FIC: "For Whom the Bell Clonks" for gala_apples
Recipient: gala_apples
Author/Artist: eeyore9990
Title: For Whom the Bell Clonks
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Charlie Weasley/Viktor Krum/Bill Weasley
Word Count: 4121
Warnings: Explicit sexual conduct, incestuous-ish-ness
Summary: Maybe it was the echo of goats long past, but there was just something about the Hog's Head that called out to those looking for a bit of nefarious privacy.
Author's/Artist's Notes: gala_apples, I adored your requests and wanted to use EVERYTHING, but that would have been a wild mish-mash of characters of varying timelines, lol, so I stuck with your first-mentioned unloved character (Viktor) and your first-mentioned "general likes" (Weasleys) with a whole lot of other general likes thrown in for good measure. :D
Thanks to bethbethbeth for bringing so much love to these poor souls (and to us!) and to my wonderful beta, leela_cat.
***
Maybe it was the echo of goats long past, but there was just something about the Hog's Head that called out to those looking for a bit of nefarious privacy. The dark corners were perfect for clandestine meetings, the ale just stale enough to keep those with an actual interest in alcohol away, and the butterbeer so dusty the kiddies would rather face the horrors of Madam Puddifoot's than trespass on the establishment with the creaking sign and cranky bartender.
All in all, it was damn near perfect. Exactly what Aberforth had set out to create: a tiny bit of perdition adjacent to the grounds of his brother's slice of heaven. A good nose-rub never hurt anyone.
Much.
His regular customers knew to pay promptly-no bartabs in his establishment-and their expenditures saw to the upkeep of the bar and what little extra cash Aberforth required to live his life. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
And for the occasional emergency that cropped up and required additional funds, there were the two rooms upstairs. Three, if you counted the one Aberforth used as his own, but no one else had set foot in it besides him since he'd taken over the place and no one would.
He swiped the bar with a dirty rag and ignored Ariana's stare which was boring into him from her portrait over the fireplace. The clonk of the bell above the door broke the silence of the still evening, and Aberforth looked up, his rag never wavering though his other hand immediately moved toward his wand.
Ginger hair. Faces and builds so much like their long-dead uncles that Aberforth felt something clench in his gut. The dragontooth earring on the one and the scars on t'other, though... That was new. Gid and Fabian's daring escapades had come in the form of wartime adventures. These young bucks... Aberforth shook his head and redirected his thoughts.
"Whatll'ya have?"
The shorter of the two, stockier, glanced at him almost in surprise-bartenders had a way of blending into the scenery of a bar-and held up two fingers. "Firewhisky."
Aberforth pulled a dark bottle down from a shelf behind the bar and set it on the counter heavily. Two thick-cut glasses in some state of cleanliness-the firewhisky'd kill whatever might be left lurking in the bottom of them after his days-old basic cleaning spell-were filled to the brim and pushed across the counter. "Two Galleons," he muttered, and pocketed the gold coins that spun toward him.
He had very little use for a till.
Giving every indication he was ignoring their presence entirely, Aberforth watched them take seats at a table in the corner, the one cast most deeply in shadow. Though there were six chairs around the table, they took the two furthest from him, their backs to the wall, shoulders pressing together.
Ariana gave a soft sigh, and Aberforth stilled her with a shake of his head. Walking over as if to dust her frame, he muttered, "None o' that."
"It's... interesting."
"Ain't none o' our bus'ness."
The bell clonked again, and Aberforth stiffened before turning. He'd not seen or heard either of the boys move, so this must be yet another customer.
"Busy tonight," Ariana said in her soft, lilting voice.
Aberforth frowned at the young man who'd entered. He didn't look like he was down from Hogwarts, but there was a certain aura about him, even as he plodded into the bar on flat feet, scowling around the dimly-lit room. Ugly as sin, this one, but... still.
Strolling back behind the bar, Aberforth threw one end of his rag over his shoulder. "Reckon you should be out this late, lad?"
Heavy eyebrows drew together when the boy scowled, but all he said was, "Da. I shall haf vodka."
It seemed the ale'd be that much more stale tomorrow, the way these youngsters were ordering. Shaking his head, Aberforth poured and pushed, his actions done by rote though he was barman enough to say, "That'll be two Galleons."
Ugly-boy sneered down at the piss-water he'd ordered, lifted the glass to his nose, sniffed, and said, "For this? You vill get one Galleon and be thankful for the profit."
Well now. Aberforth rocked back on his heels and swept the little bugger with a gaze meant to be measuring. After a long moment, he nodded. "One'll do."
Young, but not dumb. Maybe they were doing something right up at the school. And, somewhere out there, a clabbert was falling out of a tree.
Bill Weasley looked up from his drink as the bell above the door let out a sound like a congested duck. He watched as Viktor Krum slouched into the Hog's Head and clomped to the bar. Something about that surly attitude of his made Bill's back teeth ache even as the idea of all that brutishness caused an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. He did love them rough around the edges.
"Watch it," Charlie murmured, and though his lips didn't even twitch, Bill could hear the smirk in his tone.
Nothing for it but to feign nonchalance. Tipping up his drink, Bill made a questioning sound.
"You'll be drooling next."
Bill's lips tightened at the corners as he fought back a knowing smile. "You've seen him fly."
"Mmm. He's young."
"But not too young."
"He's ugly. Clumsy on the ground."
"Well, not everyone can be as pretty as you, Chuck."
