"He really fucking loves that father of his, y'know?" he said, vaguely aware that this was something of a topic switch from whatever he'd been talking about a moment ago and not caring. "Bastard beat the crap out of him, you should have seen the bruises, and he won't hear a word against him."
Neville peered up at him through a shaggy fringe; his chin was resting more or less on the table, and he was spinning a bottle cap in a patch of spilled beer with one finger. "He loves Pansy too. I wish he didn't."
"Sonofabitch loves everybody. Why the hell can't he love me?" Harry scowled and took another gulp of whiskey. "Pretend I didn't say that."
"He doesn't love Ron," Neville pointed out helpfully.
"Ron," Harry said carefully around the alcohol burn in his throat, "is a different topic. Ron calls for a boozing session of his very own."
"Leave him for tomorrow, then," Neville suggested. "An' we can just keep being drunk until… well, until we get old an' die, I guess."
"Snape'll fire us before then," Harry noted. "'Sokay. Greasy bastard doesn't like Remus. And anyway, if he fires me I won't have to bloody work with Draco and pretend things are just like they always were."
Through dint of considerable care and effort, Neville managed to sit up and prop his chin on his hand. "Did you two… you know."
Harry pushed his glasses off his face and onto the table, wincing at the noise they made and scrubbing a hand across his eyes. "Yeah. Las' night. And this morning. Fuck, he's in his room doing I don't even want to think what with Pansy, and I've still got a hickey on my… well, on a lot of places, actually." It came out sounding more like ashkley. "How about you and Pansy?"
Neville shook his head glumly. "I di'nt even kiss her. But I really wanted to, y'know?"
"You're a better man than I am, Nev."
"I don't think I am," Neville said with drunken honesty. "I think I'm just shyer. 'Cause, you know, I really wanted to. If you'd been gone longer I might have."
"I wish we had been. Wish we were still there. I'd be in bed with him right now." Harry fumbled his glasses back onto his face. They didn't seem to improve his vision much. "Fuck, it isn't fair! I mean, he's gay, Nev. I don't bloody care if they are best friends, what does Pansy want with a husband who'd be happier if she had a cock? And what does Draco want with a wife when women are, y'know, notoriously difficult to bottom for?"
"Is he a bottom?" Neville looked unwillingly fascinated, and also a bit horrified.
"Well, he let me top, anyway. Didn't take much persuasion. God, don't ever tell anyone I told you this."
"You know I won't. But look, if he's gay then they're prob'ly not getting up to much in his room, are they?" Neville looked a bit more cheerful, though it only served to make him look as if he were attending someone else's funeral rather than attending his own.
Harry snorted. "With my luck she's the one woman he makes an exception for. Jesus, who am I kidding? I don't care if they're not sleeping together. He's hers and I want him to be mine. I…"
"You're in love with him," Neville finished gently.
"Oh, fuck," Harry said miserably, and downed half his whiskey at a gulp. "I don't even remember the last time I set out to get puking drunk. I didn't even do it when Ginny died. Not even after what happened to Hermione. And it's funny, y'know, 'cause I'll bet if I went back in time ten years to talk to myself, and said 'Harry, I'll give you three guesses who's going to have you sitting at a table in ten years' time binge-drinking with the goal of giving yourself alcohol poisoning, and by the way, stop being such an arsehole to your friends,' I bet fifteen-year-old Harry would say 'Okay, first, fuck you, and second, I bet it's Draco sodding Malfoy.'"
Neville was giggling helplessly into his hands.
"And then I'd say 'You're right, you obnoxious little shit, and y'know why? It's because you're crazy about him, completely off your head, and you can't have him and it's killing you.' And then he'd think I was taking the piss and hit me with an Unforgivable. Where was I going with this?"
"You were about to say that it's too bad we're not Slytherins too, 'cause then instead of being drunk and miserable we'd just sit here plotting how to break them up. 'Cause if we were Slytherins we could do things like that."
"Was I about to say that?"
"Well, no, maybe it was me that was about to say it," Neville conceded.
