Chapter Text
Ignoring the whispers and gawking as best he could, Harry helped shoo out the last of the day’s customers. It had somehow gotten around that he was part owner of the shop, and business for the twins had boomed. In fact, he rather suspected business would double yet again now that he’d actually been spotted on the premises.
Fred locked the door with a flourish of his wand. “Ye gads, demanding little blighters. Hallo, Harry.” Grinning with customary good cheer, Fred gave him a quick, one armed hug as he walked by.
“Hey, Fred.” He gestured at the door. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize it was so early or I would have come in the back.”
“No worries,” George assured him cheerfully. He came around the counter, broom and dustpan following. A flick of his wand set the tools to cleaning. “We can always use extra business.”
“Besides,” Fred chimed in, “once school starts, it’ll be bloody boring round here.”
Relieved, Harry started straightening the items on the shelves. “Boring? Around you two? Never!”
“You’re too kind, Master Potter, too kind!” George bowed low, peeking up through his bangs and winking as he did. He laughed and straightened when Fred smacked his arse on the way to the register to count it down. In short order, the three of them had the shop clean and restocked for the next day. Harry followed the twins up to their flat when they were done. “Oi, Fred, what do we have to eat, anyway? Must show our illustrious guest a proper good time,” George said, stretching until his back popped audibly.
Harry smacked him upside the head. “Behave. Or I’ll put one of your Shrinking Ices down your trousers.”
Fred brushed by them on his way to the kitchen. “Like he’d notice?”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you identical twins?”
“Nearly. Tragic accident of birth, y’see. I got the brains and cock, he got the brawn.” Fred assumed a mournful air. “Terrible, it is. But he’s your man to open the pickle jar and not much else.”
George swatted him then grinned at Harry. “Don’t mind him. The poor dear feels so inadequate since his don’t work that I let him think all that to make him feel better.”
“You’re both a couple of twits,” Harry said mildly, suppressing laughter. Then he pushed them into a couple of chairs at the table. “Sit, I’ll make supper. I haven’t been on my feet all day.”
“Ah, a man of leisure,” Fred sighed.
“Or perhaps someone’s pampered boytoy?” George wondered.
“I wish,” Harry muttered before he could stop himself. Flushing painfully, Harry quickly busied himself with finding and fixing something for dinner. Rather than taking the opening, the twins remained quiet. When he glanced over his shoulder, he nearly smiled. Dragonhide boots had been discarded, and the twins had put their feet into each other’s lap for mutual foot rubs. But the serious, somewhat sad look they were sharing ruined the picture. Harry was getting sick of seeing that look crop up on people’s faces.
A bit irate at seeing the twins doing it, he surreptitiously sent a tickling charm at their feet. George, unfortunately, flailed in just the right (or wrong, if you were Fred) way to kick Fred in the groin. “Serves you right,” Harry told them. “If I wanted to see that ‘Poor Harry’ look, I’d visit your mum.” He paused, eyeing the hunched over form of Fred and the helplessly giggling George. “Do you need some ice?” he asked. George lost it and fell out of his chair, and even Fred had to grin at him.
Later, Harry found himself at one of the twins’ rather battered sofa, with Fred’s feet in his lap. George was on the floor with his head resting on Harry’s knee. The casual contact was something only the twins did with him. Neither seemed to have any problems with manhandling in any way they wished, or even outright snuggling him. Even Molly confined herself to hugs only during hellos and goodbyes. It was...addictive, and Harry was happy for it to be so.
The wireless was turned on, although none of them were really paying attention to it. Instead, it was simply background to the easy conversation that had become second nature to them. Ron’s older brothers were more than Gryffindor’s notorious pranksters, and far more than Zonko’s chief rivals for all things humorous. They had always been good for a laugh or a distraction, which made it easy to overlook just how smart they really were. Harry had realized it during the war, although the chaos then had made it difficult for him to act on it. It had only been after things had settled down, after he’d killed Voldemort and most, if not quite all, of his Death Eaters had been killed or captured and the rebuilding had begun, that he’d had the time to start getting to really know them. Hermione had taken an apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s, and Ron had gone into Auror training, which had taken up most of their time. Harry, however, still hadn’t decided on exactly what he wanted to do with his life, and had cautiously begun popping in on the twins; mostly for the company, partly to get away from the fussing that he tended to receive from others. When they seemed to not only not mind, but to be genuinely glad to see him, his visits had gotten so frequent as to be routine and expected, although Harry still tried to be mindful of the fact that anyone’s welcome could become worn out. Especially his.