Charlie pulled a face at that name. "Did you want to fuck or fight? Because you're treading on thin ice there, Billy boy."
"Touché." Bill watched Krum toss back a shot of some clear liquid - ten Knuts to the Galleon that it was vodka. Why did everyone have to live up to clichés?
Krum turned around and glared at the room from under thick eyebrows, his gaze lingering on the corner where Bill and Charlie sat for just a moment before he turned back to the bar.
"It would be a shame," Bill said, watching him, "if we let a guest to our fair nation drink alone."
"I've rarely known you to be so patriotic."
"Bite your tongue."
"Would rather he did that for me."
Bill grinned. "I nearly forgot how much you liked dangerous creatures."
"Shall we see if he fits the bill?"
"Absolutely."
Viktor watched in the grimy mirror behind the bar as the two men in the corner stood. His attention was caught, mostly because they were the only thing of interest to watch in this run-down pub unless one counted the grizzled bartender. Viktor didn't.
He'd assumed the two men were simply finished with their drinks and making ready to leave until they walked toward him instead of the door. By the looks on their faces, they weren't quite through with their evening. Viktor didn't bother to turn. If they wanted more to drink, they'd order; if not, he'd find out soon enough. He did surreptitiously check the placement of his wand. Just in case.
"Krum, isn't it?" the taller of the two asked, his eyes meeting Viktor's in the mirror.
Viktor grunted, dismissing the one talking to him as the lesser threat. It was the smaller one who bore watching. He looked vaguely dangerous, not to mention slightly familiar. Turning so he could see the man without the extra layer of filth that blurred the images in the mirror, Viktor studied him. Suddenly, it dawned on him.
"You are... worker with dragons?"
"Yeah. We came in with the big girls for the first task. Nice work today, by the way."
Viktor scowled, unsure if he was being insulted. It was often difficult to tell with that damnably dry British wit. "My dragon destroyed her eggs. This is not nice work."
The taller man sighed before holding his hand out in front of Viktor. "Allow me to make the introductions. I'm Bill Weasley; this is my brother Charlie."
Viktor stared at the hand for a long moment before he reluctantly shook it. "Viktor Krum." And then he felt like a fool for saying that after they'd greeted him by name upon approach. Idiot!
"Look, there's no one else in here," Charlie said, one side of his mouth tipping up in a half-grin. "Why don't you come share our table? We'd love to hear your impressions of Hogwarts."
There really wasn't much to consider. Either he could go with them or risk insulting them, which could have consequences he wasn't in the mood to deal with. "Yes. Is fine. More to drink first, I think."
Bill clapped him on the shoulder. "You've had a long day. Why don't you go sit and I'll get the next round. Vodka, right?"
Viktor blinked once, surprised, but nodded. "Da. Vodka."
"Go on. I've got this."
Somewhat reluctantly Viktor walked to the corner table with Charlie, struggling to find something to talk about with this random stranger. "You like work with dragons?"
Charlie swung a chair around and straddled it before grinning at Viktor and indicating the chair beside his with a tip of his head. "It's pretty great, actually. Definitely not boring."
"And...Bill? He is brother?"
"Yeah."
"He work with dragons?"
Charlie snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, he works for Gringotts."
"Oy, you make me sound like a goblin!" Bill said, returning to their table with two bottles and a fresh - by some standard of 'fresh' - glass. "I'm a curse-breaker," he said, tipping vodka into the glass and handing it to Viktor. "Cheers!"
Viktor raised his glass in salute and then took a sip, holding it in his mouth for a moment in hopes that the other two would pick up the conversation while he was otherwise occupied. English was difficult at best; his language skills certainly weren't ready for this level of verbal interaction.
Charlie watched as Krum swished the swill that passed for vodka around in his mouth and took pity on him. Of a sort.
"You like cock?"
To give him credit, Krum didn't spit his drink in Charlie's face, though his skin did flush red before he forced down the sip he'd taken. "I...excuse me?" he coughed.
"Do you enjoy cock?"
Bill laughed and scooted his chair closer to Krum's. "You'll have to excuse Charlie, Viktor. He's been around his dragons too long to understand anything like subtlety and finesse."
Shrugging, Charlie agreed. "I haven't any use for them. I want to fuck him. You want to fuck him. If Viktor wants to fuck us, better to find out now than later."
"You really have been on the reserve too long, brother dearest."
Ignoring Bill, Charlie looked back at Viktor and said, "So?"
"You are... having fun?"
"Am I making fun of you, do you mean?" At Viktor's nod, Charlie shook his head. "No. Definitely not." Reaching forward, he took Viktor's free hand - the one not clutching his glass in a white-fingered grip - and brought it to his groin. "This is not a joke."
Viktor's lips twitched. "No. Is not joke." Turning his head to look at Bill, Viktor gave Charlie's cock a quick squeeze and said, "You also?"
Bill leaned toward Viktor. "Mother always taught me that good boys share their toys."
Rolling his hips against Viktor's hand, Charlie snorted. "Where was that attitude when we were growing up?"
Bill laughed softly, a little huff of air that cut off in a gurgle when Viktor put down his drink and treated Bill to the same rubbing squeeze Charlie was receiving. "Slow...learner," Bill groaned.
It was amazing. Put a man behind a bar, give him a dirty rag and the ability to pour a drink, and suddenly he was as invisible as if he had one of those fancy cloaks.