"Well, you were right, anyway." Harry reached for the bottle and tried to top off their glasses. It took his and Neville's combined efforts to steady the bottle so that more whiskey went into the glasses than onto the table. "Guess I'm just not Slytherin enough, dammit. Mus' be a handy thing to be, though, if it means you can fuck whoever you want and then walk away and leave them with their guts ripped out and never have a damn twinge of conscience about the whole thing."
Neville picked up his glass, looked rather surprised that it was full, and downed a third of it. "Bloody hell. 'M starting to be glad nothing happened with me and Pansy after all. Actually, maybe I'm not. At least you had something with him there for a few hours. I didn't even have that."
Harry sighed. "We need to get laid, Nev. I mean, I mean by other people. Who are not Slytherins. And all the other teachers are twice our age."
"Weasley twins are here," Neville offered helpfully. "I mean, blokes, you know, not my thing, but maybe you could…"
Harry brightened. "That is a fucking brilliant idea. Brilliant idea."
Neville looked mildly alarmed.
"But not tonight. 'Cause I'm too drunk. I'd just… I dunno, cry or throw up or something, and that wouldn' be good. Key to good sex, Neville, don't puke on your partner. Be told."
Neville was giggling again, tilting alarmingly to one side. "You know this from experience?"
"No, but I bet iss true anyway. Y'r gonna fall."
"Nope. The reason being, 'm gonna lie down on the couch." True to his word, Neville half-fell out of his chair and stumbled to the couch, settling himself bonelessly onto it.
Harry drained his glass, picked up the bottle, and after a long moment of disconnected scrutiny decided that it was empty. "Hey, got any more of this?"
A snore from the couch was his only answer.
Harry peered at Neville, who appeared to have passed out. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Harry dragged himself to his feet, staggered over to the couch like a novice sailor in a typhoon, pulled the hideous knit afghan off the back, and after a few tries managed to get it settled over Neville. "Night, Nev," he muttered, blew out the candles, and let himself out.
The night air hit him like a cold slap in the face, making his head spin unpleasantly. Harry rummaged for his wand, forgot what he wanted it for, and staggered back in the direction of the castle, reasoning that as large as it was he could hardly miss it even in his condition. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was rather hoping that none of the students saw him in this state, but most of his attention was occupied with putting one foot in front of the other and neither falling nor veering off-course.
"Hoy, Harry!"
Harry stopped and peered around, finally locating two heads of very red hair coming toward him. "Fred? George?" he called dubiously, hoping that it was one each of the twins and not two of Ron.
"None other," one of the twins answered. "What in buggery are you doing out here this late?"
Rather affronted, Harry drew himself up to his full height. "'M going back to my rooms. Them being in the castle and all. What are you doing out here?"
Soft, bright laughter, and suddenly the twins were bracing him to either side, one hand under each of his elbows. "Harry, sweet, you're pissed," one of them - Fred, he thought - observed.
"A little bit," he informed them with great dignity. "Um. What're you doing?"
"Helping you get back to your rooms without waking up the whole castle and bringing down the wrath of Filch on your head," George told him cheerfully.
Harry blanched. "Oh, God, Filch. Jus' what I don't fucking need, is detention."
"I don't think he can give professors detention," Fred soothed.
"Bet he'd try," Harry grumbled. "He never liked me, y'know? Not like you two. You were always nice to me. Even when I didn't deserve it." He made a valiant attempt to cuddle closer to both of them at once.
"There, there, Harry," George said kindly. "Come on, now. No, the castle's this way."
"I was getting there," Harry protested.
"No, you weren't."
"You were headed straight for the lake, love -"
" - don't want to be doing that -"
" - giant squid and all that -"
The effect of two voices ping-ponging off his eardrums made the world spin in an extremely unpleasant manner, and Harry just managed to twist away from them and brace his hands on a tree trunk before he brought up what dinner he'd managed to choke down. Two hands pinned his robes back out of the way and two more held his head, stroking soothingly across his forehead, and when he was done gentle cleansing charms hit him from both sides. Harry managed to straighten up; the world spun unpleasantly, but at least he was clean and his mouth tasted like peppermint.