A couple hours and a few position changes later, Harry found himself draped over two laps. His head rested in George’s lap, and his legs were draped over Fred’s. George was giving him the best scalp massage ever – not that he had any to compare it to. His soft sigh prompted chuckles from the twins, but he wasn’t about to complain. They could be as amused as they liked, so long as George didn’t stop scritching his fingers over Harry’s scalp.
The fingers gently sliding up his belly, pushing away his t-shirt, made him go very still, however. “Erm, Fred? What are you....”
“Relax, Harry,” George soothed. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“Oh no,” Fred agreed. “It’s going to be very, very good.”
The twins shifted and Harry found himself laying directly on the couch rather than their laps. It finally occurred to Harry to open his eyes so he could see for himself what they were up to. Just because they were his friends didn’t mean they weren’t also the pranksters they were famed for being. And Harry really didn’t like surprises.
With his eyes open, his field of vision was completely filled by George’s face, which got closer and closer to his own. He had the brief, wild thought, ‘is he gonna lick me?’ before his mouth was taken in a hot, demanding kiss.
George made the third person he’d ever kissed, and apparently the old adage ‘third time’s the charm’ applied to kisses, too. It was nothing like Cho’s overly wet effort, or even Ginny’s eager but soft kisses. His mouth was opened, invaded and owned, and it got him hotter faster than anything else had in his life.
His lips tingled when George finally pulled away. Harry licked them, eyeing George’s puffy-looking mouth longingly. Then he swung his gaze towards Fred. A naughty grin stretched pink lips as Fred shuffled over and fastened their mouths together. Fred’s kiss was a hint rougher, with deliberate grazes of teeth to tongue and lips, making Harry shiver.
There were hands pushing his shirt up further, and more hands opening his trousers. With his cock harder than it’d ever been, Harry couldn’t do much beyond arch into the hands all over him and clutch at Fred’s shoulders rather desperately.
One of them urged him upright, he wasn’t sure which one, and his shirt was pulled off. He panted, lips closer to sore rather than merely tingling. The cool air on his overheated skin cleared his mind somewhat, and blinked back and forth between two pairs of twinkling, darker than normal blue eyes. Two kiss swollen mouths smiled at him. Breathless and hot and turned on and desperately confused, Harry clutched at their hands. “What...I mean, why...?”
“If you don’t know what...”
“We aren’t doing it right!” they chorused.
Harry flushed, embarrassment rather than arousal staining his skin. “Why?” he repeated.
The smiles faded and Harry could tell them apart again. He’d never been able to explain the knack, since there was nothing visually to distinguish them from each other. George shifted to sit behind him again, arms around his waist. “Hush, love. It’s alright,” he murmured. “We heard you earlier, you know.”
“We know it hasn’t been easy for you, what with all the superficial idiots out there,” Fred agreed, taking his hands, long fingers stroking along his palms and wrists. “Wanting your fame instead of you.”
“So we’re going to help you out,” George finished, punctuating it with a light pinch to one of Harry’s nipples.
Once the flash of pleasure/pain faded, he processed what they’d said and went still. “Help me out?” he repeated flatly. “Lovely.” He rolled to the side suddenly, cock gone soft even faster than it had gotten hard. The twins sort of toppled into each other before sitting up again to glare at him indignantly. Harry summoned his shirt to him with one hand as he zipped his trousers with the other. “You can keep your pity fuck,” he snapped. Before his hurt anger could make him say anything worse, he apparated out.
He arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He tossed his shirt across the room. Somehow, that didn’t come close to being satisfying, so he grabbed a plate out of the cupboard and threw it. The weight of the porcelain leaving his hand, combined with the loud tinkling of breaking glass, felt very satisfying, however, so he did it again. Within five minutes, he’d broken nearly every dish he owned. The wall was pitted and scratched from the impacts and the floor was littered with shards of broken glass. The anger was gone, leaving behind just the hurt and utter mortification of being so pathetic that his friends felt the need to shag him, since he couldn’t manage with anyone else. Not to mention a feeling of childishness over the tantrum.
With a sigh, Harry flicked his wand at the mess and repaired the dishes, then sent them back to their rightful places. He turned to leave the kitchen and halted. The twins were leaning in the doorway. Harry crossed his arms, embarrassment climbing to near lethal levels, and tried to summon at least a hint of his previous anger to hide behind. “What are you doing here?”
“You need a good smack upside the head,” Fred informed him.
“So we’ve come to deliver it,” George added. He sighed then, and hung his head a bit. “Harry, we didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Which?” Harry shot back. “The bit about the pity fuck or the bit about the smack? Cause both seemed pretty clear to me.”
“They might’ve,” Fred agreed. “But, Harry, we never meant you to think we were shagging you out of pity.” He took a couple of cautious steps forward, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. “Good grief, we aren’t that generous, Harry. And you are nowhere near pathetic enough for the thought of pity to occur to us.”
Some of the hurt faded, leaving confusion in its wake. “Then why?” he asked. “Was it just a – a whim? Or was I somehow convenient? Or – “
“Try ‘we think you’re hot and want you’,” George suggested dryly. “We thought we’d made that clear, what with all the touching and massaging and snuggling.”
“Funny, I didn’t think of all that as sexual.” Harry ducked his head, feeling stupid. Of course it had been sexual. Male friends just didn’t randomly hug and cuddle each other, after all.
“Apparently, brother-mine, we suck at this flirting business.” Fred glanced ruefully back at his brother, who nodded. “Of course, that rather begs the question: if you didn’t know we were flirting –“
“Then why were you returning all our touches?” George finished, walking forward to stand beside his brother.
“It felt good.” Harry shrugged. “I like to be touched, only nobody ever does, ‘cept your mum, and even she doesn’t do it much, and I just thought we were friends. Pretty stupid, huh? Friends do act like that, I should have realized.” He trailed off and just stood there while the twins traded a look that he couldn’t read. He wasn’t really hurt anymore, not the way he had been earlier. The twins were many things, but they weren’t liars, so he believed that they had genuinely wanted to sleep with him. He’d thoroughly messed that up, though, and now he just wanted this whole conversation to be over with so he could go curl up in a corner somewhere and feel completely sorry for himself. He was pretty sure that all that wonderful, easy closeness was gone. They’d be reduced to the occasional punch on the arm and back slaps, stilted, brief conversations, and prior engagements preventing visits or nights out at the pub.
“Harry, have you, ah, ever had sex before?” Fred asked finally, pulling him out of his depressing thoughts.
“No,” he admitted reluctantly. Just one more reason they wouldn’t want to bother with him; after all, who wanted to deal with a nervous virgin when what they wanted was some fun?
Again, they traded an undecipherable look. Harry was getting a little tired of those.
“Do you want to? With us, I mean?” George licked his lips, like he was contemplating a particularly delicious sweet.
Hope sprang up in Harry’s chest. Heart pounding, he took a small step forward. “That rather depends, doesn’t it?” If he hadn’t ruined things.... If they did still want him.... “Are you wanting a one-off, a fuck buddy, or...are you hoping it will be something a bit more permanent?”
“Oh, permanent, definitely. But what about you? For someone who never really thought about it before –“ George shut up when Harry finished closing the distance and wormed his way between them.
“I never said that. When did I say that?” Harry laid his head on Fred’s shoulder, for once not minding that he was so short. “I didn’t understand what you were doing, and I wouldn’t have ever approached you because I would have been too afraid of losing what I had with you, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been wanking myself raw thinking about you two.” He blushed so hard it was almost painful over that admission, but other than delighted smiles, there was no teasing. There was, however, a somewhat callused hand running down his back, that stoppped just before it reached his arse. It reminded Harry of the fact that he was half naked.