Aberforth watched the 'seduction' going on in the corner with a jaundiced eye and finally huffed impatiently. He could break it up to make them take it upstairs, or he could wait and get the hour's rent off one of the gingers. After all, he remembered their mother from the days she'd been wearing pigtails and chasing her brothers through the streets of Hogsmeade. A whisper in one ear or t'other'd pay him plenty for his silence, he was sure.
Tossing his rag over his shoulder one last time, Aberforth grunted something about going to the privy and pushed through the double doors to head out back.
If he happened to be walking toward the goat pens, it was pure coincidence.
Bill had no idea how it'd happened, but sometime between being shanghaied at the bar and propositioned at the table, Viktor Krum had turned things on their head and had taken over. Completely.
Bill's fingers clenched tight where they held to the table, his hips rocking forward involuntarily with every press and squeeze of Viktor's hand. Charlie's voice murmuring encouragement in a gutteral tone of pure want licked over him, rolled through the air and added to the lust twisting through his gut. He wanted to clear his mind, wanted to regain some semblance of himself, but just then Viktor shifted his hand, short nails biting into the cloth of Bill's trousers and that sharp pain only added to the pure sex of the moment.
Finally, Bill drew himself together enough to push his chair straight back, away from the table, away from Krum's too-knowledgeable hand, away from Charlie's moans and Viktor's deep, foreign voice. Standing on wobbly legs, Bill stepped forward, back into the fray, and grabbed Viktor by his neck, tilting his head back. He grinned-it was shaky, he knew it was but he couldn't be arsed to care at this point-and then pressed their mouths together. Sucking, licking, nipping, biting. There was a reason Bill enjoyed the company of other men.
Women were nice; they were soft and sweet and tasted so damn good. But when he wanted rough and now and no-holds-barred fucking, he'd take a man any time.
"Shall we take this upstairs?" Bill asked, pulling back from the kiss.
Viktor licked his lips, half of his mind continuing to pay attention to the broken curses spilling from Charlie's mouth while the other half focussed completely on Bill. "Why should we go? Who is here to..." he hesitated for a moment on the word, his fingers tightening around the bulge of Charlie's cock when he finally found it, "complain?"
"You want to... here?" Bill asked, gesturing around the bar.
Viktor looked, saw the dirt and filth and grime. He grinned and shrugged. "Why not?"
And that's when Charlie lunged.
Viktor laughed when he was lifted from his chair and hauled bodily over the table, their drinks spilling and crashing to the ground, the glass remaining intact by virtue of magic. When he was flat on his back, Viktor looked up, saw the toll that'd taken on Charlie in his flushed face and panting breaths. Wrangling dragons was seriously hard work, but Viktor wasn't a light-weight by any means. He was a skilled Seeker because he had to be in order to be better and faster than his much-smaller counterparts.
Hands grasped his wrists and pulled, yanking them to the other side of the table and Viktor raised an eyebrow at Bill's upside-down face. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping you," Bill said, one corner of his mouth hitching up.
Viktor went still, glancing from one brother to the next. "You are... this is one night, yes? One night for this."
Charlie chuckled, down where he was tugging on the closures of Viktor's trousers and the pants underneath. "What's wrong, Viktor? You don't want to keep us?"
Viktor shrugged and decided that honesty was the best route to take at that moment. "You are pretty. Both of you. But you are not... to my liking?" He knew that phrase was wrong, but couldn't decide how to say it the way he meant it.
"You won't convince me that you're only into birds, Krum," Bill said, and Viktor rolled his head backward again to see Bill pointedly staring at Viktor's cock where it pushed against the thin material of his pants.
"Birds?"
"Girls. Women. Tits and cunt and all that rot."
"Oh. I enjoy women, yes. I do not care for one or another. I am... flexible?" English really was a bitch of a language. "I just. I like the quiet. The shy. Books and parchment and ink and quills." Charlie and Bill shared an unreadable glance over his stretched-out body. Viktor raised one eyebrow. "What is it?"
"You'd love our brother Percy," Charlie said.
Bill's hair brushed against Viktor's forehead when he shook his head. "Nah, Percy's too much of a stick. That would be a damn waste."
Charlie grunted, though whether in agreement with Bill or in triumph as he finally succeeded in stripping Viktor's lower half, Viktor couldn't tell.
Also who the hell was Percy, and why were they mentioning him at a time like this?
Charlie held Viktor's pants above his head, a worthy trophy after his long minutes struggling with the material, before tossing them behind himself. Kicking a chair out of his way, he grasped Viktor's legs, pulled them apart and said, "One night is fine. Not that I'd turn down a repeat, but neither of us are looking for anything long-term. I have my dragons, Bill has his tombs, and neither of us are really willing to part with either." He shrugged, summing up a life of bachelorhood with a few simple words.
Visibly relaxing, Viktor grinned and arched one thick brow at Charlie. "What do we wait for, then?" His strong legs broke from Charlie's grasp and hooked around Charlie's hips, pulling him forward roughly. "Is time for fucking, da?"
"Da," Bill said, crawling onto the table behind Viktor, showing that he'd taken the time to strip himself as well. Lowering his hard cock toward Viktor's spit-slicked lips, he groaned and said, "Very da."
Rolling his eyes, Charlie pushed against Bill's shoulder until Bill turned sideways, allowing room for Charlie, and then Charlie muttered a strengthening spell on the table before he tested its limits with the addition of his own weight.
