Harry would never even think of pranking someone who wouldn’t find it funny. He abhorred bullies and the mistreatment of people and creatures of all kinds.

“-and if all that wasn’t good enough, you-”

“Okay, stop.” Harry’s blush was surely visible now. He had to stop this before it got out of hand. “You all… You do realize that I can’t even give you a family, right? If we were to… Make whatever work… I’m not an ‘omega,’” at this, Harry hoped that he conveyed the air quotes appropriately with just his eyes. “Hell I'm not even a beta! I ended up a bloody alpha. Are all of you going to be happy knowing that I can’t bear children? That I would prefer to… be the more dominant partner most of the time?” Harry couldn’t control the way his tongue seemed to grow heavy as he delivered his last words in a sloppy manner.

“So a bunch of bottoms found an exclusive top? Sounds like Mother Magic has blessed us,” Bill joked with a wink that sent blood flowing to places in Harry’s body.

How was Bill doing all of this so composed? This ridiculous conversation, this nonchalant flirting, it wasn’t fair! “Ignoring that last incredulous statement, how do I even know you are telling the truth?” Harry countered.

“Why don’t you ask us all at dinner?” Bill’s smile looked like it would never be crushed as he gazed down at the adorably hissy boy. "But before that, a vow. I swear on Magic that to the best of my knowledge, what I have stated so far in the last five minutes is true." Bill's eyes flashed once, then twice. His magic not having fled his body, Harry was forced to confront Bill's truth. 

“But…” Harry trailed off. His eyes focused on the small scales that coated Bill’s wings, his words left unformed as he started reviewing every moment he had with all of the other Weasley boys.

Study sessions with Percy. Pranks with Fred and George. Chatting and flying with Charlie. When had this happened?

A sturdy thrust against Harry's crotch had snakes hissing and Harry's blood pumping.

"Now," Bill stated as he leaned his head back, resting against the ground coated in a thick layer of dirt. "Are you going to let go of these mental blocks and show me who is boss? Harry? Alpha~"

Harry's blood boiled. Vision narrowing in on the body under his own, the world disappeared. A meteor could fall from the heavens, a war could be fought around him, an erumpent could blare its horn - none of it would distract Harry from his prize.

Miuth striking down Harry brought his lips against Bill's. He wouldn't be satisfied until he had devoured the taller boy. The press of lips wasn't near enough. Harry felt a buzz in his head. a coil in his stomach, a tightness in his loin. He needed all that he could get. 

Biting down on a lip, Harry felt a smug satisfaction build at the faint coppery taste of blood, a small nick having been achieved. Thrusting downwards against Bill's crotch, Harry matched their erections together and ground with his hips. The layers in between were nothing but added friction as Harry thrust against the toned body. The planes of Bill's wings touching Harry's own flighted appendages sent a thrill through his body. The scaled texture was a delightful contrast against Harry's own mebrainous wings. Hands roaming, Harry clutched the large man tightly against his body, his talons on the verge of puncturing skin but never going deeper. This was his. This wonderful, beautiful man, who moaned deeply, his hair fanned out and battle-messed, and jeans in tatters, Bill looked like a cover boy for a rock album. 

Thrusting down harder, Harry brought his tongue into Bill's wet mouth, the man eagerly accepting the invasion. Tongues swirling together, Harry pillaged the offering cavern, lining his tongue up against Bill's and thrusting in and out while Bill sucked lightly on the wet muscle. Tracing each of the ginger's teeth, Harry couldn't help but continue onward. He needed more, and Bill would give it to him. 

Snaking a hand downwards, Harry clawed through denim, buttons, and zippers, his talons making light work of the flimsy materials. With layers removed, Harry let himself bask in his victory before fishing out his prize. Bill's dick sat heavy against his own, a respectable length of about six inches, as thick as Ron's member. The major difference was that Bill was clean-shaven, with no crotch hair to speak of. Before Bill could comment, Harry lunged back in, lips devouring the curse breaker as Harry retracted his claws. Wrapping his hand around both of their cocks Harry stroked. He didn't bother with light flicks and timed build. Bill was a filthy mess. Harry needed to mark him, claim him, show him how good Harry could be for any mate. The inner thrum of desire and vicious hunger surged forward in Harry, reflected in his horny thoughts.

Hand sliding along the rutting cocks Harry smeared the beads of precum, soaking the members and slicking the movement. Nature's lubricant allowed Harry to increase his pace. Slap, slap, slap, Harry's hand flew between the pair, Bill's hips desperate to match the rhythm but held down by Harry's weight. The older man could only buck uselessly as Harry kept going. 

As the moment grew closer, Harry shoved his tongue further down Bill's throat. Letting his gorgon features take hold, Harry's tongue lengthened, pointing at the tip as he reached further into Bill's mouth. Flicking against the back of Bill's throat, Harry purred at the delicious taste. Such sweet nectar, Harry felt as if he was drinking from the chalice of the gods. Bill moaned around Harry's invading tongue, his own shorter muscle being forced down by the sheer size. All he could do was gently flick against the foreign presence and gasp. It was so good. Too good.

Without warning, Harry erupted, cock spurting droplets of cum across Bill's chest. Stroking through the orgasm, Harry brought his lips away from Bill's only to bring his face down to Bill's neck. Biting down lightly, Harry gnawed at the flesh over Bill's scent gland. 

The stroking, the biting, the feeling of being claimed by Harry's cum, it was too much. Bill exploded with one last downwards flick of Harry's hand. His mouth was letting out a sinful moan that Harry wanted to record and play on repeat. His very voice was sex incarnate, and it would fill Harry's mind nonstop. Even after completion, Harry didn't stop, milking the pair of them dry until their cocks were oversensitive and twitching from pleasure.

Breathing heavily, it took some time for the duo to recover.

"I take it that's a yes?" Bill broke the silence.

"Hmm?" Harry's voice came out in a hiss, his snakes lolling about his head as he licked at Bill's torso to clean him of spend.

"To my offer of courtship?" Bill arched up off the ground as Harry sucked on a pierced nipple.

"Absolutely," Harry mumbled before working on the other nipple. Time seemed to fly as Harry worked at cleaning his prize.

“We'd better finish getting this place together. Wouldn’t want to be late for dinner,” Bill sent a wink Harry’s way before rolling to the side and shoving Harry off. Bill relaxed his wings' grip and let them disappear back into hiding. The fading of the orange appendages seemed to snap Harry out of his revelry.

They truly did still have a lot of damage to heal. Bill really hoped that the smoke coming from further in the bog wasn’t the start of a grass fire.

And just like that, the previous topic was dropped as Harry began reconstructing the goal, and Bill tried his luck at regrowing the grass. Kisses slowed the process, but what did Harry care? They would just be fashionably late for dinner.

Chapter Text

Dinner tonight was filled with dramatics on opposite ends of the spectrum. Molly could feel the tension in the air, so thick that she could cut through it with a knife and spread it on a piece of anxiety. Poor Harry, the dear looked to be near sick with cool sweat dampening his brow. If there was a tonic to the boy's worries, Molly would distill it herself. But alas, she knew better.

Bill and Harry had limped into the house, smiling, filthy, and tight-lipped. Sure, their bodies were clean, but a scourgify just didn't quite compare to a shower, and mending charms could only hide so many cuts in a garment. Bill had kept up his happiness, but Harry's face had contorted into a grimace the second the others joined for dinner. That may be an understatement, as Bill's smile actually seemed to have grown in intensity now that Molly took a chance to analyze her eldest. It was like he had just gotten a bonus from the goblins and an Order of Merlin all in the same day. Ron was, for whatever reason, unconsolably mopey and brooding in the corner of the table, far away from Harry. What had happened there? What was going on? The others had picked up on the change but were either ignoring it or oblivious to it in Arthur's case. She loved her husband, but the man's observational skills could use some work. 

Percy had once more secured a spot beside Harry; the boy didn’t gloat his position, but Molly knew that he was infinitely pleased with his uncanny ability to use others as a distraction to get his way. She still wondered how the hat had thought of him for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, with Slytherin not being anywhere near the picture. That right had been reserved for her dear twins. Speaking of, Fred had replaced Ron at Harry’s right side. Unlike his older brother, Fred had no qualms with letting a smug smile grace his face whenever covetous glances were sent his way. 

Bill kept sending what seemed to be encouraging glances at young Harry, which the boy was obviously ignoring. Occasionally, Ron would lean forward only for Charlie to glare him down back into his chair. Truly, what was the matter with them all? She appreciated the quieter meal, especially compared to yesterday’s excitement, but this was painfully awkward.

“Alright, you lot. What is going on?” Molly broke the peace, hoping it was the right decision. She didn't fancy breaking up a fight.

Ginny, who had been the only normally behaved child, perked up in interest. Arthur seemed clueless as to what his wife was talking about, bless the poor man. Molly would have to make him something special for dessert tomorrow night. Or maybe she could find other ways to make him feel appreciated…

Looking at each of the boys’ faces, Molly tried to decide who was most likely to crack first. Fred and George were easy to rule out. Ron may well start a fight with his sullen attitude infecting the bunch. Percy was a wild card, Charlie might growl, and Bill was… looking directly at Harry, rather expectantly. Dazzling teeth near sparkling, with eyes glowing enough to light up his face.

“Harry dear? Would you mind telling me what’s happened?”

The poor boy looked like a Kneazle tossed in water with the way his shoulders tensed up and his eyes grew larger than what must have been comfortable.

“Ask Harry,” Bill chimed in with reassuring cheer.

Harry let out a deep breath, filled with anxiety. She would make sure he had lots of warm blankets tonight and more food to put some weight on his slight frame. She began plotting on how to subtly shove some more mash on his plate while Harry turned his head to Bill, matching the curse breaker’s stare.

“It has come to my attention… that you all,” Harry nodded to each of Molly and Arthur’s sons, “have intentions of… courtship. Err... That is. With ME.”

Molly felt her entire body freeze. She was no fool. She had raised seven rambunctious children and knew that all of them had at some point crushed upon the Potter heir. Ginny had been devastated when she had learned that the boy was gay. Molly had near-complete faith that he would end up with one of her children. Yesterday’s dinnertime strip show had been proof enough. What she had not accounted for was Harry actually having the emotional courage to address the situation straight on (even with Bill shoving him into this position) or the fact that all of them would try for the green-eyed boy’s hand.

Arthur dropped his fork onto his plate, where it rattled around. Ginny smirked and grabbed a bottle of wine from the table that Arthur had popped for the evening. Molly would scold the girl, but she also wanted a glass right about now. Subtly, she got her wish as her daughter passed her an overfilled cup. Molly reworked her state of mind. Who had need of worry when met with a romantic show as dinner entertainment? This was going to be a delightful evening.

Charlie’s head snapped first to Harry and then to Bill. He was no fool. He had seen the hickies along Bill’s neck that were ill hidden under the older boy’s collar. So that’s where he had gotten off to… Well played, brother. How did he taste? How did he sound? How did he feel?

Ron leaned forward now, thoughts of his punishment thrown from his mind. He had already secured his status as boyfriend, as muggle as the term was; his fate was, for now, assured. But this conversation meant things were changing. Ron would be fine sharing Harry with any one of his brothers. They all deserved to have something as amazing as Harry. Ron patted himself on the back for his lack of jealous thoughts. He had grown significantly both in body and mind since he was eleven years old and worried about being overshadowed by his siblings.

Fred and George looked at each other briefly before nodding their heads in unison. Fred leaned back, arm sneaking around Harry's shoulder. Draped there, Fred felt the shiver run down the boy’s spine. Oh, this was gonna be good.

Of all people, Percy was the first to speak in response to Harry’s statement. “You would be correct. All six of us have ambitions of entering a courtship with you, if you would allow it.” Seeing Fred’s arm wrapping around Harry’s body, Percy decided to play his own game as he reached out and grasped Harry’s empty right hand. “I got to know you this past year and enjoyed what I saw. Your battle prowess and hidden wealth of knowledge are commendable. I would be honored if you gave me the privilege of starting a relationship. I understand that you and Ron are 'boyfriends' now-” Arthur dropped his cup now, all chose to ignore that in favor of listening to Percy’s words. “-I would be honored to earn the same position at some point if he wish to follow more muggle customs, or perhaps even more in the future, if you would have me?” Percy ended his question by starting up a figure eight pattern with his thumb on the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry gulped at the prim boy’s words. Before he could respond, a squeeze to his shoulder had Harry turning to look at Fred.

“You are the son of the Marauders, that means I am obligated to try and mischief my way into your pants-”

“Not at the table,” Molly half-heartedly chastised as she watched, fascination clear in the tilt of her head and the hand swirling her beverage. This was better than half of the novels she kept on her nightstand. 

“-but more than that. You are bloody amazing. Helping out Georgie and me with our business, throwing Umbridge from the school, and sticking up for the little guy… I would love to get to explore more with you,” Fred ended with a wink and another firm squeeze on Harry’s shoulder. Noticing Percy rubbing Harry’s hand, Fred sent a wink at the charm’s master that seemed to be understood as Percy upped his level of attention by rubbing further up Harry’s arm.

“I second my devilishly handsome brother,” George declared. “Why wouldn’t I miss the opportunity to see what other kinds of products I can test with my favorite investor, behind closed doors?” George leaned forward on his elbows, sending heart eyes at Harry’s blushing face.

“I am not opposed to sharing,” Charlie chimed in now, “I haven’t much experience with romance, but when you fly- Truthfully I thought my love language was dragons but now I know its a dopey grin on a nerdy little demon-" Charlie's eyes took on a far away look before the boy shook his head vigourously, ears twitching. "-and when you make it so hard to resist...” Charlie’s wolf ears, which he sported nearly constantly, tucked in close to his head in an oddly bashful display. "Anyways! I would love it if you gave me a chance."

“You see, Harry? We all want to give this a try,” Bill stated, looking far too pleased with himself. Molly wondered if she would have to reel him in. He was freshly out of his last relationship with the wretched squeaky girl. Harry would be good for him, but he better not just be using the younger boy as a rebound. The poor dear deserved better.

“Ron-” Harry turned desperately to his best friend, turned boyfriend.

“Harry, we have all wanted this. What’s the harm in saying yes?” Everyone shot Ron grateful looks, even if Percy and the twins had more calculating gazes. Percy found Ron’s sudden shift in mood suspicious but knew that he would have to dig further. There wasn’t enough information for him to come to any conclusions.

Secretly, Ron was thankful that Harry was treating this seriously. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything more in the bedroom yet, and he could easily sick Harry on one of his more experienced brothers if he had to now. It would have been hell if he had to wait much longer for Bill or Percy to make their moves on Harry, his two biggest slag brothers.

Molly wondered which of her children she would throw her coin (and efforts) behind. Percy was prim and proper, but Molly knew that his late nights out weren't just the boy studying away. The twins shockingly had the largest income combined, but then things would be risky to support one over the other. She had genuinely thought Charlie was only attracted to his work. Bill would be a good pick if it weren't for his relationship history. Of course, Ron may stand out as the frontrunner, but he may lack commitment. That was assuming Harry would only collect one of her babies. Fabian and Gideon had no issue with their relations with Abigail Evertear and Margaret Shacklebolt. This only opened up further possibilities; Molly would have much to think over.

“Yes!” Harry blurted out, unable to hold back the word as it popped into his mind. It didn’t help that Fred was now softly massaging his neck while Percy kneaded circles into his arm and ran his foot against Harry’s leg. “I- err, accept your courtship-s? I don’t know how to say yes,” Harry blatantly admitted to not knowing any pureblood mating customs. 

“YES!” George squealed out while thudding the table, a firework flying off from somewhere in the boy’s lap and exploding above the table in a shower of red and pink sparks.

Harry gazed around the dining room and saw nothing but smiles from all of his… courted? What do you call someone who you want to fuck, but not casually, that aren’t quite full-blown relationships but could be? Harry was a gonner regardless, he figured labels weren’t that important, as Percy’s hand dropped from his arm down to his thigh, where it squeezed far too close to his bits for a family dinner. Percy smirked at Fred, who seemed… impressed by his older brother’s boldness?

Arthur looked around the dinner table and wondered when all of this had gone on. “I thought… Harry and Ginny were dating?” Nine pairs of eyes blinked at the Weasley patriarch. Arthur felt the flush forming on his cheeks, not helped by the way Molly parted his arm.

“There, there, my handsome mate,” Molly murmured to her oblivious husband.

“Mollywobbles?” Arthur pleaded as his wife started whispering back and forth with their daughter. He was so lost.

Chapter Text

Ron

Settling into his bunk in Gryffindor Tower, Harry couldn't help the exhilaration that held his head up high in the air or the way his heart beat at a speed that was surely unhealthy. He cringed at the idea of being the center of attention, trained to duck his head down. The shadows hid him from scornful teachers, Dudley's pummeling fists, Petunia's vitriol and stringent chemicals, Vernon's belt and switch, the public's hateful demeanor. Just now, for this one moment, Harry would allow himself to lift his head high. He was a wizard, not a freak, and he could escape from his previous existence in this wonderful world of magic. So for now... Yeah. Harry would stand tall, err, straight at least. 

Dean and Seamus already seemed to be thick as thieves, and Neville had retreated under his bed curtains. That was fine. Harry had Ron. Smiling at the boy, Harry didn't mind the haphazard and disheveled appearance or hot-headed attitude. Harry didn't have nice clothes, and he certainly had a couple of mean bones reserved for some choice people.

"Want to play a game of Wizard's Chess?" Ron blurted out of nowhere.

"What's that? Any relation to regular Chess?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Blimey, what did those muggles do to you?" Lots, Harry thought, but them not teaching him Wizards Chess wasn't that high on the list of neglect. "I will just have to teach you! I'm almost at Percy's level now, and he competes in the Chess brackets here at school. Hold on. Let me find my board, it's got to be here somewhere..."

Harry didn't particularly enjoy chess. But if it would make Ron smile and joke with him, then Harry figured he could suffer through a 0-10 losing streak just fine. 

Talking, laughing, trading stories and eating sweets. Was this what friendship was about? Harry could get used to this...

Fred

Harry hated everyone. The incompetent professors. The fickle student body. The lying national bloody newspaper! 

His best friend was a muggleborn for Christ - Merlin - Harry reminded himself, sake. There was no way that he would open the damned Chamber of Secrets. The idea was preposterous. But with each passing day the teasing grew worse. Jeers, taunts, curses, shoves, broken belongings. 

Huddled up in the broom cupboard, he had been locked in. Harry couldn't stop the tears as they streamed down his face. It hurt. The sting of betrayal hadn't stopped. How could the pain dissipate when people he had classes with and befriended only the year before were ready to burn him at the stake now, after circumstantial evidence?

He was a parselmouth and at the scene of a crime surrounded by alibis. That was all they were working with.

The walls of the room seemed to close in tighter on Harry's huddled form. It was too much; he couldn't breathe, and it was so dark. Everything hurt. He just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Harrikins... IS this where the party is?" A voice said. Harry wasn't paying attention. His head hurt. The light from the now open door was too bright. It felt like it had been hours. "Scooch over, little lion."

Harry didn't, but the voice didn't seem to mind. The voice, the person, Harry reminded himself, only moved a mop out of the way and plopped themselves down.

"Hmmm, not much of a venue, but I can see the potential. Maybe some dancing spiders, self-flying brooms, singing bubbles... We could have this place decked out in no time with the right supplies. What do you think?"

Harry didn't think. Thinking just meant he would have to remember all of the hate. The bullies, the pain - no. It was better not to think. After a moment of no respons,e the person beside him shifted. Good. Let him rot in peace. Harry didn't want anyone else getting dragged into his mess.

A strong arm wrapping around his midsection and tossing him over the shoulder spoke of different plans. "Oof-" Harry scrambled in the air, being manhandled like a sack of potatoes had Harry on high alert. "Put me down-" Harry screeched, furiously kicking his legs.

"No can do, Harrykins. We have a party to throw. And you know what? I think we should invite your classmates. How about baby Malfoy and his goons, Fletchley, Goldstein, and... anyone else you have in mind?" Fred, Harry now deduced based on the fact that George kept his wand in his right back pocket, not the left, stated. 

"Fred! Put me downnn!"

"Very well, my prince, but you'd better keep up!"

Harry scowled as his feet touched the floor, Fred placing a kiss on the back of his hand. Harry couldn't control the blush or the way his heart fluttered. Stup hormones. Stupid, obnoxious, demonic, caring, considerate, kind...

Harry didn't have many friends. But that was fine. The people who stuck beside him? They were what mattered. 

Planning an elaborate trap with Fred was the highlight of Harry's year. Piecing together the small army of spiders and Lee Jordan's tarantula familiar, a disgusting shower of mop water, a sticky substance that Harry couldn't identify, dust bombs, and some more of Fred's elaborate creations- It was wonderful. And the result? Harry would forever cherish the screams that emanated from the mysterious broom closet on the fourth-floor corridor near the hospital wing. Consequently, the storage room would be cordoned off for the rest of Harry's Hogwarts career.

George

Harry was breathing hard. The game had been won. He had caught the golden snitch!

The crowd was alight with cheering and confetti, lions roared, and sparklers sizzled. They had done it. This game marked Gryffindor's domination in earning the Quidditch Cup. BEing hoisted into the air by his teammates, Harry blushed and ducked his head. He hatedit  when they did this. It was far too much attention. Especially considering that the majority of the points this particular game were actually scored by Gryffindor's outstanding chasers. But here Harry was, thrust into the air.

Fleeing the pitch as quickly as possible, Harry hoped that he could avoid the start of the party that was sure to be brewing in the common room. Best to let things die down. Or at least that was the plan. But as Harry turned the corner from his back entry into Hogwarts, he could only sigh as footsteps sounded behind him.

"Harrikins! Just the troublemaker I was hoping to find! And may I congratulate you on your win? Truly, what a show," George wiped a fake tear from his eye while clutching his heart. Drama queen.

"And George, the Beater extrordinaire. Are bludgers the only thing you beat? And if there is more, where can I watch the performance?" Agatha Moss hollered from further back along the trail. Harry cringed at the bad flirting. George's eyebrow also twitched, the girl behind him not seeing the frustration that passed over the boy's face.

"Agatha, the eagle of someone's eye. What can I do for you?" George squeezed the words out from between clenched teeth.

"Don't be that way, Georgie. You know, there isn't anyone but you," the girl let out a hefty laugh.

"Right... Well, it was nice chatting. Harry and I will be leaving now, we have to..."

"Go to the kitchens-" Harry adlibbed.

"And stock up supplies, can never have too much-" George continued off of Harry, a spark in the ginger's eyes.

"Butter beer. And of course, some snacks wouldn't go amiss." Harry had seen the twins speak like this for the last few years. It was exciting to play along in this way with George now. Watching the girl get frustrated.

"Pickle sandwiches?"

"Banna steaks?"

"Chocolate-covered rats?"

"Stewed-"

"Eyeballs?"

"Whatever!" Agatha stomped her foot down. With a scathing glare and a flick of her hair, the older girl stormed away.

"Harry?"

"Yes, George?" Harry responded with a shit eating grin.

"Has anyone told you that you are perfect?" 

Harry's brain short-circuited. His nose surely must be bleeding. Was his heart still in his chest? By the time he came to George was maniacally laughing as he ran to the small door along the side of the castle.

Oh no, you don't! Harry sprinted after the boy, matching him in laughter. And when the duo finally made their way up to Gryffindor Tower, arms laden with snacks, Harry couldn't complain about the party. He would just spend it talking with George.

Bill

Harry was beyond pleased. He was spending time in the wizarding world! And it wasn't just for a few weeks. He had the entire month of August at the Burrow.

What was more. The Burrow had Bill.

"Okay, Harry. Now you see this here? This means-" Bill rambled on with Harry, trying to pay enough attention. Gobbledegook was difficult, not just because the language felt like rocks being banged together in his throat, but also because the teacher was unbearably hot.

Harry had met Bill several times before, but only briefly. The boy wore a wizarding band t-shirt and dragon hide trousers meant for dueling. His overrobe was black and edged with a scaled skin. His long hair, pierced ears, and brow, swathe words- He was sex on legs. Harry was screwed.

After their lesson was completed was the best part of any day. Lying back on an overstuffed armchair, Harry put his head back beside Bill's, calmly listening to the boy's records. It was relaxing. He had never listened to much music; the Dursleys weren't exactly cultured, and on top of that, they preferred the drone of the television over song. 

"This is one of my favorites," Bill's voice rose above the start of the next song. What seemed to be an instrumental rock opera. "The drama, the intensity. The water sound effect, especially, makes me feel like I'm trapped on an island with waves crashing down on me. I'm close to being pulled out to sea, where I will surely be consumed by the deep. But there is a hope. A whisper on the salty air. The waves parting and- Well, you know?" Bill threw his hands in the air. Harry didn't know, but he wasn't going to ruin the moment. "Maybe I'm a sop. But it's a reminder that in the midst of chaos, there is a chance of order. I'm not much of a poet, it's more fun to read or listen than make my own, but I would write a hundred sets of lyrics for this one song."