George leaned down to brush his lips over Harry’s. “Are we good now? No more points to clarify, no more misunderstandings to clear up?” he whispered.
“N-no,” Harry sighed, looping his arms around George’s neck to make sure he stayed close. “Sorry about that, I just –“
“Mm, easy, pet.” Fred nuzzled behind his ear, wet tongue and hot breath making him shiver. “Poor choice of words on our part. Any man’s prick would wilt, thinking he was getting a pity fuck.”
“Which you aren’t,” George assured him again, trailing his lips along Harry’s jaw to his other ear. Harry shuddered, fingers tangling in the slightly coarse hair under his hands. The movement, slight as it was, pressed him more firmly to the body in front of him. The feel of an impressive erection rubbing against his own reawakening cock was startling, for some reason. Jerking his hips back only made him aware of the equally impressive erection behind him.
Fred’s tiny gasp of pleasure helped settle his nerves somewhat. Emboldened, he rubbed his rear deliberately against Fred’s cock, earning a louder gasp and fingers clamping down on his hips. Harry pushed back again, straining against the grip that tried to make him hold still.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” George hissed. “Look at you, rubbing yourself on his prick like a cat in heat.” Harry nipped his ear for that, not that he truly minded. George brought his hands up, fingers splayed wide to cover as much skin as possible. When he reached Harry’s nipples he began to play with them. They tightened, becoming stiff little peaks that seemed to point straight at George.
“I think,” Fred murmured, between nibbles to Harry’s earlobe, “we should move this party elsewhere. A bedroom?”
“Best be yours, then,” Harry said breathlessly. “I’m sure you’ve got lube.”
“Why, Harry, just what are you implying?”
Harry rubbed his arse a bit harder against Fred, further turned on by the fingers that tightened even more on his hips. “That you’ve got lube. Which I don’t,” he said. “Can we go?”
Fred chuckled and stepped back. He was smiling when Harry looked back at him, no hint of teasing or mischief to be seen. Just happiness and what Harry was beginning to recognize as arousal. The look was echoed in George’s eyes when Harry glanced at him. “Yeah,” Fred answered. “George’ll take you right to the bedroom.” Still with that relaxed, happy smile, Fred apparated.
Harry pressed closer to George and tilted his head with a smile. “Take me,” he ordered.
George wrapped an arm tightly around his waist, eyes darkening almost to indigo. “Oh, I will,” he promised. “Don’t you worry about that.” Harry felt the tingling sensation that preceded side-along before his body contracted and snapped back into place. Side-along tended to make him a little dizzy, so it took him a few moments before he looked around. When he did, he found that the twins’ bedroom...was a mess. Clothes, take-away containers, magazines and other debris covered the floor, the dresser, and the night stand. Harry rather suspected that the neatness of the rest of the flat had to do mostly with Molly Weasley’s penchant for random visits than any real desire for it from the twins.
Harry also noted one other important fact: there was only, admittedly large, bed. “I knew it,” he crowed, wiggling excitedly. Fred stopped trying to shove things into an overfull closet, and George held him at arms length while they both favored him with a confused look. “You two sleep together,” he explained, nodding at the bed. “With or without a third.” He ducked his head as several of his favorite fantasies crossed his mind. “I’d like to watch that sometime.”
“Urm....” George looked at Fred, then back at Harry. “You do know that shouldn’t get out, right? It’ll be a bit scandalous that we’re both seeing you, or that you’re seeing both of us or whatever. But if it got out that Fred and I are closer than people think....”
“I’m not stupid, George.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. At least, not as long as you both fulfil my every whim,” Harry said in a mock-sinister tone.
George instantly dropped to his knees and rubbed his face against Harry’s hip. “Name your desire, oh Master,” he simpered. “We will do anything to please you.”
Harry glanced at the bed, the one surface in the room without clutter. “Well, you could show me what else that’s good for besides sleeping, for a start. We’ll see where that takes us, shall we?”
Laughing, George surged to his feet and scooped Harry up, all in one move. He tossed him onto the bed, and Fred, laughing just as brightly, abandoned his efforts at the closet to jump in beside him.