Dumbfounded, all Hermione's warnings about time travel shrieking in his ears, Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at what certainly appeared to be his older self but probably wasn't, because Harry did actually listen to Hermione on occasion. "Who the hell are you? " he demanded.
"You," his doppleganger said shortly.
"Like hell you are," Harry asserted. "Hermione told us – me, told me –"
"Yes, I know what she told us," Harry-2 snapped. "The fact remains that you've bloody ruined my life, and you and I between us are going to fix it if it kills us or drives us insane or any of the other things Hermione used to warn us about."
"I ruined – how?" Harry demanded. "I mean, not that I believe you're me. Because I don't."
"You're gay," Harry-2 informed him. "And you haven't told anyone yet. Right now everyone else is at that stupid party, and you told Ron and Hermione you were leaving because you had a headache but you really left because you've been edgy all night and you wanted to have a quick toss before anyone else got back –"
"All right, all right," Harry said, ears burning. Reluctantly, he lowered his wand. "It's just… well, Zacharias Smith was looking bloody hot tonight, and – what are you snorting at? And what do you mean I ruined your life?"
"You'll figure out in a few weeks what I was snorting at. And in the meantime…" Harry-2 sighed and squirmed uncomfortably on the couch. Harry was going to develop some fairly nice muscles at some point, he mused, then shut down that thought quickly. He'd already had enough people accuse him of being self-centered, he didn't need to be checking out his older self. And anyway, it didn't look like his hair was going to get any better with age.
"Look, let's go upstairs and get some of Seamus' firewhiskey stash, shall we? I get the feeling we're going to need a good stiff drink for this."
Apprehensively, Harry followed his older self up the stairs. "Look, what's this about? Is it… is it Voldemort?"
"No, it's not Voldemort. I'm not going to tell you what happened with that or Hermione really will kill me, but… well, just wait and you'll find out."
Impatient, Harry waited while Harry-2 went unerringly to Seamus' stash and poured healthy shots into two tooth glasses. "It's like this," he said, kicking off his shoes and settling absently onto Harry's bed. "Didn't this bed used to be bigger?"
"Okay, so I haven't had a growth spurt yet," Harry said crossly. "Don't rub it in."
"Yes, well." Harry-2 took a gulp of his whiskey and looked gloomily at Harry. "It's like this."
"Like what?" Harry prodded. He was really beginning to find his older self a bit of a trial, and hoped he didn't come off the same way to everyone else.
"I'm getting there. This is bloody awkward."
Harry folded his arms and scowled, waiting.
"It's like this," Harry-2 said again, studiously not looking at Harry. "I – you – we – fancy someone, right? We've fancied him for years. Oh, hell, I guess we're a little in love with him."
"Who?" Harry interrupted.
"Never mind who."
"It's not Ron, is it?" Harry asked, feeling a little green.
"God almighty, how does anyone ever put up with us?" Harry-2 asked in exasperation. "No, it's not Ron, and I'm not going to tell you who it is. Anyway, we were at a party tonight at Tonks' house, and we finally got up the balls to ask him out."
"And?"
"And he laughed in our face."
"Why?" Harry demanded.
"Because…" Harry-2 sighed. "Because right toward the end of our seventh year – this year, a few weeks from now, as a matter of fact – we… well, we got drunk at a party and had sex with him."
Harry gulped. He was going to lose his virginity! In just a few weeks! Why was this not a happy thing? "What happened?"
"It was a sodding disaster, that's what happened. We were so wound up that we came while he was unbuttoning our trousers. So we tried giving him a blow and gagged on his cock and kept accidentally scraping him with our teeth until finally he pushed us away and finished himself off. He said it was the worst excuse for sex he'd ever had."
"Um," Harry said, thoroughly disheartened. "Fuck."
"No, we didn't get that far with anyone for another two years. And then it wasn't any good because he wanted to top and we don't really like bottoming, and we kept wishing he was… well, that he was this other bloke, and thinking how maybe we could have been shagging our bloke all along if we just hadn't been so spectacularly bad at sex the first time we tried it. It was fucking sad."
"So what you're actually saying is that I've somehow sentenced you – us – to a lifetime of really bad sex," Harry said, now thoroughly depressed.
"Too right. And what's worse is that we keep having to hear through the grapevine about what a fantastic lay our bloke is. We've wanked over him so many times that we might as well name a callus after him, and then when we finally get up the balls to ask him out, he bloody laughs at us." Harry-2 was looking a bit homicidal, and Harry stared at him in alarm.
