Harry Potter and the Odour of the Pheromones - Part 7

[magicbunbuns]

Harry Potter and the Odour of the Pheromones - By Kate's Brain and Magic of Isis

ETA a dodgy link in an appropriate place... (Shocolate, be grateful it doesn't involve house elves ;-)



**

Oliver slowly opened his bleary eyes and reached round to rub at his back. Sitting up, he narrowed his eyes at Ron.

“What the devil did you do that for?”

“I… sorry,” Ron mumbled, hanging his head. “I thought you were taking advantage-”

“Taking advantage?” Oliver pulled himself to his feet and towered over Ron. “Since when have you been Harry’s personal bodyguard? And what the hell are you playing at, stunning me from behind?”

“I’m sorry, all right?” Ron pleaded, and his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “I was only looking out for Harry.”

“So Harry isn’t allowed to have any offers-” Oliver glanced between them both. “Are you two dating then? Because even so, being so bloody over-protective-”

“No!” Ron spat out hastily. “We’re just friends. We’ve never… I don’t…” To Harry’s amazement, Ron’s skin managed to flush even further, and Harry felt dismayed that Ron seemed so uncomfortable by Oliver’s suggestion.

“But you still think it’s your business to not let anyone even approach Harry?” Oliver continued. “He’s quite capable of turning someone down if he wants to. Harry, I can see now why you said this wasn’t the time or place. I’ll owl you, and that way you can give me your answer without interference from any jealous friends.”

“I’m not jealous! When I walked in, it looked as if you had Harry cornered, that Harry had no choice…” Ron protested. He looked between Harry and Oliver; Oliver had stepped closer and closer to Harry since being enervated, and yet Harry had not moved away. “I’ll… I’ll leave you two alone then, as I’m not needed,” Ron snapped before marching out of the changing rooms and slamming the door behind him.

Harry started and would have run after his friend had Oliver not placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder.

“Leave him,” Oliver breathed against his neck. “Let him calm down.”

Harry moved back to sit heavily on the bench, resting his face in his hands and feeling Oliver sitting down beside him.

“Has he done this before?” Oliver asked.

“He’s never walked in on someone blatantly trying it on with me. He probably didn’t appreciate what was happening…”

“So you don’t think it was jealously?”

“I wish, but I doubt it; it’s probably just him assuming that I’m only interested in girls.”

“Is it worth me giving it another try, now that Ron’s gone?”

“I should really go after him,” Harry said, hoping for a second opportunity to be alone with Ron that evening, but Harry couldn’t help feeling very tempted by Oliver.

“He can wait for a while…”

Harry felt Oliver’s tongue brush against his neck; perhaps Ron would need ten minutes or so to calm down. Harry turned his head and caught Oliver’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply and slowly, feeling one of Oliver’s hands travelling downwards, along his side, over his hip, and then stroking firmly across the front of his trousers.

Moaning around Oliver’s mouth, Harry reached down to yank Oliver’s shirt out from where it was tucked in the top of his trousers. Sliding his hands underneath and smoothing over the skin, Harry moved his fingers up to rub across a hardened nipple. He shifted to gain better access to the front of Oliver’s trousers and was in the process of unzipping them when the door to the changing rooms swung open. Harry jumped up with a start, expecting it to be Ron.

It was Seamus.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to barge in…” he said, glancing between Harry and Oliver.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, and he sat back down on the bench.

“Are you and Ron all right, Harry?” Seamus asked, his eyes straying to where Oliver’s hand was now rubbing up and down Harry’s upper arm. “Ron’s just stomped up to the dormitory in a foul mood, and he won’t talk about it. Have you had an argument?”

“He saw Oliver coming onto me and thought I needed protecting-”

“Bloody well stunned me from behind,” Oliver added.

“No!” Seamus said, his eyes widening. “Harry….if Ron knew that we… would he…?”

“It’s probably best not to mention it,” Harry said, getting the gist of what Seamus was saying and trying to ignore Oliver’s questioning eyebrow.