The side of Bill's arse and hip swayed in Charlie's face as he fucked Viktor's mouth, his thrusts just short of violent, though Charlie saw the way Viktor's hand was wrapped around Bill's far hip, controlling and directing the speed of Bill's thrusts.
Unaccountably impressed, and unfortunately lacking in suitable lube to use for actually fucking Viktor, Charlie spat into his palm, sat between Viktor's wide-spread thighs, and took both their cocks in his hand. Rocking his hips so that his balls pressed and squeezed Viktor's between their bodies, Charlie set up a fast, rough rhythm with his hand, relishing the sounds he could hear Viktor making even over Bill's hissed words of encouragement.
An idea forming, Charlie released Viktor and slid off the table, snagging a chair with his foot and pulling it over to kneel up in, the positon putting him at just the right height to aim his cock at Viktor and Bill as he wanked himself furiously. Viktor made a short, frustrated sound, his free hand winding around his own cock until Charlie reached forward and slapped it away.
"No." He didn't need to say more; Bill was watching him with his mouth wide-open and grabbed Viktor's wrist, holding it pinned beneath his hands where they were braced on the table.
Charlie licked his lips, winked at Bill, and then tweaked his own nipples. Looking down, he allowed the sight of Bill's cock pushing between Viktor's wide-spread lips to drive him toward and then over the precipice of orgasm. As he started to come, he caught the thick, warm fluid in his hand and then, not even slowing down to recover, smeared it over Viktor's cock, his balls, and down along his perineum. With shaky hands he pulled Viktor's legs up, splaying them widely to give him free access to... everything.
Charlie's pointed tongue pressed into the soft skin just behind Viktor's balls, then he opened his mouth, sealed his lips around the flesh there, and nibbled and sucked even as he blindly groped for Viktor's cock with his still-sticky hand. His own come smoothing the way, he set up a fierce pace with his hand even as he mouthed Viktor's balls, licked at the head of Viktor's cock, and very simply allowed himself to taste the very best parts of Viktor.
He heard a loud, long moan and looked up in time to watch Bill's shake through his own orgasm before he slumped to the side, narrowly missing landing on the top of Viktor's head. Charlie grinned and went back to his task, taking Viktor's cock deep into his mouth and pressing his thumb to Viktor's arse, massaging the tightly furrowed hole until the muscles loosened enough for him to slip it in to the first knuckle. He wriggled his thumb around, making room even as he swirled his tongue around the tip of Viktor's cock, licking up the precome there.
Withdrawing his thumb, Charlie shifted his hand and pressed the middle finger of his come-covered hand against the rim of Viktor's arse, pushing in slowly until the entire length of his finger had been swallowed up. He started a slow rhythm of pulling and pushing until Viktor was swearing at him in Bulgarian-he assumed; it wasn't a language he knew-and then he took Viktor's cock all the way into his mouth until the head hit the back of his throat.
Though his breathing was obstructed, Charlie stayed there, swallowing convulsively as his body fought for the mingled need to breathe and gag. He twisted his finger until he felt the smooth lump of Viktor's prostate, massaging it firmly. When Viktor's hips began to rock frantically beneath him, Charlie lifted his head, took a breath, and then pursed his lips around the head of Viktor's cock, flickering his tongue wildly.
Eyes open, head tilted, he watched Viktor for signs that he was about to come. What he saw instead was Bill moving, his body rising up and over Viktor, his hair trailing along Viktor's skin as his white teeth closed over a dark nipple and tugged.
There was a muffled shout, the muscles around Charlie's finger clenched tight, and Viktor's cock began to pulse in Charlie's mouth. Moaning, he swallowed the first load, then pulled back and aimed so that the remaining come landed wetly against the top of Bill's head.
He might be an adult, and he might be older than five of his six siblings, but Charlie would never outgrow the desire to take the mickey out of Bill.
Slipping his finger free of Viktor's arse, Charlie muttered a personal cleaning charm and rearranged himself so that he was sitting instead of kneeling in his chair then looked around him. Two mugs, a cut glass tumbler, and two bottles lay in a strange pattern around the table, their liquid contents running across the floor, steam rising from the firewhisky-except where it had run into the vodka; that combination was a mesmerising swirl of crimson-and clothes strewn everywhere.
"How much d'you think the barman's going to make us pay to clean up this mess?"
The bell clonked over the door, and a gust of January wind blew snow across the floor. Aberforth looked up from where he was wiping a spot into the bar and scowled. It was the ugly Krum boy from up at the school, dragging a mate along to all appearances.
Aberforth shook his head when he saw who was with him. Another ginger. Undoubtedly another one of Molly's boys, though this one looked more like a Weasley than a Prewitt. And walking so stiff-legged, Aberforth's eyes automatically slid down to look for the stick protruding from his arse. It was almost a surprise not to see one.
The Weasley boy adjusted his glasses and held up one finger in such a pompous display it set Aberforth's teeth on edge.
"Ale, please."
Hmph. At least this one didn't try to get fancy with his drink.
"I'm on Ministry business, you see," the Weasley boy said, turning to his mate. "Can't have anything too intoxicating." An awkward laugh followed that statement, and Aberforth raised one eyebrow as he looked to the youngster to see his reaction.
The boy was smiling with the sharp points of his teeth showing; such a predatory look spelled only one thing to Aberforth.
"This time, boy-o," Aberforth said, his gravelly voice raised just enough to grab their attention but not enough to broadcast their business, "you'll be getting a room."