"Well, I'm sorry," he said defensively. "It's not my fault I've been too busy trying not to get killed by a Dark Lord to hone my skills at giving head."
Harry-2 eyed him narrowly. "Don't give me the 'Woe is me, for I am a marked man' business, you little sod. I am the one who put paid to Voldemort. You are the one whose wretched blowjob skills so totally put off the man of our wet dreams that years later he still won't give us the time of day."
"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" Harry demanded crossly.
"Learn," Harry-2 snapped, and promptly went scarlet.
"You went through all the hazards of time travel, risked going insane or having me Avada Kedavra you where you sat, to tell me that I need to get better at giving head?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"I went through all the hazards and so forth to keep you from fucking up our chance at true love and eternal happiness with the best shag in England," Harry-2 informed him.
"Well, who the hell am I supposed to practice with? That's not exactly the sort of thing I can ask Ron for help with, you know!"
Harry-2 squirmed, but met Harry's eyes defiantly. "Me, that's who. I'm going to show you what to do, you're going to do it, and you're not going to bloody embarrass us this time."
"I'm supposed to lose my virginity to myself? "
"We've got time before anyone gets back from the party. It'll just be… like wanking, sort of."
"You tell yourself that," Harry said skeptically.
"Bloody hell, no wonder no one wants to have sex with us," Harry-2 said, sounding both exasperated and so woebegone that Harry sighed.
"Oh, all right," he said; because really, sex was sex, and it wasn't as if he hadn't been doing it with himself for years. Just… not quite like this. "Wait, though. You're going to teach me? Aren't we lousy in bed?"
"I didn't say that. I said D – he thinks we are. And for good reason."
"Don't rub that in either," Harry said sourly.
Harry-2 rolled his eyes. "All right, look. Give me your drink. Now stand up."
Harry obeyed and stood by the bed, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Harry-2 got up and stood in front of him, not looking much better off than Harry felt. Clearly, Harry thought with a sinking feeling, he was not actually going to wake up one day in the near future and find that he'd suddenly become smooth.
"Right," Harry-2 said. "You're us. I'll be him. Er… right."
"Was he this nervous?"
"God, of course not. He slammed us into the wall, almost gave us a concussion, jammed his knee between our legs, and stuck his tongue down our throat. But, um, we'll work up to that." Harry-2 raked a hand through his hair and gave Harry a disconsolate once-over. "Well, the schoolboy thing is kind of hot. I can work with that, I suppose."
Harry couldn't decide whether he was relieved or insulted that he didn't turn himself on, and was starting to wonder if someone had spiked the punch and this was all a very, very strange dream. "Well, all right, then," he prodded. "We haven't got all night."
"All right, just –" With a wave of his hand, Harry-2 put out the lamps and lit the candle on Harry's bedside table, suffusing the both of them with a dim glow.
"Wow, we've got good at wandless magic, haven't we?" Harry said – because he was impressed, not because he was suddenly terribly nervous and babbling to cover it up.
"And don't do that either," Harry-2 said sternly. "Not with him, anyway. Do not, and this is very important, say anything that does not involve some combination of the words oh, god, yes, and more."
Harry gulped. "What did we say last time? I mean, next time. Whatever."
Harry-2 looked pained. "You don't want to know and I don't want to think about it. Look, just… come here."
Not getting any less nervous, Harry took a step forward, and then another, until he was standing a few inches in front of his older self. He was, he saw, due to grow another five or six inches, which was some comfort, he supposed. With a quick, nervous breath, he looked up into brilliant green eyes that met his own steadily. Harry-2 took off his glasses – they looked to be the same pair – and set them on the bedside table, then blinked owlishly at Harry.
"Right," he said again, and slid a hand around the back of Harry's neck, making him shiver. "We'll start slow. Just… remember to breathe. You'd be surprised how hard that is to remember when you've got our bloke pinning you up against the wall."
Harry gulped again and shifted, his trousers suddenly feeling a bit constricted in the crotch area.
"Yeah, we liked it then too," Harry-2 said ruefully. "That's why we shot off so fast. If you can manage to convince him to hold off on slamming us around until the second date, that'll go a long way toward making things right."
Harry cleared his throat. "Um, you know the thing you told me not to do? You're doing it."
"Fuck. I am, aren't I?"
"Tell the truth. We're never going to get laid again, are we?"
Harry-2's jaw firmed and stubborn determination sparked in his eyes. It was rather hot, really. Harry would have to remember that, and possibly practice it on people. "Yes. We are. Now hold still, I'm going to kiss you."