Harry could see it now. Bill recording verse after verse and playing them all day long. Coincidentally, Harry decided to find a book of poetry in Gobbledegook for Bill's gift that year. The teary hugs Harry got in return for the item was something Harry would cherish forever. And if Bill had then decided to write Harry a poem afterwards? Harry would just have to live with himself.

Charlie

Harry felt alive in the air. It was his element, the place that let him feel without the pressure of life's many obstacles.

His flight companion was marvelous in the air. Charlie had just turned down into a dip that would have had Molly screaming if she had been anywhere near. But she wasn't. Up and down the duo flew further into the Welsh Dragon Reserve.

Harry wondered how Charlie had gotten permission for such an outing. Surely the public wasn't usually allowed such privilege? When Harry had brought it up, the boy had gone silent. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Pay attention, Potter!" Charlie yelled as he started to descend towards a pile of coiling bodies. Common Welsh Greens. They were a communal species from what Harry remembered. This must be one of their notorious cuddle piles.

Touching down ten strides away from the closest dragon, Harry let in a large gulp of air. Charlie was trained to handle far worse. But the sheer numbers were not in their favor if things went afoul.

"Follow my lead," Charlie's voice was level. Not a whisper, not a shout. 

After some convincing, Harry joined Charlie in stroking the sides of the dragon's armpit. "This area is hard to reach for them," Charlie commented as the dragon started tapping its tail against the ground in pleasure.

"Must feel pretty good huh?" Harry grinned as the dragon responded positively to his own scratches. 

As another dragon snorted small sparks at them, Harry grew tense. Charlie's chuckling the only thing keeping him from running. SO what if Harry was in a full-body fireproof suit and helmet? That didn't mean he couldn't be crushed.

"You will get your turn, you big lug," Charlie gave a wry grin to Harry before tapping the current dragon on the side and heading over to the next impatient beast.

"Attention hog," Harry laughed now as two dragons bumped heads, trying to soak up all the attention. "I wonder how it feels for them...?" Harry let the question dangle in the air, not expecting a response. 

"Pretty similar to what a massage or back scratch for a human feels like, I imagine," Charlie distractedly responded to Harry's curiosity.

"Well, I guess I'll never know then," Harry's laugh now took on a self-efacing quality as he turned back to his own dragon. These were all much smaller than the ones from the tournament. They must be babies.

Silence met Harry's words. "Harry... Have you never had a back rub?" 

Harry blinked at the words. Of course, he hadn't. Who would ever..? Maybe Charlie was under the impression that siblings and families rubbed away each other's soreness. That wasn't Harry's reality, though. He had to accept that he licked his own wounds; no comfort or casual care would be shown to him. 

So lost in thought, Harry almost jumped from his skin as two hands landed on his shoulders. "What-"

"Just be quiet, Harry. It's alright to just relax."

That was the day Harry got his first massage. Charlie may have been the quietest Weasley, but that didn't mean he was timid or subdued. Charlie would never hide an emotion, thought, or feeling. He saw someone in dire need of a massage and acted on instinct. At least that is what Harry told himself...

Percy

Percy was a monster. An absolute beast. A vicious creature from the bowels of the underworld sent to destroy him.

"Again, this time include a section on the rules of elemental magics in this section here and cite at least one more source," Percy prattled on over Harry's essay that was handed back with a large amount of red ink. 

Hermione had never once actually edited one of Harry's papers. She would peer review and give a general suggestion. But she never actually stated specifics or forced corrections that weren't spelling. She claimed it was better to let others do their own work. Percy was of the mindset that you needed to guide others for them to grow. That was all well and good, but this was the third paper that had been handed back, and it was already midnight. 

In a fit of accidental magic that would surely embarrass him come morning, Harry burnt the paper to a crisp. In Percy's hand.

Percy flipped the pages out from his palm before the fire could singe him. Looking up with a quizzical expression, the Hogwarts graduate tilted his head. Harry felt like an organism under a microscope, it was unnerving. Where was the shouting? The violence? The retribution?

"Hmmm... We will speak more tomorrow." And with that, Percy walked politely from the common room.

What...? You know what. I don't care. I'm going to bed.

Naturally, the next morning was awful. Somehow, Percy had managed to kidnap Harry from his bed. In his pajamas, Harry stood nervously facing a battle robe bedecked Percy, who stood with a wand at the ready.

"Now then, Harry. Let us see what you can do-"

Dueling became a regular occurrence after that. Percy finally made headway as he encouraged Harry through a hands-on and tactile approach. Harry hadn't known it was what he needed until he had it. Percy put together a practical curriculum specifically for him. Days were themed based on subjects and which spells could be used. There were herbology duels consisting of spells used in the Hogwarts greenhouse, cleaning charm battles that had ended with a very sparkly room, charms, transfiguration, and even potions had a battle variant!

Harry flourished under the tutelage. He was able to beat Percy even from day one, half out of it, and sleepy. But together, Harry was able to grow immensely. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Neville, and others joined them, but Harry still kept going back to his greatest and most unexpected teacher.

With the boys' help, Harry managed not to fail a single NEWT subject. Graduating with honors hadn't been one of his goals, but the way Percy smiled at him as Harry walked across the stage- 

Harry would never complain about academia again.

____________________________

Hurrying from the crowded Burrow table, Harry let all these moments sink in. The first time he had truly fallen for each of the Weasley men. 

Chapter Text

Harry was freaking the fuck out. Making a snap decision after dinner to visit his Gringot’s vault, Harry now browsed through the Potter family book collection, scavenging for all tombs related to courtship practices. Picking up the more modern volumes lest he accidentally read about some esoteric, outdated practice, Harry rapidly flipped through pages. Thankfully, the portraits of several of his distant relatives had information to give as well. The newest portrait was commissioned by Charlus and Dorea Potter, his great-grandparents. Thankfully, the Weasleys were relatively non-traditional, but everyone liked feeling like effort was being put into them. Even if they didn’t believe in long, drawn-out mating displays, it was still good for Harry to give it a try.

He had seen flowers and chocolates in the Muggle world, elaborate picnics and dates, fanciful cards. The wizarding world took all of this to the next level. 

“Harry darling, calm down. You know the basic steps that you have to take,” Charlus said with a smile. Portraits could learn bits of new information, but the personalities and major character traits of a person, plus the most obvious memories, were all that the canvas could hold. The nuances that made up his relatives were lost with their deaths. Even so, Harry appreciated the fact that he had some connection to his past for guidance, even if he was panic spiraling.

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had been swept off by a severe strain of Dragon Pox in the reign of the last dark lord. The same illness that had taken Molly’s parents, Arthur’s father, and so many others. His grandparents hadn’t commissioned the type of magical portrait that stores information, and so they had no memento for Harry to consult with. His own parents had been so young that they hadn’t worried about it either. War also didn’t make it easy to schedule appointments with painters. Harry would not make that same mistake.

“Start with a gift, nothing over the top, but it has to be personal. Either something that is special to you or them. Usually something small and tangible,” Justinian Potter, Harry’s triple great uncle, commented as the portraited man methodically tipped jars of different compounds into an ornate cauldron.

Harry could confirm this advice with his current book. Courtships generally started with gifts if they were not contractually set up.

“What about a bouquet of red roses? The flowers of love?” Harry cringed at his own words, knowing that it was going to be shot down immediately.

“Flowers are a horrendous idea,” Dorea bluntly stated. “Unless you know the language of gifting flora or are familiar with your intended's preferences, they come off as impersonal and sloppy.” 

“It may be painful, but considering you have six intendeds, that means that you can further spread out the gifting. You never give two gifts to different people on the same day, ask me how I know,” Uncle Justinian said again while looking dryly at the two women who shared his portrait, Harry’s aunts, who both supported matching claiming marks on their shoulders. They looked at each other momentarily before shoving Justinian off whatever stool he was propped up on and out of the side view of the portrait.

“He’s correct,” one of the women, Harry wasn’t sure who was Priyankah and who was Shuvasree, stated while walking towards the front of the portrait. “Tell us a bit about the ones you wish to court.”

Harry took a deep breath in, calming his mind. Letting it go, Harry felt this was an okay method.

Dawdling on about the Weasley men that he had eyes for, Harry couldn’t help but smile more as his family asked questions and showed interest in what he was saying. If some of their responses were robotic or rehearsed, or if they couldn’t respond to a topic that they hadn’t been painted to know… Harry would just have to be thankful for what he could get.

The major points were at least enough to eliminate some ideas. For instance, rings were a no. Some magical folks used wedding bands, but that was Muggle influence. Most wizards and witches wore family rings exclusively or rings of power or position that corresponded to a deed or earned title.

Food wasn’t considered a gift on its own. According to his quadruple great-grandfather Bermont, a gift had to be tangible enough to remind a courted of their suitor. Anything edible was fleeting.

Learning all the rules made Harry’s head spin. He desperately wished that Hogwarts had a Magical Studies class as an opposite to Muggle Studies. But alas.

It was already late in the night when Harry managed to exit Gringotts. Most of the storefronts were closed, but that didn’t mean he was going to be leaving the wizarding shopping district empty-handed.

Rushing to the door of Magical Menagerie, Harry was thankful that the shop had switched to a twenty-four-hour service model in order to offer emergency veterinary services. That also meant that Harry was allowed to browse the selection of messenger birds.

Ron had been thankful for Sirius’s gift in Pigwidgeon, but had given the spazmadic bird away to Ginny the second the opportunity presented itself. The youngest Weasley now used the bird as a pet, knowing that the chance of a message being successfully delivered by the bird was smaller than a bowtruckle.

Sirius. Oh crap. Harry had to tell his convict godfather about this, didn’t he? Harry felt like banging his head against a wall. Now was not the time for distractions. Focus Harry!

What would Ron enjoy… A standard barn owl was out. Ron wanted desperately to be seen as a unique individual. Harry’s best friend had grown to accept his place and part in his family, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be written off as a bland or ordinary wizard. Ron’s biggest desire was to shine. So where did that leave Harry?

Scanning through the selection, Harry also ruled out the crows and ravens. Arthur, Cedrella, and Sirius were all sensitive about the use of corvids as pets. They used to be illegal to be owned by anyone who did not hail from the Black’s or other families who took on the birds as part of their house sigils. It was a sore topic for the dark family.

The pigeons were also probably ill-advised. They were not able to be magically enhanced to the extent of an owl. Pigeons were slower, could carry less weight, and lacked the intelligence that a wizard would seek out in an animal ferrier. 

A great well of frustration was released in a hiss that spooked several of the avians nearest to him. Harry hoped that the shopkeeper couldn’t hear him having a breakdown. Fed up, Harry snapped his eyes up as he gazed at the variety once more. “I am looking for a gift for someone I care deeply about. I need a messenger who is distinguished, showy, and diligent. Who has what it takes?”

Harry should have known that his words would release chaos. Suddenly, the rows of birds took flight from their perches, feathers went flying, and squeaks and squawks echoed in the otherwise calm shop. “No owls, no pigeons, and no ravens!” Harry hollered over the sound of aggressively beating wings. An indignant screech carried over the noise, but sure enough, the row in front of him had none of the eliminated candidates.

Harry gazed steadily at the new selection. Several parrots and macaws, a few eagles, a rather ornery-looking hawk, a winged squirrel that looked ready to pounce on Harry’s shoulder. Harry tried thinking of what would make the best courting gift. Ron was his first boyfriend, thus necessitating the first gift. But what would he want…

A large flap had Harry snapping his gaze over to bright amber eyes. The creature let out a large yawn and shook its head from side to side to shake the sleep off. Perfect, Harry thought with relief. This wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Creeping through the silent halls of the Burrow, Harry stepped over squeaky steps, dodged loose floor boards, and kept the newest Weasley animal silent. It was remarkably easy, as Harry had built up a vast knowledge of the house over his many stays. It was… refreshing to realize that this place had started to become his home long before he had truly moved in.

As he side-stepped closer to the twins’ bedroom door, Harry should have realized his mistake in getting so close to the known troublemakers' lair. The door was, in fac,t only illusioned to appear closed. Two sets of arms latched onto Harry’s shoulders and waist and yanked him into Fred and George’s room. A silencing ward, also courtesy of Bill Weasley, kept Harry’s yelp from waking up the rest of the house. With a resounding thud, the door closed for real, blocking Harry in.

In his momentary panic, Harry sent an elbow into one of his kidnapper's sides hard enough that a wheeze was produced as the air was knocked out of one of the twins. Harry quickly stabilized the cage in his hands which produced a loud squeak of protest before calming down. Harry had thankfully put a blanket over the cage to have the reveal be more of a surprise. One that he didn’t want the twins to spoil.

“What the hell do you think you are doing!?” Harry felt his eye twitch as he turned to look at George, who was smiling brightl,y and Fre,d who was rubbing his stomach with a queasy expression.

“Do you sharpen your elbows? Those surely qualify as a dangerous weapon-”

“You left before I could give you this,” George stepped forward, placing a guiding hand on Harry’s back and lightly shoving the protesting boy to the bed. 

Sighing, Harry set the cage down and readjusted the draped blanket. Hopefully, the little fellow could hold out in here for a bit.

Plopping his bum down on one of the two beds, Harry waited patiently as George looked down at him, Fred joining shortly.

“Yes…?” Harry asked warily. He wasn’t positive this wasn’t some sort of prank or joke. The revelations at dinner had Harry treading in unfamiliar waters.

“Close your eyes and stick out your hands, palms up,” humor bounced in the air back and forth between the twins. Harry took in the subtle undercurrent between the troublemakers. They were both in loose-fitting pajamas consisting of an oversized tunic cut night shirt and flannel bottoms that looked far too warm for the summer air. Then again, the twins were sinuous and lean, definitely the type that might require additional layers of warmth even during July’s heat. 

Mentally weighing his chances, Harry decided to risk it. Whatever was happening, he had his faith in these two. 

Harry was the biggest supporter of the entrepreneurs. He was a silent investor, product tester, collaborator, and even marketer. When Molly and Arthur had initially refused to even acknowledge the twins' line of work let alone let the twins experiment in the house, Harry had helped them go into the nearby Muggle village and purchase a prefabricated shed that they had used as a lab ever since. Begrudgingly, Molly had come around to support the business, and subsequently Arthur, who followed his wife’s word as law, and now the twins had saved up enough to outright purchase a plot of land and construction company to set up a storefront.

In the present, Harry showed his faith and devotion to the twins by closing his eyes and doing as instructed. The devilish smirks on the twins' faces amplified in the last millisecond before all of Harry’s vision disappeared. A nervous gulp was all the reaction Harry got as he waited.

A muffling charm surrounded his ears, probably a muffliato or perhaps one of the twins' own wacky creations. Harry’s anxiety grew as time seemed to pass. Slowly, it became clear that he would have to have patience as time flew by with Harry sitting as still as possible. He tried to let his posture relax, but in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that he needed to be ready to react.

Abruptly, a warm body pressed against Harry’s back, arms wrapping around his midsection with legs that framed his own. Slightly delayed, a different body maneuvered Harry’s arms before another warm weight filled his palms, pushing Harry’s hand down to his lap, where he was left cupping what could only be…

“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped breathily as he snapped his eyes open, silencing charm breaking as well. Unconciously kneading the warm flesh sitting in his lap. Fred sat now straddling Harry, the redhead’s legs squeezed next to George’s, his bum cupped by Harry’s dexterous hands. Harry’s eyes flickered over the sight in front of him. Fred had ditched his shirt and flannel trousers. All that remained was a pair of tight-fitting purple Y-fronts that were cut in a way that suggested they were meant to be taken off. Around the devilish imp's neck was an unfamiliar necklace. It had a thin golden chain with small interwoven beads. A pendant dangled down, composed of a clear stone that seemed to have an ever-moving liquid trapped in its depths. Cradling the stone were delicate golden tendrils that swirled about in abstract patterns.

“We wanted to make sure you got your first courtship present,” George mumbled in Harry’s ear, still wrapped tightly around the raven-haired boy’s body. George’s legs framed his brother ,trapping the smaller boy in the middle of two very near-naked bodies.

“Together we combined our brilliant and otherworldly skills-”

“Artificer and potionry knowledge to forge this locket-”

“Along with some help from a Leprechaun goldsmith, but that’s another story,” Fred finished with a twist of the lips that existed somewhere between a sexy smirk and a genuinely pleased smile.

“It will detect most poisons, toxins, and venoms, ex-boyfriends-”

“When worn, it will start to vibrate and heat up when you are about to consume or be exposed to dangerous substances-”

“And unscrupulous sorts such as ourselves will have to think twice about what they give you,” George continued on from where his brother left off. His words were a soft whisper into Harry’s ear as the lanky boy rubbed up and down Harry’s arms, lightly working away the stress in Harry’s muscles.

“Plus, it counters love potions,” Fred said with a wink.

“We’re territorial,” George offered up with a mock growl.

Pressing closer to Harry’s back, George removed his hands from Harry’s arms and brought them forth to the back of his brother’s neck. Unfastening the latch, with Fred being very eager to pass it on, George turned the necklace so that he could clasp it around Harry’s neck. Pushing aside raven locks, George pondered what Harry’s snakes would feel like coiling between fingers.

As George retreated his hands from Harry’s hair, he hoped Fred was enjoying the expressions the younger boy was making. As silence grew and Fred’s face shifted into a tense smile that meant things had gone awry, George desperately went over what they had done and hoped they hadn’t just messed the entire thing up.

“Are you… Okay? Did we do something wrong?” Fred stammered out now, smile dissipating as he leaned back on Harry’s lap. The teen's hands had stopped moving a while ago, and his face was hidden as the boy looked down, a carpet of black hair blocking Fred’s view of Harry’s reaction.

“What’s wrong?” George wondered if this had been an overstep. Maybe it was too soon? “We haven’t done anything like this before. I’m sorry if it feels like we are going too fast. Here we can leave and-” leaning back, George felt himself scream internally. They had ruined everything on the first day! The lack of jokes alone spoke to the level of dread that was building in the twins' minds.

Fred copied his twin, extricating his arms from around Harry’s neck. As he went to spring forth from the bed, he was stopped by a wall of magic that kept him from going further. Judging by George’s widening eyes, his twin was in a similar predicament.

“I don’t have anything to give either of you yet!” Harry’s head snapped up now, his irises blown huge, glowing an ominous green that some likened to the very killing curse the boy had survived. There was a quiver at the corner of his lips, suggesting a deep pain at the lack of reciprocity.

“It’s fine!” Fred quickly course-corrected as he realized the issue. “We figured Ron would have to be first, but… Seeing as you don’t know, he broke the Bro Code and as a result, he isn’t allowed to have a one-on-one with you for a while.”

Harry blinked large eyes, confusedly at Fred before turning his head to look at George. Naturally, George confirmed Fred’s words by vigorously shaking his head, a hopeful feeling consuming the previous fearful resignation. Maybe they would still get lucky…

“Ignoring that,” Harry wasn’t sure what he thought on the matter, “this is too much! We haven’t even gone on a date yet. I don’t deserve something this special.” Harry looked down at the lightly glowing stone with awe and unworthiness.

“Don’t think gifts work like that, Harry-my-boy!” George sing songed as he wrapped Harry in between his arms in a tight hug, planting his near-nude body against the younger boy’s back. George felt a shiver travel down Harry’s spine, the redhead couldn’t help but lightly rub his groin up against the warm body. Harry’s back would have to do for now… 

“Right you are, Forge! We get to decide who deserves our adoration, and guess what, Mister Potter? Our current muse is you, lucky chap!” Fred wrapped his arms back around Harry’s neck (where they belonged), tucking his body as close as he could get to Harry’s front side, wiggling his ass slightly to remind the newest addition to the household that he had things to be squeezing.

Harry felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest. The organ was pumping with a desperation that matched the growing warmth in his belly. With a set of arms wrapped around his middle and another set at his neck, Harry felt like he was in the most devious trap the twins had ever concocted. 

“Now, is there a way we can get a thank you? I do believe we deserve one, don’t you, Gred?”

“Certainly Forge! In fact, I think Harry hear should- Oh fuck!” Whatever Fred tried to say was cut off as a loud smack sounded through the room. “Did you just spank me?” Fred asked, scandalised and intrigued, his head thrown back and eyes wild. Harry’s hand quickly resumed its place cupping Fred’s left ass cheek as if nothing had happened.

“You two were talking too much,” Harry refuted as he tipped his head back, leaning into George’s body. “But thank you. Both of you. I love it. You are both… absolutely brilliant. I don’t know how I will come up with something even half as good for the both of you. I, err, well- I hope that some day the world gets to see how amazing your creations are.” The words were spoken with a conviction that left no room for argument. Harry could only watch in wonder as a thick blush consumed Fred’s cheeks, no doubt mirrored on George at Harry’s back. While they recovered from Harry’s shockingly honest words, Harry silently rubbed at Fred’s butt. No sense in ignoring such a marvelous offering.

“Oh Merlin, that's good,” Fred let out a sigh as his body melted into Harry, putting more weight on George, who repositioned himself so that he was sitting further on his hind. His legs surrounded Harry’s body once more, with the rest of George following quickly. Only, Harry started leaning back, draping his body against George’s front. Fred came with, sprawling out over Harry, pushing his weight and hips down into the shorter man. 

Harry let out a hiss as more friction was added to his dick, which was by now painfully hard. 

“I do believe Bill said something about you not holding back after that delightful dinner. Why don’t you let go for us, our courted…” George whispered the words into Harry’s ear. With the tone the older boy used, Harry almost wished they would have been filthy depravitys, George’s voice itself felt delightful vulgar when he got all breathy.

Harry had no clue when that conversation had happened, likely while he was at the bank, but regardless of the source, Harry responded to the information with a shudder. 

“Let me help you release some of this… tension,” Fred’s words ended, and immediately the boy let loose a jerky thrust, bringing Fred’s crotch against Harry’s stomach. “Let go, Harrykins, don’t you want to enjoy some time with your favorite twins?” Fred asked with a coy smile.

Harry felt it as his fragile control slipped further out of reach. He had been tossed around from highs to lows all day long. If the demon twins wanted all of him, then-

“You… Both of you?” Harry’s eyes felt like they were about to pop from his skull. 

“We aren’t averse to sharing,” Fred stated while wiggling his ass down, teasing what he could feel of Harry’s straining member. 

“Maybe more depending on the mood,” George added as he brought his head close to Harry’s ear before depositing a kiss on the teen's ear. It was only a faint peck, but the outcome was delicious as Harry’s body shivered.

“Bill didn’t know how quickly we planned on acting, or he probably wouldn’t have fessed anything up… But since our benevolent brother was in a talkative mood…” Fred trailed off as he tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck.

“Stupid loud mouth,” Harry muttered as his eyes narrowed in on what was no doubt an invitation to explore Fred’s throat. 

“Harry?” George mumbled into the aforementioned boy’s ear. “We both want to see bruises by morning. Tick tock.”

What an awful thing to say when Harry’s control was hanging on by a thin thread. It felt like the fates were actively working at snipping away any resolve he had in this moment. 

“Have either of you done this before?” Harry breathed, desperate for a way to stall what was quickly feeling like the inevitable as he felt his control wane. Pretty soon, there would be claws and fangs out if the twins weren’t careful. Not that they were opposed to such happenings.

The troublemakers had made sure to never take on a partner at Hogwarts. What about Harry made them finally want to act?

The question was enough to have the twins pause in their ministrations. They glanced back and forth at each other, juggling what to say.

“Have you?” George finally asked, distancing himself from Harry’s ear as he waited to hear the response.

“Well, I- That is- Uhm. I had a sort of partner and well… We never went all the way, you know? But we did some stuff… Mostly hands and mouths,” Harry fumbled now as he had their gazes locked on him. He hadn’t been dishonest with Ron, but he hadn’t been entirely truthful either. Harry had intentionally left the impression that he was more experienced, knowing that Ron would need a guiding hand. The twins, though? They looked on eagerly, with an intensity that only seemed to grow.

“We have… never had anyone to put all our efforts into,” Fred stated with calculating eyes as he gestured to George - and wasn’t that a delightful vision, “but we are at about the same experience as you. In fact… we were saving the moment for our favorite troublemaker,” and with this last bomb dropped, George pushed Harry’s head down into the juncture of Fred’s neck. 

“We’ve waited long enough. What do you say, Freddie boy?”

“Merlin, yes,” Fred moaned as a whimper escaped Harry’s mouth.

Harry had tried to keep his sanity. He felt like he had held out longer than most would have been able to in this kind of situation. But as he breathed in Fred’s cologne and his lips pressed above Fred’s scent gland… Harry realized his own restraint was never going to be enough in the face of such devilish creatures.