***
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Author/Artist: eeyore9990
Title: For Whom the Bell Clonks
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Charlie Weasley/Viktor Krum/Bill Weasley
Word Count: 4121
Warnings: Explicit sexual conduct, incestuous-ish-ness
Summary: Maybe it was the echo of goats long past, but there was just something about the Hog's Head that called out to those looking for a bit of nefarious privacy.
Author's/Artist's Notes: gala_apples, I adored your requests and wanted to use EVERYTHING, but that would have been a wild mish-mash of characters of varying timelines, lol, so I stuck with your first-mentioned unloved character (Viktor) and your first-mentioned "general likes" (Weasleys) with a whole lot of other general likes thrown in for good measure. :D
Thanks to bethbethbeth for bringing so much love to these poor souls (and to us!) and to my wonderful beta, leela_cat.
***
Maybe it was the echo of goats long past, but there was just something about the Hog's Head that called out to those looking for a bit of nefarious privacy. The dark corners were perfect for clandestine meetings, the ale just stale enough to keep those with an actual interest in alcohol away, and the butterbeer so dusty the kiddies would rather face the horrors of Madam Puddifoot's than trespass on the establishment with the creaking sign and cranky bartender.
All in all, it was damn near perfect. Exactly what Aberforth had set out to create: a tiny bit of perdition adjacent to the grounds of his brother's slice of heaven. A good nose-rub never hurt anyone.
Much.
His regular customers knew to pay promptly-no bartabs in his establishment-and their expenditures saw to the upkeep of the bar and what little extra cash Aberforth required to live his life. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
And for the occasional emergency that cropped up and required additional funds, there were the two rooms upstairs. Three, if you counted the one Aberforth used as his own, but no one else had set foot in it besides him since he'd taken over the place and no one would.
He swiped the bar with a dirty rag and ignored Ariana's stare which was boring into him from her portrait over the fireplace. The clonk of the bell above the door broke the silence of the still evening, and Aberforth looked up, his rag never wavering though his other hand immediately moved toward his wand.
Ginger hair. Faces and builds so much like their long-dead uncles that Aberforth felt something clench in his gut. The dragontooth earring on the one and the scars on t'other, though... That was new. Gid and Fabian's daring escapades had come in the form of wartime adventures. These young bucks... Aberforth shook his head and redirected his thoughts.
"Whatll'ya have?"
The shorter of the two, stockier, glanced at him almost in surprise-bartenders had a way of blending into the scenery of a bar-and held up two fingers. "Firewhisky."
Aberforth pulled a dark bottle down from a shelf behind the bar and set it on the counter heavily. Two thick-cut glasses in some state of cleanliness-the firewhisky'd kill whatever might be left lurking in the bottom of them after his days-old basic cleaning spell-were filled to the brim and pushed across the counter. "Two Galleons," he muttered, and pocketed the gold coins that spun toward him.
He had very little use for a till.
Giving every indication he was ignoring their presence entirely, Aberforth watched them take seats at a table in the corner, the one cast most deeply in shadow. Though there were six chairs around the table, they took the two furthest from him, their backs to the wall, shoulders pressing together.
Ariana gave a soft sigh, and Aberforth stilled her with a shake of his head. Walking over as if to dust her frame, he muttered, "None o' that."
"It's... interesting."
"Ain't none o' our bus'ness."
The bell clonked again, and Aberforth stiffened before turning. He'd not seen or heard either of the boys move, so this must be yet another customer.
"Busy tonight," Ariana said in her soft, lilting voice.
Aberforth frowned at the young man who'd entered. He didn't look like he was down from Hogwarts, but there was a certain aura about him, even as he plodded into the bar on flat feet, scowling around the dimly-lit room. Ugly as sin, this one, but... still.
Strolling back behind the bar, Aberforth threw one end of his rag over his shoulder. "Reckon you should be out this late, lad?"
Heavy eyebrows drew together when the boy scowled, but all he said was, "Da. I shall haf vodka."
It seemed the ale'd be that much more stale tomorrow, the way these youngsters were ordering. Shaking his head, Aberforth poured and pushed, his actions done by rote though he was barman enough to say, "That'll be two Galleons."
Ugly-boy sneered down at the piss-water he'd ordered, lifted the glass to his nose, sniffed, and said, "For this? You vill get one Galleon and be thankful for the profit."
Well now. Aberforth rocked back on his heels and swept the little bugger with a gaze meant to be measuring. After a long moment, he nodded. "One'll do."
Young, but not dumb. Maybe they were doing something right up at the school. And, somewhere out there, a clabbert was falling out of a tree.
Bill Weasley looked up from his drink as the bell above the door let out a sound like a congested duck. He watched as Viktor Krum slouched into the Hog's Head and clomped to the bar. Something about that surly attitude of his made Bill's back teeth ache even as the idea of all that brutishness caused an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. He did love them rough around the edges.
"Watch it," Charlie murmured, and though his lips didn't even twitch, Bill could hear the smirk in his tone.
Nothing for it but to feign nonchalance. Tipping up his drink, Bill made a questioning sound.
"You'll be drooling next."
Bill's lips tightened at the corners as he fought back a knowing smile. "You've seen him fly."
"Mmm. He's young."
"But not too young."
"He's ugly. Clumsy on the ground."
"Well, not everyone can be as pretty as you, Chuck."
