Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I swear.
A/N: For Lauren, who introduced me to threesomes and made me fall in love with Severus Snape! Here's to hoping your son and my parents never find out what kind of stuff we read/write.
On a morning as obscenely sunny as this, anyone would want to be at a beach taking off as many of their clothes as decently possible. So what the hell was Harry Potter doing in the Forbidden Forest with Neville Longbottom, collecting herbs he didn't know the names of for potions he didn't really care about?
It's called the cruel magic of detention, and began as always with an invisibility cloak and a Gryffindor's inability to keep his nose clean.
Please wait. Preparing flashback sequence.
Harry was in the Gryffindor tower's boys' dorm that day. Perfectly logical, seeing that he was in Gryffindor house, and a boy, and happened to live in that dorm. What didn't make sense was the invisibility cloak. He had it on, which clearly meant he was up to no good. If Severus Snape caught wind of this, he'd have the boy whipped and expelled. But Severus Snape wasn't going to catch wind of this, luckily for our green eyed miscreant.
Harry had the cloak on to hide. He was hiding from the every day cruelty of two redheaded pranksters, George and Fred Weasley. The boys had declared war on the Boy Who Lived after the latter ratted one of their plans to Ginny—accident, honest—and had bribed most of Gryffindor house into joining their side. Whoever saw and creamed the Potter with pies first won an entire Skiving Snackbox. The Quidditch hero found himself grossly outnumbered and with few options but to lie low.
So he was lying low in the Gryffindor dorm. All well and good so far. Except, he wasn't the only one who'd reckoned on the place to be deserted for a spot of privacy. Neville Longbottom was also currently in the dorm, and nervously reaching for a small, velvet wrapped packet from his drawer. Harry raised an eyebrow at the clever looking contraption the boy slipped out: it was a slender, deep blue shaft that had a small gold skull in a scarlet heart embossed on its side.
A WonderWitch product, Harry thought, his face reddening. What the hell was Neville doing with a dildo? He was about to find out, and he didn't particularly mind.
Neville slid off his pants and gripped the sex toy with a determined air. He lay back on the sheets, providing Harry with a lovely view of his boxer-sheathed butt, and then turned the dildo on.
Vibrator, Harry realized as the thrum filled the air and his classmate removed his underwear hastily. Well that wasn't right. WonderWitch was decidedly meant for women. What on earth was Neville doing—
Green eyes widened, unseen but seeing, as the boy on the bed gently pressed the tip of the shaft to his entrance, and pushed in a bit. A low, throaty moan moved through the room, and Harry found himself intrigued and moving closer to the bed despite his better judgment. Neville opened a small plastic container of lubricant—watermelon flavor, Harry had a nose—and applied it in his hole, swabbing the pink ring of nerves tenderly, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips in a thin line as he breathed hard through his nose. The Potter found himself extremely aroused, and extremely embarrassed. But he couldn't move away, and stopped at the foot of the bed, where he could see both Neville's ass and his face. Oh, what a face! It was crumpling up in bliss as the toy in his hand purred at his hole, and Harry couldn't stop admiring the way his eyes crinkled happily, the way those rosy lips were open in the perfect 'o'. He looked like one of the heavenly host who'd suddenly dropped out of the sky in the middle of conjugal ecstasy, and Harry forced his eyes downwards before he started to pen an ode to 'o'.
Neville, he decided, really should go clothes-less more often. The boy's black button-up blocked the better view, but his long, creamy-pale legs were up in the air, spread pell-mell for the dildo/vibrator. Harry's eyes landed, inevitably, on Neville's penis, and he stared for a long time before tearing his gaze away. The boy's appendage was lithe and long and flushed with blood, erect with light drops of pre-cum gathering at its tip. The Savior of the wizarding world practically started salivating right then, but then he heard a word he never thought he'd hear from Neville, at least not in that tone.
He looked up quickly, heart thudding. But Neville wasn't calling out to him because he'd seen him, he was moaning the name. Moaning his name. In a whispery, breathy, ticklish, oh-so-sensual voice…
This wasn't right. Harry shouldn't be hearing this. Neville shouldn't be making those noises. Neville wasn't gay!
The vibrator said otherwise, but dammit Harry was flustered and he'd be blasted before he listened to reason. He turned, scoffing slightly to himself, but it was too loud—Neville heard, and his eyes flew open and his mouth shrieked softly before his hand reached for his wand and aimed a hasty spell at the sound—
Oh, so now he could cast spells accurately and powerfully. Harry would've rolled his eyes if he could, but he'd just been petrified and all, and contented himself with thinking evil thoughts.
Like how delicious Neville looked a few seconds ago—
No, wrong breed of evil thoughts.
Neville stepped down from the bed and edged his way to where one trainer peeked out from what seemed to be a cloak. His eyes narrowed and he whisked the cloak off to reveal a totally petrified Harry Potter.
"Oh, no," he sighed, before muttering the counter spell. Harry felt the enchantment lift, and slowly turned to face his classmate.
"Hey Neville. What's up?" he said brightly. His eyes landed on Neville's crotch. "Um."
Neville facepalmed. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I was in here when you came in," Harry said sheepishly.
"You could've told me, then!"
"True," the Boy Who Lived admitted, "But then I couldn't see you…like that." He nodded at the bed, and Neville stared at him.