Tongue flicking out, Harry lapped at freckled skin, eager for the reward Bill had given him earlier in the day. And he wasn’t disappointed as a litany of flavors and fragrances attacked his senses. Just as beautiful as what Bill had, but different, a unique blend that was strictly Fred Weasley.

Harry felt the urge to sink his teeth in and momentarily pulled back, much to Fred’s frustration as the older boy let out a whine. Harry could only chuckle at the response. Letting his snakes out, Harry felt like a great weight had been released. George gasped out from his spot at Harry’s ear.

“How far are you ready to go?” Harry questioned with the authority he typically only held when teaching others.

“All the fucking way. Now, Merlin, can we get on with it- OHH, Sweet Circe-” Fred couldn’t think of anything else to say as Harry brought his mouth back down and bit directly over his pulse. The teeth avoided breaking skin but only barely. Fred felt as each prick sent jolts through his body. Harry’s tongue laved at the flesh caught in his mouth, the delightfully rich taste, the warmth, the feeling of the blood flowing under the skin. It was exquisite. 

“Fuck yeah,” George mumbled as he leaned down to join in the fun. Planting bold open open-mouthed kisses along Harry’s neck, George had seemingly made it his mission to map out the darker boy’s body with his tongue. 

As George reached Harry’s scent gland, partially covered by Fred’s arm, Harry shuddered as his body seemed to unwind under the stimulation. A wave of power coming off him as had become typical when around the Weasley boys.

“Fuck, do you even know what you are doing?” George whined out, his lips only millimeters above Harry’s skin. 

“He’s got no clue,” Fred mumbled out with his eyes blown wide from the scent that had taken over the room. Hearing Fred’s coherence, Harry increased his suction on Fred’s clavicle. The boy wanted bruises, and Harry was happy to oblige.

“Stupid Alpha pheremones,” George muttered in commiseration with his brother before smirking and returning to his task of driving Harry up the wall with his tongue.

So that’s what that feeling was? Harry was… scenting the room? Oh, Merlin, he was never going to be able to look Molly or Arthur in the eyes again. Harry decided that was a problem for a future him and thus resumed his task of turning Fred’s skin black and blue.

His hands cradled and rubbed up and down over the texture of Fred’s underwear, and why was that still there? The delightfully warm cheeks were such wonderful stress relievers for Harry as he worked at the flesh. Coming to the crease between pale globes, Harry lightly rubbed down the delectable gap before feeling out the warm indentation that could only be Fred’s asshole. Keeping his left hand working on massaging the lanky boy’s buttocks, Harry used his right thumb to prod at the boy’s hole. With a light shove, Harry felt the pucker press up against his thumb. He applied pressure to the warm, inviting entrance, the only barrier being a thin layer of fabric that was increasingly becoming a hindrance.

Harry growled in frustration in the low, hissing tones that might be employed by a seductive serpent. Without thought, Harry retracted his hands only for talonous nails to extend from the tips of his fingers, slashing delicately against Fred’s undergarments. Harry was forced to stop as the boy locked up, tension shooting up and down the ginger’s body.

Mentally cursing, Harry hoped he hadn’t fucked up.

“Just to be clear. Those are not going inside me,” Fred smiled cheekily, but fear laced the boy’s words.

“What- Oh,” George muttered as the boy looked up from his own spot, sucking at Harry’s shoulder blade. “Ditto here.”

Harry chuckled deep in the back of his throat. “Hadn’t planned on it. Blood play doesn’t seem very beginner-friendly, and no one wants to be stabbed up the bum.”

Pushing forward from between the twins, Harry struggled out of the delectable cage. With a burst of the same magic he had practiced earlier, Harry banished his clothes completely, wandless and wordlessly, his socks thankfully departing as well. All that remained was a necklace and a wand holster. 

Focusing on channeling more waves of magic and pheremones into the room, Harry watched in delight as Fred shivered while George leaned his head back, eyes closed, as he basked in Harry’s presence.

Leaning back towards his courteds, Harry snagged the corner of George’s underwear underneath a clawed finger. Pulling at the material, Harry was able to saw through the cotton, snapping the side of the garment so that the rest could fall easily when the boy sat up. George’s cock fell out of the ripped material, erect and immaculate. It was easily the same length as Harry’s own endowment, if not slightly longer, with an overall smaller diameter. It was a lovely thing nestled in a bed of copper curls that were far lighter than the scarlet locks both twins sported. Underneath the boy's dick was a delicious set of balls that dangled low.

Running clawed fingers down George’s thigh without piercing skin, Harry focused his eyes on Fred, who was shimmying out of his own underwear. That was unacceptable.

Quick as a snitch, Harry snapped his arm forward and grabbed Fred’s wrist, preventing the boy from pulling his pants all the way off his hips. “Did I say that it was your turn?” Harry smirked at Fred, who wore a gobsmacked expression paired with hungry eyes. “You are getting ahead of yourself.” Harry retracted his claws and quickly pulled the y-fronts back up covering Fred’s package, identical to George’s, Harry mentally cataloged. “Now you are gonna have to wait.”

Fred guffawed, on the verge of whining, but Harry ignored the boy’s protests as he turned his focus onto George, who was looking eager for some attention.

“I hope you don’t feel like you have been neglected,” Harry’s words came out with a light purring rumble. Waving a hand, Harry pulled the second bed towards them. With unimaginable difficulty, Harry managed to concentrate enough to merge the two beds into one large sprawl ready for a threesome of epic proportions. 

Harry crawled to the head of the bed and finally lay down. His dick lazily bobbed in the air from the movement, a small dribble of precum ran down the side, showing his interest in the proceedings. George stared on in hunger, but wisely remained planted on the bed. Harry brought his hand down and stroked his cock lightly, starting at the base, he made a ring using only his thumb and index finger. Trailing the loose grip up Harry stopped at the tip. Breaking his hold, Harry rubbed his thumb against his leaking slit, making sure to spread the fluid about in a way that he hoped was enticing.

With Harry’s eyes on George, it was easier to get lost in the sensations of the room; he felt pleasantly intoxicated by the power his own pheremones gave off. The taste of Fred’s scent gland still lingered on his tongue. Beautiful. Deciding to take things a step further, Harry put his concentration back towards George’s remaining fabric scraps. The underpants dissolved into a shower of purple petals that fell to the bed before dissipating, allowing for a complete view of the twins' pale thighs. Harry felt his dick twitch in eager anticipation. 

“Come here, George-” Harry didn’t even have to finish the sentence as George sprang up quickly, straddling Harry’s lower thighs, not quite touching Harry’s dick. Reaching up, Harry let his hand trail along the side of George’s head before his fingers slid into scarlet locks. Scratching lightly at the scalp, Harry let his ministrations pull the boy closer until their heads were inches apart.

As George’s face came into reach, Harry struck. Lips clamping together, Harry allowed his cawing hunger, the urges that writhed in his heart and mind, to get their fill. He worked at massaging the redhead's pouty pink bottom lip between his own. George’s body went limp against Harry, the older boy’s head only supported by Harry’s hands, which now held the cranium's weight. Harry couldn’t help but tug at the hair, delighted by the whine and the way George’s erection twitched against his thigh. Rutting up several times, Harry cursed his height as it meant their dicks were miles away from frotting together. 

Harry slowly let his wings stretch from his back. With all his features out, it was more difficult to rein in some of his more… dominant traits. But with the way the twins were begging, it wasn’t an issue.

Breaking off the kiss was difficult, but Harry didn’t want to torture Fred too much. At least not today. Harry yanked George’s head away by his hair, the boy’s eyes only fluttering at the sting of pain.

Looking at the third participant Harry shouldn’t have worried. Fred sat diligently, eyes glued to what was surely a magnificent view. Fred’s underwear was soaked at the front where the tip of Fred’s dick drooled thick beads of precum that were absorbed by the constraining fabric.

Harry felt vicious glee at the sight. Reaching out a hand, Harry beckoned Fred closer, only stopping the boy when he kneeled at Harry’s side. Fred stared down, looking desperate for his own turn. Harry wasn’t planning on disappointing.

Harry placed his outstretched hand against the head of Fred’s straining cock, lightly squeezing the spongy flesh through the fabric. 

Magic, mind, body, soul, all thrummed in the heady miasma of Alpha pheromones that were saturating the room as Harry let them flow out unhindered. It was freeing, rewarding to know that the cloying and oppressive force was trapping these two beauties up in want and need.

Guiding bodies, Harry sat back, shoulders on the bed, and head propped up while twin crotches shoved into his face. Harry stroked George freely while Fred remained imprisoned in damp cotton, the coarse material undoubtedly rough against the sensitive skin, but Harry didn’t release him from the constraints. The scent of musk was stronger down here, clealry Harry needed to have discussions with more than just Ron about showering before sex. Harry slowly gathered a droplet of precum up from George’s cock, sending one of his serpents to lick up the treat. An explosion of flavor washed over Harry’s senses, similar to the effect scent glands seemed to have on Harry. He would have to experiment more with his snake tongues. How delightful.

Coming closer, Harry couldn’t help but get a taste himself, lapping at the peak of George’s throbbing cock with his tongue, the boy moaning encouragement above him. Fred’s whimpering joined in as Harry squeezed harder on the boy’s cock. 

Finally, deciding that Fred had finished his punishment, Harry squeezed against the side of Fred’s shaft, even tighter than prior. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry watched as Fred’s head rolled back, pleasure evident in fluttering eyelashes and veiled whines. The soaked fabric exploded in a shower of fireworks that would surely be inspiration for the twins' adult line - Fred’s cock was free. Giving a vicious suck to the cock in his mouth, Harry made sure not to let up the harsh grip he had maintained while stroking Fred’s wand. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, just like that, Har-bear,” George muttered between a slew of other encouraging words. “I’m so close-”

Harry couldn’t have that. Withdrawing his lips with a loud pop, Harry sent a wink up to the frazzled ginger. This wasn’t an edging session, but Harry wasn’t ready to let George off so soon.

Switching focus, Harry licked at the slit of Fred's cock, delighting in the sound the boy released, close to a sob. Maybe Harry shouldn’t have been so rough on the boy’s package…

Quickly, a hand was shoved into Harry’s hair, forcing him onto the long cock. Harry had a moment to thank his warm-up on George before his nose was buried into manicured pubes.

“Oh, Sweet Circe, Georgie, we have ourselves here a champion cock sucker.”

“That we do, my dear handsome fellow,” George managed to choke out as Harry’s fingers explored the red head’s scrotum, paying extra attention to the delicate bollocks.

Harry was happy with his prowess, but something was missing. Snakes hissing at Fred’s hand, Harry slid off the red head’s cock as his hair was released. “Turn around,” Harry instructed. Eagerness exuding off him, Fred snapped to attention, ass swinging in the air until Harry was met with a red hand-shaped mark. Fuck that was gorgeous.

Bringing his hand up, Harry massaged the handprint reverently. “George, be a dear and hold these apart for me.” Harry wondered if this was where the twins would draw the line. It was one thing to fuck the same man and quite another to help your brother out during sex. But Harry’s worries were for naught as George sprang into action, spreading his brother’s identical cheeks. “Look at that beauty, such a pretty little pucker.” Harry’s voice was on the verge of a hiss; it only sent him spiraling further as Fred’s hole quivered in response to the vibrations.

Harry brought a hand down, lightly smacking the flesh just to watch it reverberate at the impact. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but certainly enough to have Fred arching his back and falling to the bed on his arms. Ass sticking proudly in the air, Harry had no choice but to feast. Lunging forward with a nonverbal cleaning spell, a small soapy film lathered against Fred’s hole before fizzing away, leaving only clean expanses, externally and internally.

“Do you know how many times we’ve stretched ourselves out thinking of you?” George muttered from his spot above Harry, holding his brother open for inspection.

Harry growled at the words, pleased beyond measure at the admission. Reaching between George’s parted thighs, Harry repeated the same spell as before, scrubbing up George’s hole before he let his fingers slide against the boy’s pucker teasingly. Just as tight as his brothers, but eager for action. Harry let his hands glide back, giving the ginger’s cock several slow strokes before his attention went back to Fred, who wiggled his ass in the air despite his brother’s prying hands.

Harry brought his fingers to his mouth, ready to wet the middle and ring - George had different ideas.

“I’ll do you one better,” the boy stated mysteriously as he wiggled his eyebrows. A lube bottle flew through the air ,leaving a trail of sparks behind it. Harry barely managed to snatch the container without it colliding with his face. In the absence of glasses, he was shocked to have made the catch. Looking back up at George, Harry licked his lips in anticipation.

Reaching towards the looming ginger, Harry stroked a hand through George’s hair before pulling on the strands. “Fred, how would you like it if I got you ready?” Harry’s words were met with quick approval and an ass being shoved his direction. “George… how would you like to get me ready?” Harry questioned while thrusting his dick into the air. George nodded vigorously, body already trailing towards Harry’s pulsating member. 

George released Fred’s ass quickly and shuffled down the bed like a gangly insect. With a loud slurping noise, Harry was sucked down into George’s throat. While Ron had been enthusiastic, he had a lot of training to do before he hit George Weasley’s cock sucking level. Harry allowed himself the luxury of several small thrusts as he ran his hand through George’s curls. Tugging on his hair occasionally, he turned his focus back towards Fred. 

Spreading a generous dollop of lube over the boy’s pucker one-handed, Harry worked slowly, adding first one, then two fingers into the boy’s waiting hole. Harry patiently scissored the boy, the wet heat driving Harry crazy. Hooking his fingers occasionally, Harry triangulated the location of Fred’s prostate based on what areas brought out the most delicious moans. “Fuck! Right there. Merlin, yes. You like my ass? Nice and warm, just for you - yessss.” Harry kept going, exploring the cavern as Fred’s words spurred him on. Already, Harry was desperate to go further, deeper, and never stop. Whenever it seemed like George was getting lax, Harry would shove the boy’s cocksucking lips down, letting the boy gurgle. 

Harry’s wings flapped lightly as they fanned out across the bed. Harry had twisted in order to eat out Fred while allowing George access to his own cock. Harry felt the urge to wrap up his prey in his wingspan and never let them go. What marvelous ideas! Harry needed to start writing these down. His snakes hissing and teeth aching, Harry let his mouth wander over pale, freckled skin. Fred’s ass was begging to be devoured. Serpents coiled to-and-fro, Harry only half paying attention to their movements. One of his little hair strands had bitten into Fred’s ass, teeth bent back and out of the way. Awaiting fear, Harry was pleased when all he was met with was a louder moan and a request for more. Harry obliged, sinking his human mouth down and teasing the flesh with his canines.

Slowly, Fred was opened, two digits turning into four fingers quickly, while his butt was covered in small bruising snake bites from Harry’s many reptilian mouths. Harry lapped at flesh and added to the growing motley of color, mouth leaving more and more hickies along the delectable rump. With his free hand, Harry sped up the pace of George’s head bobs, keeping the red head on his toes when Harry thrusted up roughly or held the taller boy down long enough for the boy to start choking before being released, upping the choke session length. Harry would have felt like a monster if it weren’t for the delightful moans both boys were making. 

“Please, Harry. Harrikins. Har-bear. Harrrryyyy. Please. Please. Please. I want it in me! Please-”

Harry ripped his fingers from the loosened hole. With a delightful sound, Harry slapped Fred’s ass, droplets of lube flying over the bed from the impact. The spank was loud, but Fred’s keening voice was louder as the boy dropped his crotch into the bed and thrusted against the sheets.

“More!” Fred’s voice was on the edge of mania, the boy driven up the wall and desperate for Harry.

“You want my cock? You want me to be the first you ever take? You want to be the first ass I ever have?” Harry knew the words would rile the boy up, but he also kept a lookout for any signs of hesitation. 

“FUCK ME NOW YOU WANKER!”

Harry couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. Quickly, it morphed into a dangerous and sharp upturn of the lips as Harry yanked George off of his cock. Harry had apparently been holding him down for quite a while as the boy came up gasping for air. Oops.

Pulling the debauched boy up by his hair, Harry twisted so that he could lay on his back fully, bat wings curled up against his body. George’s dick pressed against Harry’s side while the boy’s face nestled into Harry’s scent gland.

With a magical tug that had Fred yelping, Harry levitated the older boy off the bed. Turning mid-air, Fred was guided over Harry’s lap. Carefully, Harry lay Fred back down in a position similar to where they had started off the evening - Fred straddling his lap, both of them facing each other.

“You want me? Then hop on and take it-” Harry couldn’t help the hint of parseltongue that slipped into his voice. Fred only shivered as he stared on at Harry’s cock, pure desire and determination shining through.

“Help him out, George,” Harry encouraged the blissed out boy.

George’s eyes zeroed in on his twin. Fred propped himself on shaky knees, inching up to align himself with Harry’s daunting length. Reaching out, George grasped the base of Harry’s dick, holding the appendage steady. With his own hands, Harry gripped Fred’s ass cheeks, spreading them apart to reveal the loosened entrance. “Merlin, Morgana, Nimueh, and Mordred,” Fred breathed out as the tip of Harry’s wand lined up with the quivering hole. Harry felt like his heart would beat from his chest as he felt the pressure grow, his cock head teasing at Fred’s entrance. As Fred slowly descended, the force grew; Harry’s cock ached as he eagerly awaited the passage's opening. 

Finally, with an unsmooth drop, Harry’s dick popped through the tight outer ring of muscle, going in several inches deep as Fred lost composure from the sensation. 

“Fuckkk. Fred, you beautiful demon, you feel so good. Just like that, my imp. Take it slow, don’t hurt yourself. Relax around my dick. That’s it. Just like that.”

“Har-ry,” Fred hiccuped now, small tears coming to his eyes. “Blimey. You feel so good. George, we should have jumped him years ago. He’s bloody better than all the toys combined!” The boy whined as he reached the base of Harry’s dick, George’s hand having left the gap between his brothers thighs. Harry rubbed small patterns into Fred’s leg, in no hurry to rush the adjusting boy.

“Even better than Dragon Cock-a-matic?” George stated, no doubt in wonder, as his brother took his first cock.

“Abso-freaking-lutely,” Fred pronounced before slowly rising up the shaft.

Harry watched carefully for signs of pain, but there didn’t seem to be any. Clearly, Fred was experienced with anal preparation and no stranger to prostate stimulation as the boy narrowed in on his pleasure point on the next slow drop. Harry clenched his teeth and hands. He didn’t want to take control - yet. Fred deserved a chance to get his bearings. But Harry needed some form of release…

George seemed to have recuperated from his dick sucking. With the same precision as before, Harry focused on what he needed to happen. George screeched, distracting Fred, who glued his eyes to his twin, before deeming things under control. Harry brought George up, floating the boy into the air and turning him so that he faced his brother. Bringing the remaining twin down Harry adjusted his arms for George to land straddling Harry’s face.

Staring up at the clean puckered entrance, Harry didn’t wait - he couldn’t wait. George would have to take it, and take it he would. Harry brought his tongue towards the entrance, lapping from taint to the top of George’s crack, the boy frozen above him. Once again, Harry had to thank whoever invented cleaning charms. 

Getting to work, Harry lapped at the boy’s tight warmth. George now understanding what was happening, shoved his ass down, burying Harry under ginger rump. If Harry were smothered, he would die a happy death - they would write on his tombstone, ‘choked to death while riding a tall twink. And they were twins.’

With an outlet for his growing possessiveness Harry dipped his tongue into the hole. His first rim job - to think that Blaise hadn’t wanted to go this far. Harry loved the way the tight walls clamped down on his tongue. All the while Fred was struggling to keep up a pace as he bounced on his first cock. Harry’s serpents twisted in the air, nuzzling at George’s ass. Giving the same toothless bites they had delivered to Fred.

Fred’s bouncing was growing sloppier. The boy was losing steam, or perhaps it was his inexperience finally showing. Either way, Harry wouldn’t tolerate it. Growling into George’s pucker, Harry brought his hands up to Fred’s hips. With a bruising gri,p Harry slammed Fred down onto his cock. Harry would memorize the sounds of Fred’s screaming moan; he swore it to himself. With his hands welded to Fred’s hips, he lifted the larger boy up with an unknown strength. All before slamming the boy back down. In the same vein, Harry increased his efforts on George’s hole. In what must have been a divine revelation, Harry took a chance and scraped his bottom teeth against George’s rim. 

“Yes! Oh, Merlin, Harry, Sweet Curce, that’s bloody amazing!” George’s voice was close to a scream as his words flew out.

“Please, Harry, I want to- Ugh, there!” Fred’s words swirled in the air, mixing with George’s.

Harry felt as wave after wave of pheromones wafted off of him. While he couldn’t smell it, the pressure was delightful as it bashed against the twins' senses. 

Focusing on a snake with the thickness of a finger, Harry brought the living hair strand to his work area in George’s rectum. The serpent slid into the waiting cavity just as easily as it had with Ron, traveling deeper than Harry’s tongue alone could get. The copious amount of spit acted as a lubricant for the wriggling body.

“Is that?! Blimey-” George’s hips squashed further down into Harry’s face. Harry was blind to his surrounding,s but he just knew that George had thrown back his head in ecstasy.

Increasing his pace on Fred’s ass, Harry reveled in the feel of the warm, slick walls gripping onto him as his tip grew close to the entrance, only for the heat to swallow him back up as Harry shoved Fred back down onto his lap. Harry loved the way Fred’s balls slapped down against Harry’s lower stomach, the flopping sound of Fred’s cock adding to the experience. The boy’s erection was soaked, droplets of salty fluid flicking from the piss slit. Harry delighted in the temporary claiming. He would be theirs and they would be his.

Increasing his abuse of George, Harry brought another snake into the fold, the two twining together to reach into George’s depths.

“You’re so de-ep,” George stuttered. Harry could only growl in response. How was the boy still coherent? This wouldn’t do. Bringing his hair around to the front of George's body, Harry magicced lubricant onto George’s already wet dick. Focusing on two asses was already difficult, but Harry wasn’t deterred by the challenge, his inner Alpha encouraging him further. Coiling around George’s shaft, Harry focused a third larger snake on tugging George’s dick like a seductive constrictor. 

“Har-ry, I- I can’t- I’m gonna,” Fred prattled off from his spot, being driven up and down Harry’s dick faster than what Harry thought was possible. 

Harry growled deep into George’s core, delighting in the way the vibrations made the boy groan. With as much effort as he could spare, Harry focused on nailing Fred’s prostate on each thrust, brutally pulling almost entirely out and working the sensitive rim before repeating the move. Fred would be cumming, and if Harry was good at what he was doing, the boy would do it handless.

“Oh sweet- AGhh,” Fred’s voice broke like a pubescent boy. 

Thick spurts of warm fluid, Fred’s cum, shot across Harry’s exposed abdomen, no doubt some landing on George as well. But Harry didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The warmth was so good. Too good. He needed to cum. And it was gonna be inside Fred’s tight heat. The aforementioned boy collapsed now. His weight supported by shaking arms.

Harry let his tirade of brutal thrusts continue. He was there, at the peak, about to jump into the climax. He just needed…

Taking his dick all the way out for a moment, Harry brought Fred’s waist higher in the air than before. With a grand shove and impeccable ai,m Harry shoved the boy down all the way to the base of his cock, deep into Fred’s rectum. The powerful thrust was enough for Harry to unload deep into Fred’s body, the warm cavity filled up by Harry’s twitching cock and a never-ending delivery of spunk.

Ripping his hands from Fred’s hips, Harry brought them towards George’s moving form. Harry quickly secured a nipple between thumb and index finger, tweaking the bud while his hand joined his snakey minion in twisting and bobbing up and down George’s dick. Biting lightly on George’s abused rim, Harry worked tirelessly; he wanted to be covered in both of his conquests' essence, and more. Snake coiling inside of George’s ass, Harry shoved his tongue in deep.

With a practiced rub at the top of George’s dick and a snake pressing against the boy’s prostate, George screamed. Cum flew out across Harry’s chest, ropes landing on Fred and the bed, adding to the messy scene.

Harry felt alive. His blood thrummed with power, electricity shooting through his nervous system. 

“Fuck Harrykins,” George muttered as he collapsed off of Harry’s face, spent cock lolling off to the side as it was released from Harry’s snake grasp. 

“Oh Merlin-” Fred groaned as he slid off of Harry’s softening member. 

“I think he likes our present Forge.”

“No shit, Gred.”

Harry smiled at their antics. If this was after only a couple hours of courting...

Chapter Text

After thirty minutes of idle chatter, Harry had taken George’s ass while sucking Fred off. Twice. Fred had cum rather quickly, and Harry hadn’t been satisfied with only one load.  

After unloading into George, Harry had truly been spent. If they wanted more, they needed to plan better. As it was, Harry finally fell asleep at three in the morning. That marked two late nights in a row. This wasn’t a habit Harry wanted to keep, but the reasons for the awful sleep schedule were exquisite…

Waking up at an ungodly hour hadn’t been on his list of things to do, but a body pouncing on the bed had other plans.