What with one thing and another, Dark Lords and being gay and studying for NEWTs and all, Harry hadn't kissed anyone since Cho in his fifth year, a kiss of which he had no fond memories. This mouth tasted familiar, felt familiar, and wasn't tentative – no hesitation, certainly no tears, taking possession of Harry's mouth in short, shifting, tugging kisses that coaxed his lips farther open with each one until suddenly, oh god, there was a tongue in his mouth, stroking and teasing and doing amazingly hot things to his own, and Harry tried hard to remember to breathe.
"Relax," his older self whispered against his lips. "Put your arms around me – right, like that. Tilt your head a little. Now, come here, kiss me back."
"Thought I was," Harry managed.
"Mm, no. Do it like you mean it. Don't just stand there and let me do it to you."
A little nettled, Harry ran his fingers into thick black hair that wasn't quite a mirror image of his own and pulled himself closer, doing his best to imitate those brief, sharp, demanding kisses, licking along lips and tongue, a little clumsy but enthusiastic. Harry-2 murmured approval and slid a hand down to take hold of Harry's arse, and Harry squeaked.
"No squeaking."
"Sorry," Harry panted, squirming closer in an attempt to work some sort of pressure against his aching erection. "God, this is weird."
Harry-2 snickered and licked a spot on Harry's neck that seemed connected by some very direct route to his cock. "You're seventeen, you'd fuck a vacuum cleaner if you didn't have to buy it dinner."
"Well, what's your excuse?" Harry asked, trying for indignation and trailing off into a moan as Harry-2's hand slipped under his shirt.
"Mine?" He bit softly at the base of Harry's throat, drawing another moan from him. "I spent all bloody evening watching our bloke wander around in tight jeans. I could get it up for Dolores Umbridge right now."
Harry gave a yowl of offended disgust and shoved, knocking Harry-2 back onto the bed. Folding his arms tightly across his chest, he glowered at his older self, too familiar with that sheepishly apologetic look to be swayed by it. "Look, mate, if you can't even get into your own pants no amount of time travel in the world is going to score you a tight-jeans-wearing sex god."
Harry-2 sighed. "All right, look. You'll thank me for this in a few weeks, but right now we have two problems. The first is that we shot off as soon as he touched us, and the second is that you give terrible head. Let's take them one at a time."
He sat back against the headboard, knees splayed out in a way that somehow managed not to be awkward, and patted the bed between his legs invitingly. "Take off your trousers and pants and come here."
Harry's face flamed. "Can you not say that like you were about to give me a prostate exam?"
"Like you're ready for that," Harry-2 snorted, and Harry blushed harder. "All right, sorry, we're still not good with the seduction thing. Okay, look, never mind taking things off. Just… come here and sit down."
Harry obeyed, shooting himself a mistrustful glance as he crawled between Harry-2's legs and let himself be settled in with his back to a chest broader than his own was at the moment.
"This is how it's going to go," Harry-2 whispered, and dropped a light kiss behind Harry's ear, making him shiver. "You'll be at an interhouse end-of-the-year party. Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode are going to organize it, and don't even ask about that because we're still not clear on how they were even speaking to each other. I think they bonded over cats or something."
Long, sun-browned hands – his own hands – slipped over his thighs toward his knees and then back down, gently easing his legs apart. Harry watched in fascination, unable to keep from moving the hands currently attached to his seventeen-year-old body to be sure that they hadn't got away from him somehow.
"You'll be a bit tipsy," Harry-2 murmured between soft kisses along the line of Harry's throat, and it didn't matter if he was effectively doing it to himself, that felt damned good. "And a bit depressed because you haven't been able to get into Smith's pants – give up on that, by the way. Be told, he's not worth it."
Harry let his head fall to the side, giving Harry-2 better access to his neck. "Lousy in bed?"
"So we've heard. He's got an overactive gag reflex, won't bottom, and has a prick like a thimble."
Harry snickered and felt a warm breath of laughter against his skin. God, that was hotter than it had any right to be, and between that and the fingertips trailing up and down the inside of his thighs, Harry wasn't having any difficulty rising to this rather bizarre occasion.
"So there you'll be, drinking and brooding," Harry-2 whispered, and tugged at Harry's earlobe with his teeth, and Harry was starting to squirm. "Ron'll be off in a corner with Parvati, Hermione will be off talking to Millicent, and Colin Creevey will be talking your bloody ear off, and all of a sudden you'll catch sight of our bloke and be hard as a rock before you know what hit you."