"Oh, God," he said, staggered back away from the tree, and landed in Fred's arms.
"Feel better now?" Fred asked, amused. Harry burrowed deeper into his embrace and considered the question.
"Stomach feels better. Head feels like shit. Talk one at a time, 'kay?"
"All right, then," George said, stroking his hair. Harry purred and nudged his head against George's hand.
"Wanna go inside," he told them. "Shower and coffee. An' sex, sex would be good. Help me out, would you?"
Laughter in stereo momentarily disturbed his equilibrium again, and he groaned.
"We'll help you get back to your rooms, Harry," Fred reassured him. "Come on, shift a bit, George is going to hold onto you too. Ready?"
Harry shifted and slung an arm around George's neck, letting them guide him back toward the castle. "Hey, you're not… not upset because I didn't marry Ginny, are you?"
Twin sighs brushed against his hair, and Fred and George held him a little closer. "Of course we're not," George reassured him.
"'Cause I felt bad about it. I liked her, you know that, right? I sort of loved her in a way, but not like that, like she was kind of like my sister. Would've felt weird, trying to be in love with her. Plus there's the thing where I'm gay. That would've got in the way a bit."
"Settled on blokes, have you?" Fred asked. "We thought you flew for both teams."
"Well," Harry conceded, "I guess when I say 'gay' what I mean is that I'm arse over elbows in love with Draco bloody Malfoy. Dunno what that makes me, besides stupid. Snobsexual or something."
Fred and George snickered, for no reason that Harry could divine.
"Just didn' want you to be angry. Weasleys've been really good to me," Harry said forlornly.
George patted him on the shoulder. "Buck up, Harry, no getting maudlin on us."
"Okay," Harry said, and sniffled.
"You need a Cheering Charm, mate," Fred told him.
Harry stopped, pulling the twins to a stop with him, and looked around to be sure no one was listening. "Don't need a Cheering Charm," he said, feeling that it was best to be clear about this. "Need someone to fuck me through the mattress and make me forget that twenty-four hours ago I was making Draco scream my name. Or two someones. You two up for it?"
"You're drunk, Harry," George informed him kindly.
"Too fucking right. Drunk, horny, and miserable. Don't wanna be alone tonight." He wriggled closer to Fred and pulled George against him, annoyed with himself for pushing and unable to stop, unable to bear the thought of being in his bedroom alone. It occurred to him that he should probably have bunked down on Neville's floor, but it was too late now. "Fred. George. Look, I'll owe you, right? Just… don't leave me alone."
The twins met each other's gaze past the top of his head, and then Fred sighed. "Stupid bloody Malfoy," he grumbled. "All right, come on, Harry. Let's get you back to your bedroom and then we'll take things from there."
"Thass the spirit," Harry told them, and wondered why he didn't feel any better.
Back in his rooms, Harry left Fred and George investigating the drinks cabinet, stumbled into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste en passant, and nearly tripped into the shower, forgetting to take off his clothes until water was raining down on his head and he was thoroughly drenched. Studiously not thinking about what miserable shape he was in, he stripped and scoured his mouth out, tilting his head back to rinse with the shower water. By the time he came out, dripping wet and wearing only a towel, Fred and George had settled comfortably in the bedroom chairs and there was a cup of coffee steaming gently on the bedside table. Harry wove his way over toward it and downed half of it at a gulp, singeing his tongue and not caring.
"Feeling better?" Fred asked.
"'M all right," Harry said, and gulped down the rest of his coffee.
"Want a sobering charm?" George offered. "We're quite good at them, you know."
"No," Harry said definitely, setting the cup firmly back down on the table. "Sober is the last thing I want to be. You two coming to bed?"
"Harry," George began, and Harry let his towel fall to the floor.
Fred raised an eyebrow. "He makes a compelling argument, George."
"Masterful example of the art of debate."