“We’re mates who help each other out…” Seamus explained with a wink, and he sat down on the other side of Harry. “Walking in on you two kissing has left me with something that needs a little help…”

“Er…” Harry trailed off as one of Seamus’s hands wandered up the inside of Harry’s thigh.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Oliver said before leaning in to press his lips against Harry’s neck.

Seamus pulled Harry close for a kiss. Their kiss deepened immediately, and Harry curled a hand around Seamus’s head, tilting it to get a better angle, then running his fingers down to the nape of Seamus’s neck to play with the tuffs of hair. With his other hand, Harry encouraged Oliver’s ministrations to his neck, shifting his head slightly to allow him more access. Then the warmth Harry felt from being sandwiched on the bench between Oliver and Seamus eased as Seamus pulled back from the kiss.

“Wow, Harry,” Seamus gasped. “You’ve certainly had a bit of practice since we last did that.” Harry smiled impishly and then moaned as Oliver started to suck just behind his earlobe. “It’s good that I’m not the jealous type,” Seamus added with a wink.

Oliver drew back and pulled at Harry’s shoulder, getting him to turn so Oliver could press his mouth to Harry’s. Seamus leant over to fit his head in from the side; three tongues were running over each other, three pairs of lips making contact. Then there were two hands, one on each of Harry’s thighs, moving upwards, sliding over his groin and each other. Two hands slid around his back and started to tug at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers. The images from earlier - of threesomes with Sirius and Remus, Blaise and Malfoy, and then of Oliver and Ron - came back to him. Here was another opportunity to be sandwiched between two warm bodies.

Harry fumbled with his hands, not knowing what part of which body to touch first. He was starting to feel light-headed with all the attention, and he closed his eyes, deciding to just sit back and enjoy whatever they chose to do to him. But as soon as his eyes flickered shut, Ron appeared at the forefront of his mind - Ron, who was up in the dormitory upset because of him, while he, Harry, was here enjoying himself, doing what he had planned to do with Ron.

He broke the contact, pushing their arms away and saying, “I’m sorry. I…can’t… I’m just not in the mood for this.”

“Pity,” Oliver said, clearly disappointed and looking at Harry with lust-glazed eyes. “If you ever change your mind, owl me.”

“And you know where I am,” Seamus added.

“Sorry,” Harry said again, walking across the room. He stepped into the corridor and made to close the door behind him, but hesitated. “Perhaps you two could help each other…” he began as he peered back round the door, but Oliver and Seamus were already doing just that.

When Harry arrived back in the dormitory, he found Ron sitting on his bed and reading Flying with the Cannons. Harry perched nervously on the end of the bed, watching as Ron’s complexion began to flush slightly.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked.

Ron glanced up and then his gaze dropped to where Harry’s knee was only inches away from his feet. “I didn’t expect you to be finished with Oliver so soon,” Ron said coldly.

“As I already said: just before you decided to stun him, I was telling Oliver that I wasn’t interested. I don’t want to fight, Ron.”

“I don’t either.” Ron looked up, putting the book on his bedside table and shifting his legs away from Harry in the process. “I made myself look an idiot. Can we not talk about this anymore?”

“Okay.” Harry drew in a deep breath; this was the moment he had been waiting for. He had taken the potion and he was alone with Ron. But before Harry could explain the real reason for wanting to go to the changing rooms, Ron spoke up.

“Let’s go back to the common room. I need to ask Hermione for some help with the Potions homework.”

A voice inside Harry’s head swore very loudly, but he said nothing as he followed Ron down the stairs, not wanting to upset him further after the earlier incident.

Harry didn’t get the chance to approach Ron on his own again that evening. They had joined Hermione at a table in the common room, Ron waiting for Harry to sit before taking the chair that was furthest from him. Although Harry didn’t think that the tension between them was obvious, the fact he had taken some more of the potion was apparently noticeable to Hermione. She was continually screwing her nose up and leaning away from Harry until she made a trip to the loo, where Harry suspected she had placed a charm on her nose. After that, the only indication she gave was the disapproving looks that she kept flashing his way whenever Ron’s attention was directed elsewhere.

**

The last couple of weeks of term went by quickly, with no more opportunities for Harry to get Ron alone. The underlying tension between them was still present, but they remained on friendly terms, even though Ron was keeping his distance physically.

