This work is a parody of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and it is not endorsed by either J.K. Rowling or her publishers. As a parody, this work is protected under the Fair Use Doctrine.
The characterizations in this work deviate significantly from the original, and this does not imply these characterizations exist in the original work. The author received no financial compensation or endorsements for the production of this work.
All characters in this story are fictional. This story depicts sexual acts between consenting minor males. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and in no way reflects reality. Please be aware of local laws or ordinances that may prohibit the reading of such material.
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It took less than two days before the entire school talked about the fact Harry did not know the handlers and teachers charmed the dragons to keep them from killing participants or onlookers. He suspected Neville told Séamus, and Séamus acted as a source of gossip and news better than The Daily Profit and The Dribbler combined. People began to treat Harry much different than when his name flew out of the loo. The dragons, charmed or not, scared everyone. However, with the first challenge out of the way and Harry the clear winner, the slog toward the holidays began.
Halloween tended to be a special time of year for the students at Snogwarts. They could revel in their magical heritage, regardless of how recent, and take pride in being witch or a wizard. The Spurmstungs did not understand the manner in which the English celebrated, somewhat adopted from their American cousins. The eastern Europeans referred to the day as All Hallows Eve and tended to act a bit leery of the celebration. Professor Binns explained in some parts of the world, Halloween, a mutated contraction of the word the Spurmstungs used, proved a time when muggles would be on the hunt for magical folk. The collision of cultures spurred the Snogwarts students to make it extra special for their guests.
"They don't still burn `em the stake, do they?" Ron asked as they worked on a potion for Professor Snape.
"Don't think so, but it didn't sound like the muggles don't go easy on `em either," Harry rejoined as he carefully crushed giant stalk beans for the engorgement elixir. "Diktor made it sound like they get run out of their homes."
"Getting bit chummy with Kum, huh?"
Harry heard the jealousy in Ron's tone. While dressed in more or less the same outfit of dark pants, white shirt, a burgundy sweater with the house logo embroidered on the left breast, and a tie of the house colors under open black robes, Ron appeared unkempt. However, he managed to make it his style and he actually looked good. The youngest Weasley male also filled out the clothing far better than Harry. It gave him a quick inspiration on how to answer one of his best friends.
"Diktor still talks about how you rooted him, Ron, so don't go thinking I've got something over on you. Just say the word and we'll bull run him again... with you in the lead."
Harry watched his ginger-haired friend go into mental paralysis from the combined compliment offered by his hero and a chance to go at him again. Professor Snape chose that moment to walk by. He smacked Ron in the side of the head with the thick volume, and Ron fell to the floor.
"Turn down your flame before it boils the concoction and explodes, Weasley," the notoriously cranky professor snarled in wishy-washy manner. "Between you and Finnegan, you'll manage to burn down a stone castle."
Harry kept his faced schooled in an impassive expression until Snape headed toward another part of the class to terrorize other students. Then he bowed his head and silently laughed. Ron snorted, picked himself up from the floor, and looked aggrieved.
"How come you never get caught?" His best mate complained while rubbing the side of his head.
"I get caught all the time and you know it," Harry countered.
"He does, Ron, but you take it personally," Hermione stated without looking up from her work.
Ron knew better than to argue with her.
"Taking anyone to the Halloween Mixer?" Harry asked in the hope he would learn something new. He asked the question nearly everyone seemed to be discussing.
"Don't know yet. You?" Ron easily deflected.
"The champions are supposed to ask someone from one of the rival schools... and not another champion," he explained and quickly amended.
"Well, after your performance in the first trial, I'm sure any one of those sweaty Spurmstungs will go with you, Harry," Hermione grumbled. "But be careful: they really expected Diktor to win that one."
"She's got a point, Harry," Ron agreed at a low volume. "I've caught more than few giving you a look, and not a good one."
"They think you cheated. So do the Boobbeatons," Hermione said as she carefully diced sequoia needles, and she also let out a small sigh after the final word.
"Who you taking, Hermione? Or did someone ask you?" Harry inquired and tried to make it sound chipper.
"Sabine la Courantrouge," the young woman said the name as though expressing her deepest desire. "We've... been getting to know one another."
"Heard tell you were locked up in one of the tower bathrooms for most of Sunday," Ron merrily stated.
"Yeah," Hermione breathed out the word and looked far into the distance.
Harry and Ron smirked at one another. They both knew they would pay for making Hermione spin into a daydream since it meant she did not pay attention to her potion. She stopped stirring as whatever filled her mind took over. Given the picky nature of most potions, it meant it would sour in just a few moments. The two male Gryffindors then began to apply themselves to their own potion. Fortunately, Séamus did, indeed, cause a minor explosion and fire that drew Snape's furious attention for the rest of the period.
While Ron and Hermione went to their next classes, a rare period in which the three friends did not share, Harry contemplated Ron's question. Pressure would be applied to him to ask one of the Spurmstungs to the dance, and yet he only knew Diktor in any meaningful manner. That led to an idea, and one that could be solved during the lunch break. Thus, Harry headed for his Divination class suddenly feeling much better about the impending social event.
When Halloween did arrive, Harry felt prepared. He asked Diktor to recommend one of his schoolmates who would be willing to attend the dance with Harry without trying to kill him or snatch him for a bull run. A couple of days after making the request, Diktor introduced him to a sixth-year Romanian Spurmstung who seemed positively delighted to attend the dance with Harry. A week before the dance they spent a few lunch periods together, and one stroll after classes along the castle grounds, getting to know one another. The dark-haired, dark-eyed young man with mildly dusky skin, full lips, and slightly sunken cheeks came from an ancient wizarding family loosely related to Vlad Teppish. Harry found Răzvan Dalca easy company to keep and began to look forward to the dance.