"So do I win?" Harry asked dryly, easing back onto the bed and propping himself unsteadily up on his elbows.
"I think you do," the twins said.
"Good," Harry said with a tipsy smirk. "I like winning."
"We'd never have guessed," the twins commented in sarcastic unison, and Harry would probably have said something sharpish about that if not for the sudden intriguing discovery that the twins did other things in unison as well - things like standing, shrugging their robes off onto the floor, and pulling off their shirts. He settled for watching them instead, and smiled when they sank down onto the bed to either side of him.
"When did you get this, love?" Fred murmured, tracing a fingertip along the tattoo on his hip. Magic rippled uncomfortably across it, stinging a little, and he winced and guided Fred's hand away.
"Draco put it there," he said, unwilling to explain. "It's a little sensitive still."
"It's very hot," George whispered, nuzzling at Harry's neck. Harry sighed and let his eyes drift closed, running his fingers into George's hair.
"Don't pass out on us, love," Fred laughed, running a fingertip slowly up the underside of Harry's cock. "We'd hate to have to go on without you."
Harry opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at them. "Maybe so, but I might like to watch you do it."
"Next time," George promised, tilting Harry's head around to kiss him. He tasted like sherry, and Harry lost himself in the pleasurable pursuit of making sure he found every last bit of that taste in George's mouth.
"This time you said you wanted us to fuck you through the mattress, as I recall," Fred reminded him as he licked his way down Harry's chest to gently bite his nipple. There were two hands on him now, one stroking his cock and one curving around his balls. Harry arched upward into the touch, purring.
"Right," he sighed, squirming and thrusting upward against the twins' hands. "Just. Just don't use lube that'll turn me into a frog or something, right?"
The twins laughed. Harry found to his relief that it wasn't as disorienting this time.
"Now what fun would that be?" Fred asked.
"Using lube that vibrates under friction, though -"
" - or that glows in the dark -"
"Now, that would be fun," George said, threading his fingers into Fred's hair as Fred mouthed his way down Harry's stomach.
Harry lifted his head and frowned at them. "Doesn't anyone have sex normally anymore?"
"Says the bloke in bed with twins," Fred said dryly, then slid down just a little lower and swallowed Harry's cock in one rather wonderful move.
Harry gulped. "Right, good point," he said hoarsely. "Don't stop."
George nipped Harry's earlobe and slid down toward the foot of the bed, behind Fred, lifting Fred's hips to get to the buttons of his trousers. Harry kept his eyes open and watched as they undressed each other, passing his cock smoothly from mouth to mouth, hands running over each other's skin with a familiarity gentler than he would have expected.
He kept his eyes open and didn't think about the strange, soft affection in Draco's touch, didn't think about Draco's mouth around his cock, and when George accidentally brushed over his tattoo and made it twinge painfully, he didn't remember how good it had felt when Draco had touched it.
Fred climbed up to stretch out over him, carefully avoiding the small dragon. "Stay with us, love," he whispered, and kissed Harry long enough for Harry to decide that the twins even tasted the same.
"I'm - I am," he answered, tilting his head up to meet the slow brush of George's mouth. "Just…"
"Shh, we know," Fred told him. His mouth was tracing over Harry's collarbone at the same rate at which George's mouth was moving over Fred's shoulder.
"Fucked through the mattress, I think you said," George murmured against cool, milky skin.
"Right." Slow was giving him too much time to think; he wanted to feel instead, and shivered at the tickling swipe of Fred's hair against his chest. "Want you to touch me. I want your hands all over me."
"Hm, I think we can manage that," George said. "Right, Fred?"
"Right you are," Fred answered with a grin.
They shifted position and maneuvered Harry onto his knees between them, facing… Fred, yes, it was hard to tell there for a minute. George settled in close behind him, warm skin pressing against him and drawing long slices of stinging pain from the backs of his shoulders. For a moment he was unbalanced; then he was floating, caught between the press of their bodies, securely entangled in arms and hands and mouths. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against George's shoulder, lazily entwining his tongue with Fred's until Fred's mouth moved underneath his ear and then met George's beside Harry's neck. There was a hand wound into his hair, another stroking his cock, and one of the twins was gliding slick fingers down toward his arse. Fingertips tugged skillfully at his nipple, and Harry opened his eyes to watch the twins kiss and didn't think of Draco's mouth.