For the Christmas holidays, Mrs Weasley invited Harry and Hermione to stay at The Burrow, mentioning that Charlie would be staying for a few days, and Fred and George would be also be spending a couple of nights around Christmas. Her letter also brought news that Bill, Fleur, Sirius and Remus would be stopping over for a meal on Christmas day. Harry tried not to think about how awkward he would feel in front of so many people with whom he had been intimate in one way or another.

Harry then received a letter from Fred and George. Although they weren’t staying over for the whole Christmas period, they had offered to help Mrs Weasley with the luggage when she collected Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny from the station. They wanted Harry to bring back the empty vials with him and were keen for him to let them know how the testing was going. As soon as they had arrived at The Burrow, Fred and George whisked Harry away to their old bedroom.

Once they were there and the door shut, Harry told them what the thought was the best dosage, and then he rummaged in his bag to get out the empty vials. He frowned; there was only one full bottle left.

Thinking quickly, he added, “But I should really have some more vials to work out the dose more precisely.”

George looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah, I bet you want more vials,” he said with a smirk. “I think you’ve had more than your fair share of fun!”

“Anyway,” Fred continued, “we can’t let you have any more potion at the moment. We’ve got to send the last of the batch off to the Ministry to get approval for a patent.”

“Don’t you have any more hidden away?” George asked, and Harry waved the last of the potion in his direction before hastily stuffing it back in his bag - just in case they wanted to take that one, as well. “It’ll probably be best if you save that one for when you get back to Hogwarts, either that or take it before Charlie gets here. Trust me; you don’t want to risk him getting a whiff of you when you’ve drunk some.”

“Why not?”

“George heard all about him from one of his friends who came over from Romania,” Fred explained, laughing. “Apparently, George is nowhere near as kinky as Charlie. Our older brother is a bit of an imaginative so-and-so in the sack.”

“You weren’t thinking of seducing him, were you?” George said suspiciously.

“No!” Harry said. He hadn’t even considered it, and now that he only had a small amount of potion left, he had every intention of saving that for Ron.

**

Although he and Ron had a room alone together, Harry still didn’t get any opportunities to take advantage using the potion. Everyday, they were in the company of Hermione and Ginny, and were usually up quite late, talking, playing exploding snap - or studying, in Hermione’s case.

Charlie arrived three days before Christmas having taken a week off from researching dragons. In his frustration with not being able to seduce Ron, Harry found his mind wandering towards Charlie. He was built like the twins, stocky and muscular, and he had a broad, weather-beaten face that was covered with freckles - more so than any of the other Weasleys. He was always friendly towards Harry and came across as such a placid person that Harry found it hard to believe that Charlie was as kinky as Fred and George had implied.

The day after Charlie arrived, Mrs Weasley arranged to take them all out for some last-minute shopping in Diagon Alley. Charlie suggested going in the afternoon and then staying on to see the Christmas lights in Diagon Alley after dark. They all agreed, Hermione and Harry being especially keen, as they had never seen the decorations there before.

But after spending a grand total of twenty minutes in Diagon Alley, Harry managed to cut his visit short by tripping over a display of Chudley Cannons paraphernalia in Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He had been standing by the display when he looked up and saw Blaise on the other side of the store. Blaise licked his lips and waggled his tongue suggestively at Harry before proceeding to take a finger into his mouth and starting to suck on it. Harry was appalled: the last thing he needed was for someone else to notice the Slytherin making such an overtly sexual gesture. As he looked around nervously, Harry’s foot became caught up in a Chudley Cannons scarf that was trailing onto the floor. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the floor, buried under a pile of clothing, posters, and several heavy books, one of which had slammed into his ankle.

He tried to stand, and his ankle gave way with a jolt of pain. Immediately, Mrs Weasley was helping him up and fussing over him. Looking across the store, Harry could see Blaise smirking.

“I’ll take him back to the house and have a look at it,” Charlie offered. “We can join you later if Harry’s all right.”