Harry swallowed hard and wriggled some more; his spare set of hands withdrew and settled firmly on his hips, holding him still with an unmistakeably hard cock pressed against him, and Harry wondered if maybe they should reconsider their position on bottoming. "Fit, huh?" he managed breathlessly, trying to push unobtrusively against those hands and finding with a rather pleasant shock that they had him securely pinned.
"Oh, god, is he," Harry-2 almost moaned, fingers tightening on Harry's hips. "Nice hair, beautiful eyes, mouthwatering arse, legs that just keep bloody going – I don't know how we managed to miss it all these years."
"Tell me who it is," Harry pleaded, trying to wriggle and too securely confined by hands and legs.
"No way. Hermione'd be pissed off enough at me for just telling you this."
"You aren't going to tell her about this, are you?"
"Well, not details." Deft fingers loosened Harry's tie and left it dangling around his neck, then drifted back down to toy with the button on his trousers. Harry squirmed impatiently.
"Anyway, you'll talk to him a bit, and… well, let's just fast-forward to the good part. You'll get back to his room and the next thing you'll know he'll have you pinned against the wall and have his tongue down your throat. It'll catch you off-guard so you won't really be ready for it when he touches you, and…" Harry-2's hand slipped down and took a firm grip on Harry's crotch, the heel of his hand pressing into Harry's aching hard-on; Harry moaned and arched against the touch, his fingers biting into the arms around him, and oh god yes something had to be done about this because he was starting to see stars already.
"So listen," Harry-2 went on, slowly unbuttoning Harry's trousers. "You need to learn how to hold back. I mean, I know you wank in a dorm and the priority's on getting the job done, but you're going to have to change your style a bit."
"To what?" Harry panted, congratulating himself on still being able to speak with a hand that was at least nominally someone else's about ready to dip into his pants.
Harry-2 licked behind Harry's ear, slow and hot, and Harry gave a strangled moan. "Listen, remember in third year, Neville's boggart? The one that was Snape in a dress?" At Harry's rather frantic nod, he went on, "Right. I'm going to touch you. You keep your mind on Snape in a skirt, and don't come."
"Oh, god," Harry whimpered, arching involuntarily.
"Fuck, right, look, I know we get off in a major way from having someone talk dirty to us, but focus. Snape in a skirt."
Snape in a skirt. Ugh, that was a nasty image. Especially with that hat that – oh. God. Hand. On his cock. Hand that wasn't his. Well, at least it was his, but – oh god. Harry's hips came off the bed, straining toward that too-light touch, wanting more and god it felt so good, he didn't want to think about Snape in a skirt, it wasn't fair –
"Well, this is longer than we lasted the first time," Harry-2 observed. "Keep focusing."
Harry whined in protest and pushed his hips upward, trying to get some friction.
"Ah-ah. Arse down or I'll stop."
Harry's hips hit the bed with blinding speed and not inconsiderable force.
"Good. Ready?"
Harry nodded so hard that his neck cracked, and his older self snickered, rather unforgiveably, into the nape of Harry's neck. Really, Harry was going to have to work on the whole personality thing.
But not right now, because other things were demanding his attention. Other things like a suddenly firm grip that stroked up his cock and twisted back down, sucking Harry's brain and most of his senses right down between his legs, and he grabbed frantically at the sides of Harry-2's jeans and fought to hold back the eardrum-popping orgasm building through his whole body.
"Suppose Snape shaves his legs under that skirt?" Harry-2 whispered. Harry gave another protesting whine and arched up, trying not to snap his hips up into that teasing grip, ohfuckohfuck he wasn't going to be able to hold back –
The hand around his cock stilled, gripping firmly around the base and somehow stalling his orgasm in its tracks, and Harry writhed and tried to get his tongue to work long enough to register a loud complaint.
"Shh, listen," Harry-2 whispered. "When you're about to come, stop a minute and grip like this until you've calmed down a bit. It's bloody frustrating at first but it'll help you learn how to hold back. Plus the orgasms are a hell of a lot better if you've teased yourself a bit first."
Harry's face heated like a furnace, and he had no idea if it was with arousal or with mortification. "Doesn't saying stuff like that embarrass you?"
"When I'm talking to myself? No. Now, listen – after you've brought yourself down a bit, just stroke the shaft. Don't touch the head. It'll help you hold back longer."