Charlie pulled a face at that name. "Did you want to fuck or fight? Because you're treading on thin ice there, Billy boy."
"Touché." Bill watched Krum toss back a shot of some clear liquid - ten Knuts to the Galleon that it was vodka. Why did everyone have to live up to clichés?
Krum turned around and glared at the room from under thick eyebrows, his gaze lingering on the corner where Bill and Charlie sat for just a moment before he turned back to the bar.
"It would be a shame," Bill said, watching him, "if we let a guest to our fair nation drink alone."
"I've rarely known you to be so patriotic."
"Bite your tongue."
"Would rather he did that for me."
Bill grinned. "I nearly forgot how much you liked dangerous creatures."
"Shall we see if he fits the bill?"
"Absolutely."
Viktor watched in the grimy mirror behind the bar as the two men in the corner stood. His attention was caught, mostly because they were the only thing of interest to watch in this run-down pub unless one counted the grizzled bartender. Viktor didn't.
He'd assumed the two men were simply finished with their drinks and making ready to leave until they walked toward him instead of the door. By the looks on their faces, they weren't quite through with their evening. Viktor didn't bother to turn. If they wanted more to drink, they'd order; if not, he'd find out soon enough. He did surreptitiously check the placement of his wand. Just in case.
"Krum, isn't it?" the taller of the two asked, his eyes meeting Viktor's in the mirror.
Viktor grunted, dismissing the one talking to him as the lesser threat. It was the smaller one who bore watching. He looked vaguely dangerous, not to mention slightly familiar. Turning so he could see the man without the extra layer of filth that blurred the images in the mirror, Viktor studied him. Suddenly, it dawned on him.
"You are... worker with dragons?"
"Yeah. We came in with the big girls for the first task. Nice work today, by the way."
Viktor scowled, unsure if he was being insulted. It was often difficult to tell with that damnably dry British wit. "My dragon destroyed her eggs. This is not nice work."
The taller man sighed before holding his hand out in front of Viktor. "Allow me to make the introductions. I'm Bill Weasley; this is my brother Charlie."
Viktor stared at the hand for a long moment before he reluctantly shook it. "Viktor Krum." And then he felt like a fool for saying that after they'd greeted him by name upon approach. Idiot!
"Look, there's no one else in here," Charlie said, one side of his mouth tipping up in a half-grin. "Why don't you come share our table? We'd love to hear your impressions of Hogwarts."
There really wasn't much to consider. Either he could go with them or risk insulting them, which could have consequences he wasn't in the mood to deal with. "Yes. Is fine. More to drink first, I think."
Bill clapped him on the shoulder. "You've had a long day. Why don't you go sit and I'll get the next round. Vodka, right?"
Viktor blinked once, surprised, but nodded. "Da. Vodka."
"Go on. I've got this."
Somewhat reluctantly Viktor walked to the corner table with Charlie, struggling to find something to talk about with this random stranger. "You like work with dragons?"
Charlie swung a chair around and straddled it before grinning at Viktor and indicating the chair beside his with a tip of his head. "It's pretty great, actually. Definitely not boring."
"And...Bill? He is brother?"
"Yeah."
"He work with dragons?"
Charlie snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, he works for Gringotts."
"Oy, you make me sound like a goblin!" Bill said, returning to their table with two bottles and a fresh - by some standard of 'fresh' - glass. "I'm a curse-breaker," he said, tipping vodka into the glass and handing it to Viktor. "Cheers!"
Viktor raised his glass in salute and then took a sip, holding it in his mouth for a moment in hopes that the other two would pick up the conversation while he was otherwise occupied. English was difficult at best; his language skills certainly weren't ready for this level of verbal interaction.
Charlie watched as Krum swished the swill that passed for vodka around in his mouth and took pity on him. Of a sort.
"You like cock?"
To give him credit, Krum didn't spit his drink in Charlie's face, though his skin did flush red before he forced down the sip he'd taken. "I...excuse me?" he coughed.
"Do you enjoy cock?"
Bill laughed and scooted his chair closer to Krum's. "You'll have to excuse Charlie, Viktor. He's been around his dragons too long to understand anything like subtlety and finesse."
Shrugging, Charlie agreed. "I haven't any use for them. I want to fuck him. You want to fuck him. If Viktor wants to fuck us, better to find out now than later."
"You really have been on the reserve too long, brother dearest."
Ignoring Bill, Charlie looked back at Viktor and said, "So?"
"You are... having fun?"
"Am I making fun of you, do you mean?" At Viktor's nod, Charlie shook his head. "No. Definitely not." Reaching forward, he took Viktor's free hand - the one not clutching his glass in a white-fingered grip - and brought it to his groin. "This is not a joke."
Viktor's lips twitched. "No. Is not joke." Turning his head to look at Bill, Viktor gave Charlie's cock a quick squeeze and said, "You also?"
Bill leaned toward Viktor. "Mother always taught me that good boys share their toys."
Rolling his hips against Viktor's hand, Charlie snorted. "Where was that attitude when we were growing up?"
Bill laughed softly, a little huff of air that cut off in a gurgle when Viktor put down his drink and treated Bill to the same rubbing squeeze Charlie was receiving. "Slow...learner," Bill groaned.
It was amazing. Put a man behind a bar, give him a dirty rag and the ability to pour a drink, and suddenly he was as invisible as if he had one of those fancy cloaks.