Harry and Charlie floo’d back to The Burrow, and as he helped Harry up the stairs to his room, Charlie explained that he had received a bit of medi-wizard training when he first started to work with dragons. A few spells and one application of Wizard Salve later, Harry’s ankle felt much better, but still quite sore.

“You should rest it for at least an hour, and then we’ll see if you feel up to meeting the others,” Charlie said as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of salve. Turning round to leave, he knocked over Harry’s bag, and the last vial of potion rolled onto the floor.

“What is this?” Charlie asked, holding it up to the light. He saw a label on one side and brought it closer to read it. “A.P.P. batch three. This is Fred’s writing. They haven’t got you testing something for them, have they?”

Harry nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

“Anti-Pheromone Potion,” Harry said vaguely. “It’s designed to repel girls.”

“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me everything?” Charlie said with narrowed eyes. Harry didn’t answer, but tried to muster up an innocent expression; after hearing about Charlie’s exploits, Harry felt awkward explaining. “So, there’d be no side-effects if I were to drink this?”

Charlie started to unscrew the vial, and Harry jumped up with a start, wincing as his ankle caught on the blankets.

“No! Don’t!” he said, panicking that Charlie was about to waste the last of the potion. Then he worried even further when he realised just how humiliating it would be if he suddenly started coming on to Charlie. Harry was sure that he would die of embarrassment.

“Tell me, or I’ll drink it.”

“If you take too much, it has completely the opposite effect on boys,” Harry said quickly, his eyes flicking nervously between Charlie’s face and the vial.

Charlie’s raised his eyebrows, and he looked back at the vial with renewed interest. “Are you strictly a girls-only guy, or is the thought of being attracted to me really that bad?”

For several moments, Harry sat on the bed speechless. What he wanted most of all was to know that the vial would be safely put away for future use with Ron. Being alone with Charlie in the house and knowing what Fred and George had said left Harry feeling quite intimidated. But if he denied his attraction, would Charlie drink the potion? Harry certainly didn’t want to take that risk.

“I’m already attracted to you,” Harry admitted.

Charlie sat down on the bed next to him and smiled. “So you won’t object if I kiss you?”

Charlie’s face was so close now that it was very easy for Harry to lean forward and close the gap between them. Charlie’s lips were dry and slightly chapped, his kisses demanding, but not as intense as Remus’s. Their tongues slid easily against each other, and Harry moaned around Charlie’s mouth, relishing the aftertaste of chocolate cake that had been eaten at lunchtime.

“Mmm,” Charlie murmured. “I haven’t had a toy like you for ages, but I’m still curious, about this potion, though.”

Horrified, Harry watched as Charlie quickly removed the lid and swallowed the entire contents.

“Charlie, that was my last vial!”

“And what are you so concerned about?” Charlie said, chucking the vial on the floor. He sat back, gazing at Harry intently. “Did you have someone in particular you were going to test it on?”

“Well, er…” Harry trailed off, smelling the first evidence that the potion was already starting to work. Charlie looked even more attractive than usual; his freckles were begging Harry to run his tongue over them, and Harry had an urge to bury his face in Charlie’s neck and inhale deeply.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter: it’s too late now,” was all that Harry could stutter before pulling Charlie close to indulge in that freckled neck.

“It’s my baby brother, isn’t it,” Charlie said, tilting his head to let Harry lick across his skin. “Mmm… So if that was your last vial, then that implies you had more… Why haven’t you seduced my brother before now?”

“I’ve tried, but… he had nose problems…” Harry muttered while he continued to taste the delicious flesh and tried to pull Charlie’s body nearer.

“Nose problems?”

“He couldn’t smell… and then…other things got in the way…”

To Harry’s disappointment, Charlie drew back to study him. “Other boys, by any chance?”

Harry had the sense to look a little sheepish. He gave a nod and then made another dive for Charlie’s neck.

“Why don’t you tell me about these other boys?”

“I don’t think I should,” Harry said as he latched on for a second time, running his hands across Charlie’s broad expanse of back.

“Would you tell Ron?”

“No!”

“Why ever not? Are you ashamed by what you’ve done?”

“No… Yes… Oh, I don’t know.” Harry was starting to feel frustrated; the last thing on his mind right now was conversation. He started unbuttoning Charlie’s shirt, kissing lower over the exposed skin.