"But our bloke's going to… oh, god… going to be touching it, isn't he?" Harry managed, trying to angle his hips upward for more of the slow stroking that had, in his opinion, not resumed a minute too soon. He wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was eventually going to get so stunningly good at jerking off, but right now he was fairly convinced that it was brilliant.
"Too right he is. But the point right now is for you to learn a bit of control." Harry-2 caught Harry's hand and moved it so that Harry had a good grip on his own cock. "You try now."
Right. Snape in a skirt. Slow strokes, not touching the head, surely it'd be okay to speed up just a bit. Harry-2's fingers were running slowly up the insides of his thighs, and fuck it was hot having someone else watch him toss off, Harry was really starting to worry a bit about his ego. Harry's fingers brushed against the head of his cock on the upstroke and he gave a sharp hiss at the sudden stab of pleasure, stroking harder and faster now, reaching, god it felt good, and Harry-2 slid his hand up to stroke Harry's balls –
Snape in a skirt. With possibly shaved legs. Harry gripped the base of his cock, panting and fighting to come back from the edge, metaphorical eye solidly on the goal of true love and eternal happiness with the best shag in England. Whom he apparently already knew, and curiosity was killing him but not as quickly as frustration. "Look, right, I did it, can I come now?"
"You'd better. We still have giving head to get through." Harry-2 slapped Harry's hands away from his groin, making him yelp in protest, then took hold and oh god what was he doing, one of his hands was stroking along the shaft of Harry's cock and the other was rubbing over the head and for an insane moment all Harry could think of was that patting-the-head-and-rubbing-the-stomach thing that Dudley had never been able to do, and maybe five minutes earlier the thought of Dudley would have killed his hard-on altogether but right at the moment there were, yes, god, those hands, and fuck that broom callus felt good right there. Harry's hips jerked upward and he arched with them, gasping for breath, shaking and sweating and oh fuck he was going to come like a volcano, oh god, yesrightnow –
Harry-2's hand clamped over his mouth, pinning Harry back against his shoulder, and not a bloody moment too soon because two more strokes and Harry was coming so hard that his head nearly exploded, yowling behind one of Harry-2's hands and thrusting desperately up into the other, and it lasted forever before Harry found himself slumped in a boneless puddle in the circle of Harry-2's arms. For a moment he wondered if he'd come so hard that he'd actually broken something, tried to imagine explaining that to Madam Pomfrey, and hastily decided that that was a line of thought he would rather not pursue.
"We don’t," Harry said when he could breathe again. "Um. Do this for a living, do we?"
Harry-2 snorted. "No. We're an Auror, and be nice to Minerva tomorrow because we wouldn't have made it into the program without her riding herd on us."
"Okay," Harry agreed muzzily. At the moment he was prepared to be nice to Voldemort if called upon to do so, and maybe even to concede that all Voldemort really needed was a hug and the love of a good woman, or possibly a handjob from a future version of himself.
"Right," Harry-2 said briskly. "Blowjobs."
"Go right ahead," Harry told him magnanimously.
"You, you berk," Harry-2 said patiently. "Pull up your pants and turn around. Unless you want Ron walking in on you with your mouth wrapped around your own cock."
Harry shuddered at the thought. Pulling himself together – not without difficulty; sex really took it out of a bloke – he turned to sit on his heels between Harry-2's knees. "What did you tell Hermione to get her to help with this?"
Harry-2 shifted a bit uneasily. "Er. Well, I actually told her I was coming back to see Albus Dumbledore. So I could tell him something about the prophecy. I said I knew I had to come back because he told me I had."
"Is any of that true?"
"Not a word."
Harry gave a low whistle. "Mate, you just cut our life expectancy down from 'a hundred and fifty years, give or take' to 'when Hermione finds out'."
"Yes, well, as long as I can spend it drilling our bloke into the mattress it'll be worth it."
"We really are in love with him, aren't we?" Harry said, rather awed and a little unnerved.
"Listen, just focus on the task at hand," Harry-2 said sternly. "It's important to relax because the more tense you are the more your throat is going to close up and the more you'll gag. Here, open your mouth."
Harry parted his lips obediently, and Harry-2 slid a finger between them.
"Right. I'm going to stick this back toward your throat. Take deep breaths, relax your throat, and don't gag. Tilt your chin up a little, that'll make it a bit easier."
Harry struggled not to gag. Thus far he was rather unimpressed with the whole giving-head business.
"Good. Going to put in another one now – right, now suck on them. Pull back a bit if you need to."
