Fandom: Harry Potter
Parings: Various (I don't want to spoil anything by listing, but if you've read my stuff, that should be enough)
Warnings: This has lots of sex and shouldn't be read by anyone not prepared for threesomes or twincest
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter but wouldn't do this to him. I'm doing this, but don't own him... which means no money or anything for it either
Summary: A short PWP which is completely an excuse to throw all of my favorite Harry Potter ships in the same story
Note: I was going to go for Minnie/Albus, too, but thought that might kill some readers. So I opted for a sneezey Remus instead.
The fire burns brightly, filling the small room with light and shadow as it dances around. Sirius grabs him from behind with a hug and a squeeze and a kiss to his cheek. He is pale and tired from his transformation the night before, when he and Sirius ran free on the hot summer night, humping like two bitches in heat for hours beside a lake. Remus seemed to have developed a cold from the swims they took in the chilly waters, and sneezes into his shoulder as Sirius comes around to his front and touches him. Sirius doesn't care that he's got the sniffles, but asks if, tonight, Remus wouldn't rather just snuggle together in front of the fire. Remus replies that they can snuggle after the sex, and goes straight for Sirius' belt.
Snape climbs the stairs, counting haphazardly for he knows how many there are. He passes portraits of noble, astute wizards. He passes open bedrooms on his way down the hallway, seeing the empty room which belonged to a boy who was not there, and seeing another bedroom with a woman brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Her eyes catch his in the reflection, and she smiles but he cannot manage to smile back. He isn't there out of choice. He finds a third bedroom at the end of the hallway, this one larger and greater than the others. A man lounges seductively on his side, naked upon the satin bed sheets, his hand gently stroking himself. He waves Severus in and has him close the door behind. Snape swallows hard and obeys, his hands shaking, but the bulge beneath his robes revealing his feelings. Lucius smiles and grabs hold of him tightly in need before he can even get onto the bed.
Oliver's hand pumps the broomstick, the handle smooth from years of hard riding and polishing. Its shaft, like his own, is long and powerful and is enough of an invitation. He squeezes it between his legs with a sigh as it brushes against his already hard cock. The redhead kneels before him, letting Oliver run his hands through his hair, messing it from its normal state of perfection. But he couldn't care less when faced with the sight at eye level. Oliver leans back, his bare rear on the hard bristles of his broom, the broomstick resting on Percy's shoulder. Percy knows, as he rubs his hands up and down the strong thighs, that he can always comb his hair again afterwards. Percy grips Oliver's cock with one hand, and the broomstick with the other, and begins pulling them both.
There is murmuring of mischief, and the two bodies spread out on the floor amidst papers of plans and ingredient slowly lose their clothing. Two identically freckled hands grope, knowing exactly how the other feels as he is touched. The kiss is kissing a mirror reflection, as lips press and bodies are crushed against each other. Forgetting the invoices, forgetting the bubbling cauldron, forgetting everything, there is only mutual understanding and utter perfection in that. If anyone could possibly satisfy any better than one's self, it is one's twin. And their bodies seem to understand this need more than even their minds do, throbbing and moving in unison as their hands find each other's crotches. Fred and George's gasps are identical, even.
A soft handkerchief rubs at Harry's cheeks, drying them. He hardly ever cries any more, and hardly ever smiles either. But now he's doing both, and he's both ashamed and eager. Hermione's soft touch removes his glasses so they cannot be damaged, and a set of gentle lips press against his, warm and tasting of the chocolate they had for dessert. He feels hands roaming, caressing. Then, as though the kiss they were sharing somehow synchronized them magically, four hands slid beneath Harry's robes and pulled the fabric up, touching what they found beneath. Hands on his thighs, on his cock, on his balls. Hands everywhere. And mouths against his, taking turns to soothe him, to calm him, to tell him everything was going to be all right. Through his blurry vision he can see they are close together, touching without having to use their mouths or their hands. They are warm where Harry is cold, and he cries out to them.