Fred yelped while George groaned, tossing a blanket over his head and nestling into a pillow. Harry took the bulk of the weight, which was clearly the attacker's intent. 

A squeaking in the distance reminded Harry of his late-night purchase. What time was it anyway?

“Come on, we have plans for the day,” Charlie stated from where he lay sprawled out over the trio.

“How did you know I was here?” Harry rubbed his eyes to try to get rid of the blurred vision that came with groggy mornings.

“Checked every room until this one,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. Well then.

Charlie yanked the blanket down, exposing naked bodies to chilly air. Fred hissed, and George spasmed, but Harry only sat up, accepting his fate. Stumbling from the sheets, Harry scrounged the ground looking for clothes before realizing his mistake from last night. He had banished everything to his room. 

If Charlie had any thoughts on all the nudity, the dragon tamer didn’t say. Instead, the older Weasley took the time to place the blanket down over Fred and George’s sleepy bodies. It was an oddly sweet gesture, but a bit weird considering the lewd nature of last night’s events and the fact that the three gingers were closely related. Harry still couldn’t help but make heart eyes at the blurry scene. His inner domestic cravings made Harry’s toes curl in pleasure.

“Where something muggle, Harry,” Charlie murmured as he walked towards the door. “Meet me outside in ten. And mate? Use some mouthwash. And soap.”

Harry cringed at his own odor. He had possibly forgotten cleaning charms at the end of the night. Oh well. The twins looked gorgeous with spunk dripping from their holes.

Stumbling up the many stairs to the top of the Burrow, Harry clung to a robe he had filched from the twins' closet. It was too long, but fit his figure well enough. 

Several cleaning charms, a rinse, and a new change of clothes later, Harry stumbled outside. Molly hadn’t even bustled into the kitchen yet. 

Heading to Charlie’s side, Harry gazed on curiously. Just where were they going..? The dragon tamer had a knack for tugging Harry along on improvised adventures. Flights through dragon reserves, visits to Ottery St. Catchpole, and excursions down Knockturn that Molly and Arthur didn’t need to know about.

Charlie didn’t see the need to communicate today, as the dragon tamer grabbed onto Harry’s arm and apparated them away. 

Harry’s body felt as if it were disassembling into molecular soup; he had enough brain power to panic about the animal he had left in Fred and George’s care before he landed in a new location. Harry’s stomach heaved, but he managed to keep the acidic contents down.

“At least you stuck the landing,” Charlie offered with a wry grin. Harry was notoriously bad at wizarding travel that wasn’t flying,

The scrawny boy didn’t have a chance to reply as Charlie started walking away. They had apparated into a dark alley; from the looks of it, they were in a larger city. Other than that, Harry hadn’t a clue as to what was going on.

The Muggle settlement was just starting to awaken, traffic was light, and the sidewalks were empty. 

Harry kept up with Charlie easily; it was nice in a way, an early morning stroll. For once, Harry was taller than one of the Weasley men and didn’t have to speed walk to keep up. Harry wouldn’t be making it a hobby, but he wouldn’t begrudge himself a repeat every now and again if his mornings were spent in the company of a handsome man. As they turned a corner on a third block, Harry started to get the idea of where they were going.

A patisserie with heavy wards around it stood out brightly in the early morning hours, with lights of all sorts sparkling on the building's exterior. The fresh scent of baked goods was unmistakable on the early morning breeze.

“What do you say to sweets for breakfast?” 

Harry didn’t bother with a reply; instead, he glued his face to the window display. This was the kind of place that Petunia and her snooty friends would have bragged about incessantly. Naturally, Harry hadn’t ever stepped close to such an establishment. Hogsmeade shockingly lacked a true bakery, and Diagon’s closest offering was Fortescue’s. Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House had finger sandwiches and lots of small plated desserts, but certainly not the variety that Harry scanned through the glass - that place also still gave Harry the creeps. Through the shop’s glass, there were desserts that was a selection that had Harry’s eyes wanting to individually scan each confectionery delight. Some of the morsels were surely not achievable without magic, strange bubbling syrups, floating puffs, and glowing chocolate. Harry’s mouth watered. 

Ron had an abnoxiously large sweet tooth that had rubbed off on Harry over the years. The other boy would eat just about any sugary dessert. Harry liked to think that he had some standards, but this moment felt like the time to indulge.

Sitting down and getting comfortable, Harry scanned the space for staff. There was no till or back door.

“Say what you want and it will come,” Charlie offered. Demonstrating, Charlie locked his gaze on a nearby pastry display. “Drazzleberry danish.” A plate flew from out of the wall, the requested pastry flying onto the vessel before hovering towards Charlie. Floating in the air in front of Charlie’s head, a number appeared in the air. Chucking out a sickle that evaporated in silver sparks, the plate lowered onto the table in front of Charlie.

“Amazing,” Harry was thankful that he had grabbed his coin purse. “Treacle tart?” Harry hadn’t seen any, but he hoped that there was some tucked away in one of the many cases. Sure enough, a dessert came flying his way. Before Harry could pay, Charlie shucked a coin into the air towards the plate, beating Harry to the purchase.

“Knew you’d order it,” Charlie murmured with a roguish grin before he tucked into his pastry, not commenting on his money spending.

“You know I can pay for myself?” 

“You most certainly will not,” Charlie declared without a hint of regret for his actions. In fact, Harry peeked at a tail swishing back and forth in Charlie’s seat. Stupid charming wolf boys…

“So…” Harry was three bites in and in heaven. “What exactly are we doing out so early in the morning?”

“This place gets packed quickly. Figured you didn’t want to be swamped for autographs on your first date.”

Date? Date?! 

The fork in Harry’s hand melted into a puddle of cool metal on the table. “So… you didn’t bother running this by me first?” Harry hissed out, a twitch forming in the corner of his eye. 

Charlie blinked quickly while staring at the resolidifying metal. A gulp of air down Charlie’s throat showed that Harry had gotten his disapproval across.

“I… wanted it to be a surprise?”

Hopeless. Honestly retchedly hopeless. And idiotic. Moronic. “You let me go on my very first date with you… wearing a baggy t-shirt, ratty trainers, and jeans held together by mending charms, without having taken a shower,” Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but Harry’s glare cut him off. “I haven’t had a chance to even discuss courting you. I don’t have any gifts prepared for you yet. And this is definitely something your parents would demand a chaperone for, which means that my ass is gonna be on the line when we get back-”

“As if I didn’t just find you in Fred and George’s bed,” Charlie let out with a laugh that was stupidly charming. Harry wanted to kiss those smiling lips- Focus, Harry.

“That is easier to hide than this!” Harry stressed his point by waving his hand around the empty room.

“We can spin something to them, Harry, we’ve gotten by with worse for years. And… I may have called in a favor from Percy. Not that he was happy about it, mind you. But if anyone can lie to mom and dad straight-faced and get away with it… Well, let's just say there is a reason he is the one who is reviving the Weasley family's political power.”

Harry pinched his nose. Yes, they could, in fact, get away with it with Percy’s help. But that still left Harry’s other points. 

“And you don't have to dress nicely, Harry, we all know you have no style-” Charlie didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence as what was left of Harry’s tart flew into Charlie’s face. Harry had grown up starved. neglected, and bedecked in rags. He had scarce opportunities to update his wardrobe, what with Dumbeldore constantly breathing down his neck and the problem of him not wanting to flaunt wealth in front of Ron. The youngest Weasley boy had only just fully outgrown his jealousy of Harry's endowment.

Harry sprang on the boy across the small table while said boy was busy wiping away treacle and laughing. “You laugh now, but mark my words, Charlie Weasley. I won’t be getting you a single courting gift until all the others have gotten theirs. And-” taking a gamble, Harry licked a thick glob of teacle from the corner of Charlie’s mouth, “you are going to be my dog for today. Not my date.”

Charlie let out a keening noise that was halfway between a whimper and a moan.

The rest of their time in the patisserie was spent with Charlie kneeling on the ground at Harry’s feet with his features out, eating out of Harry’s fingers. A much nicer twist on the morning that Harry could get behind. Harry wasn’t sure where this newfound confidence was coming from. This push forward that he never would have taken on his own, without mental anguish. Was this what other alphas experienced? He had seen the knotheads bark at betas and omegas trying to control others. Harry didn’t see the need to be the absolute leader. But he somehow knew that this was something Charlie wanted, something he was more than willing to oblige. Was it his pheremones? Were they driving him further? He had only started to grasp his inheritance. What more did he not yet know?

Chapter Text

Even with the unpleasant elements of the day, namely Harry’s outfit and lack of preparedness (i.e., rushed hygiene), the date was going wonderfully.

After the patisserie, Harry had been dragged by an eager Charlie to a beach. It was on an island in the channel, entirely warded off from the Muggle world since before the current era. The island was presently a historical site and nature refuge monitored by magizoologists, herbologists, magical historians, with a litany of other stuffy researchers. Charlie had somehow managed to get permission to do no learning whatsoever and instead use one of the beaches for recreational purposes. How he had managed that feet was a mystery that Charlie didn’t expound upon.

It was barely 9 am. The sun had truly risen, and thankfully, the sky was devoid of clouds. A perfectly blissful time of day on a picturesque beach, no nosy tourists or gawking faces to speak of. Charlie ran across the sand with his shoes chucked off and his trousers rolled up. The world boy had shed his over shirt, and wings sprang forth through the back of his Muggle t-shirt. Harry had been relieved to learn that wings and additional limbs could subconsciously phase through clothing. It saved him the hassle of purchasing custom garments.

Charlie had brought them to the shore due to Harry’s childhood. The first time Harry had seen the ocean had been when the Dursleys had attempted to smuggle him away from the reaches of Hogwarts’ letters. He had been to the coast several times now with the Weasleys, but the churning waves and soft shoals never ceased to fulfill a childish craving in Harry’s soul.

Joining in on the fun, Harry splashed and galloped through the chilly waters. Time seemed to slip away as the duo engrossed themselves in the magical aura of the hidden island. Sand stuck to clothes and caked up in tangled hair. Salt clung to bodies, and the sea's air developed on the tips of tongues. Charlie boldly kissed Harry, and Harry? He kissed back with all the joy of someone whose affections were being reciprocated. They were gentle caresses of the lips and teasing pecks meant only to temporarily satisfy a hunger that wasn’t quite ready to be filled. Harry enjoyed petting behind Charlie's wolf ears and watching the boy's tail wag. Jokingly offering to toss a ball turned into an intense game of fetch. 

After the beach time was spent, Harry followed the muscular man on a short hike through the trees. These woods were tamer than the Forbidden Forest on the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds. Sprites danced in the afternoon beams of light, toadstools played deep songs, an endangered species of wisp walkers floated through dark crevices between piles of rock. Engrossed in magic, Harry felt his power thrum, and with it his alpha nature came forth. Dark thoughts stirred lightly, claim, mark, control. What would it be like to own this island and man? Harry suppressed the thoughts with a shiver. While he was all for a bit of dominance and submission, these dark-edged thoughts seemed out of nowhere. He needed to get a hang of his control.

After making it to the designated portkey location, Harry found himself in yet another back alley. This time, he did connect with the ground with a loud groan.

“Why couldn’t we have flown? Thestral, broom, car, hell, I will find my own black market magic carpet if it means never taking another dreaded portkey…”

Harry’s words were ignored as Charlie chuckled at the Boy-Who-Lived too hate teleportation methods.

This time, traveling to the destination was trickier as Charlie bustled them through to the desired location. It wasn’t difficult to figure out as they stumbled towards a booming theme park. Music played high, joined by a melody of screams and laughter. Walking through the front entrance with Charlie’s reserved tickets, Harry could only gape.

He had spent many days at Ms. Figg’s while Dudley and his friends had gone off to amusement parks and carnivals. Now he gets to live the experience himself.

Harry quickly learned he loved roller coasters. The free-falling sensation as one dropped from the peak was a taste of what flying was like. The difference being that Harry wasn’t in control and this added an extra layer of adrenaline to the experience.

After a whirl through all the rides, Harry felt like his energy had only grown as they waited in line for the Ferris wheel. This was undoubtedly the most romantic ride at the park. Harry figured Charlie had intentionally saved it for last. Clearly, other couples thought the same, as the wait was proving to be horrendous. A handsy boy and girl further up the queue were putting on a display that was met with cat calls and whistles. This only spurred on the daring duo as they got more caught up in each other. It was only 3 pm, far too early for getting that handsy, Harry thought as his cheeks heated.

Charlie looked from the sucker fish couple back to Harry. With a smirk, the dragon tamer leaned in close.

“Charlie, wait-” warning bells rang in Harry’s mind. They were in the Muggle world. But it was too late. Lips planted on his own, Harry’s warnings were cut off as Charlie flicked his tongue out to tease Harry’s gaping mouth. Just as Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, hell broke loose.

Harry didn’t know how he had ended up on the ground. His hearing was tinged by internal screaming, his vision was red. He didn’t know exactly what had led to him being laid out on his ass, nor did he care. All he could focus on was Charlie, whose nose was violently bleeding.

The man who was the most likely culprit for both of their situations was cursing the shorter redhead out. A few choice slurs had Harry’s vision tunneling. How dare he? The filthy animal. All they had done was kiss, and this asshole dared come between them? What was worse was the pain that he could see written on Charlie’s face. The dragon tamer’s nose was broken, underdeveloped bruises blossomed around a pale eye socket, and judging by the way Charlie rubbed his stomach, his face wasn’t the only thing that had been pummeled.

Harry’s courted, his future mate, had been injured. This man, this poisonous muggle, was going to die. 

Charlie valiantly argued back in the face of the homophobic man. How brave, Harry would reward him for his efforts, but it was Harry’s turn to take control.

The aggressor’s words trailed off as blood vessels burst in the man's eyes. A thin line of spit dripped from the man’s mouth as he froze in place, expression trapped in any angry grimace. A gasp rang from a gaping maw, the attacker's hand came up to clutch his own chest, directly over his heart. And as the man’s hand made contact with his sternum, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull.

Looking over the body as it collapsed, Harry felt a vindictive glee, a satisfaction like no other. Only-

Harry blinked quickly. Staring from the warm corpse up to Charlie, who was looking baffled now. Someone, Harry didn’t bother to look, screamed. Stepping out of the way as a staff member rushed forward, Harry shuffled further from the growing huddle as someone started chest compressions.

What… What happened? Harry’s head hurt fiercely. It was the king of all headaches. Where was-

“Charlie? You’re bleeding,” Harry muttered as he took the boy’s cheek in his hand. Charlie was distracted, staring at the fallen man. The beast that had attacked them, a voice in the back of Harry’s mind whispered. Quickly dispelling those dark thoughts, Harry rushed Charlie away to a bench.

As Harry subtly shot an episky at Charlie’s snapped bone, the older man snapped out of his fog. Brown eyes snapped to attention as Charlie analyzed Harry’s body. 

“Are you alright?” Charlie muttered out while patting down Harry’s sides, hands, and eyes, searching for invisible injuries.

“I’m fine," Haryr waved the man's concern away, "but you aren’t! I know you aren’t as familiar with the Muggle world, but you need to remember that they aren’t accepting of… our kind of relationships. We could have been seriously hurt,” Harry stressed the point by flicking his eyes to the blood that had smeared onto Charlie’s hands.

“Fuck,” Charlie murmured, brows scrunching and eyes closing in embarrassment. “I messed up.”

Harry wouldn’t scold him. He enjoyed the older boy’s idealism, the good that all the Weasleys had really. Charlie wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.

“Do you think the asshole had a heart attack?” Charlie spoke up after a long beat of silence.

“More like he choked on his own bigotry,” Harry mumbled as he tried to remember what had actually happened. He had been shoved to the ground, kicked, and then… pain. Harry's headache throbbed. “Come on, no sense sticking around here. I don’t want to be around when authorities start asking questions about why you don’t exist in any Muggle systems.”

Chapter Text

After the dramatic end to their amusement park adventure, Charlie had confessed his final plans for the day. Dinner and a movie. Harry felt like swooning was an appropriate reaction.

He had gone on very few dates, if his excursions into Hogsmeade even qualified as romantic outings. While not one for dramatic displays, the effort that Charlei was putting in was causing Harry to rethink his stance on how elaborate courting should be. The most pressing new development, the ultimate takeaway: Harry had to up his game.

Charlie managed to clean himself up enough to be presentable, blood being scrubbed up by a scourgify and bruises tended by a bruise balm that Charlie mysteriously procured. As they approached the dinner spot Charlie had wanted to try out, Harry became relieved that the boy wasn’t perfect. The ‘spot’ was a street cart that sold exclusively fish and chips; the outer shell of the cart was coated in more grime and spray paint than a decommissioned subway channel. Harry had firmly denied the suggestion of even standing in line. A young Harry had to learn the secrets of beerbattering fish at a young age, and he took pride in his crispy potatoes. There was not a chance in hell that he was willing to eat such soggy and grey-looking street food. Naturally, the alternative that Harry agreed to was a curry place where Charlie got vindaloo and butter chicken to share, splitting a pile of naan more equitably than Harry thought a Weasley capable of. If Ron had joined, Harry would no doubt be sporting fork marks in his hand as the boy would have hoarded the flat bread.

The movie that Charlie had picked was a fantasy. When taking their seats, Harry had cast a silencing charm, put up an anti-eavesdropping spell, and added a muggle repellent for good measure. Of course, the film had Charlie laughing hysterically and waxing about the ignorance of Muggles. Harry finally had enough - he didn’t want to hear a lick more about the impracticality of magical staves as compared to wands. Kissing the words out of the redhead's mouth seemed to be the best way to get back on track, even if Charlie rested his head in Harry’s lap for the rest of the showing while Harry scratched the boy’s scalp. It was a pose reminiscent of what Bill had done on the night of Harry’s housewarming. Only Charlie remained chaste, face pointing towards the movie screen, with a peek-a-boo charm cast on the seats so that the dragon tamer could still watch the admittedly cheesy movie. When Harry ran his nails over just the right spot between Charlie’s hair and fuzzy ear, the boy’s tail would wag in the most adorable manner. It was hard to concentrate on a film when the view right next to you is so much better.

Night had fallen by the time they escaped the theatre. 

Charlie had grown increasingly handsy, and Harry didn’t know how much more he could take. Apparating in such a state was a horrible idea, but thankfully, this time the dragon tamer captured Harry’s wrist before he dropped into a marshy bank of water.

Where were they? It was vaguely familiar. A grassy meadow surrounded by swampy fields, tall grass, and twinkling stars. They were close to the Burrow, that much was for certain. No discernible landmarks were present for Harry to ascertain the exact location - best guess was somewhere past the half pitch.

A firm pull against his arm had Harry stumbling over to a previously unseen spread of plush blankets and an army of fluffy pillows. Hilariously, the pillows seemed to be a combination of red decorative heart-shaped throws and functional sleeping devices wearing Quidditch-themed cases and one odd pick that had a full-body nude witch-

That pillow was quickly flipped as Charlie blushed furiously, mumbling something about Ron.

Little jarred flames lit up with a wave of Charlie’s wand, no incantation needed to activate the devices. The Weasleys’ gramophone had been apprehended, and with another flick of the wrist, a small tune started playing. Harry wasn’t sure who the composer was, but it sounded straight out of Molly’s romance collection.

“Figured we started with dessert, we might as well end with more.” The muscular short cake plopped down on the ground, rustling through mountains of plushness (was that Fred’s pillow?) until he let out a pleased note and uncovered a basket. Inside was a delicious combo of apple cheese tarts and warm butterbeers. Harry’s heart felt ready to burst as he let the affection overwhelm him. He was truly being converted into a sap.

Music, twinkling stars, sugar on the tongue, exquisite company… Harry was quickly being consumed by a need to claim, take, make his own. This man. This perfect, considerate, wolfy boy. Nuzzling closer into Charlie’s body, Harry couldn’t help but scoop the larger man’s frame into his arms. He didn’t bother with a pretense of offering warmth. It would have been an easy lie that Charlie would have laughed off. They both wanted the company, the closeness.

“I hope you know what you are signing up for.” Charlie’s words were muffled by Harry’s shoulder, but heard nonetheless. 

"How do you know that you can handle me?" Harry challenged with a laugh.

"How about a game of questions?"

"Isn't that what courtship is about? Finding out our compatibility? Tit for tat?" Harry's arms were left empty and bereft as Charlie rolled away, flopping dramatically on a poof.

"Well then, prospective alpha, what questions have you for me?" Charlie wiggled his eyebrows, hairy wolf ear twitching.

Harry's gears turned. What did he want to know? What kind of qualities did he want in a mate? "Uhm, errr, well I already know your favorite color is red, your favorite dragon is a Nepali Mountain Winder, and your favorite Quidditch team is the Romanian Zână Blessed..."

"All true. Now ask me something you don't already know," Charlie smirked, canines prominent in the moon and fire light.

"How many kids do you want?" as the words blurted from his mouth, Harry mentally cringed. What a fucking awful question to ask on a first date.

Charlie didn't even blink at the question, lips already answering as Harry's mind whirled in embarrassment. Maybe he hadn't bungled it all up. "Ideally, one to three. I'm not going for mum and dad's record if that's what you are asking. Muggles may have an overpopulation issue, but we could certainly use some growth. My turn. How many partners do you see yourself with?"

Harry's jaw felt like it was about to drop from his face. His mouth would make the perfect fly catcher as it gaped. "I- what do you- Uhm."

"I know you've fucked my brothers. Hell, Bill was giving me pointers, not sure what that was about-" Harry screeched indignantly. This made him sound like some kind of slag. "-I just want to know what magic number you see for yourself." Harry continued to squawk. This wasn't happening. Harry's body felt like he was about to combust or melt into a puddle. Either option would have helped save face, but neither magical phenomenon happened.  "My uncles all have multiple partners, I'm not some prude," Charlie muttered, starting to pick up on Harry's obvious tensing, but not having reached the right conclusions.

"It's not that, err, I know that more than one husband would be fine. I- it's just that. Well, the thing is..."

Charlie stared curiously, head tilting to examine Harry better. Eventually, a lumos seemed to go off in the boy's head. "Let me go out on a limb here and say that you want six mates? Maybe a redhead or a coven of them?" Harry needed to escape. He had no idea which direction the Burrow was in, but he was sure that if he jumped into the tall grass and made a run for it he would find civilization eventually. A hand jutted out, grasping a shaking arm. "So you are serious about this," Charlie stated offhandedly while rhythmically squeezing Harry's arm to the beat of the song. 

"I really like all of you," Harry stressed the words, but didn't elaborate. How could he? He must have been a special kind of depraved monster to want to horde all of the siblings, minus Ginny. 

"Good. If you were messing with all of my brothers' hearts, I would have had some serious problems after we were mated." Charlie's grin now was blinding and downright scary. Wait a second-

"Hmph. Cocky enough to think that you would have beaten all the others?" Harry felt relieved by the reaction, slowly recovering with the minimal humor he could muster.

"When you are this exemplary of a specimen, it is hard not to let it get to the head," Charlie flexed an arm where muscles bulged under a tight shirt. Harry felt equal parts charmed and resigned. He had signed up for this.

"Beligerent wanker."

"If you want to see wanking-" Charlie's hands jumped to his zipper, pulling the metal tab down like his life depended on it.

"Overconfident little shite!" Harry laughed, throwing a pillow at the wizard's face. "At this rate, you aren't seeing my underwear until the third date!"

"Now we can't have that," Charlie stated seriously. "I had very much looked forward to getting into your knickers-" another pillow went flying into the older boy's stupidly perfect mouth.

"Change of subject before you really get it-"

"Yes, I want it-"

"Where do you see yourself settling down?"

Charlie blinked at the question, humor dissipating as the slouched red head contemplated the question. "No offense to mum... But I can't see myself actually moving back into the Burrow full-time. As it stands, the only reason there hasn't been some formal talk about stuffy contracts is because she didn't have the opportunity yesterday. I know for a fact that after today, it is going to be a lot more difficult to get any alone time with you. It's... Well, I'm not a child anymore, as much as she sees us all as her babies. Anyway, to answer your question, probably the coast, near a magical forest, or any other place in the country. I don't fancy living in a village or city surrounded by muggles. Certainly not after my run-in today. I don't want to have to hide who I am constantly."

Harry felt wistful at the statement. He could relate. He also mentally catalogued the fact that he would be confronting the Weasley matriarch at some point.

"What do you really want to do in life?" Charlie clumsily segued the conversation, which Harry graciously allowed.

"I have always wanted to be a dad. It would be nice to study more magic, but I would need a hands-on master and not a university. I also want to get the twins set up in a storefront. I need to get Ron motivated to try out for the Chudley Cannons. I promised myself I would help Percy in politics-"

"You really are smitten?" Charlie lets out a whine when Harry sends a stinging hex at his exposed foot. The boy had kicked off his dragon hide boots and left his ticklish feet open to attack.