"Beautiful, you two," he whispered.
They tilted their heads and smiled at him, identical blue eyes dancing with laughter. "You're quite fit yourself, young Harry," Fred murmured, tilting Harry's chin with his fingertips. Then somehow they were both managing to kiss him at once, bumping noses with him and with each other; Harry arched his neck and drifted between them, giggling in a hopelessly undignified manner as he chased their tongues from one mouth to the other, and sighed when George's fingers finally slipped inside him.
His fingers were long and slim, beautifully deft, and Harry closed his eyes and saw hands that transmuted potions ingredients to crystal in the failing light.
"Stay here, sweet," one of the twins whispered.
A sudden rush of cool air against his chest made his eyes flutter open. Fred was pulling a little away, clasping Harry's wrists and guiding them up and back around George's neck. A whisper and a tap on the arm and Harry's wrists were stuck, bound together behind George by something soft but strong, leaving him stretched and unnervingly exposed from head to knees. He only had a moment to wonder why people were forever wanting to truss him up like a Christmas goose before Fred flashed him a smug grin and kissed him thoroughly, then began licking his way down.
"Nice tongue, hasn't he?" George murmured, and licked behind Harry's ear.
Harry shivered as Fred's mouth brushed over his nipple. "God, yes," he said hoarsely.
"He's better at it than I am, I don't know why," George observed, slipping another finger into Harry and making him moan with the increased sensation. "He's going to suck you off now, pet. Then when you're so close to coming that one more breath on your cock is all it'd take to make you scream the Tower down, he's going to stop and I'm going to fuck you so hard, and you're going to love it, aren't you?"
"God, George, you're going to make me come," Fred murmured, and took just the head of Harry's cock in his mouth, tonguing it with broad, smooth strokes that shut down Harry's brain altogether.
"Fuck," he choked. "More."
Fred laughed softly and settled himself more comfortably on the bed, then took Harry's cock in his mouth down to the base with a smooth stroke that flowed perfectly with the movement of George's fingers, making Harry tense and whine and wind his fingers into George's hair. His head was still spinning, making him unsettled and clumsy, too slow to react to coordinate his movements with theirs; but hands caught his hips before it could become frustrating, guiding him into a quickening rhythm. He leaned back against George and closed his eyes against the quick, sharp washes of pleasure Fred's mouth was drawing out of him, tugging fruitlessly at the bonds around his wrists, wanting to reach down and thread his fingers into soft ash-blond hair and pull that lovely mouth even closer. "Feels so good," he whispered shakily.
"That's right, love," George whispered, and sucked Harry's earlobe into his mouth, tongue and teeth playing over it and making Harry shiver. "Such a beautiful arse, Harry, I can't wait to fuck you…"
"God, do it," Harry pleaded between his teeth - fuck, Fred's tongue was driving him slowly insane and he needed it, needed George inside him, fucking him like he should have let Draco fuck him, hard and deep. "Oh, shit, please, I'm -"
Fred hummed a soft negation around his cock and Harry nearly came right off the bed, unable to thrust fast enough in this position and off-balance, every stroke of that wickedly talented tongue driving him closer and not close enough.
"Fuck, please," he almost sobbed. "God, don't - please, I need, I'm going to -"
"Think he's ready?" George murmured.
Fred gave a thoughtful hum and Harry's whole body went rigid as he fought to keep from coming. Then Fred pulled back, leaving Harry's cock aching desperately. "I think he is," he said conversationally. "Hurry up and get off, I want to fuck him too."
"Oh, do you? Do you want to go first?" George asked politely, sliding his fingers deep into Harry and giving them a twist.
Harry cursed the twins at great length and rather less imaginatively than he would have liked.