Still a bit dubious, Harry sucked obediently, putting a bit of tongue action into it. Rather to his surprise, he heard a familiar hitching of breath and glanced up into… damn, his eyes really were green. And very intense when he was turned on. He was going to have to remember that too. Not that he particularly found himself hot, because he absolutely did not; not even a version of himself that was several years older and rather better-built.
"Look, it's okay," Harry-2 said softly. "It's just… like getting turned on by watching in mirrors while you're having sex."
Harry slipped his mouth off Harry-2's fingers with one last lick and snorted. "Sounds like something Malfoy would be into."
An odd, complicated expression flashed across Harry-2's face and settled into a wry smile. "Ready for the real thing?" he asked, pulling his hand back.
"Er," Harry said, suddenly horribly nervous. He already knew he was going to be awful at giving head, and he really didn't want to be responsible for doing his future self some sort of injury that was going to put paid to his sex life before he reached thirty. "Yes?"
"Good. Here, get on top and straddle my legs."
Harry did as he was told, glancing nervously down. "This is a good position?"
"Well, it's not the best, but it's the one you'll be doing it in. Trust me – I'm mad about this bloke, but he's really not the type that you want to ask to stand beside the bed while you hang your head off it backward or something. Now listen, you don't want to just yank his clothes down and go for the sucking action first thing, either. Get him wanting it first."
Harry eyed his older self's groin dubiously. "How?"
"Just… touch it first. Right, right through the cloth."
Unwillingly fascinated, Harry traced Harry-2's cock – well, his own cock, he supposed – through the thin cotton of his pants, following the outline of the shaft with his hand and feeling it jolt a bit under his palm. Out of curiosity he bent and mouthed the head through the fabric, causing a harder jolt that drew an uneasy echo from the cock currently in his pants.
"That's good," Harry-2 said a little unsteadily, threading his fingers into Harry's hair. "Keep going."
Harry slid back a little, got more comfortable, and kept going, and maybe he was going to get the hang of this after all. Maybe; because for some reason he hadn't expected to get turned on by this but he was, and at the moment he couldn't care less whose cock that was, he wanted it in his mouth now. He gave a soft, needy purr, sucking through the cloth at the underside of the head right where that sensitive spot was and making Harry-2 gasp and push up against his mouth.
"Right, that's good, now move the clothes out of the way," Harry-2 said in a voice that was starting to sound a bit breathless.
Between the two of them, they slid Harry-2's jeans and underwear down to his knees. Harry blinked a bit, seriously weirded out by being face to… well, face, with his own cock. It looked surprisingly different from this angle. "Do I have to swallow?"
"Well, look at it this way. You can aim it down your throat and bypass your taste buds entirely, or you can keep it sitting on your tongue while you wait for me to finish and then hunt around for somewhere to spit discreetly."
"Okay, good point," Harry said, and took a deep breath. Then he paused, looking up at his older self thoughtfully. "If I do a good job, will you do it to me?"
"If you don't take too long. We don't have all night, you know."
"True love and eternal happiness with the best shag in England," Harry muttered, and took his cock in his mouth.
It tasted odd and felt addictive, soft skin stroking along the inside of his mouth, heat and firmness that seemed tailor-made to be sucked on; so suck on it Harry did, careful not to scrape with his teeth, following Harry-2's breathless instructions – lick there, swirl of the tongue there, one hand wrapped around the base and moving in sync with Harry's mouth. Maybe he wasn't going to be terrible at this after all; he was doing all right, he could take it just a little deeper –
"See, that's why I told you to keep your hand around the base," Harry-2 said patiently as Harry gagged and spluttered.
"I'm never going to be good at this, am I?" Harry asked woefully. "I'm only a decent prick size away from being Zacharias Smith."
"Hurry it up and you can see for yourself whether you'll be good at it. Also, Smith is a horse's arse and we aren't."
"I have my doubts sometimes," Harry muttered darkly, and bent back to the task at hand.
He was more careful this time, managing to avoid gagging or teeth even when Harry-2's hips began moving under him in small, restless thrusts. Feeling cautiously smug, he trailed the fingers of his free hand – after an awkward moment of repositioning that made Harry-2 give a strangled put-it-back-in-your-mouth-you-twat noise – down over Harry-2's balls, stroking in a way that produced highly satisfactory results when he was wanking. The breathless instructions continued, a thing that would all by itself have made him desperately hard, but now they were less along the lines of "No, down a little, do not use your teeth," and more like "Ohgodyesthere, right, use your tongue and ohfuck," which was highly gratifying and also nearly making him explode, and he was hopelessly torn between immensely enjoying sucking himself off and frantically wanting it to be finished so he could have the same thing done to him.