"I'll show you smitten," Harry flicked out his wand and pointed it at the mound of pillows. With a nonverbal incantation Harry had memorized from Hermione, the pillows sprang into the air, forming a mobile, flighted attack force that dive-bombed Charlie, who ducked behind a blanket. Feathers flew, giggles joined the thrum of music, and Harry basked in the delightful evening.

"Truce!" Charlie screamed as the pillows broke through his flimsy barrier.

"Never." Harry succinctly flicked his wand, vaporizing Charlie's blanket shield.

"No wait-" it was too late for Charlie as the boy was pelted with squishy projectiles.

Chapter Text

“Monster,” Charlie muttered from his spot between Harry’s legs. Harry had been picking feathers from the boy’s hair at a pace that must have been torturous, as Charlie’s entire body sat precariously stiff and twitchy. It was almost as if Charlie didn’t like the subtle way that Harry was rubbing canine ears and scratching through red curls. Charlie and the twins had inherited the waves and ringlets of their mother, while Percy, Bill, and Ron all had straighter textures. This was currently working in Harry’s favor as he could feign how difficult it was to search through the redhead's nest for pillow debris.

“If you want me to stop-”

“I never said that. Keep going.” Charlie was whinging. The macho man dragon tamer was whinging. Harry’s poor heart, his poor overworked heart. At this rate, Harry would live life with a semi-permanent erection. Forget impotency, Harry needed a potion for rut suppression.

The night had been bliss. This chaotic date was something that Harry would never let himself forget. The perfect day, hiccups and all. Harry glossed over the lapse in memory, figuring shock or trauma did that to a person. He still couldn’t quite remember what had happened to Ripper when Aunt Marge had come over for Christmas when he was sixteen…

What started as subtle pats and scratches turned into a blatant head massage, Harry’s nails digging into the willingly offered scalp. Charlie’s tail whipped from side to side, not able to gain full momentum as Charlie’s weight held it partially down, tucked between thick thighs.

“What do you look for in a partner?” Harry casually threw out, hoping to distract himself from the contagious excitement.

“Hands that can make me purr instead of bark,” Charlie shot out the response before Harry’s mouth closed around his own last syllable. Face flushing hot, Harry continued on, hoping that Charlie’s nose wasn’t strong enough to pick up arousal. He had enough canine smellers and mortifying conversations from Remus to deal with. “And of course, they have to be adventurous,” Charlie arched his back ever so slightly, shoving his head further into Harry’s grasp, “not afraid to let their emotions show, be open and communicative, and it’d help if they can cook- THERE! Right there.”

Charlie’s head was pushed into Harry’s hands, where the eager to please teenager proceeded to follow the directions and get to work, scratching at a spot at the base of Charlie’s skull that had the ginger’s tongue rolling from between pink lips. Brown eyes were hidden behind tightly clasped lids and fanned orange lashes. Charlie may have had waspish features, but those had no chance of shining when it was clear that the boy was a dog person. Harry questioned his own history with canines now as he thought on the subject. Crusher, and later Ripper, had been the bane of Harry’s ankles for years. But Padfoot had been a gift that he would always treasure. Fluffy was more of a neutral experience, honestly. Fang was overwhelmingly a good boy, albeit a coward, but a good boy nonetheless. And then there was Charlie… Maybe Harry just liked big dogs?

“Did you hear me?” Charlie’s head twisted from Harry’s grip. Misinterpreting Harry’s far-off expression, Charlie let out a smirk that would have put the twins’ evil grins to shame. “Am I that distracting Har-ry?”

Harry choked on air. Desperate to get the attention off himself, he blurted out another topic. “What’s your greatest strength?” Harry fumbled his brain trying to figure out something, anything, to get out of the line of fire under heated eyes.

“I think we’re a bit done with questions, mate,” Charlie’s gaze flickered to Harry’s very kissable lips. 

Harry’s pupils dilated at the sound of Charlie’s words. “Mate?” Harry’s throat was suddenly very parched. It was far, far, farrrr too warm for clothes.

Charlie’s own eyes seemed to explode now as pupils bounced back and forth, taking in Harry’s expression. An audible gulp drew more attention to Charlie’s exquisite throat. So markable, so delicious~

“Slip of the tongue. Let’s not get-” Harry sprang forward, maneuvering quickly enough that the motion was almost a blur as he straddled Charlie’s torso and buried his head into the column of throat exposed to the night sky. “-ahead of ourselves. Oh Merlin…”

Harry devoured, taking in every inch of the delicious skin. Charlie was one of the few Weasleys who kept a tan throughout the year. That just meant Harry’s bruising lips would have a different color palette to work with.

Charlie writhed. The boy had lightning in his veins and jumping juice in his feet. Legs tapping against the ground and hands roaming Harry’s body, the darker boy clamped teeth down against Charlie’s pulse point, feeling the skin’s texture with his tongue. Charlie let out a choked cry. Desperation had him yanking Harry down and trapping his head between a clavicle and a bulging forearm. Harry was in heaven. Alpha instincts are at the forefront of consciousness, influencing Harry's increasingly daring actions.

Without magic or finesse, Charlie’s free arm fisted fabric, uncaring of who it belonged to or where it went. With the strength of a dragon handler, Charlie ripped until seams gave way and fabric split. Frantic to join in the violence, Harry felt nails lengthen into dangerous points. Bringing talons down across Charlie’s chest, Harry ripped into the material, tearing away cotton and tracing red lines into plump pectorals.

Charlie hissed in pain or pleasure. Harry’s capacity to understand had fled his body as his mouth latched onto a newly exposed pink bud. The nipple quickly flared into a stiff peak that was delightful to gnaw and chew on between incisors. The other bud was played with between clawed fingers that balanced on the verge of piercing flesh. And Charlie? The wolf boy’s nails painted lines of crimson welts across Harry’s back, not deep enough to scar, but fulfilling in the way they left their imprint on Harry’s flesh. 

Growling deeply, Charlie flipped Harry onto his back, pinning the slighter boy in place. With teeth that were quickly looking more and more canine, Charlie bared down on Harry’s shoulder, clamping the ridges of molars and fangs over sensitive flesh in a burning passion that was injected directly into Harry’s veins. What would it be like for Charlie’s teeth to break flesh and make the bond official? Later, Harry promised himself. He would claim this wonderful man. But for the moment, he would give back. 

With a slicing motion that he had practiced only the night before, Harry cut through trousers and pants combined, exposing Charlie’s gloriously toned rump to the open air. Charlie’s warning growl was ignored as Harry squeezed twin globes of perfection. Almost in a trance, Harry released his hold and brought the hand down with a smack, the sting on his palm worth the yelp that left Charlie’s occupied mouth. Again and again, Harry smacked the man’s muscular ass; there wasn’t a jiggle so much as a shake when Harry’s hand came down over and over, darkening the stinging flesh. 

“Tell me you want me to stop, and I will,” Harry groaned out. 

“Piss off- Hecate’s Triple Cunt!” 

Harry brought down his hand hard enough for the smack to ring through the clearing over the sound of distant music and chirping insects. A symphony of debauchery that Harry would have to record and replay while in a very hot shower. 

Lips smashed against lips now, pointed teeth and fangs pricked at delicate flesh, and tongues battled against each other. Charlie rutted on Harry’s thigh, moving side to side, up and down, and a combination of everything in between. The man practically hunted for Harry’s prick. 

Sneaking a hand down writhing bodies, Harry grabbed onto Charlie’s member and felt his entire body flush. The boy had the thickest cock he had ever seen or held. He hadn’t even freed it yet, and already Harry’s mouth watered at the thought of what the boy was packing. With sanity leaving his body claws ripped into trousers and pants, his second hand joining in the fun, Harry tore away the jeans as if they were an insignificant tissue and not sturdy cotton. With shreds of fabric flying, Harry yanked his own bottoms down and away as best he could while his mouth was occupied battling Charlie’s tongue for dominance. The wet muscles twisted in the space between mouths, like the coiling of snakes in a warm den.

As Harry’s dick was allowed to breathe, he quickly sheathed it between warm thighs, clamping Charlie’s legs around his aching shaft. Charlie was short enough that Harry had to lean forward to continue his conquest, gaining small victories as slowly Charlie’s tongue receded into the awaiting cavern.

The heavy length of Charlie’s erection sat splendidly on Harry’s navel, a warm trickle of precum saturated the remains of Harry’s tee. It was too much - not enough - perfect and torturous all at the same time. 

With a burst of pressure somewhere in the back of his skull, wings flew out, joined by an army of snake-headed hairs. Charlie didn’t back down from the intense wash of pheremones, his own features springing forth in the form of waspish wings and a heavier coating of red hair turned fur that covered the boy’s chest and arms. A shag carpet that Harry ran clawed hands through. Maybe it was because Harry was part reptile, but he couldn’t help but want to burrow, no pun intended, into the Weasley warmth.

Harry’s vision went in flashes. He was devouring a mouth, teeth clacking, lips smacking, drool dribbling at the corner of parted openings. 

He was shoving Charlie down and marveling at an engorged cock, the start of a knot at the base of the eager member. Charlie was a wolf in more ways than one. Alphas only knotted in rut, and my what a shame that was. Harry suckled at the tip, stroked the bulging base, wrapping fingers around the beta's dangly bollocks. The weight on the tongue, the heady aroma, the release of pheremones, it was an ecstasy one could only achieve in the throes of passion. Harry was a cocksucker, and he would make damn sure that Charlie knew it.

In another flash, Harry was four fingers deep, talons retracted, snakes hissing while Charlie’s tail wagged, ass sticking into the air. Stingers sprang out of rough and calloused palms, embedded into the ground, puncturing holes through the blanket barrier between bodies and soil. Rivulets of sweat dripped down Harry’s flat chest and caught between the grooves of smooth scale and wild hairs. The tight warmth was squeezing Harry’s fingers, sucking the wet digits in like glutonous Charybdis. The awaiting entrance was asking for more, begging for release.

Blinking blurred eyes, Harry came around once more, again entranced by all-consuming desire and pleasure twisted together in sinful bliss. Something was happening, and Harry didn’t know how, but things were progressing fast. He had just been fingering the dragon handler, and now he was balls deep, pumping throbbing wand into tight holster. His balls ached like they had been churning for weeks and now found an outlet for their release. His entire body was hot, but the desire burning in his gut was strongest. He was boiling. His every muscle poised, ready to strike. Pump after pump, Harry drove in as deep as the passage would allow. Charlie moaned a litany of tunes. No longer was the dragon tamer snarling; instead, the wolfish boy had resorted to pleased whimpers and- Oh gods, he was begging so sweetly, Harry marveled at the sight before him.

“More! I want it all. Fatten me up with cum. I want to feel your load in me, Alpha-”

Harry drove in harder, effort renewed as he washed away the fog of the past couple of minutes from his mind. The pleasure must have been so great that he was blacking out. 

Reaching around the shorter man, tugging firmly on dripping cock, Harry stroked the length. The delicious cock, some mixture of human and canine, was soaked in a steady stream of precum, thick beads spurting out from the stimulation. Squeezing tightly on the knot, the alpha was rewarded by the cock twitching wildly, an unpredictable orgasm shooting through Charlie’s body and soaking the ground in spend. 

Through it, Harry kept pumping more and more. He would stuff the boy full, breed the tight ass, and claim his prize. Harry craved the tang of blood and the feeling of a knotted hole. He would have them. 

Driving forward past the edge of reality, vision began to blur. He was pumping steadily, Charlie on all fours. The next moment, the redhead's forearms collapsed, keening noises came from Charlie’s filthy mouth pressed into a pillow. Ass held up in the air by Harry’s bruising grip, Harry pumped harder, faster, the boy’s body underneath shaking through a second orgasm as the sensitive wolf cock was rubbed away. In and out, Harry buried all the way to the base before retreating until only the tip remained and thrusting forward once more.

Finally, with Harry’s focus coming back just in time, he released. Wave after wave of thick spunk shot into the awaiting hole. It was like the strings of a marionette had been cut as Harry collapsed over Charlie’s shuddering form. The wolf boy shot out what must have been his third orgasm, a puddle of cum evidence enough of the boy’s pleasure as Harry nuzzled his nose against the exposed back, licking thin cuts made from sharpened talons. 

In what was starting to become an alarming amount of pleasure, Harry’s cock kept going. An orgasm that was turning into a prolonged affair as spurt after spurt of cream filled Charlie’s eager hole. Reaching around, Harry felt the distending of Charlie’s taught stomach, the way the flesh bulged out as anus, rectum, and intestines were stuffed full of cum. It was the hottest fucking thing Harry had ever felt. He wanted Charlie to keep it all in so that Harry could worship the inflated stomach. 

Not a care was had for how this could be possible outside of rut. Harry only basked in the feeling of pleasure as once more his vision went wavy, this time with sleep.

Stroking the near-unconscious ginger's sides, Harry had just enough wits left to reposition them so that he spooned the larger man while cock continued to be milked. Vision fading to black, Harry felt inordinately pleased by his date and how things had ended. How much of it he would remember was an inconsequential thought. Right as Harry's mind drifted away, a flash of red overcame vision, and then twisted silver. Probably the start of a wonderful dream...

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Muggle Massacre at Midnight! 

by Nathaniel Willibigs

Dear Readers, it is with great alarm that we at the Daily Prophet bring you this news-

-twelve muggles found dead and dismembered in what appears to have been a ritual sacrifice. It is unclear what the purpose of the ritual is, but as the casualties are high and no signs of explosion or malevolent spirits were found at the crime scene, it is assumed that the magical rite was a success. What this means is unclear-

-no current leads are known to us at the Prophet. Rest assured, we will be doing our own investigation, cooperating with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement-

-the choice of Muggles is shown to have been purposeful. Six females and six males, all between the ages of twenty and fifty, each with an extensive criminal record. What further ties the group together is unclear. It is highly suspected that the purpose of the ritual will shed light on the curration of victims. More research is being conducted that may inform us why these individuals were picked for this gruesome ritual-

-the ministry has been tight-lipped on additional information; this is still an active investigation. Outside sources reveal a distinct mark cast into the air. With dark sympathizers on the rise and a slew of blood crimes filling the Wizengamot docket, could this be a rogue band of Death Eaters? For the full story, see pages 2-3

"Arthur, put that down! I don't want the children seeing such... such-"

"Mollywobbles, this is bad. There is no chance they won't learn about this. It happened in town for Merlin's sake!"

"Shhh, quiet," Molly peered out from the dining room entrance, eyes locked on the stairs. Not a squeak came from the rickety baluster or any of the loose planks. Almost everyone was still asleep, and those who were awake, namely Bill, hadn't come down yet. 

"Harry and Charlie are still out; perhaps they saw something last night?" Arthur suggested to his frazzled wife. He was in a tizzy himself, but he didn't let it show as he swooped up the bumbling women into a full-body hug. Just what his mate needed.

"Don't get me started on those two! I just know that this was Charlie's doing, he's been spending too much time with the twins again..."

Arthur let himself breathe as his wife got swept away into the new topic. They both knew it was but a distraction, but it was needed for peace of mind. Buttering his toast, Arthur made sure to give all the correct encouraging noises he had mastered over the years, keeping one eye on the dreadful article on the table. This was bad. But even in bad times, there was still good to be had. As for his rascal of a son.... Arthur remembered what it was like to be young once. They probably just stayed in a hotel room for the night, or perhaps one of the available guest lodgings had been occupied by sweet, innocent, Harry. Percy had mentioned that the boys may not be back from their visit to Romania until today, after all. It was so thoughtful for Charlie to have given Harry a tour of the facility with his coworkers. And surely the staff in Romania had made wonderful chaperones for the courting couple - Arthur just knew nothing improper had occurred.

Chapter Text

Percival Ignatius Weasley, a dignified enough name, backed by strong ethics, a healthy dose of ambition, and the determination and diligence to see his desires fulfilled.

In regard to desire... Percy, standing at a reasonable height, slightly taller than average, with a trim build, a full head of healthy hair, and pale blue eyes. He was more than pleased with his appearance, and his past history seemed to suggest that partners felt similarly. His rather large endowment may have had something to do with it, or perhaps his flexibility, but regardless, he had never left a sexual encounter, himself or partner, unsatisfied.

Now that he had his mastery, it was time for Percy to set his career plans in motion and ponder settling down. And lo and behold, Harry Potter descended from the heavens, glowing green eyes and cheeky grin, tantalizing and perfect. Negotiating with his brothers was a rather tedious affair. Percy was the last one to recognize the young boy’s many desirable attributes and was thus treated as a less than serious suitor. That didn’t chuff him as much as it might others. They could underestimate him, say that he was married to school or politics. It didn’t matter. Percy had a plan and an end goal that included a Harry Potter shaped bite mark on his shoulder. Or ass. Percy would support either location.

All of his brothers had… sampled the goods, so to speak. Nothing to scoff at, considering there were five of them. But Percy had his own share of experience and was more than willing to wait for his time with Harry. Charlie currently had the monopoly on the gorgon’s day. Percy had finally paid off his debt to Charlie in exchange for his help in the planning and logistics, as well as cover for their shenanigans. 

Charlie had at one point provided Percy with some less-than-legal texts that were easily purchased in Romania. And now Percy had aided his older brother in giving Harry a pleasurable outing and no doubt delightful shagging. Percy had his own subtle ways to make the date more… interesting. The blanket nest had been created using pillow offerings from all of the Weasley children. Percy had just made sure to grab some of the more embarrassing tokens his brothers had kept hold of. 

The relatively free day Percy had received was only hindered by curious twins and a grouchy Ron. Bill had gone into work, and Ginny wasn’t in on the inner machinations going on in the brotherly court. Not to say that his siblings succeeded in hindering his progress. Percy had managed to pen letters to several pertinent people. Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, naturally needed to be kept in the loop on his godson’s courtship. The vampires of the Darthmoor coven had all but unofficially adopted the chaotic boy and would demand a blood bond for any pairing that Harry agreed to. There was a pesky dryad grove that would also need to be appeased with at least one date in the magical forest. And that didn’t even match half of the strings Percy had to pull in the ministry to ensure the proper courtship paperwork was filed. They were not binding contracts; Merlin knows Percy would be skinned alive by the delightfully powerful boy if he forced him into anything. The papers were instead only declarations of courtship - no one could besmirch the Weasley name for being scoundrels, and Percy still got to rub it in everyone’s face that he had captured the attention of a rather prominent celebrity. Percy took an odd glee in having achieved such success already, while Oliver Wood had a failed professional Quidditch career that was one more bad game away from ending. He had shared a dorm room with the egotistical, prideful, deranged twat for far too many years to wish the boy well.

After all paperwork and letters were sent to their proper recipients, Percy had the joy of planning for his wooing. It had been an uncomfortably long length of time since he had gone on a proper date. Flings were easy in that they required zero effort or commitment. But flings couldn’t give Percy children, financial stability, or emotional serenity. And really, thinking about Harry was a more than pleasant activity. It didn't help that the last date he had gone on was a... traumatic experience. Peryc didn't frequent nightclubs, but Andrew had been persistent. In retrospect, the terrible encounter had been a good thing. He had sworn off alcohol, the drink being a hindrance to keeping a steady mind, and learned how to curse would-be abusers undetectably.

The pragmatic Weasley had a slew of ideas at the ready for how to ensnare the bespecaled boy. But which one should he proceed with…?

Quidditch games were an assured method for pleasing the teenager. A flight through a magical forest could be spun in so many directions. A professional dueling tournament could be an exciting avenue to explore. Or maybe an entirely different approach should be taken. Percy pondered the logistics of organizing a dance or party before noxing the idea. Harry hated it when people watched him, and Percy wasn't keen on showing off the boy for others to gawk at.

Then there was the matter of courting gifts. One could argue that he had already bestowed his first gift, but saying that the embroidered blanket was one was a slight against Harry. The boy deserved to be showered with treasures. He had shown a clear bias towards handcrafted and homemade goods. The twins had done something in the realm of jewelry. Not a bad route, but that only meant Percy would have to wait on anything in that direction lest he accidentally give a repeat present. 

So much to consider. But Percy had time. And he would use it well.

____________________________________

“I am going to kill them. All of them.” Sirius let out a snarl that was some awful mixture between man and dog. Azkaban had rouged his voice to the point where he sounded constantly on the brink of a hoarse cough. It only added to his devilish charm, if you asked him, but in this moment the crakling baritone seemed creepier than rougish.

“Be realistic, Sirius-” Remus pinched his brow tightly. He had been trying to talk down the convict for the past ten minutes. Ever since a letter from one Percy Weasley had shown up. The actual contents of the letter had been nothing but pleasant, a touch formal and stuffy, but what could one expect from the epitome of middle-childness? Honestly, from what Remus remembered of teaching the boy, the letter might as well have been the definition of cheer. That child had a stick so far up his-

“They think they are good enough for my precious Godson…”

Sirius hadn’t let up on the topic. Several ideas had been pitched so far for how to handle the ‘mongrels’ as Sirius had dubbed them several minutes ago. The Black family head had been hit or miss on his response to Percy himself. At first, Sirius had wholeheartedly supported the overly proper boy and his bid for Harry’s heart. Until the slightly crazed man had jumped to the conclusion that Harry was some pure angel that needed protecting from grubby men. Remus didn’t have the heart to tell his dearest friend that he knew for certain Harry was anything but 'pure.'

“I thought you liked the Weasley family.” Remus reminded, hoping that enough reason might subdue Sirius’s impulsivity.

“Unimportant. What is the most effective way to make them suffer?”

“Have you not thought about how Harry might feel about his courteds being vanquished?”

“Remus, be realistic! Now tell me. Would feeding them to Molly and Arthur be too far?”

This was the exact reason why Harry had never stayed with Sirius before. Without access to any form of advanced healing Sirius had been trapped in a bipolar and manic existence. Remus knew that Sirius wouldn’t actually commit any murders; it was fuming that was necessary to work through Sirius’s complex emotional reactions. But Harry wasn’t the most emotionally stable himself. 

Honestly, Remus wished his pseudo-godson well. He was going to need it if all six of his courtships proved fruitful.

__________________________________

Ginny was getting fed up with her brother’s idiocy. She was actually one more complaint away from hexing Ron’s bollocks off and gifting them to Harry herself.

Fred and George had been weirdly happy, and that only meant an uptick in pranks. They had already turned the stairs into a slide, charmed the books in the living room to flap around in the air like birds, caused all the doors knobs to sing in something called binary code (Ginny didn’t know what sort fo muggle mosntrosity required so many ones and zeroes), and what was by far the worst, they had turned her blonde. She appreciated the hair color for what it did for others. She had snogged her fair share of pale-headed boys. That didn’t me it worked for her or her freckled face. And she had had to show herself to Astoria, Luna, and Maria with her new pale yellow hair, all of them being blondes themselves. It was a disaster.

As soon as she arrived back home, she had dealt with a frantic Ron who had been told by the meddlesome twins that Harry had secured a present for him. Naturally, the youngest Weasley boy was freaking out about courting gifts now and stumbling up and down the house like a rampaging hippogriff. His heavy feet stomping and moody nature had only meant that Ginny could get practice with her Bat Bogey Hex.

Bill had arrived from work early and had bragged about getting a gift for Harry himself. This only set Ron off more, much to the eldest boy’s confusion. Bill had thus spent the afternoon tucked away in his room doing who knew what.

Percy had actually been decent. The poser had agreed to a truce with the twins and had been spared their antics. Ginny didn’t know what leverage Percy had, but for once, she wished that she had the same deal-making skills. She could use a bit of Slytherin cunning at the moment to get her out of this hellscape (the cunning that Percy had in spades). 

But the craziness didn’t stop there. Her mum and dad had been absolutely bonkers, cracking down on everyone about propriety and chastity now that there was an ongoing courtship happening. Did their parents genuinely believe that a single one of them was inexperienced? 

At the moment, Ginny’s mum was doing a fine job of cooking an absolutely massive dinner. It seemed to be Italian tonight with carbonara, bolognese, roasted artichoke hearts, summer salad, and fresh garlic bread under progress. Ginny had grown up spoiled, as her mother got bored easily with cooking the same couple of dishes and insisted on worldly cuisine to supplement the monotony that dinner could be. Hogwarts may have had an exquisite menu, but it didn’t have anything that one could consider pancontinental.

Ginny’s dad, in contrast to her mum's quiet bustling, had been insisting on pestering Ginny about who she was currently interested in. Honestly, it had been better when her father had thought she was dating Harry. She had realized her father was confused about reality two years prior and never bothered to disillusion him of his misunderstanding. Those two years had been bliss. How was she supposed to explain to him that she had regular threesomes with two beefy Puffs but wasn’t looking for anything serious?

Ginny cringed as an explosion went up from the twins’ workshop window and rocked the foundations of the Burrow. She needed to get out of this house. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go to Luna’s?