Aberforth watched the 'seduction' going on in the corner with a jaundiced eye and finally huffed impatiently. He could break it up to make them take it upstairs, or he could wait and get the hour's rent off one of the gingers. After all, he remembered their mother from the days she'd been wearing pigtails and chasing her brothers through the streets of Hogsmeade. A whisper in one ear or t'other'd pay him plenty for his silence, he was sure.
Tossing his rag over his shoulder one last time, Aberforth grunted something about going to the privy and pushed through the double doors to head out back.
If he happened to be walking toward the goat pens, it was pure coincidence.
Bill had no idea how it'd happened, but sometime between being shanghaied at the bar and propositioned at the table, Viktor Krum had turned things on their head and had taken over. Completely.
Bill's fingers clenched tight where they held to the table, his hips rocking forward involuntarily with every press and squeeze of Viktor's hand. Charlie's voice murmuring encouragement in a gutteral tone of pure want licked over him, rolled through the air and added to the lust twisting through his gut. He wanted to clear his mind, wanted to regain some semblance of himself, but just then Viktor shifted his hand, short nails biting into the cloth of Bill's trousers and that sharp pain only added to the pure sex of the moment.
Finally, Bill drew himself together enough to push his chair straight back, away from the table, away from Krum's too-knowledgeable hand, away from Charlie's moans and Viktor's deep, foreign voice. Standing on wobbly legs, Bill stepped forward, back into the fray, and grabbed Viktor by his neck, tilting his head back. He grinned-it was shaky, he knew it was but he couldn't be arsed to care at this point-and then pressed their mouths together. Sucking, licking, nipping, biting. There was a reason Bill enjoyed the company of other men.
Women were nice; they were soft and sweet and tasted so damn good. But when he wanted rough and now and no-holds-barred fucking, he'd take a man any time.
"Shall we take this upstairs?" Bill asked, pulling back from the kiss.
Viktor licked his lips, half of his mind continuing to pay attention to the broken curses spilling from Charlie's mouth while the other half focussed completely on Bill. "Why should we go? Who is here to..." he hesitated for a moment on the word, his fingers tightening around the bulge of Charlie's cock when he finally found it, "complain?"
"You want to... here?" Bill asked, gesturing around the bar.
Viktor looked, saw the dirt and filth and grime. He grinned and shrugged. "Why not?"
And that's when Charlie lunged.
Viktor laughed when he was lifted from his chair and hauled bodily over the table, their drinks spilling and crashing to the ground, the glass remaining intact by virtue of magic. When he was flat on his back, Viktor looked up, saw the toll that'd taken on Charlie in his flushed face and panting breaths. Wrangling dragons was seriously hard work, but Viktor wasn't a light-weight by any means. He was a skilled Seeker because he had to be in order to be better and faster than his much-smaller counterparts.
Hands grasped his wrists and pulled, yanking them to the other side of the table and Viktor raised an eyebrow at Bill's upside-down face. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping you," Bill said, one corner of his mouth hitching up.
Viktor went still, glancing from one brother to the next. "You are... this is one night, yes? One night for this."
Charlie chuckled, down where he was tugging on the closures of Viktor's trousers and the pants underneath. "What's wrong, Viktor? You don't want to keep us?"
Viktor shrugged and decided that honesty was the best route to take at that moment. "You are pretty. Both of you. But you are not... to my liking?" He knew that phrase was wrong, but couldn't decide how to say it the way he meant it.
"You won't convince me that you're only into birds, Krum," Bill said, and Viktor rolled his head backward again to see Bill pointedly staring at Viktor's cock where it pushed against the thin material of his pants.
"Birds?"
"Girls. Women. Tits and cunt and all that rot."
"Oh. I enjoy women, yes. I do not care for one or another. I am... flexible?" English really was a bitch of a language. "I just. I like the quiet. The shy. Books and parchment and ink and quills." Charlie and Bill shared an unreadable glance over his stretched-out body. Viktor raised one eyebrow. "What is it?"
"You'd love our brother Percy," Charlie said.
Bill's hair brushed against Viktor's forehead when he shook his head. "Nah, Percy's too much of a stick. That would be a damn waste."
Charlie grunted, though whether in agreement with Bill or in triumph as he finally succeeded in stripping Viktor's lower half, Viktor couldn't tell.
Also who the hell was Percy, and why were they mentioning him at a time like this?
Charlie held Viktor's pants above his head, a worthy trophy after his long minutes struggling with the material, before tossing them behind himself. Kicking a chair out of his way, he grasped Viktor's legs, pulled them apart and said, "One night is fine. Not that I'd turn down a repeat, but neither of us are looking for anything long-term. I have my dragons, Bill has his tombs, and neither of us are really willing to part with either." He shrugged, summing up a life of bachelorhood with a few simple words.
Visibly relaxing, Viktor grinned and arched one thick brow at Charlie. "What do we wait for, then?" His strong legs broke from Charlie's grasp and hooked around Charlie's hips, pulling him forward roughly. "Is time for fucking, da?"
"Da," Bill said, crawling onto the table behind Viktor, showing that he'd taken the time to strip himself as well. Lowering his hard cock toward Viktor's spit-slicked lips, he groaned and said, "Very da."
Rolling his eyes, Charlie pushed against Bill's shoulder until Bill turned sideways, allowing room for Charlie, and then Charlie muttered a strengthening spell on the table before he tested its limits with the addition of his own weight.