“So have you left any of them scarred for life?”

Harry briefly thought back to all the encounters he had had so far. The only person who could be considered traumatised might be Remus, and even then he had Sirius to help make him feel better about what happened. Nothing jumped out at him, nothing that could be construed by any of them to be a particularly negative experience - except Malfoy, and he didn’t count, especially after the incident in detention. “No,” Harry said finally, moving his hands to the front of Charlie’s trousers.

“Then you’ve no reason to be ashamed.”

Harry started to rub Charlie’s cock through the material, pleased that Charlie was just as hard as him. “I’m still not going to tell Ron.”

“Even if it came up in conversation? Would you really try to hide it from him?”

At that moment in time, Harry had no inclination to try imagining having that sort of a talk with Ron; Charlie was the only thing at the forefront of his mind. Even if Ron did ask directly, Harry wasn’t sure that he’d be able to admit the truth. And how would the conversation come up anyway? All this banter was wasting valuable time, when he should be doing wonderful things with Charlie instead.

“Enough conversation,” Harry insisted, pulling Charlie flat onto the bed and tugging Charlie’s shirt free.

“Well, if he ever asks me outright, I won’t be scared of telling him the tru…”

Harry finally succeeded silencing Charlie with a kiss. Moulding their bodies together, Harry desperately kissed and licked at Charlie’s skin, inhaling that wonderful smell. Charlie’s strong hands wound around him, and Harry started to thrust up against Charlie’s leg. All of a sudden, a sharp pain lanced through his ankle.

“Ouch!” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing at it.

“Here, let me sort it out.” Charlie swatted Harry’s hands out of the way. “Immobulus Crus.” The spell immediately froze Harry’s leg from the knee downwards. “That should stop you from pulling it again. You might not be able to move it, but you can still feel,” Charlie added, sliding a hand up the inside of Harry’s trouser leg.

“Do you like games?” Charlie asked mischievously.

“Yes,” Harry said without hesitation; how could he say anything else when Charlie was hovering over him like that and smelling so irresistible?

Charlie stood up and left the room, leaving Harry with a puzzled expression and feeling frustrated that Charlie was no longer within reach. A few moments later, Charlie reappeared, carrying a box.

“Let’s see what takes your fancy,” Charlie said, opening the box and showing its contents to Harry. “Pick a couple.”

Inside was a selection of objects, some of which Harry didn’t recognise. The first thing he pulled out was a plastic snake, and he saw Charlie’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Oh, there’s a spell to go with that one; it moves rather nicely,” Charlie said with a sly smile, and Harry put the snake straight back into the box, his eyes widening. Having had an experience with a Basilisk that he’d rather forget, Harry had no desire to get intimate with any type of Snake teeth.

The next object that caught his eye was a Golden Snitch, and he hesitated over this, trying to guess what could be done with it. He wasn’t too sure that he wanted to find out about that one, and so he continued to rummage. Then he saw a long piece of black cloth and thought back to the time Remus had tied him up. Harry rather liked the idea of doing that again tonight, and he certainly had no illusions that it would be him doing the tying.

As he handed it across to Charlie, Harry noticed two quills that were tied together with a red ribbon. One looked like an ordinary quill; the other had a particularly long plume, and this ended about half way up the shaft. He smiled; doodling over each other could be good fun.

“One of my favourites,” Charlie said, putting the box on the floor. He leant in for another kiss and pushed Harry’s t-shirt up. Harry lifted his hands obligingly, holding his arms up in the air. When Charlie reached his wrists, he pulled them forwards and began to nuzzle them under the material, kissing them softly.

“Do you want to be tied up then?”

“Yes,” Harry said, shivering at the memory and at the way Charlie’s lips were brushing over his skin.

Charlie discarded Harry’s t-shirt, and then, instead of picking up the black cloth - as Harry had expected - Charlie used the red ribbon to tie Harry’s wrists to the head of the bed.

“What’s the black one for?” Harry asked.