George snickered against the nape of Harry's neck and withdrew his fingers, sliding into him with one long stroke, making him stretch and burn and filling him and oh, fuck, Draco, Draco…
"Stay here, Harry," Fred whispered against his mouth, and then swallowed Harry's cry as George pulled back and drove into him, nearly knocking him off his knees. Fred's hands were all over him, all over both of them, finding everywhere Harry needed to be touched and leaving lingering sensation behind them like traces of magic on Harry's skin.
By the time George tensed behind him and came with a soft cry, Harry was desperate to come, sweat stinging his eyes and slicking their bodies, the taste of the twins' skin sweet and sharp in his mouth. The bonds around his wrists vanished suddenly and the twins shifted against and around him, tilting dizzyingly forward so that Fred was on his back with Harry straddling him, Fred's cock smoothly replacing George's between one stroke and the next. For a distracted moment he wondered if they'd ever had sex without each other, and wondered why the thought seemed so wrong; then George's hand wrapped around his cock and the twins were kissing in a gorgeous tumble of red hair and pale skin and Harry had just enough mind left to pray that he didn't scream the wrong name when he came.
"Harry," George whispered into his ear, shifted him backward, swallowed his cock and sucked hard just as Fred slammed upward straight across Harry's prostate; Harry grabbed George's hair in reflexive shock, release hit him harder than a rogue bludger, and as he came hard down George's throat he found himself, rather to his relief, too incoherent to scream anyone's name at all.
A few more strokes and Fred came with a soft cry just like George's, cresting as Harry's aftershocks died away; rather dazed, Harry couldn't help wondering what it would sound like if they came at the same time. It was entirely possible that he was still drunk, he realized, but at the moment he couldn't even begin to make himself care.
Harry braced himself on his hands and let his eyes close, panting, trying to stop the room from swaying around him. Fred stretched lazily under him, softening inside him, and a hand that was probably George's combed idly through Harry's sweat-damp hair. He turned his face into the touch, rubbing his face against George's fingers.
"Good?" Fred asked, pulling one of Harry's hands up to nibble at his fingertips.
Harry swallowed and let himself relax against the two of them as George sat up and gave him a soft, almost chaste kiss. "Good," he agreed, leaning his forehead against George's.
There was a minute's disorienting shifting and then Harry was being eased down onto his back on the bed, head comfortably settled onto the pillows. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly too tired to open his eyes.
"Fred, you broke him," George accused.
"I broke him? I think you sucked his brain out through his dick."
"Just as well, he doesn't use it anyway. His brain, I mean, not his dick. He seems to use that well enough."
"Hey," Harry complained sleepily, smiling.
"Still with us, love?" George whispered fondly, brushing Harry's hair back to kiss his forehead.
Harry blinked his eyes open, blurry candle flames momentarily dazzling him and refracting into bright shards of light. "'Course. 'M drunk, not dead."
Fred and George were stretched out to either side of him, heads propped up on their hands, looking at him with identically amused, sated expressions. Without his glasses the small dissimilarities he used to tell them apart were blurred and faded. He lifted a hand to each of their faces, running the backs of his fingers gently over their cheeks, looking meditatively back and forth between them.
With a small smile, George caught his hand and kissed his fingertips. "You should sleep it off, then."
"Only thing to do," Fred agreed.
Well, maybe they were right. It was worth considering. Harry yawned and burrowed down between the two of them, winding his arms around George and tangling all their legs together as Fred settled close against his back. "Stay," he ordered sleepily. "I mean… not all night if you don't want to, but -"
"Go to sleep, Harry," Fred murmured, petting him.
"Too tired to move," George answered, sliding his arm around Harry and Fred both.
"All that getting up and getting dressed…"
"…buttons and ties and making sure everything's right-side out…"
"…finding our shoes…"
"…no Harry to keep us warm…"
"Blow that for a game of soldiers," Fred concluded.
"Mm," Harry said contentedly, and nearly didn't think of Draco at all.
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