Ron takes him in his arms, squeezing tightly, lovingly. He will protect Harry with his life, even when the danger seems to have passed. He cannot stand to see Harry upset, and tells Harry this by slipping inside him and kissing from behind. Harry is tight for a moment, but relaxes as he feels Hermione's soft hands on his cock. She guides it into herself, warming at the feel of him, which is the same feeling Harry has as Ron begins to thrust in and out. They have separated for him, but are joined through him, connected with their affections for each other, and for Harry, flowing through their link. Hermione and Ron kiss over his shoulder, then Ron nuzzles his face into the back of Harry's head with pleasurable grunts, and Hermione kisses Harry's face, from cheeks to mouth, to nose, to chin. She will protect Harry from his emotions now. She cannot stand to see Harry upset and tells Harry this by arching her back at the right moment, right as Ron slams into Harry with a final thrust and Harry cannot think of anything but how much they care for him for never in his life can he remember anyone loving him so much as this. Everything is warm and comforting and solved when he is in their arms.
The identical bodies tense for a moment, and there are two identical cries. Then the hands release their captives and move to the other's chest or face, stroking softly in gratitude and understanding. With sighs of contentment, arms and legs mingle in a messy hug. Mouths kiss in breathless appreciation and they separate at last to turn back to their schemes and the cauldron which has since overflowed with purple foam. Even when they have cleaned and recovered their clothes, they stay close. George's arm around Fred, Fred's around George. They both reach for the same book at the same time, and kiss again amidst the laughter. Everybody always said they were of one mind, but no one really knew how close they really were, or how they stayed so close.
Oliver calls out Percy's name not just once but over and over again when he comes. If Percy could grin properly with a cock in his mouth, he would. He swallows and kisses the part of Oliver he must now let rest. And he kisses the broom handle as he pulls his head back and it brushes his ear. Oliver breathes Percy's name in the midst of a pleased sigh. Then Oliver holds his hands on Percy's cheeks, and lifts him up for a tender kiss. His hands remain against the smooth skin, petting softly, affectionately. Percy is perfect at everything, and a smile tells Oliver that he knows it, too. Oliver likes being able to unleash that smile, the way things like inspecting cauldron thickness and perfect execution of rules do. And Oliver likes to whisper Percy's name as they drift off to sleep in their shared bed, broomstick carefully propped up on its stand on Oliver's side of the bed.
Snape resists the instinct to flinch when the soft, slender fingers caress the part of his arm that has been marked forever. They are both in the service of the Dark Lord, but for now, Severus has properly serviced Lucius. He knows well the penalty for refusing, which is not simply the sort of beating he received long ago from his father, but the sort that comes from being discovered as the traitor that he is. He must forever live in this lie that was the result of a mistake he made when he was very young, and when Lucius was still as beautiful and alluring as ever. But, sometimes, he suspects the lie is not really so bad for the sex is incredible and the ripped robes are acceptable losses when it comes to the soft touches from the blonde man. He knows he is cared for in a way no one else could possibly understand. And, though he knows even a momentary slip in words or in his defenses means the most painful death imaginable, it is worth it to feel protected and cared about so intimately like this, if only for a few moments.
Sirius kisses Remus passionately, with so much strength and love that it is hard to imagine they have made love by firelight already twice that night. They are snuggled beneath a large quilt together, Sirius' arms around Remus from behind. Remus has one hand on Sirius' folded hands as they rest against his chest, and his other hand rubbing at his still rather sniffley nose. Sirius doesn't mind, and offers to get up to retrieve a handkerchief. But Remus would rather he stay and share the blanket's warmth a while longer. He wants the moment to last as long as possible, for finally Sirius is calm and content. And Remus knows that won't last for long. But if it did, he wouldn't be the Sirius that Remus loved, and had always loved. Remus turns and snuggles into Sirius' chest, and their arms wrap around each other in a hug. And when Remus sneezes, Sirius doesn't flinch, but simply blesses him and lets the man use Sirius' shirt sleeve to rub his nose. Sirius likes holding Remus, but likes more being able to make Remus feel better. With Remus, everything he does makes a difference. And Remus appreciates everything he does, from the sex to simply holding each other. And Sirius hopes this will never end.