Charlie chuckled but didn’t answer. He brought the cloth to Harry’s face, using it to cover his eyes. The fabric was obviously magical; Harry could feel it moulding to his face so that not a single speck of light could be seen from underneath the edges. One end slithered underneath his head, coming out the other side and tying itself into a knot there, fastening around Harry’s head.

He couldn’t see anything. In the blackness, Charlie’s scent suddenly seemed that much more intense. Harry wanted to immerse himself in it, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything except lie there and wait for Charlie to just do something.

Then Harry bucked at the sensation of a feather brushing across his skin, moving lightly from nipple to nipple, and then down to swirl over his navel.

“These,” Charlie said, his voice now sounding richer and more velvety, “are Quick-Quotes Quills that I’ve modified.” He paused for a moment, and Harry was sure he could make out a faint sucking sound as if Charlie had placed the tip into his mouth, as Harry had so often seen Rita Skeeter do. Charlie continued, “This one has a refined tip so it doesn’t snag on the skin.”

Harry then felt the hard, rounded and slightly damp end of a quill placed on his right shoulder.

“Everything I say, the quill will write across your body,” Charlie said, and as he spoke, Harry could feel the quill come to life, sketching across his skin, frantically writing down Charlie’s words and leaving behind a trail of damp ink that felt cool as it dried.

Charlie shifted and then there was a wet, probing tongue encircling a nipple at the same time that a calloused finger and thumb squeezed and rolled the other one, teasing them both into hard peaks.

“Now it should catch just nicely…” Charlie said, and Harry cried out as the quill flicked across the tip of one sensitised nipple and then the other. “Can you imagine what it’s like to have that quill writing over other parts of your anatomy, Harry?” Charlie asked as he pulled Harry’s trousers and pants off, leaving him completely naked.

A warm breath of air hit Harry’s ankle as Charlie blew across it, causing Harry to shiver.

“Finite Incantatem.”

Harry wiggled his toes cautiously; his leg was no longer frozen in place. Feeling Charlie’s hands take hold of both legs, Harry let Charlie move them, bending them at the knees and exposing him fully.

“Immobulus Crus.”

This time, Harry was unable to move either of his legs; Charlie had frozen them all the way up to the tops of Harry’s thighs. Harry shivered, wondering what Charlie had planned for him, and inhaled the delicious scent deeply in anticipation, wanting Charlie to do more, needing Charlie to be closer. Harry gasped as the tops of several fingers started ghosting up and down the back of his thighs, higher and lower, then higher again, but never quite touching his arse.

“This second quill, Harry,” Charlie said, prompting the first quill to write its way across the top of Harry’s stomach, “doesn’t produce any ink as it writes. Lubricans.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as the writing end of the quill, slick with lubricant, was placed against his entrance. Slowly, Charlie eased it further inside until Harry could feel the plume brush teasingly against his skin.

“But,” Charlie continued, “it still moves just as well as the other quill - well, even better, as I’ve altered the spine, made it more flexible.”

Harry cried out as the movements of the two quills mirrored each other, one now tickling below his navel, the other twitching inside of him, the occasional flick of a letter swishing it against his prostate, the plume dancing across his arse cheeks and balls.

“You are adorable, trussed up like this…” Charlie breathed across his face, and Harry lifted his head in desperation to try and capture Charlie’s lips with his own. But Charlie had already moved away.

The first quill wrote lower and lower, and just before it became entangled in his pubic hair, Harry felt it being lifted from his skin and then placed back down on the underside of his cock.

“God, I want to fuck you, Harry,” Charlie said, triggering another incoherent noise of pleasure from Harry as the quill wrote across the sensitive skin. “Can I?”

It was all Harry could do to let out a very shaky, “Please,” when the quill transcribed the last two words across his scrotum and the second quill managed to catch against his prostate once more.

The first quill was removed and replaced by a hand that tugged gently on his balls before sliding up to encircle his cock. Automatically, Harry hips tried to jerk, but with his legs immobilised, he only succeeded in giving a feeble twitch.

“Are you close?” Charlie asked, languidly running his tongue along Harry’s collarbone and dipping it into the hollow of his throat.

“Yes,” Harry moaned, and he moaned again in frustration when the hand was abruptly moved from his cock.