"All right, fuck, look, I'm going to, remember what I said and AH! take it back in your ohgodfuckyes –"
Harry took his cock deep and moaned in anticipation, and yes, oh brilliant, it was pulsing and shuddering in his throat, and gravity being what it was some of it got on his tongue anyway and he could have lived without that but maybe it was an acquired taste. When things seemed to be over with he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking up at Harry-2, who seemed to be a bit boneless.
"Not bad," was the verdict.
Harry felt rather affronted. "Not bad? "
"Good for your first time," Harry-2 amended. "Oh, come on, don't pout. It's going to take us a while to get really good at it. The important thing is that there were no teeth and minimal gagging. Think you can do that next time too?"
"As long as he doesn't grab my ears and shove it down my throat."
"He won't. He likes good blowjobs, and no one gives good head when they're trying not to throw up on your cock."
"Ew!"
Harry-2 wriggled back into his clothes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "So. Want a blow?"
Harry nearly fell off the bed trying to get out of his trousers.
Annoyingly, Harry-2 laughed. Honestly, starting first thing in the morning Harry was never going to laugh at anyone again, not even if Malfoy showed up to breakfast naked with pink hair and a bunny tail – wow. He was fairly sure that image should not have caused his cock to jolt like that. Maybe he'd be safer with Snape in a skirt.
His pique didn't last long, though – certainly not beyond Harry-2 pushing him down onto the pillows and easing his trousers and pants down to his knees. "Er," he said, suddenly nervous.
"Relax," Harry-2 said, sliding downward. "You don't have to do anything. Except avoid grabbing my ears and shoving our cock down my throat, anyway."
He propped himself on one elbow and gave Harry a questioning glance, tilting his head at the same vaguely attentive angle that Harry saw in the mirror every morning. Struck with a sudden curiosity, Harry reached out and smoothed Harry-2's hair back away from his forehead.
"It's still there," he observed. "I wondered if it might go away when Voldemort died."
"No, we've still got it. Still the first thing everyone looks at, too. But it's faded a bit, I think, and… well, everyone else has scars of their own to worry about now, don't they?"
"Tell me how it went," Harry said softly, and traced slowly over the scar on Harry-2's forehead with his fingertip.
Harry-2 shivered. "No, because then I'd have to Obliviate you," he answered, kindly but firmly. "And mind the scar. I don't have time for another round of this."
"Another round of what?"
In answer, Harry-2 lifted his own hand and ran his finger over Harry's scar. Sparks exploded under Harry's skin, and he made a sound rather too much like eep! for his own comfort. "God. That feels…"
"Yeah."
"Well, why? "
"Don't know, do I? Just don't tell anyone. Well, by 'anyone' I suppose I mean Ron. We haven't even told him about our bloke yet."
"Why not?"
"Look, I love Ron as much as you do, but there are things that just… won't fit comfortably into his world. The gay thing he has no problem with, don't worry about coming out to him at all, but things like our bloke and strange erogenous zones definitely fall under the 'For his own peace of mind Ron does not ever need to know this' category."
"Right," Harry said, and wriggled a bit, rather unreasonably put out that the Bloke Who Put Paid to Voldemort couldn't talk and give head at the same time.
Harry-2 laughed. "Okay, point taken," he said, and bent to lick up Harry's shaft.
Harry avoided howling like a banshee by sheer virtue of not having enough breath. His hands flew down to grab hold of Harry-2's in a bewildering tangle of identical fingers, barely restraining himself from writhing under that tongue that was, oh god, flicking against that exact spot just underneath his head that drove him insane when he rubbed against it while he was wanking. It was the strangest fucking thing ever watching himself do this, noting that, fuck, he didn't look half bad with a cock disappearing into his mouth and ohjesustighthotwetohmyfuckinggod. Harry-2 made a soft This okay? noise, and the vibrations made Harry jam the side of his finger into his own mouth to keep from waking the whole Tower.
"Fuck," he whimpered. "God, don't stop –" and Harry-2 wasn't stopping but it was so damn slow, heat and suction and every drag of that wonderfully talented tongue along his skin felt like he'd been hit with the sort of hex that you couldn't read about in the Restricted Section without six teachers' signatures and a note from Madam Pomfrey. Harry whined and pushed upward, wanting more, wanting harder and faster, wanting to come so bad and oh god he was so close but he couldn't quite –
Harry-2's hand fastened hard around the base of his cock, constricting it, and Harry squirmed underneath him and helplessly muttered the sort of imprecations that probably ought not to be directed at a bloke with his teeth near one's cock.