Chapter Text

Consistently short sleeping sessions were starting to leave Harry battered. He felt like his eyes had been stung by wasps with how they puffed from his face, watery and sore. While it was nice… bonding with his Weasley men, they needed to have a serious discussion about sleep deprivation. 

It was seven in the morning, an agreeable time to be awake if you hadn’t succumbed to sleep in the early morning hours. Additionally, whatever rest Harry had managed felt like nothing but his eyes having closed and then opened moments later. In other words: he was kackered. And sticky.

His body seemed to have been completely scoured, but the telltale signs of a lack of proper soap and water were making themselves known. What was even more troublesome was that Harry’s clothes were gone. Not just in shreds, but completely absent from the clearing. One of them must have vanished the debris from their nest of blankets. Unfortunately, that left Harry with the difficult decision of piecing some semblance of clothes together with one of Mrs. Weasley’s afghans that now had cum stains on it. Joy.

He needed a piss, some food, a shower, a change of clothes, and something for his rough throat. Probably not in that order, but Harry was never one for chronological thinking.

There was an itch somewhere in the back of his brain that Harry was adamantly ignoring. A melodic voice whispering about clamping his jaw down on Charlie’s flesh to secure his mate.

In past centuries, war brides were taken by inducing heat in omegas and biting both of their scent glands to the point where they were too damaged to function. A barbaric practice that Harry shuddered to think about in this moment. One of Hermione’s greatest role models had been Eleanor of Goosehearth (a wizarding town that had faded into obscurity and later ruin). The witch had a fascinating history of having been captured by a Light Lady and forced into the status of concubine. She had held out for years, working behind the scenes until her plans came together at a banquet. She put a sleeping draught in the food and opened the doors to the Lord’s keep, allowing for the Dark Lady of the time to cease her adversaries. Eleanor was left with a castle and a considerable amount of political power, which she used to draft laws for omega protection and spousal abuse. Naturally, this all spoke to Hermione's passion for helping the unfortunate and marginalized groups of the world.

On the topic of Hermione, Harry gulped. He needed to tell his other best friend of all the recent updates, up to and including Harry’s foray into romance. Maybe that’s what he would do today. 

Waking up Charlie was quite similar to waking up Ron. The dragon handler let out what was close to a growl before peeking a brown eye at Harry’s sheepish grin. 

“I’m heading off for the loo,” Harry felt his cheeks heat as Charlie groaned, scratching at his fuzzy chest.

“M’kay,” Charlie yawned, jaw expanding farther than a human should be capable of. “I’ll head in in an hour. Best fly in through the window.”

Harry had to agree. If Molly or Arthur saw him starkers, Harry would probably melt into a puddle of embarrassment. He had been diligent at Hogwarts, making sure that no one caught him having a stroke. He planned on keeping some semblance of modesty even if he was engaging in immodest acts. Harry silently prayed that Charlie would take care of the evidence being left behind in the clearing. 

Harry hadn’t had much opportunity to practice flying. His wings could certainly carry his weight despite their size suggesting that it would be physically impossible. Taking up into the air, clinging to a blanket wrap, Harry scanned the early morning surroundings for the tilted house he had secured as his home. 

It wasn’t incredibly far away, but still, Harry groaned at the use of his back muscles as he tried to catch the subtle breeze. A subtle disillusionment helped hide Harry’s exact figure as he got closer to the structure.

Harry realized too late that he had neglected to practice landing on vertical surfaces.

After four fumbling tries, Harry finally managed to slip into the Burrow through the oval-shaped window in the attic. He had battled shutters, window locks, small openings, and a loose nail that snagged at Harry’s mock robe. But he was successfully in the house without having alerted any potential spectators of his return.

Heading down the ladder into the main hall, Harry peered with curious green eyes in the narrow gap of Ron’s door. The voyer grinned on instinct at the sound of Ron’s troll-like snores. The boy was being adorably borish, but outside of this fact, Ron sleeping meant that Harry could likely secure the shower. He was the only Weasley who bathed in the morning when at home.

And with a healthy dose of luck, Harry was rewarded with a blissfully empty bathroom. Hushed conversation could be heard further in the Burrow, likely Molly and Arthur, but that was fine.

After using the toilet, Harry immediately succumbed to the thrall of warm water. Harry had brought a spare change of clothes but neglected his toiletries. He still hadn’t unloaded those, and this was technically day three since Harry’s relocation. Hopefully, one of the curly-haired boys didn’t mind as Harry took a healthy dollop of specialty curl defining shampoo and began lathering his scalp. His bird’s nest couldn’t be tamed, but it was at least a healthy disaster, and Harry was going to keep it that way. It felt good to scrub away the indetectable layer of filth that a scourgify couldn’t quite handle. The imperfect spell did its best and worked in a pinch, which Harry was thankful for, given the chaos he had experienced thus far. Separating individual wet locks, Harry was reminded of Charlie’s pet quota, which Harry would have no trouble fulfilling if the older boy would keep him. A vicious thought had Harry near feral at the thought of losing the older boy before Harry regained his mental faculties. He was already one step out of the shower. If Harry didn’t want to become some knothead alpha, he needed to get a grip on those pesky instincts. They had only had one date for Merlin’s sake!

Rinsing and scrubbing his body with a wash towel, Harry reminisced on his other nightly encounters. A hickey on the side of his left neck had come from George, while a bite on his left pectoral could be traced back to Fred. Ron hadn’t left a physical reminder, which didn't matter as Harry could still remember the enrapturing eagerness Ron had. Lavendar had been a fool to let such a gem slip through her fingers. More for him, Harry supposed. And he would treasure all of his beauties, covetous and proud of his darlings, like he might his own soul. 

Sudsing up his bits, Harry sighed as even the mundane motions seemed to rile up his libido. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near his next rut. Harry wasn’t sure his specific cycle, but he had presented in his last week at Hogwarts - the last week of June. It was still early to mid July! Not that pleasuring himself was an issue, what with all the mental pictures he had accumulated recently…

“Hurry up in there! Some of us have to piss,” Ginny called through the door, banging on the thin wood thrice before leaving the door.

Well, there was always later Harry supposed as he ignored his nether regions in favor of face wash. He felt the start of a breakout and wouldn’t that just be swell. Harry was just glad he hadn’t developed what Ron called bacne. The ginger could hide some of the red marks in his mass of freckles. Harry wasn’t so fortunate.

Harry wondered what traits any children might have between himself and the Weasleys. And with those came thoughts of baby making… That was a dangerous road, best traveled in his own bed with a locking spell on the trap door and silencing ward up.

With the last of the water circling down the drain, Harry managed to stumble out of the shower, dried by a spell that always made his hair puff up, and in a fresh set of admittedly rough-looking clothes, Harry was ready for whatever the day would throw at him.

Naturally, Harry didn’t mean that literally, but the fates might be fans of physical comedy. As Harry started his descent to the kitchen, his face was met with a wadded-up paper that stuck to his skin and blocked his vision. I guess the world wanted to throw nonfiction at me, Harry sighed.

“Read it!” Fred or George, Harry couldn’t tell which, with a face full of newspaper blocking his vision, stated worriedly.

Looking at the headline and subsequent article, Harry’s eyes bulged. Twelve people dead. And it had happened just in town.

“Mum is in a tizzy-”

“Didn’t want any of us knowing-”

“Da’s still arguing with her about it-”

“But while they were distracted-”

“We made a grab for this,” the duo finished their explanation in that quintessential twin-speak Harry had grown accustomed to.

“Do you… Do you think they mean the dark mark?” Harry finally mumbled out, the words feeling like acid on his tongue.

“I reckon there isn’t any other that would have the Prophet actually subdued,” a voice from behind, Bill, stated. “Not unless the mark was part of the ritual itself…” The cursebreaker trailed off, thoughts most likely flying through various rituals that required rune work or symbology.

“Would someone like to enlighten me on why you are gathered in front of my doorway?” Percy, who was standing in said doorway, raised an imperious eyebrow that had Harry smiling despite the horrid news. It had taken a while for Harry to warm up to the third-oldest Weasley, but now his snootiness was an odd comfort. 

“Read this,” Harry jumped in before Fred and George could open their big mouths. 

Naturally, Percy scanned the paper with the fine-tooth comb of a master of magical contracts and writings. That is to say, he took forever. 

“Well, this changes things…” Percy’s eyes sprang up and took in his brother’s various appearances. “Sibling meeting, Harry, you will be attending. Will you be able to spare five or so minutes after breakfast, Bill?”

“Aye,” the cursebreaker gave a decisive nod, eyes burning with magical intensity. Spots ran up the side of the boy’s neck, osicones popping up in his hair. Bill’s features were popping forth in a display Harry was eager to take in.

A snap of the fingers from Percy had Harry’s attention straying back to the de facto sibling mediator. “We have dallied enough here. Fred, awaken Ronald. George, get Ginny up to speed. Bill, you are on parent duty. Harry, with me.”

Harry had never actually been inside Percy’s room. The space was clean but not nearly as neat as Harry would have guessed. Stacks of papers and books took up a desk space, no gaps separated the towers of work. A collection of glowing rocks, minerals, and crystals held prime real estate on an overflowing bookshelf. Percy had a meager bed that was one step away from being labeled a safety hazard. It consisted of a wobbly metal frame and a thin, improvised piece of foam serving as a mattress. A knit blanket and embroidered pillow case helped make the disaster feel homey and personal. But the warm touches couldn’t counteract the lack of structural engineering.

Remarkably, the rooming situation at the Burrow had improved over the time since Harry had started visiting. The twins have always shared a room, but previously Ginny had bunked with Charlie before the dragon handler had moved permanently to Romania. Bill, Percy, and Ron had always been fortunate to have their own spaces, but with Charlie in and out of the house, and both the dragon tamer and teen girl being quite a bit older, Arthur had done his best at yet another magical-muggle hybrid expansion. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn’t the best at wizarding space, and he was an even worse carpenter. The new room sticking from the east side of the home was supported precariously by wobbling pillars and was Charlie’s part-time residence. Harry was reminded of the sketchy supports now as he stared longer at Percy’s ‘bed.’

Transfiguration wasn’t permanent, and outside of that, it was far easier to add spells to actual objects than transfigured or conjured items.

“Right, well,” Percy’s face was on fire, embarrassment at the forefront of the redhead’s many emotions. Harry felt bad for making his skepticism so obvious. “Make yourself comfortable for a moment, will you?”

The slightly ruffled boy fluttered about the room, most likely tidying out of a forced habit and not for Harry’s benefit. Deciding against the death trap, Harry took his place at Percy’s desk instead.

“I didn’t know you collected rocks,” Harry tried for conversation. 

“Indeed,” Percy mumbled as he scooped up a stack of papers and rifled through them before shoving a document into Harry’s hands. “Mineralogy and Earth magics are a fascinating field of study. I also happen to just enjoy pretty things.” Percy’s words were added to by a lecherous gaze thrown Harry’s way. Trying to ignore the filthy grin blooming on Percy’s face, Harry glanced at the top page. “This is why I requested you.”

Skimming the official-looking paperwork, Harry felt a furious blush blooming across his cheeks. This was a courtship declaration! 

“Before you say anything, it’s not a contract, and since you already verbally accepted our suit, I took the liberty of making it official. This way, no one can argue underhandedness. What would the public think if the big bad blood traitors scooped up the Boy-Who-Lived for their nefarious purposes?”

“What, do they think I’ll catch something? The Potter name is clinging onto relevance solely because of Voldemort’s self-destruction. I don’t care what they say, Percy-”

“Remind me what you were like during the Triwizard Tournament? Or when that horrid Umbridge woman invaded the school and that smear campaign had you as enemy number one? Didn’t they try and insist you were behind the resurrecting graveyard? What about the Goblin debacle-”

“Touche,” Harry mumbled. Maybe he did care what they wrote about him. “So this means that we are doing things properly, or whatever those stuffy purebloods want to call it?”

“In essence. Some might demand an official contract, but this is enough to keep the tabloids from an uproar.”

“Thanks, Percy… I don’t want them to get to me, but they do…” Harry trailed off, scowling at the air. He wished he could brush off the hate or false accusations. But it was much harder when he was met with whispers, hexes, and service refusals. 

“You are quite welcome,” Percy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. In a repeat of the last time they sat together, Percy rubbed at Harry’s arm in a manner that would not be suited for public. “Know that you can come to me for these kinds of troubles. I have had to develop a certain expertise in these matters.”

Harry smiled at the offering, a large sparkly grin that conveyed Harry’s deep thankfulness.

“I also took the liberty of informing some of our closer relations. Great Aunt Muriel and Grandmother Cedrella will be stopping by in two days. Your vampire coven and dryad grove haven’t responded yet, but they have been informed. Then there was your Godfather-”

Harry suddenly felt faint. “Did you say… You told Sirius?”

Percy blinked curiously, leaning back from his spot perched on the only other chair in the room. “He is your godfather, yes…”

“Oh no.”  Harry was sure that Sirius could be swayed to see things Harry’s way. The problem was that Sirius had a delusion that Harry was still a child when it came to romance. It didn’t help that sometimes the man still saw him and thought he was James. “If he shows up here… Maybe hide until I talk with him.”

Percy took in the words before giving a small nod, all the while continuing his massage of Harry’s bicep.

“I think it's time we join the others for breakfast.”

The meal atmosphere was subdued for the household. Molly had decided to go with an American-esque spread with pancakes featured prominently on the table. Harry naturally divided his pile into quarters with maple syrup, peanut butter and jelly, strawberries with whipped cream, and blueberries and honey taking up their respective quadrants on his stack. It was difficult to narrow down which flavoring was his favorite. After taking a bite of chocolate chocolate-sauced flapjack from George’s plate, he decided that he had found a winner. George’s pleased grin might have helped as well.

Clearing out of the household was difficult under Molly’s watchful eye, but eventually all of the Weasley children, plus Harry, found themselves on the half pitch.

“We need to keep this brief for Bill’s sake,” Percy started the discussion, giving a quick overview of the situation before moving on to logistics.

“I’ll work on upping the wards when I get home tonight,” Bill gave a reassuring grin, ever the eldest sibling.

“We,” Fred gestured to himself and George, “can see what our seedier contacts know.”

“You might try Cassius Warrington. He was in your year, correct? I hear he has been cooperative with the aurors in his position as the shopkeeper in Horus Eye on Knockturn.” How Percy knew that, Harry had no clue. The twins agreed with devilish delight. Hopefully, Warrington survived the dangerous duo.

“I’ll see what the girls know,” Ginny said with a grunt. She didn’t seem to be in the most pleasant of moods.

“I have work to be getting back to, unfortunately,” Charlie’s words felt like a death march to Harry, “but I will see what I can do.”

“I can’t offer much help, but you have my wand if you need it, Perce,” Ron offered sheepishly. 

“Excellent. I believe that should settle things for now. Harry, you're with me,” Percy adjourned the meeting with a small pep in his step. The boy clearly liked the deference shown his way. Harry thought it was adorable.

“What do you need me for?” Harry hoped he could actually fulfill whatever task Percy cooked up. He wanted to contribute to the household in whatever ways he could.

“We are going shopping, Mister Potter.”

“Huh?”

Chapter Text

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!” Hermione’s voice screeched high above the morning din in the Leaky Cauldron, her vocals carrying a touch of Molly Weasley’s own impressive scolding rage.

Percy sighed at being interrupted yet again; all Harry could do was send a bashful apologetic grin to the gentleman escorting him out today. It was truly impressive how quickly Percy had Molly agreeing to allow Harry out of the house. That meant any formal parent talks were postponed at least until this evening, if not the next day, as Arthur was working a late shift.

The slippery words and machinations of Percy Weasley had his mother satisfied with Percy’s plans of Harry spending time with a close friend and Percy inviting his own confidant in the form of Penelope Clearwater. The presence of the two girls was enough to have Molly’s fears of impropriety appeased.

Penelope had yet to show, but whatever Percy had written to Hermione had the girl bouncing with energy.

Before Harry could spot her iconically bushy head of hair, he was tackled into a large hug. With Harry’s last growth spurt, he had finally caught up to his best friend, both of them standing at the same height, with heads of unruly hair adding scant inches.

“You have to tell me everything! Is it true that-” Hermione started a rapid fire round of questions that had Harry increasingly frazzled while Percy sat in resignation. The older boy had tried at several points to have a conversation with Harry, but the various patrons of the Leaky kept interrupting. And now with Hermione sinking her claws into him, Harry had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting any one-on-one time with his courted any time soon.

“Percy?” A low voice caught Harry’s attention over the onslaught of questions. Harry felt his muscles tense at the sight of Penelope Clearwater, the Headgirl counterpart to the older ginger. She was a former Ravenclaw with a bookish and easy-going personality. The girl had a head of chocolate brown hair, cat eye glasses, and a complexion deeper than Harry’s own. A muggleborn witch who was climbing the ranks in the Muggle Liaison’s Office at the Ministry of Magic. A very respectable figure. She was also Percy’s ex.

“Penelope? Oh, fantastic, I’ve been meaning to write to you-” Hermione finally let up her interrogation in favor of quizzing the older girl. The duo had been study buddies of sorts at Hogwarts and had both been petrified by the Basilisk. Harry chose to focus more on this than the girl’s connection to Percy.

“Potter, I hope you are doing well,” the girl smiled at Harry. While he may have been hesitant about her presence, Clearwater was nothing but polite. Another unfortunate fact Harry would have to reconcile with as he resisted the urge to grind his teeth. 

“Clearwater,” Harry couldn’t do much more but nod his head back. Hermione shot him a warning look, clearly picking up on his Potter temper. Or in this case, Potter possessiveness.

Harry hadn’t grown up with much. The few precious items he possessed, he cherished and hoarded. That now included Percy, and unfortunately for Penelope, that meant that Harry’s hackles were on the rise.

Luckily, the conversation shifted quickly from there. It was irritating to realize that everyone else was in the know about what they were doing. Percy had only said shopping and given very little context for what else was planned. While Harry shouldn’t have cared, he despised being in the dark.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Percy’s voice broke through the silent fuming, the green-eyed boy looking up at Percy’s reassuring smile and warm demeanor. 

“Where to?” Harry shot back with a grin. This was fine. Everything was fine. 

____________________________

Harry wouldn’t consider the stationery and quill shop entertaining. But it was useful in the sense that he took a mental catalog of each item Percy showed even a smidgen of interest in. From his not-so-subtle prodding, Harry had learned that Percy despised red ink, trauma from being a teacher’s pet, and was instead partial to a blue lapis-based pigment that doubled in purpose, being useful for rune work and magical portraiture. Percy also had the gaudiest tasts in quills, up there with the likes of Malfoy’s. Percy picked up golden eagle feathers, flamboyant ostrich plumes, and an ostentatious Wyvern feather that crackled with underlying energy. 

Harry had to restrain himself at several points when Penelope grabbed Percy’s arm. They were just close, Harry argued. He didn’t take his eyes off the spot where Penelope’s fingers wrapped around the ginger’s bicep. The seething in Harry’s soul was probably just indigestion. Harry didn’t know how he was going to survive this.

Now walking the aisles of Florish and Blotts, Harry met Hermione’s mischievous grin with a wistful sigh. The older duo had disappeared, and Harry wasn’t at all upset about it. No sir. He had cussed out Penelope internally, but other than that, he was completely unbothered.

“So… You really couldn’t stop at one?” Hermione challenged, distracting Harry from his musings of… Magical Slime and the Implementation of Goop in Wizarding Life? Harry was, perhaps, not okay. He thus decided to throw himself into the conversation.

“Oh, we’re going there? I know I said I wouldn’t talk about it, but if we are gloves off-”

“It was a valid question! I knew that you had been lusting after Bill for the longest time, which, if you are into alternative boys, I suppose it makes sense…”

Harry blushed furiously at that. He had admitted to the girl that he had a massive crush one summer, and she had immediately jumped on Harry’s private lessons with the curse breaker. Harry hadn’t clued her in on the fact that the crush was a little more all-encompassing at that point in time, but she eventually learned of the others.

“And what about you? Finally accepting that you have the hots for older women?” 

Hermione jabbed an elbow into Harry’s arm. It was relieving to see this side of Hermione. He had half-worried that the girl would be upset. Harry hadn’t been the one to update her, and there was still the small chance that Hermione was into Ron. He shouldn’t have worried. The attempt at mating with McGonagall really might have been a giveaway of where Hermione’s preferences lay.

“Harry? I would like to speak with you,” a voice interrupted Harry’s good mood. “Alone, if you don’t mind, Hermione,” Penelope shooed the grinning girl away. Traitor.

“What’s up? Where is Percy?” Harry tried to hide the insidious anger that threatened to spill over, but it was difficult. He didn’t even have an issue with her, it was just… the knowledge of - no, the idea of - err, Harry didn’t even want to think it.

“You know I’m bent, right?” Penelope took in Harry’s blanching and let out a laugh that had a shopkeeper scowling. “I am not after Percival Weasley. Your man is safe from me.”

Harry wished that the ground would swallow him up. They had only been around each other for an hour, and she had already confronted him. “Was I really that obvious?”

“One picks up on things when they are being glared at by feisty Dark Lord vanquishers. Honestly, I’m shocked that Percy hasn’t caught on. He is usually far more observant. You seem to be quite the distraction for that tightwad.” Harry opened his mouth to defend his court before shutting it again. She was right… “I know I am.” Had Harry said that last part out loud? “Now I know that this isn’t necessarily your cup of tea. No offense, but from what I’ve heard of your academic prowess, I’m surprised you aren’t allergic to books.”

Harry had reformed his opinion of Penelope. She wasn’t a threat to Harry. But she was delightfully sarcastic and hopefully thick-skinned enough to take his own barbs. 

“I have an epi ready just in case,” Harry groused with a smirk. Penelope chortled at the joke. She had seemed so stuffy in school… Or maybe Harry had just seen what he wanted to see. 

“Come on, we need to keep Hermione from buying the entire shop. Goodness knows her poor shelves can’t take much more…”

Were the two girls really that close? Harry paused his step. If they were close… Was Penelope Clearwater Hermione’s type?

“Perce, Hermione? I think we are starting to bore Harry. Look at him. He clearly can’t withstand much more before his brain melts out through his ears,” the girl gestured at Harry, who only raised an eyebrow in response.

If she wanted to play games…

“Oh, excuse me-” Harry waved at a shop attendant, stopping Penelope from continuing on. “My friend here,” Harry gestured to the older girl, “was looking for your section of Gnome erotica. If you don’t have any, I think she would also take Centaur romance, with the requirement of there being at least some sex. She’s terribly shy, so she asked me to do it on her behalf.” Harry turned and blinked sweet innocent eyes at Clearwater, whose jaw was on the floor. Percy had both eyebrows near his hairline, and Hermione was smothering a giggle with her hand.

“I’ll… see what I can do, Mr. Potter…” the poor worker stuttered out before fleeing.

“You- You- MENACE!” Penelope’s deep skin was alight with a blush. This time, no one was able to control their volume as they devolved into a laughing mess, and even Percy chuckled. Looking at the way Hermione leaned into Penelope, Harry had to reconsider his thoughts on the day. This was going to be a fantastic time.

________________________________

“No.”

“Harry, be reasonable-” Hermione begged the pouting boy.

Percy was familiar with the Potter stubbornness; he just wished that the boy would recognize that this wasn’t a punishment.

Somehow Percy’s five-minute disappearance had been enough for the irritable younger man to stop glaring daggers at Penelope. But now they were facing a different issue.

“I don’t want to go into some bloody posh-”

“How do you know that you won’t like picking out-”

“I’m not some stuck-up-”

They had really gotten nowhere as Penelope and Hermione desperately tried to convince Harry to set foot inside the newest shop. Twilfit and Tattings was a store curated towards adult wear and formal attire. Madam Malkins had an emphasis on affordability and children. Percy himself couldn’t really afford to shop at either location, but his original idea of Helseth’s Second Hand hadn’t flown well by Penelope, who was at the moment trying to chisel away at Harry’s firm denial by pointing out the awful state of Harry’s current clothes. Percy wasn’t sure how effective the method really was; however, it gave him time to think. 

Harry really did need a new outfit. Or really, his wardrobe needed to be set fire and then entirely replaced. Money wasn’t an issue for the Potter heir. Was it Ronald's interesting views on wealth? What could motivate Harry… Oh. Was it that easy?

Reaching out a hand, Percy smoothed out the wrinkles in Harry’s threadbare button-up. It was a Muggle shirt that had seen better days, the cerulean color having faded, and stains showed in the pit region. “I think that you would look lively in something nice. If you give it a try, there might be something that you like. I can try something on for you, of course. It doesn’t have to be a solo adventure.”

That seemed to do the trick as Harry’s eyes glazed over before refocusing, inner hunger showing through. If the eyes were the window to the soul, that meant that Harry’s soul wanted to eat Percy like a plate of warm treacle. Percy wouldn’t be opposed.