“We can’t have that.”

He felt Charlie shift on the bed, and then the ribbon around his wrists was loosened before being pulled free.

“Leave your arms where they are,” Charlie ordered, and Harry felt the ribbon being trailed down his body. “Have you played with any toys or charms, Harry?” Charlie asked, tying the ribbon firmly around the base of Harry’s cock. “Is there anything that you’ve fancied trying?”

A memory of Fleur flashed up in the darkness, and Harry automatically muttered, “Vibratio.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Charlie said, and from the sound of his voice, Harry could tell that Charlie was smiling as he said it. Then Harry started when a wet finger rubbed along his slit. “I can definitely torture you with that.”

Harry’s cock twitched as Charlie began to wind the ribbon around it, spiralling upwards until it was completely encased.

“Vibratio,” Charlie said, and immediately, Harry wished he hadn’t suggested the spell.

He was a quivering mess. The vibrating ribbon, combined with the movements of the quill up his arse, was sending his eyes rolling back into their sockets. But because of the way Charlie had tied the ribbon at the base of his cock, there was no way Harry would be able to come. His cock throbbed heavily, feeling fit to burst.

“Finite Incantatem,” Charlie said, unfreezing Harry for a second time. “Harry, get on your hands and knees.”

Harry shakily rolled over, kneeling up and trying to support himself on his hands. He was now moaning loudly with every breath he took, his mind numb from the constant intense stimulation. The first quill was placed on his back, and Charlie started muttering nonsense for the quills to transcribe, running his hands all over Harry, touching him everywhere, groping him, teasing him.

“I wish I could smuggle you away with me to Romania. I’d lock you up in my bedroom. Get you out every night and let my imagination run wild with all the spells I could use on you and all the positions I could put you in. I would spend hours upon hours abusing your willing body.”

Harry groaned loudly at Charlie’s words. He felt the quill on his back disappear, and the other one was pulled slowly from his arse. Then two slick fingers were pushed firmly up against him, and Harry pushed back, forcing them to breach his entrance. Charlie eased them all the way inside and curved the tips, adding to Harry’s stimulation and making Harry shudder.

“Please…” Harry gasped, and he heard a low chuckle of laughter.

Charlie shifted and insinuated himself underneath Harry. He could feel that Charlie was still wearing his shirt and trousers as the material brushed against his inner arms and thighs.

“I want you to ride me,” Charlie said. He grasped Harry’s hips to lower him down to the head of his cock, and Harry pushed back, taking him all the way in.

With the ribbon still vibrating around his cock, Harry was a trembling mess and he jerkily started to move, trying hard to keep himself upright and not to just collapse on top of Charlie. A hand in Harry’s hair pulled him downwards, and a mouth was crushed against his as Charlie rolled them over. Then he began to fuck Harry frantically.

Charlie pounded into him, again and again, and Harry felt a hand slip between them, unwinding the still-vibrating ribbon from his cock. The ribbon was finally pulled free from the base, and Harry let out an almighty groan, grinding his hips hard against Charlie and coming hard. And then Charlie was coming, too, giving three last sharp thrusts before collapsing on top of Harry.

For several minutes, the pair of them just lay there, completely still. The only noise being the sound of their heavy breathing slowly returning to normal. Still enshrouded in darkness, Harry lifted his hands to the blindfold.

“Let me,” Charlie said, pushing Harry's fingers out of the way.

The material slid from his face, and Harry blinked, looking up at a smiling Charlie. He grinned back and pulled Charlie down for a soft kiss.

“That was great,” Harry said.

“The potion seems to have had a nice effect on you.”

Harry pressed his nose up against Charlie’s chest and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. You still smell wonderful.”

“Why can’t you get any more from Fred and George?”

“They had to send the rest to the Ministry,” Harry said before lazily running his tongue up Charlie’s throat, the skin moist and tasting of salt.

“Yeah, right,” Charlie said in disbelief. He trailed his fingers absently along Harry’s arm. “I bet George has got his own secret stash. You have a look through his bag when they come - see if you can find some more to shag Ron with.”