The side of Bill's arse and hip swayed in Charlie's face as he fucked Viktor's mouth, his thrusts just short of violent, though Charlie saw the way Viktor's hand was wrapped around Bill's far hip, controlling and directing the speed of Bill's thrusts.
Unaccountably impressed, and unfortunately lacking in suitable lube to use for actually fucking Viktor, Charlie spat into his palm, sat between Viktor's wide-spread thighs, and took both their cocks in his hand. Rocking his hips so that his balls pressed and squeezed Viktor's between their bodies, Charlie set up a fast, rough rhythm with his hand, relishing the sounds he could hear Viktor making even over Bill's hissed words of encouragement.
An idea forming, Charlie released Viktor and slid off the table, snagging a chair with his foot and pulling it over to kneel up in, the positon putting him at just the right height to aim his cock at Viktor and Bill as he wanked himself furiously. Viktor made a short, frustrated sound, his free hand winding around his own cock until Charlie reached forward and slapped it away.
"No." He didn't need to say more; Bill was watching him with his mouth wide-open and grabbed Viktor's wrist, holding it pinned beneath his hands where they were braced on the table.
Charlie licked his lips, winked at Bill, and then tweaked his own nipples. Looking down, he allowed the sight of Bill's cock pushing between Viktor's wide-spread lips to drive him toward and then over the precipice of orgasm. As he started to come, he caught the thick, warm fluid in his hand and then, not even slowing down to recover, smeared it over Viktor's cock, his balls, and down along his perineum. With shaky hands he pulled Viktor's legs up, splaying them widely to give him free access to... everything.
Charlie's pointed tongue pressed into the soft skin just behind Viktor's balls, then he opened his mouth, sealed his lips around the flesh there, and nibbled and sucked even as he blindly groped for Viktor's cock with his still-sticky hand. His own come smoothing the way, he set up a fierce pace with his hand even as he mouthed Viktor's balls, licked at the head of Viktor's cock, and very simply allowed himself to taste the very best parts of Viktor.
He heard a loud, long moan and looked up in time to watch Bill's shake through his own orgasm before he slumped to the side, narrowly missing landing on the top of Viktor's head. Charlie grinned and went back to his task, taking Viktor's cock deep into his mouth and pressing his thumb to Viktor's arse, massaging the tightly furrowed hole until the muscles loosened enough for him to slip it in to the first knuckle. He wriggled his thumb around, making room even as he swirled his tongue around the tip of Viktor's cock, licking up the precome there.
Withdrawing his thumb, Charlie shifted his hand and pressed the middle finger of his come-covered hand against the rim of Viktor's arse, pushing in slowly until the entire length of his finger had been swallowed up. He started a slow rhythm of pulling and pushing until Viktor was swearing at him in Bulgarian-he assumed; it wasn't a language he knew-and then he took Viktor's cock all the way into his mouth until the head hit the back of his throat.
Though his breathing was obstructed, Charlie stayed there, swallowing convulsively as his body fought for the mingled need to breathe and gag. He twisted his finger until he felt the smooth lump of Viktor's prostate, massaging it firmly. When Viktor's hips began to rock frantically beneath him, Charlie lifted his head, took a breath, and then pursed his lips around the head of Viktor's cock, flickering his tongue wildly.
Eyes open, head tilted, he watched Viktor for signs that he was about to come. What he saw instead was Bill moving, his body rising up and over Viktor, his hair trailing along Viktor's skin as his white teeth closed over a dark nipple and tugged.
There was a muffled shout, the muscles around Charlie's finger clenched tight, and Viktor's cock began to pulse in Charlie's mouth. Moaning, he swallowed the first load, then pulled back and aimed so that the remaining come landed wetly against the top of Bill's head.
He might be an adult, and he might be older than five of his six siblings, but Charlie would never outgrow the desire to take the mickey out of Bill.
Slipping his finger free of Viktor's arse, Charlie muttered a personal cleaning charm and rearranged himself so that he was sitting instead of kneeling in his chair then looked around him. Two mugs, a cut glass tumbler, and two bottles lay in a strange pattern around the table, their liquid contents running across the floor, steam rising from the firewhisky-except where it had run into the vodka; that combination was a mesmerising swirl of crimson-and clothes strewn everywhere.
"How much d'you think the barman's going to make us pay to clean up this mess?"
The bell clonked over the door, and a gust of January wind blew snow across the floor. Aberforth looked up from where he was wiping a spot into the bar and scowled. It was the ugly Krum boy from up at the school, dragging a mate along to all appearances.
Aberforth shook his head when he saw who was with him. Another ginger. Undoubtedly another one of Molly's boys, though this one looked more like a Weasley than a Prewitt. And walking so stiff-legged, Aberforth's eyes automatically slid down to look for the stick protruding from his arse. It was almost a surprise not to see one.
The Weasley boy adjusted his glasses and held up one finger in such a pompous display it set Aberforth's teeth on edge.
"Ale, please."
Hmph. At least this one didn't try to get fancy with his drink.
"I'm on Ministry business, you see," the Weasley boy said, turning to his mate. "Can't have anything too intoxicating." An awkward laugh followed that statement, and Aberforth raised one eyebrow as he looked to the youngster to see his reaction.
The boy was smiling with the sharp points of his teeth showing; such a predatory look spelled only one thing to Aberforth.
"This time, boy-o," Aberforth said, his gravelly voice raised just enough to grab their attention but not enough to broadcast their business, "you'll be getting a room."
***
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