“Yes!” Penelope shouted while clapping. The girl normally didn’t particularly care about fashion so much as appearances. She was Muggle-raised and not partial to robes, but with the rhetoric against her, Penelope had to work twice as hard to put out a controlled and curated image. Having the Boy-Who-Lived around could help her popularity in the Ministry. Having a cleanly dressed and suave-looking Boy-Who-Lived around would be even better. Percy had his own motivations, Tattings did have a men’s lingerie section that he would be browsing, but it wouldn’t hurt to see Harry in some new clothes for his own family's image. And Harry truly deserved something nice. Percy wasn’t a blood purist, but the things he would do to those bloody, horrid Muggle relatives of Harry’s…

“It would be interesting to learn more about different Wizarding styles,” Hermione chimed up. She had shockingly been entirely for the idea. She had said something about sticking it to a Parkinson… Percy didn’t bother asking for elaboration. “I have heard that there are fifty-seven variations of neck line used for ceremonial robes alone-”

Percy guided the group into the store, thankful that he had the foresight to owl ahead. The shop was deserted save for a chipper Ms. Tattings, who immediately rushed in, asking a series of questions that seemed to fluster Harry more than anything else.

“I think it’s best if we browse ourselves a bit,” Percy suggested. This seemed to relieve Harry as the boy let out a held-in breath of anxiety. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” the girl gave a decisive nod and fled to the back counter, where she started adjustments on what looked to be an exceedingly tedious bit of lacy fabric.

“Where… Do we begin?” Harry’s eyes had taken on the fear of before, but determination kept the boy’s shoulders from hunching over. 

“What if we each browse a bit before regrouping?” Hermione suggested as her eyes trailed over to the shopkeeper. The girl was clearly eager to learn about whatever spell had so many bobbins of thread floating in the air in synchronization.

“Splendid idea,” Penelope cheered before veering to the fabric selection.

After an affirming pat to Harry’s shoulder, Percy meandered towards the wizard’s department. Day robes, dueling robes, Herbology aprons, riding gear, there was a larger selection than Percy had previously believed, evening wear indeed being a massive percent of the offerings, but by no means the only category.

Picking up a periwinkle sparkly ensemble, Percy contemplated the color on his skin before realizing that it was something Gilderoy Lockhart might have worn. Naturally, once he had made the comparison, the thought couldn’t escape his brain, and with a sigh, he released the material. 

A black robe with a dagged edge on the voluminous sleeves and bottom hem looked straight out of the dark ages, while a dragon hide jacket with a flame illusion popped out as an eye sore. What was Harry’s style exactly? Did the boy… Have any? Percy decided that the question was most certainly an inside thought and left the matter at that.

Row after row, Percy started to accumulate a small collection. Several items that he could picture Harry wearing, perhaps with the right occasion or incentive.

Reconvening after ten minutes of solo time, it was clear that the reprieve hadn’t been enough to assuage Harry’s clothing-phobia. He was acting like a house elf, and Percy needed to get to the bottom of this.

It was unfortunate that his two helpers in this regard were relatively… Uneducated in this one specific topic.

“I think green brings out his eyes,” Hermione shot a frazzled look at Penelope, who only raised a considering eyebrow.

“But… You only grabbed green…” 

Penelope was, of course, right. But her own selection wasn’t anything spectacular.

“Who would need so many jumpers?” Hermione shook her head as Penelope revealed yet another knitwear piece. Penelope opened her mouth in indignation, the girl currently wearing a jumper of her own despite the July heat.

“This is too much-” Harry backed away from the piles that had been plopped in front of him. If this was the start of an escape plan, Percy didn’t blame him.

“I believe. That we need to change tactics,” Ms. Tattings, who had gathered with the group, suggested, her fingers tapping together as she thought aloud. The woman was somewhere near thirty with a youthful bounce in her step and an overall cheerful but calculating demeanor. She wore a non-traditional garment with a large flounced skirt separated from her bodice by a narrow gap of skin that revealed her belly button. Her outer robe was a patterned silk tugged tight to the body with short sleeves, like what might have been popular among Muggle aristocracy in the late 1700s. 

The women quickly scampered from the group, circling through several aisles, including the women’s section. Her wand flicked into the air, random pieces being pulled up and swatches of fabric fluttering around.

Everyone, including Harry, stared on curiously. At least the boy was too distracted to flee.

“We are going to have a runway to ensure that Mr. Potter here knows what to look for,” Ms. Tattings stepped slowly back to the group, a glint in the eye that suggested she would have her way regardless of complaint or protest.

Hermione’s eyes bulged from her head, glancing around in her indignantly righteous way. No doubt the girl had some opinions on the modeling industry, but she miraculously held those thoughts in at the change in Harry's attitude. Her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth and kneaded in a manner that seemed to be a habit. She had certainly done it enough throughout the last school year for Percy to have noticed the quirk.

Penelope joined Hermione in her skepticism, but Harry… Harry looked intrigued. Percy could work with that. This may have been just the way to get Harry’s eyes on him. And maybe Hermione and Penelope would figure their own situation out. 

Percy eyed a revealing backless shirt and realized that he could actually see himself becoming rather invested in clothes shopping after all…

Chapter Text

Harry had to admit. He looked good.

A gorgeous, deep violet and lighter lavender ensemble had been shoved into his hands. Behind a changing screen, he had hesitantly donned the admittedly gorgeous dress robes. It had no lace, frill, or bedazzlement. Instead, a small petal-like texture adorned the cuff and hem of the outer robes. Rather than billowing like what seemed to be fashionable in academia, Harry’s clothes molded to his torso and flared out past his hips more like a train. Under the robes, he was in a soft white shirt, structured vest, and trousers that were somehow fashionable despite looking straight from the Muggle 40’s. The small decorative silk flowers that were placed around his body would have probably made Ron red and furious. Harry didn’t mind the details as he thought about his parents' wedding photos. James had worn a flower crown, and his suit had featured embroidered antlers and lilies. 

Shaking away the memory of a day he would only glance at in images, Harry took a deep breath. All of them would be revealing their outfits on the count of three, not that the others were buying anything. The traitors.

Harry had seen all of them in fancy attire at least once. But none of them had ever worn such… prattish clothes. Harry immediately regretted even thinking the insult. Ms. Tattings was actually quite lovely, and honestly, his outfit was tame compared to what some wizards and witches wore. Dowager Longbottom had over thirteen hats with stuffed vultures, buzzards, ravens, and other scavenger avians. Dumbledore wore patterns so garish and ugly that he apparently went back into being fashionable by virtue of something called ‘avant-garde’. Harry didn’t pretend to understand Witch Weekly; he just had to accept that this wasn’t his strong point. 

Unfortunately, Twilfit and Tattings was not a milliner, haberdashery, or cobbler. Harry would have to visit a different store for any new shoes and accessories. He hoped that could be their next stop, honestly. Not that he would be letting the others know it.

“Ready, lovelies?” Tattings voice snuck into Harry’s ear through the sound bubble that had been put up around him. 

He shot the affirmative pink sparks into the air, assuming that if the others did the same, they could begin.

“Excellent! On three. One, two, three!”

Harry took a deep breath and stepped out from the screen, facing towards the others. The shop front window had been switched to closed for their private event. Harry wondered how Percy had managed to arrange all of this, but noxed the question from his thoughts as he was met with his group mates.

Hermione was a vision in a smarmy pant suit and cloak. It was something that might have had the pureblood ladies snarling, but the young girl looked absolutely radiant. It was a deep blue wool with an indistinguishable pattern. The cloak that she shrugged on her shoulders was a solid grey that made Hermione’s brilliant smile pop.

Penelope was in something a bit more traditional, what amounted to an elegant and sleek ball gown with a flounce at the bottom held up by dragonflies that fluttered delicate wings. It was an outfit that didn’t require a robe. Harry silently thought it would be criminal to cover up the girl's glowing complexion.

Lastly, Harry’s eyes flickered towards Percy, who was-

“Good Heavens!” Penelope screeched while fanning her face dramatically. “You are lucky we are both bent, Mr. Weasley, or I might just have to snatch you up for a second time.” Hermione’s eyes seemed to bulge from her head as she also took in Percy’s striking appearance. Harry himself couldn’t muster words as his mouth was suddenly dry.

Percy was wearing by far the most revealing garment. A flowy white outer robe with delicate multicolored lace detailing on the hems fell over the boy’s shoulders and cascaded down the floor. It resembled a repurposed wedding veil as the diaphenous and airy material caught on an imperceptible breeze. The color shifted subtly, small metallic, almost invisible threads flashing green and purple, the color of beetle wings. 

Underneath the robes, Percy’s torso was bear. Around his waist, a flowy set of trousers clung to narrow hips, so low that Harry feared they might just drop at any moment. A thin sash dangled precariously, tied in a loose knot that Harry wanted to yank on.

“What do you think, Harry?” Percy's eyes were damn near sparkling as he looked coyly at the spectacled boy. Harry was eerily reminded of Dumbledore’s signature twinkle.

“Ms. Tattings? Put that on my tab, in Perce’s size.” Harry slowly crept towards Percy’s still form, amusement radiating off the older boy. Someone gigled in the background, but Harry ignored it as he ran a hand up the impossibly lightweight material. 

“Malaysian Midnight Moth silk,” the beta whispered as Harry brought his face close to inspect. Pushing the plunging neckline aside, Harry inspected a fascinating exposed collarbone.

“No. Sex. In. The. Shop.” A ball of yarn flew at Harry’s face, distracting him from his exploration of Percy’s skin. A sliver of rage stabbed into Harry’s heart before he paused. He didn’t really want an audience for whatever was going to happen anyway. 

“What do you say to trying on some more things?” Harry asked aloud, not taking his eyes off of Percy’s pleased expression. 

Harry didn’t bother waiting for an affirmative before he leaned in, quickly snatching a kiss from Percy’s lips before rushing off back to his changing screen like a madman.

“Boys, honestly,” Hermione scolded while Penelope laughed.

The next ensemble was a bit more demure, something Harry might actually consider buying. A black velvet robe with more silk flowers, at his insistence, Ms. Tattings had produced tiger, stargazer, and moon lilies. Harry had decided to go with the stargazers, which put off a light, sparkly substance like pixie dust. The flowers adorned both shoulders and connected in the back by a loopy bit of what Harry would have called a garland. It was done at a scale fitting Harry’s smaller build, with peaks of green leaves and a mix of several other filler flowers. The inside lining of the robe and accompanying vest jacket set had a purple speckled color, charmed by Ms. Tattings to match the color of the stargazers perfectly. Already, Harry knew that he was buying the outfit, but it didn’t hurt to get a second opinion.

And sure enough, the others were enthusiastically egging on by his choice, this time Harry getting wolf whistles. These robes were somehow even more well-fitted than before, Ms. Tattings offering a few quick alteration spells since she was changing the fabric color and flower motif anyway. Naturally, any purchased garment would have a final fitting appointment, but that was for later.

Percy’s next outfit was much more subdued, a simple emerald green that he looked glorious in. Penelope had a day wear outfit with a houndstooth skirt and a loose cardigan, while Hermione sported something similar. The girl’s skirt is plaid, and her blouse is a somewhat more elaborate white button-up. Hermione blushed at the section of midriff Penelope was sporting, which further confirmed Harry’s growing suspicions.

After that, things seemed to fly by as Harry tried on more and more clothes. By the end of their visit, Harry had picked up two sets of dress robes and an assortment of everyday wizarding attire that he could mix and match. Naturally, he also purchased an outfit each for Penelope and Hermione while he covertly bought almost half of what Percy had worn. The boy deserved to be spoiled. And if he put up any protests, Harry would gleefully tell the boy that it was Harry’s first courting present to the brainiac redhead.

His eyes bulged at the cost of everything he was purchasing, plus the customizations, size changes, and fabric switches. Harry knew that the wizarding business needed all the support they could get with the terribly small wizarding population. Business was tough with an active wizarding population of around 1,000, with the occasional goblin, hag, vampire, and banshee not adding a large enough dent to bolster the small numbers. Prejudices, blood purism, and insulation meant that some establishments were one bad year, or even season, away from foreclosure. Twilfit and Tattings had only come around in the last fifty years, but Harry knew that if they fell out of favor, they would be a blip in time; no one would look twice at their disappearance. Signing off on the delivery forms, the quartet exited the store joyously, smiles across their faces and spirits high.

“It’s just fascinating, really. I had no idea there would be a difference in magical casting ability based on the material a practitioner was using in ritual. According to Ms. Tattings, her mother the Mrs. Tattings, who helped found the business, did experimentation in linens for Ostara celebrations-” Hermione’s familiar ramblings washed over the group. Harry listened with half an ear while Penelope eagerly nodded along, encouraging the prodigy.

Harry’s attention kept getting distracted by the one mysterious purchase Percy had made at the shop. A lux cloth bag held an item that Percy had kept hidden from the rest of the group, not that Penelope or Hermione seemed particularly interested. Harry just seemed to have an unquenchable curiosity.

As they browsed the next store, Harry couldn’t help but think this trip was like a mall cruise, not that he had ever had the opportunity to do his own Muggle mall shopping. Under Penelope’s guidance, the group visited Artifice and Arcana, where they browsed various bits and bobbles that looked like they belonged in Professor Dumbledore’s office. Before stopping at a corner cafe. 

“So Penny,” Hermione jabbered on in between small bites of her sandwich, “Did they finally hire on that halfblood witch you were talking about last time?”

“Unfortunately, no. Eustice somehow managed to convince the hire-ups to give her a fourth chance-”

Eustice, as Harry had learned, was a Parkinson who had no business working in the Muggle Liason Office. Hogwarts' current Muggle Studies curriculum only covered up to the 1950s. Eustice’s knowledge of Muggle culture naturally cut off sometime in the 1890s, meaning that an Obliviator team had to cover up for her almost every time she went out into the Muggle world. Yet another example of nepotism. Thankfully, Penny had successfully integrated herself into the office, having secured a more permanent role given her perfect track record.

“Have you been able to escalate the issue?” Percy leaned in. It was easy to forget that Percy's father was a head for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. While in an entirely different department, Mr. Weasley had some sway in other Muggle-related offices.

“And throw myself under scrutiny? I don’t have the name, experience, or the bullheadedness to throw myself in the crossfire. Gryffindors,” Penelope muttered, eyes cast towards the heavens dramatically.

“But you should! It’s obvious she is unfit-” Hermione’s righteous fury activated, Harry knew that the girl wouldn’t let the matter drop for the rest of the day.

Attempting to come up with some vague sort of distraction, Harry came up blank. It wasn’t that she was wrong. It was more that she was shouting into an echo chamber. They all felt the same as the bushy-headed girl. Hermione could be a bit… preachy.

“Thank you for asking, Harry.” Percy’s abrupt statement had even Harry startled. The boy sent a silent look at Harry that had him catching on fast. “My Wizaengamot internship will hopefully open up further opportunities to eventually secure a position. I have already affirmed with my uncles, father, and older brothers that I am able to revive the Weasley Wizengamot seat if given the opportunity. Naturally, without good standing, that would be impossible-”

“The Wizengamot seating is only partially inherited, though,” Hermione butted in. At least they didn’t have to hear more about Eustice Parkinson. Harry appreciated Percy more and more. “At least half of the seats are reserved for Ministry department heads, voted-in seats, and the Minister’s cabinet.”

“That may be true; however, resurrecting the Weasleys’ seat would open up more opportunities for myself and my family rather than a tenuous plan on rising up to be a Department Head.” Percy did not bend under Hermione’s stampede. Harry felt like swooning. They had been like this in school as well. Percy was one of the few people who could actually make Hermione contemplate her own standing.

“I have been doing my reading on the subject as well,” Penelope chimed in. “I know that there aren’t any proper lordships outside of the Magic given titles of Dark and Light Lords, but with your position, you would also be advancing to the head of your house! It seems, so-”

“Barbaric!” Hermione finished the girl’s statement, getting a nod from Penelope. “Controlling who marries who, assigning allowances-”

“It would also allow the Weasley family to shed the title of blood traitors, not that it matters much, and allow us opportunities to resurrect our family magics,” Percy patted his mouth with a napkin. He looked unbothered by being cornered, but Harry had trained his Weasley ogling eyes to detect the small tells. Percy was being extra careful about wiping away crumbs and wasn’t making much eye contact. Harry needed to do something to save his courted.

“I have been talking about the Black and Potter families a lot with Sirius and Aunt Andromeda as well. Even your grandma,” Harry nodded at the Weasley boy, “wanted to rekindle what is left of the Black’s. I haven’t written Caseiopia for a couple of months, but she had seemed interested in a reunion, Narcissa was also weirdly into the idea, and then there is Callidora Longbottom, didn’t even know Neville’s great grandma was alive until a few years ago, Lucretia Prewitt, Percy’s Great aunt-in-law-”

“How do you… Know all these people?” Penelope hedged, not seeing confusion on Hermione's or Percy’s parts.

Harry blinked slowly. “I write to them?”

“Honestly, Harry, that has got to be the vaguest answer,” Hermione half scolded, turning to Penelope with exasperation obvious. Harry grinned quietly at Percy’s thankful expression. “Harry here has quite possibly the strangest assortment of penpals you might ever see. Hedwig deserves a medal for the number of letters she delivers. Why, he managed to befriend a vampire one year in Knockturn of all places, and the next thing you know, the entire coven of nine writes him on a weekly basis-”

Harry smiled at the girl’s exasperation. Sergio had been an awesome friend to make. They had bonded over talks of stuffy purebloods, battle magics, and Knockturn itself, which Harry thought got a bad rep considering how many wonderful people lived there.

Bumping into Percy’s legs under the table, Harry didn’t let his smile fade as the redhead rubbed against Harry’s playfully kicking feet. Harry wasn’t about to play footsy under a table with no tablecloth cloth so he retreated for now, mentally cataloging the look on Percy’s face and the feeling of his narrow ankles. Perfect for being placed on the shoulders.

“RUN!” A scream pierced through the air, and not a second later, a loud explosion rang from down the road. A shockwave bounced down the alley, hitting Harry and his friends with a wall of force from their spot outside the lunch place. The smell of acrid smoke and molten glass filled the air.

“Madam Malkins! Quick, she’s still in there-” Someone hollered from further down the winding shopping district.

Harry was already on his feet, sprinting quickly to see what was going on. On his heels, Percy and Hermione strode to meet his pace. Harry wasn’t sure if Penelope would follow, but he couldn’t turn back to check on the older witch.

As he broke through the disoriented crowd, Harry gasped. In the air, an unmistakable green writhing smoke formed the dark mark. 

Chapter Text

Despite magical humans being so distinct from non-magical, there existed a fierce distinction in the hearts of many wizards and witches. A classification system like no other existed in the British Isles, where in Pureblood reigned supreme, halfbloods were tolerated, and muggleborns were vehemently ignored, if lucky, or persecuted, if unfortunate to catch the wrong attention. An added layer was the existence of secondary sex characteristics. Omegas had heat and the ability to carry young, no matter what biology said, while Alphas had ruts and were capable of impregnating most things. Another highly oppressed group, Omega rights, was constantly tossed around in debate as if they were a lesser existence than Alphas and Betas.

Madam Malkin was not a staunch political activist one way or another. She let her opinions be known through the clientele she allowed into her shop. Muggleborns, single mothers, werewolves, all patronages were welcome at Madam Malkin's. Or at least they used to.

Murder at Malkins - Dark Mark Returned

by Nathaniel Willibigs

Travesty has befallen Diagon Alley, the beloved shopping district in London where many a witch and wizard procure everyday wares. In this emergency edition of the Prophet, we discuss the events of today and their interconnectedness with previous happenings. Earlier this afternoon, Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions was attacked. Investigations are underway as to the cause, but witnesses report a loud explosion and evidence of an organized Bombarda attack. The sight of the former shop lay in ruins. Aurors are still investigating the area. 

From the rubble of the shop, five bodies were recovered. Madam Malkin herself tragically perished while defending her clients, Sally Anne Perks, Maybelle Perks, and the two muggleborn girls' Muggle parents. Sally Anne is most notable for being the first omega muggleborn in ten years. It is unclear if the five had engaged in altercations with their attackers. No current suspects have been identified, but evidence does point to an extremist group. That’s right, my readers, the Dark Mark, as used by the former Dark Lord, otherwise known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was spotted above the crime scene, glowing in broad daylight for the first time in almost eighteen years. See photo 2 below.

Is this attack related to the ritual circle discovered only yesterday evening? For those who missed it, twelve Muggle bodies were found used for sacrificial rites in a dark circle. Above the runic arrays, a mark had been placed in the sky - aurors have not confirmed the shape of the mark, but here at the Prophet, we must wonder: was it the Dark Mark? Is this the start of a trend towards violent activity? 

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the vanquisher of the last remnants of the Dark Lord, was found at today’s crime scene. See photo 3 below. While aiding in efforts to recover the bodies of the deceased, the young hero had no comment for this paper. It is well known that after the publicized Ministry hearing in Mr. Potter’s sixth year at Hogwarts that the former Dark Lord had taken steps to secure his immortality, and Mr. Potter was undergoing measures to undo these dark failsafes. Has our savior a final task to vanquish this plight, or is this the resurgence of radical extremists who have slipped through the cracks of Azkaban? More on page 3.

Harry was in what amounted to shock. Diary, Locket, Goblet, Diadem, Ring, Voldemort. Dumbledore had been positive that the goal of the Dark Lord was to split his soul into seven pieces. Whether he had achieved this feat before his initial vanquishing was unknown. Was there another piece of Voldemort’s soul that Harry had to destroy? Harry’s head spun in circles around these facts. No doubt he would have an owl from the meddlesome Headmaster sometime soon. But now… He just wanted to rest. 

Returning to the Burrow in a somber and pensive mood, no one had dared question Harry, Percy taking the lead and informing the present Weasley members what had occurred. Harry had retreated into his room, the sounds of his own heartbeat filling his ears now in the quiet space. The bed that he had yet to sleep in was ridiculously comfortable, the care stitched into he bedspread and carved into the furniture lulled Harry’s thoughts from the devastation he had witnessed. Sally Anne had been in his year. He had gone to school with her, had classes with her; they may not have been close, but you grew familiar with a person you had known since you were eleven. She and her entire family would be put to rest, having been the casualties of blood wars. 

Harry cursed the wizarding world, the cowards who wore masks and killed eleven-year-old girls, the despicable humans who saw Muggles as a blight to be eradicated. There were so many terrible things already for humans to suffer through, but that wasn’t enough for those truly awful individuals. It made him so angry. All Harry could see was red. Red. Red. Red. 

Then it was over, blurry eyes blinked around his room. His head ached with a great pain that simmered under his scar, his arms and legs glued to the mattress, still in yesterday’s clothes. Harry’s eyes felt dry, his breath stale. It was the wakefulness of someone who hadn’t really rested at all, his body exhausted and beaten to the bone.

A tempus revealed yet another early morning awakening. Harry couldn’t pinpoint when he had fallen asleep, but at least this night, he had managed to get some decent hours in, even though he wanted to crawl under the covers in his dirty clothes and fall back off into the land of dreams.

Denying himself the indulgence, Harry bumped into his glasses as he went to rub the crust from his eyes. It was odd for him to keep his spectacles on throughout the night. Usually, even if he fell asleep with them on, he would take them off at some unknown point when readjusting in bed or scratching his unmentionables. Shrugging off the oddity, Harry got to work retrieving a change of clothes and departing to the bathroom for a long-overdue shower.

Harry had wanted to deliver Ron’s gift yesterday, but clearly those plans had been derailed. Perhaps he could do that this morning. That might take his mind off things. Of course, there was also Percy to contend with. Their time had been ruined, and Harry felt it his duty to make it up to the bookish boy in some way. He just didn’t know what. Sex wasn’t exactly high on Harry’s priority list after the hellish afternoon of the day prior.

Hopping under the shower stall, Harry let the gentle warm rainfall ease the aches from his muscles. Head leaning against the tile wall, Harry sighed, lungs filling with steam. It was a pleasant experience for one who had gone without showering as a child. Harry had grown up with sponge baths being the norm, and a cool tub of water being a luxury. Now he would never worry about the unconventional torture again.

Creaking back and stiff legs were loosened by the end of Harry’s time in the cubicle. Brushing teeth clean of morning breath, Harry cringed at his own lack of hygiene the evening prior. He at least had a damned good reason for being a slob.

Careful feet brought him outside of Fred and George’s room. Quiet as a mouse, Harry fetched the cage that one of the dangerous duo had set on a night table. The gentle sounds of the twins’ sleeping were a wondrous background noise as Harry made his retreat. Before the door closed, Harry blinked at the before unseen sleeping arrangement. The two twin beds had come apart from Harry’s spell, but remained pressed together in the center of the room. George’s hand was sprawled over his brother’s pectoral, and Fred’s hand was above George’s head. They were adorable.