"Want something?" Harry-2 asked in a low purr that Harry was definitely going to practice in front of the mirror because if he could damn near make himself come with it then he ought to be able to reduce an entire table of hormonal teenage Gryffindors to ash just by asking for the pumpkin juice.
"Wannacome," he managed to whimper, and okay, clearly the Voice of Sex was going to take some working on but fuck he wanted that mouth back on him.
"Hold back a bit for me," Harry-2 said softly, moving his hand on Harry's cock in slow, firm strokes.
"Fuck, look, you said to do that when I – ungh! – when I wanked and I will I swear I promised, just, and I'm not wanking right now and it feels so good and look please just suck me off because I want it really bad and I'll even do it to you again just –"
"Back from the edge a bit?" Harry-2 interrupted.
"Yes," Harry answered, rather petulantly.
"Right," Harry-2 said, and sucked Harry's cock down almost to the base, moving his hand up to meet his mouth.
Harry yowled and jolted upward, beyond caring if he gagged himself, writhing as Harry-2's hand slipped down to stroke his balls and then to press gently just behind them, setting off fireworks that Harry would probably still be feeling come Founders' Day. That tongue was doing incredible, incredible things to him and it was completely possible that his head was going to actually explode but oh please please god not before he came –
Harry-2 gripped hard, twisted his hand, sucked like a starving vampire and did something with the hand against Harry's balls; caught off-guard, Harry arched upward with a howl and snapped his hips up in quick, helpless thrusts, coming thick and hard down Harry-2's throat, shuddering under a wave of bone-wracking pleasure.
When he could process something besides incoherent mental shrieks of ecstasy, Harry blinked his eyes open and stared up at the canopy of his bed. "Wow," he said breathlessly, and tried to pop his eardrums back into place.
Harry-2 snickered and flopped down beside him on the pillows. Harry glanced at him, then wriggled over to pillow his head companionably on Harry-2's shoulder. "Satisfied about our fellatio skills now?" Harry-2 asked placidly.
"Um," Harry said. "Yeah."
"Going to remember all this?"
"Yeah. Um. Definitely."
"See that you do. Because he's really… well, he's a bit of a force of nature, our bloke, and like I said, it's damn hard to think when he's got his tongue down your throat."
Harry fidgeted. "Are you sure you won't –"
"I'm sure. And now I need to get going. Ron'll be back soon. He'll be moping all day tomorrow because he couldn't get anywhere with Lavender, so be prepared."
Frowning, Harry craned his neck around until he was more or less looking up at his older self. "Hang on. How are you going to get back? If it's a time-turner you used, you're in for a bloody long time of hiding out in the Shrieking Shack or something."
"Not a time-turner. It's a spell. Sort of like Apparating, except over time instead of over distance."
"Wow," Harry said, rather impressed. "Isn't that complicated?"
"Too fucking right. That's why we had to have Hermione help us." Harry-2 shifted, dumping Harry's head back onto the pillow, and sat up. "Well. Here's hoping."
"Here's hoping," Harry said sleepily, shifting to get more comfortable. "I'll do better this time, I promise. Best shag in England."
"And true love and eternal happiness," Harry-2 reminded him, then grinned. "Well, and probably a whole lot of really drama-filled screaming matches and threats to leave forever followed by furniture-breaking make-up sex."
"What? "
"Night, then. Finite incantatem," Harry-2 said, pointing his wand at himself, and vanished with a pop, leaving Harry to wonder dubiously when he'd decided that drama-filled screaming matches were a good thing.
But… well, honestly, when all was said and admitting it to himself just this once, Harry would put up with a whole lot for true love and eternal happiness. He pulled the covers around himself and drifted off to sleep, content.
In his dream, he opened his eyes to a different but no less familiar bedroom. Holding his breath, he reached out a hand to the other side of the bed. His hand bumped into something warm and traced down a long, slender body barely covered by a thin sheet. Smiling, Harry turned over to wrap himself around said body, rubbing his cheek against white-blond hair.
"God, Potter, are you up for another round?" his bed partner muttered sleepily, not sounding entirely displeased.
"Too right. Come here, beautiful," Harry whispered.
The rest of the dream was… highly educational.