"Harry James Potter—"
"That's my name."
"You're a jerk."
Harry stood up and shrugged. "I'm sorry. But, hey. I can make it up to you."
Neville rolled his eyes. "Really?"
"Really," Harry smirked, and pushed Neville back on the bed. The dark haired boy gasped as the Quidditch player mounted him, a triumphant look on his face.
"You can't say you don't want me," Harry explained, "I heard you."
Neville only made a whimper, clearly unsure of what to say. Harry decided to take the initiative, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging off his jeans before settling himself back on the other male's crotch. He was exquisitely aware of the way Neville's member was so perfectly poised at his rear, but he presumed by the fact that it had been a dildo he'd been touching himself with that Neville wanted the taller boy in him. Harry slid his hands under Neville's shirt, and then slid them out again to undo the buttons. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the fair chest, heaving slightly in readiness for whatever was coming, and sighed happily.
Neville found his voice again. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
Harry grinned, wickedly, suggestively. "Oh, just wondering if you'd taste better with honey, or fudge."
Neville shut his eyes tightly at that, a furious blush rising in his cheeks, and Harry stroked his thigh carefully. He moved back, over Neville's legs, and lifted up his hips, bending his face to nuzzle his dick. Neville yelped, and every inch of his body turned red from embarrassment. The Savior was amazed, and intrigued. Who knew it was possible for a person to blush so completely? Not him, for sure. He was satisfied, in any case, the action seemed to waken Neville up to reality enough to caress Harry's face, his hands moving down to the boy's nipples. Harry tilted his head back and let out a deep growl as Neville's fingers rubbed against his chest curiously, and let his own fingers venture out into Neville's entrance.
The forgetful boy squealed, and then bit his lip. His ass clenched instinctively, his eyes burned into Harry's with reproach and want.
"Again," he whispered, and the green eyed boy smiled. He curled his digits in his hole, the nerves squeezing around him. He swallowed hard as he imagined how it would feel to have those nerves acting on a different part of his body.
Neville whimpered again, and then said, "I'm ready. I am. You saw…please, I want you to…I want you to…fu…ah."
Harry was only human. Hell, he was only a teenage boy with a libido running rampant. He nodded with understanding, sparing Neville the indignity of having to ask, and let himself near the entrance. He looked up at the last moment. "Anti-STD spells," he said.
Neville nodded, grabbed his wand and muttered something hurriedly. Harry scooped a tiny bit of lubricant onto his cock and entered Neville slowly. Sure the boy had been preparing himself, but there was some difference between a slim vibrator and an actual length invading your body. Neville's hands fell back against the sheets, clasping them, but his legs shifted and wrapped around Harry's waist, so that the boy was pushing in and also on, onto Neville's member. The Quidditch hero was sheathed in the raw heat of his ass soon, and began to thrust, slowly. It wasn't particularly romantic or particularly selfish, just a ponderous sort of exploration. They were practically strangers, after all, at least in this, and they knew they'd each have to ask to get what they wanted. But they weren't quite ready, they couldn't quite bring themselves to ask, they were still too shy, this was still too soon.
Neville began to soon let out a series of soft cries, the sort women produce upon being entered, but it was clear he was nearing orgasm. Harry watched, transfixed, as his hands circled his dick and began stroking himself expertly, with the ease of someone handling himself.
Harry felt something move in him, and that in turn nudged the gentleman in him to push Neville's hand away from himself.
"Let me take care of that for you," he whispered, and Neville let him, gripping his legs instead as Harry's thrusts became more erratic, as Neville started to convulse at the touch of the Potter's hands on his cock. With a final cry of glorious release, he came in Harry's hands. The raven haired male pushed himself deep inside Neville and moaned loudly as he came.
"Well, well, well, look at what we've got here," laughed a voice that wasn't either of theirs. Both boys froze, and then scramble wildly, orgasms half finished, heads reeling, to glare at the doorway, where Seamus Finnegan stood with an expression caught between disbelief and glee.
"Wait'll I tell the boys this!" he crowed, and began to back out. Harry and Neville both grabbed the latter's wand and hexed him at the same time—the Bat Bogey and Petrificus Totalus—which combined to knock the poor bastard out and leave a few of the winged creatures flapping around his head. They looked at each other in dismay and had the good sense to dress; but before they could do much more, George (Fred?) Weasley had appeared at the door.
He chuckled heartily at the scene, "Well, Harry, I was wondering how to get back at you, but this works out alright for me. I'll just go tell McGonagall about this totally unprovoked attack on poor Seamus, and you'll be in detention long enough to know better than to rat out a Weasley, I bet." With a wink and dirty gesture, he moved to leave, but Neville cried out, "What about me?"
"Oh, Nev. You should've joined our side," the prankster shrugged.
And that was how the duo found themselves in the forest this obscenely sunny day. Seamus had taken pity on them and kept his mouth shut about what had really happened, and George was none the wiser.
Neville nudged Harry. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
Harry grinned. "Still haven't decided whether you'd taste better with honey or fudge."
Neville averted his eyes, but there was an extremely pleased tone in his voice when he said, "Well we'll just have to try both next time."
"There'll be a next time?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't see any reason for there not to be."
Neville nodded. "So there will be."
And that was that.