Wistfulness took over. Harry blew them a kiss before fleeing. He had a different Weasley to spend time with. 

Thankfully, the occupant of the cage had been fed and watered; whether or not the twins had kept the gift a secret was up in the air. Harry hoped that he had not made a large miscalculation in Ron’s first courting present. To make things feel more special, Harry conjured a ribbon and affixed it to the top of the fabric cover over the animal’s cage. Ron would never admit it, but the boy genuinely liked dramatically wrapped gifts. The more glamorous or over-the-top wrapping, the better. Charming the fabric to sparkle, Harry thought that was probably as good as it was going to get. 

Knocking lightly on Ron’s door, Harry swooped in, recognizing that Ron was still asleep as the snores poured into the hallway. Setting the cage down at the foot of Ron’s bed near exposed toes, Harry swished his fingers, parting the curtains and allowing light into the room. Sitting on the edge of the small bed, Harry tapped Ron gently as can be. Knowing it wouldn’t be enough, Harry smirked a devilish smile. At least now he could make the argument that he had tried more conventional means. Without further hesitation, Harry flicked his wand into his hand and cast a simple aguamenti. The spout of water hit the sleeping boy in the center of his forehead, cool liquid flowing down Ron’s face and splattering against the blankets. That was enough to have the recent Hogwarts graduate sputtering and flailing. It was the simple joys in life that would cure Harry of his mood.

“What the bloody hell was that for?!” Ron demanded, while Harry chuckled. 

“I thought you would be more excited to get your first courting gift. But if that’s how it’s going to be, I suppose it can be returned-”

Ron’s eyes zeroed in on the sparkling present at the foot of the bed. Only Harry’s maneuvering had prevented the ginger from kicking the cage to the floor.

“Is that… Really for me?” Ron breathed out a large breath laced with hunger and anticipation, the likes of which Harry only ever associated with the rather gluttonous Weasley. “Blimey, Harry…”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Harry teased, remembering his first-ever Christmas presents and this very boy encouraging him to open some of his first gifts.

Ron didn’t require further convincing; the redhead sprang down to rip the covering from the cage. Hanging from the top bar of the shrunken space was a miniaturized lion bat. The creature was magical in nature; a thick mane sprouted at the base of the bat’s neck and crept up to surround the large, pointed ears. Lion bats were capable of flying great distances during the day or evening, and had the peculiar ability to defecate iron guano. The distinguishing feature that sold this particular specimen was the large emerald eyes. This was a testament to Harry’s and Ron’s relationship. The bat wings and eyes resembled Harry’s own inheritance and self, while the functionality of the gift was targeted towards Ron’s needs and desires.

Ron stared, and green sleepy eyes stared back, the bat not fussing much in its container, even with the light shining through the window. Harry had purchased the enclosure with shrinking runes built in; the bat was actually about the size of a mundane flying fox bat, which was enormous. Inside of the cage, the flying mammal was only a couple of inches long, but outside it was able to carry large loads.

Eyes didn’t stray, bodies remained locked in place. Harry was beginning to wonder if he had royally screwed up.

“I want to kiss you so bloody bad right now,” Ron finally looked Harry’s way, lips pouting as if Harry had just taken away a tray full of Victoria sponge cake. 

Taking that as permission, Harry darted his lips forward to plant them on Ron’s. The boy flailed, arms coming up, but his reaction was too slow. The second lips touched, Harry whipped his head back as the foulest flavor slipped into his mouth, his nostrils curling back in disgust. If his tongue were sentient, then it would be chastising him for putting it through such a terrible ordeal. Looking in fear at Ron, for surely the boy had eaten a dying beast while in his sleep, Harry was met with the odd sight of lips curled up and a tongue in a bizarre shade of blue.

“What the hell?” Harry gagged, wiping his tongue off on the back of his sleeve, anything to get the flavor out of his mouth.

“I broke the Bro Code,” Ron flung himself back on his bed and groaned.

“The twins weren’t just having me on?!” Harry’s tone was more scandalized now as he remembered being told this very same thing. Although their explanation had clearly lacked details that Harry thought he ought to know.

“No-pe,” Ron popped the ‘p’ in that self-deprecating way of his. “Got spelled into abstinence, they made sure to be thorough,” Ron shivered at the word. “Have another few days before I’m free.”

“What- How- Why- Who?” Harry’s brain was malfunctioning. He couldn’t even kiss his boyfriend?! Or… should he call him his courted? Which title sounded better? What did Ron prefer?

“The ‘who’ would be me,” Percy smarted from the door.

Harry whipped his head around at the intruder. Startled by his own lack of awareness, Harry barely resisted the urge to throw a hex. 

Seeing Harry about to open his mouth, Percy intervened. “Harry, I believe we have some things to discuss from yesterday.”

Harry blinked twice, taking in the boy who was brushing aside the fact that he had cursed Harry’s boyfriend. “I don’t want to talk about what happened at Malkins-”

“That’s fine. That is not what I was referring to. You abandoned and ignored me yesterday.”

Harry cringed. He had kind of stormed out of Diagon and went back to the Burrow without the others after a miniature meltdown yesterday, where he had screamed at an incompetent auror. Then ignored any knocks on the attic trap door. The only acknowledgment he had given to Percy was a head nod when Percy had appeared in the Burrow kitchen shortly after him and taken over the matter of handling an overprotective Molly Weasley.

“Do you bloody mind?” Ron groaned, expression tight as he stared at his biggest chess rival.

“Yes,” Percy snapped before his wand fell down into his hand from a hidden holster. With a succinct motion and a muttered spell, Ron sat wriggling on the bed like a worm, arms pinned to his sides by ropes, his mouth gagged. What was more intriguing was the fact that the spell tied perfect bondage knots, the likes of which Harry had only seen in gay wizarding mags. It was getting to be hilarious how often Ron found himself restrained; one might even start to wonder if he was somehow putting that energy out into the world.

“Now then. WE are going to talk.” Percy walked deeper into the room and perched himself on the edge of the bed next to Harry. He looked comfortable, ignoring his younger brother’s squirming. A last flick of the wand had the bedroom door slamming shut, blue light sealing it in place. Harry wasn’t getting out of this one.

Chapter Text

Percy was a charms prodigy; his mastery may have been in contractual and binding magics, but its basis was ritual, runes, curses, and most importantly: charms. He didn’t hesitate to modify the room for his purposes, making Harry wonder why he didn’t do something similar for his own living space. With a swish of his wand, the charms master had the room dancing in a wash of color, fizzes and sparkles flying through the air as Percy muttered a series of spells Harry had no hopes of memorizing. Harry was phenomenal at offensive and defensive magics. His household repertoire was unfortunately a strict juxtaposition to his battle abilities. That is to say, he sucked with them. He was much more familiar with an old-fashioned mop bucket and rag than a Wishy-Washy spell. Percy though, waved his magical focus and had the ground bubbling up; as each soapy sphere popped, the ground was left squeaky clean.

Ron’s room hadn’t been filthy, but after Percy had seen what was most definitely a cum stain on the youngest Wealey boy’s bedding, the older sibling had scowled and gotten to work putting the room to rights. Trash vanished from the bin, clothes folded themselves and flew into their receptacles, and other bits and bobs tucked away in an orderly fashion that Ron would never hope to achieve. For the actual owner of the room, Percy conjured a large plush chair that he cautioned had a dissipation time limit of six hours. This was actually a remarkable length of time for a conjured object. Harry praised Percy, but the boy let the comments slide off him as he flung Ron into the suede chair, where he furiously shook his body. Percy only secured him with more ropes, fully incapacitating the half-naked ginger.

Finally, the bed was expanded in a method that was much more efficient than Harry’s own charms and transfiguration nightmares. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Percy instructed as he fussed with a pillow case that wasn’t flattening the way Percy preferred. After seeing the state of Percy's lodging, Harry was surprised to notice how prissy he was about this mess. Then again, Ron’s room had actual mess - grime, dust, and unmentionable crusty spots. Percy existed in organized chaos and overall cleanliness. 

Harry plopped himself on the bed, hoping that the wrinkling blanket wouldn’t set Percy off. He figured he was either in for a scolding or a heart-to-heart. Harry wasn’t mentally prepared for either.

“Heart to heart,” Percy answered the non-question Harry didn’t think he had verbalized. Well, shit, Harry was already on guard.

“How are you feeling?” The lean ginger draped himself across the opposite side of the bed in a manner much more dignified than Harry’s plop down. Percy was just like that, poised and regal, he could look like there was a stick up his rear, but other times, he wore the mantel of future Weasley family head well.

Harry thought about how he would answer the question. It was hard to have a serious conversation when Percy was still in his mended night robe. The garment had more patches than the original fabric, a mismatch of colors from over the years twisted together in a warm form fitting embrace. Harry was in Muggle second hand, his order yesterday not having arrived yet. Two ends of different spectrums, Harry felt an odd sensation bubble up in his chest as he contemplated Percy’s words. Yet they fit so closely into the same category, their outfits both having seen better days but appreciated for their purposes still.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered as honestly as he could manage. He really didn’t know. It was good to have someone looking out for him, but even after all the years of Hermione’s fussing, he hadn’t quite adapted to others’ care.

Percy stared at Harry, eyes not inviting but neither were they demonizing. “I saw that you were angry yesterday. At the Aurors, at us. Do you want to talk about that?”

A birds nest of black curls ducked down, blocking the view of pinched brows and squinting green eyes. Harry stared down at his lap, a guilty wave overtook him. In the back of his mind, a vindictive part that was better left where it was, whispered that Harry was justified in yelling at the incompetent responders. But Percy, Penelope, and Hermione hadn’t deserved the same treatment. “I suppose I was angry…”

Harry’s words were spoken into his lap. What more could he say? Yeah, knowing someone had been murdered for existing tended to put you in a bad mood. A freckled hand entered Harry’s vision, blocking him from his own self-vindicating thoughts. Turning his head up as the hand guided his chin. Harry was met with a softened gaze. Every Weasley, save for Molly and Charlie, had blue eyes. Percy’s were by far the lightest, almost a sky blue that was no doubt a quirk of magic, for how could a Muggle’s eyes ever hope to capture the full grace of the heavens in such perfect vessels. Compassion, kindness, understanding, forgiveness, all these wonderful emotions swirled in Percy’s expression. Harry hadn’t been particularly emotional, but seeing that face, Harry could imagine his eyes welling up before the first misting hit.

“Yeah. I was pretty fucking angry. They killed them, all five of them. And people just watched. They stood around, did nothing! The building collapsed, and people ran - no one bothered to see if there were survivors! How-”

“I know,” Percy acknowledged, running his hand up the side of Harry’s jaw line, no longer propping the lightly haired chin up. The younger man had neglected to shave, a fact that was evident by the scratchy stubble that rubbed against the smooth palm. “They should have helped. They stared as we started moving the rubble. You might have known the girl, but don’t think that others weren’t equally invested.”

Harry almost flinched from the hand stroking his cheek. Percy’s words had been calm but cutting; whatever psychological warfare the boy was using was surely banned in other countries. It was dirty.

“The Auror you screamed at for staring at the pile of bricks? She was Madam Malkin's niece.” With this revelation, Harry recoiled from the gentle ministrations. He. Was. A. Monster. 

“No one blames you for being emotional. I know you didn’t see it, but Hermione hexed several of the reporters and even the bystanders. One of the Aurors almost stunned her, and a medic shoved a calming draught down her throat.”

Harry clearly hadn’t been paying much attention. Percy stretched out his arms in offering - obviously, Harry couldn’t refuse. Flinging himself into the welcoming spread, Harry sank into the taller boy’s chest. 

“I’m sorry for being a dick to you,” Harry hoped that the crass words would be enough for the proper boy. He truly meant the apology, but it was still difficult to muster up much more. 

“I’m sorry that any of us had to go through that,” Percy’s words had a gentle squeeze added to them that had him melting.

“I hope you know that I’m planning a makeup date. No matter what they do, I won’t let them ruin our happiness,” Harry muttered fiercely into the collar of Percy’s night robe. The fabric smelled like the older boy. A mix of cologne and coffee, the boys' favorite beverage. “You mean a lot to me, and you didn’t deserve me storming off like a wet cat.”

“Make-up dates are for later. Right now, I think it’s time for a bit of relaxation,” Percy guided them down so that they lay on Ron’s expanded bed. With a wand that had never been put away, Percy had Harry stripped down into his pants and under the covers with an equally barely clothed Percy. 

Harry spared a brief glance towards Ron, the bound boy was blushing a furious red, but had mysteriously stopped moving. His gag was soaked with spit that pooled at the corner of his mouth - Harry realized he quite liked the look. Nestling into Percy’s warm trim body, Harry felt like he could doze off into an early morning nap. He knew it would further mess with his sleep schedule, but fuck the consequences, Harry was exhausted, and it wasn’t even seven yet. With the closing of his eyes, sleep fast approached Harry. On the precipice of Morpheus’s lands and the waking world, a stirring drew Harry back into himself. A firm pressure along his back built as Percy’s steady hands worked circles into the muscles.

Harry could damn near purr as the most perfectly talented digits worked into the meat of his back. Rolling onto his stomach to provide easier access, Harry distantly registered a chuckling. Harry wanted more rubs, and he would ensure he got them.

Percy sat up, covers pooling on his shoulders, blocking Ron’s view of the bed as the older Weasley straddled Harry’s narrow hips. Harry wore a pair of boxers that were several sizes too large; they had been clumsily gathered in several places by haphazard stitching so that the garment wouldn’t fall straight off the narrow form. Still, even with the baggy and unflattering boxers, Percy saw two delightful cheeks, toned from Quidditch and an athletic lifestyle. The perfectly perky butt would be Percy’s next target, but for now, he had to work.

Hands trailed up the sides of the bony spine, thumbs applied pressure at the base of the neck, short nails drew circles along Harry’s shoulder blades. Percy massaged Harry, not with the expertise of a professional masseuse, but with the care of a doting partner.

Lost in his work, Percy continued on, bronzed skin a delightful contrast against his pale hands. A particularly stiff muscle slowly relaxed as Percy’s deft digits trailed a soothing pattern into the overly tense flesh.

A symphony of groans and moans filled the air. Truly, if one had listened in, they would have expected to find the room filled with the scent of sex. But instead they would have been met with three near-naked boys, two of whom were engaged in a sultry rub down that was all but foreplay - and if Percy got his way, that might be what it turned into. But not yet, not now. Not so soon after the tragedies of yesterday.

The blanket slid down Percy’s back, he didn’t bother to pull it back up as his sky clad shoulders greeted the cooler air, and the fabric pooled around his waist. Slowly, Percy’s hands teasingly lowered, working their way past tailbone and towards supple cheeks. 

At the first squeeze of muscular buttocks, Harry let out a whorish noise that would have been more suitable for a brothel than a bedroom. And Ron's bedroom had certainly heard plenty of questionable noises.

“Fuck, Perce, that feels brilliant.”

Percy silently thought that the sounds produced by this wondrous minx were equally amazing. As Harry melted into Percy’s grip, he slowly trailed down the legs. As much as he would have preferred to further explore unknown territories, it was best to be realistic. 

Thighs, calves, and then feet, Percy was diligent in his ministrations as he rendered Harry lame with pleasure. 

Gently coaxing Harry onto his back so that Percy could work on the front, a visible bulge poked out of the gorgon's cotton underthings. It was clear that the younger boy was too out of it to notice the reveal, but judging by Ron’s sharp intake of breath, Percy wasn’t the only one to have caught onto Harry’s obvious arousal. Could Percy spin this situation into emotionally charged sex after all? And was that morally reprehensible? Percy would have to be a stronger man and a more dedicated philosopher to ponder the ethics. As is, Percy planned on taking his chances.

The arms were a wonderful segue into Percy’s plans. Starting at the elbow, Percy stroked the darker forearm upwards in a way that heavily suggested what Percy wanted to do to other long members. He had of course, taken down notes from Fred and George’s gloating sessions. Charlie was finally back at work, making good use of his unlimited international portkey. How he had managed to obtain such an object, Percy didn’t know. But the way that Charlie had a limp in his step yesterday morning suggested that Percy was in for a delightful time if things continued further.

This hunt was a delicate process. Percy straddled the line of tactful emotionally charged sex, and buggering things up by being too forward about said sex. It was really a tricky situation to be in, especially with Harry not seeming to be entirely aware of the latest developments. The boy’s rather obvious dick twitched at that moment as Percy placed his thumb into Harry’s palm, working the flesh leading up to the pinky.

Switching to the other arm, Percy took a gamble as he brought his lower body over Harry’s straining member, feeling the trapped erection slide between the crevice between pale cheeks that so readily cradled the warm member. Percy’s ass had been made to take cock. Honestly, Percy should have given up on women far sooner; it would have saved him so much time. Penny was a wonderful friend, and Matilda, well… she had sort of been a bitch. That didn’t matter in this moment, however, as Percy slowly dropped his wiggling ass down onto Harry’s shaft. The slide, the teasing agony of what could be, the delicious friction against his rear, Percy loved the build and chase for what could be. It was this motion which finally elicited a reaction out of the near-naked man - a golden necklace given to him by the twins and a wand holster all that covered the torso of Percy’s future mate. Percy waited with baited breath, watching Harry’s body, the first courting gift the Potter heir received bounced up as his body tensed forward.

Harry’s eyes flashed open, his vision obscured by the rim of his glasses that had slid down his nose. Harry felt a weight in his lap, plushness of the most delightful variety, the kind he wanted to just sink his teeth into. Harry wanted to bite, to claim, to possess. 

And why shouldn’t he? Any hesitations fled as his inner alpha and conscience hissed in unison. Percy was his.

In a motion that was part instinct and part flailing limbs, Harry had their positions reversed, Percy pinned to the bed, back facing the air with front pressed into the taut sheets. Harry wanted him all, in every way imaginable. It was suddenly far too much to resist. His balls ached; they needed to be emptied. His dick craved a warm, tight passage. His fingers had to fondle supple curves and hard planes. His tongue required a taste of this delicious morsel. With this last thought, Harry nearly jumped in surprise as his legs fused together. Percy’s skin slowly faded into scales as creature features came to the surface, underwear fading away - a trick that Harry would have to learn. Percy’s tale was truly magnificent, but now this position was useless as the boy’s anus was no doubt ventral side. Flipping Percy’s relaxed body over, Harry was desperate for a taste. He wanted to devour this gorgeous siren - he was being lured into the depths of pleasure, and his only thought was that he wished he could swim faster. 

Percy gazed up with daring eyes, as if Harry could be deterred by a little creature fucking. Canines extended, snakes wove from black locks, and wings sprang forth from skin. Harry joined the redhead in animalistic craving satisfaction. With a gasp at the sight of Harry’s clear arousal, Harry snarled. Where Percy’s lips parted, Harry attacked, lips matching together in that delicously sloppy way usually reserved for post coital bliss. Today, it looked like things were going to start out messy.

Fingers tracing the body beneath Harry’s hand slid up to his waist, tatty boxers remained - a true affront to Harry, they were honestly a personal insult. Grabbing the material, Harry yanked down, shimmying out of the cloth, not a drop of thought spent on factoring if it would be easier to banish them with magic. His legs moving side to side had the added benefit of his feet brushing against the expanse of Percy’s lengthened body. The subtle overlap of scales was a delicious textural sensation. It seemed the boy could control his oil production as the aquatic lower body was dry of mucosa or membrane. An extra kick of his left foot had his legs free of boxers, and more importantly, his dick was ready to play. 

Fotting down, Harry nearly jumped for joy as his cock met the long member underneath him. Percy had to be close to eight inches, if not longer. It was such a wondrous thing to have conquered an entire family lineage (or at least most of them). Ron had been his first, a respectable 5.5 inches and average thickness that had been a wonderful gateway drug for Harry’s Weasley cock addiction. Charlie’s had been the fattest with his canine knot adding an extra layer of girth to the bottom that Harry could see himself mawing at in the future, and with it being the shortest of the specimens at five inches, Harry could easily see himself sucking on the rod without throat depth factoring into the equation. The twins were perfection as well, quite similar to Harry’s own endowment, and Bill wasn’t anything to scoff at. But there was something intriguing about a long cock rubbing against your own. Percy’s mouth was otherwise occupied, Harry swallowing up any moans that tried to escape as the lengths pressed against each other.

Bleeds of red crept into his line of sight, but Harry ignored the unwanted distraction. Powering through a sudden bout of grogginess, Harry slipped a hand between the two bodies. Stroking the delightfully flushed cocks, Harry was enraptured by the contrast in textures. Percy’s dick was mostly human, but there was a hint of scales that traveled up the base, and its coloration was anything but natural. The nestled balls were, in contrast, covered in a delicate scaling that tied them more closely to the meat of the merman-like tail, and as Harry’s hand slid from the shafts, he stumbled across what could only be Percy’s ass.

Ripping his face from Percy’s needy mouth, Harry looked down at his prize. The tight hole stared at him, puckered and red; it was a glorious visual that Harry wanted to have painted and framed for his room. There was nothing quite like a tight hole, Harry was quickly learning. This wasn't an ass in the traditional sense, but Harry understood that no matter what, it would be phenomenal to ink into. A wonderfully warm and inviting anus.

“I’m gonna fuck this,” Harry murmured, thumb absentmindedly stroking over the dry hole. Percy thrusted his hips into the air, hole pushing against Harry’s investigating digit. Harry’s eyes rolled back as he thought about the warm, clinging channel that lay further in. “You want that? You want my cock buried to the base?”

Percy himself was incapable of reason as he shook his head positively, eyes dazed. It was so rewarding to see the usually composed boy fall apart before any actual penetration. Harry had to stay off the brink in some creative ways if he didn’t want to instantly bust. Percy just looked so good fucked out, and he hadn’t even been fucked yet!

Leaning his head back, Harry felt his alpha pheremones release, the invisible magical chemicals wafted off, and the pressure reduced from aching glands. Harry wanted the room bathed in his scent, even if he couldn’t smell it. As he twisted his neck, Harry’s eyes bulged as he realized a forgotten detail.

“Fuck, Ron-” Harry scrambled for the blanket. He was so fucking dead. 

“Don’t you fuck-ing da-reee~” Percy whined. He actually whined. Dear bloody Merlin, it was one of the hottest things the boy had ever done. Harry was quickly composing a symphony of debauchery featuring the sultry and slutty noises of the Weasley boys. He would play it twenty-four-seven if he could. Listening to the sounds of wet flesh slapping together, desperate keens, obesseive slurps- 

Focus! Harry managed to keep himself from falling as he caught his weight on Percy’s shoulder. Unfortunately, the momentum meant that his dick continued down and smacked against Percy’s side. The feeling was enough to have Harry cursing his inability to thrust further.

“Look at him,” Percy was definitely whining. But look, Harry did, because he knew to be good to the person he wanted to dick down. Taking in Ronald Weasley, Harry was confused as to what point Percy was trying to make. He was red in the face - bright red - so much so that his freckles were nearly completely invisible. His eyes were blown wide, revealing blown-out pupils and a glow unique to him and Bill. 

“What-”

“Looook,” Percy drawled, lips lazy with the sounds as his hand slipped lower and- 

Sweet Circe, Percy was jacking off. Thin fingers slipped around the long length, a bead of precum formed at the tip, and Percy- Gods the boy wiped the fluid down the head, the thin dollop helping lubricate his hand on the next glide.

Trying to pay attention, Harry turned his head back to Ron, his own desperation making it so much more difficult to see Percy’s point. Ropes strained as Ron’s body arched against the restraints and-

“Bloody hot fucking-” Harry swore. Ron was thrusting his flaccid dick into the air. Harry didn’t know when the boy had been pants-ed, but he didn’t care about the logistics. The naked ginger’s cock rolled in the air as Ron’s body unconsciously sought out release.

“He won’t get hard. Not today. But he can watch,” Percy mumbled, his hand now going faster down his shaft. “He wasn’t feeling good about his odds lying with a man. Why don’t we show him?” Percy practically purred, like a fucking crazy sex kitten. Harry wished that he wasn’t so turned on by the rumbling notes. 

“I- What- Ron?” Harry couldn’t manage words; his dick was taking too much blood from his brain. How could he think like this?

Percy smiled, one of those blown-out out sexy grins, eyes closed, he fumbled a hand out for the wand perched precariously close to the edge of the bed. Ron’s gag fell from his mouth as Percy’s spell hit the boy.

“Ron?” Harry repeated, eyes taking in every square inch of the restrained morsel. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he found the idea of fucking Ron’s brother in front of him hot. But he did. It was fucking brilliant, the rush that was flooding his body. He wanted to cum inside of Percy and then show off the load as it dripped out over scales. He wanted to put on a musical performance of panting and groaning. He wanted-

“I want to watch,” Ron’s roughened words caught Harry’s ear over the thudding of his heart. He wanted to fucking watch.

And watch he would.