Something nagged at the back of Harry’s brain when Charlie said this, but in his blissful post-coital state, Harry was in no mood to try and work out what it was. He leant across for another kiss. “It’s not as if I’ll get a chance to get Ron on my own while I’m here, anyway. I’ll have to wait until I go back to Hogwarts for that.”

“I don’t know…” Charlie said thoughtfully. “You leave it with me; I’ll come up with something.”

**

Harry felt decidedly awkward on Christmas day, after Remus, Sirius, Bill and Fleur had arrived. Keeping himself to himself as much as possible, Harry tried not to think about what he had done with just over half the occupants of the house. To his relief, no secrets were inadvertently revealed, but he did notice that Ron seemed to have a bee in his bonnet with Bill about something. And when Fred and George turned up at The Burrow, Harry took Charlie’s advice and hunted for more vials of the potion. Harry was pleased to find that Charlie had been right: in a side pocket of George’s bag was a solitary bottle marked “A.P.P.”

The Christmas presents were handed out in the afternoon. The first present Harry opened was a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans from Ron. Then there was a book on studying for the N.E.W.T.s from Hermione, followed by inedible rock cakes from Hagrid and a red jumper with a golden snitch knitted across the front from Mrs Weasley. Sirius and Remus had bought him the latest book concerning studies on werewolves and made a point of directing him to a chapter entitled Substances Which Adversely Affect Werewolves. The last package was from Charlie; it contained a pair of quills identical to the ones they had used, tied with a green ribbon. Charlie had also slipped a note into the box that simply read, Tomorrow.

Boxing Day was spent alternately lazing around and helping out with odd jobs around the house. Harry hoped that Charlie’s note meant he had an idea so Harry could get Ron alone, but Charlie didn’t say anything. By the time the evening meal was being served up, Harry was starting to feel very impatient.

Despite his agitated mood, Harry was really enjoying the meal. Along with the cold meat leftovers from the day before, there were a huge selection of pickles and mustards, and Mrs Weasley also cooked the best bubble and squeak that Harry had ever tasted. So he was rather surprised when, halfway through the meal, he started feeling ill.

It began off with his head feeling woozy, followed by a grumbling in his belly. Then all of a sudden he doubled up in pain and clutched at his stomach. He could taste bile at the back of his throat and stood to make a sudden dash for the bathroom, but he didn’t get the chance to even move his chair out of the way before being violently sick over the floor.

Instantly, Mrs Weasley started fussing over him. He felt so embarrassed, even if it only took one swish of Mrs Weasley’s wand to clear the mess: he hated having everyone’s attention focussed on him. Their attention was quickly diverted, though, when Ron pushed his chair away from the table and also threw up on the floor; he looked awful, his skin sporting a sickly green hue. Mrs Weasley cleared up after Ron, as well, and then both Ron and Harry were being offered glasses of water.

“Here, drink this,” Mrs Weasley said. “You’re both very pale.”

Harry said nothing as he tried to swallow down some liquid. He still felt as if he was likely to be sick again. “I think I’d better go up to bed.”

“Yes, quite right. You too, dear,” she added to Ron.

Harry walked gingerly towards the stairway, hearing Ron scuffling on the floor behind him.

“I’ll go up with them,” Charlie offered, “make sure they’re all right. You sit down, Mum. I’ll sort them both out.”

They made their way slowly up the stairs and into the bedroom, Harry immediately curling up on his bed, watching Ron perch opposite.

“I…I think I need the bathroom,” Ron suddenly announced, and he tore out of the room, nearly colliding with Charlie in the doorway.

“You’ll be as right as rain in ten minutes or so,” Charlie said, sitting on the bed next to Harry. “I helped Mum cook; you and Ron had a couple of bits from a Skiving Snackbox added to your bubble and squeak.”

“You did what?” Harry asked slowly. He was finding it hard to comprehend the fact that he felt like crap because of Charlie, who was looking quite blasé about it all.

“You and Ron have the rest of the evening alone together. Everyone will assume that you’re sleeping it off - just don’t forget to do a silencing charm. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you tonight.”

“Thanks…” Harry said before his stomach cramped once more, “I think…”

Continue to Part 8