When the night arrived, Harry met Răzvan in the foyer to the great hall. Harry surprised everyone by combing his hair and using a powerful spell to keep it in place, and donned a somewhat dusty suit. He also applied a thin layer of gray face paint and greenish lipstick. It took a while for anyone realize he dressed as a corpse. Răzvan applied crepe hair to his neck and the back of his hands, added a pointed teeth prosthetic, and it appeared as though he got caught mid-transformation into a werewolf. Harry liked the costume. Ron appeared with Colin, both looking miserable and neither in costume, to the bewilderment of his dormmates. Hermione burst in to the hall with her Boobbeatons escort, resplendent as cavewomen, and looked pleased beyond measure. It appeared the house prefects got the same instruction as the tournament champions, and each arrived with a member from one of the guest schools. The Slytherins kept mostly to themselves, while the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws paired off to each person's taste.
It did not take long for the combined mass of teenagers to turn the simple dance into a raucous party. While most of the teachers stayed away, Madam Sprout, Rubass Hagrid, and Professor Flitwick acted as chaperons along with Madame Maximus from Boobbeatons and Headmaster Krackhead from Spurmstung. Someone understood teenagers and hired the Crypt Kicker Five band to perform for dance. Lighted pumpkins floated midway between the floor and the ceiling, and the ceiling got enchanted so it flashed with lightning every few minutes. Other Halloween decorations festooned the corners and walls. A delectable array of candy and other snacks awaited the revelers. Thus, it appeared as though Professor Dumbledore did not take part in the planning since he would likely try to cram everyone into the dungeon so he could eat alone in the great hall.
Harry and his date, Răzvan, danced both alone and with the other champions and their dates. He tried to interact with Ron and Colin, but their combined misery put up an effective blockade. Hermione and Sabine would dance, disappear, and then reappear looking happily flustered. The Boobbeatons and Spurmstungs seemed to be enjoying themselves, and all the Snogwarts students attributed it to the absence of both Dumbledore and Snape. Goo-eye Moody popped in every now and again to subject students to on-the-spot interrogations, but the guests thought it part of the Halloween charade. The band played their infectious and noisy brand of wizard popular music. It invited the students to dance, and dance they did.
At one point Harry excused himself to use the restroom, and it took a few minutes to convince Răzvan he truly did need to use the facilities for the stated purpose. His date let him go with a faux sad expression. On his way out, both Ass Cleft and Diktor gave him a cheery thumbs-up regarding the success of the evening so far. Buoyed by their encouragement, Harry all but skipped to the restroom. He entered and whistled bit from a Crypt Kicker Five song. Suddenly, everything went dark as a heavy hood got placed over his head. Seconds later he got surrounded by people and brusquely ushered out of the bathroom. Harry laughed at first, and then he remembered Hermione's warning about the Spurmstungs. Two minutes passed as he got hauled down stairs and through hallways, leaving him completely baffled as to his location inside the castle. Harry got inelegantly dumped on the floor, the hood ripped from his head, and a bright light flooded his eyes.
"Look who's mister popular tonight," Harry heard Draco Malfoy snarl. "Aren't you just the bleeding darling of the dance."
"Draco, give it a rest and let me go," Harry replied and struggled against the powerful hands holding him down.
"Oh, just want to run back to your mudblood friends, eh, and those nasty third-world Europeans?"
"You know Hermione is going to thump you when I tell her what you said..."
"Not if I obliviate you first!"
Harry's eyes adjusted somewhat to the glare of a wand clearly using the luminos spell. He turned his head to the side and could just make out Draco's profile. It did not surprise him in the least to find Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle holding his arms. While not the brightest students or the best of wizards, they possessed mass and muscle Harry could not overcome without the use of his wand. He heard and saw no one else, and then guessed Draco secreted him somewhere down on the dungeon level near the Slytherin dormitory.
"Yeah, do that and your father will spend a week trying to defend you to Dumbledore..." Harry started to explain.
"Ha! Like he'd care!" Draco snorted.
"Let me finish, and McGonagall. You know she's just itching to get you tossed from Snogwarts `cause you father is a Dungeater," he warned his arch-nemesis.
"Prove it! Prove my father..." Draco began to yell.
"Let's see his left forearm, or maybe he always wears a jacket `cause a certain tattoo of a shit-eating skull is there! Your father is a dirty shit-eater and you know it!"
Harry could feel Draco glaring at him. All Dungeaters got the same brown brand from Lord Holdequart back during the height of his power: the Dungmark. It signified one as a loyal follower of the crazed hermaphrodite.
"We were going to easy on you, but now..." and Draco let the unfinished statement hang for many seconds. "Okay, boys, strip him."
That did not sound encouraging, and Harry began to struggle against his captors. Try as he might, Crabbe and Goyle proved the perfect thugs for the job. It only took them a few minutes to divest Harry of his clothing, ripping some in the process, and then holding his naked body on the floor. Draco stood over him.
"Aren't we turning into the fine young man," Draco sarcastically drawled. "Got yourself some hair down there and everything. Do I see some on your chest, too?"
"What? Still waiting for puberty to hit and you wanted to see what it looks like?" Harry returned verbal fire.
He saw Draco's face contort. The grip on his arms tightened. His mind began to imagine what terrible things Draco and his cronies would do, but it took on urgency when the thin, blond-as-to-be-white haired pinch-faced youth slipped his robe over his head. Draco, and Crab and Goyle for that matter, did not bother to wear a costume to the dance. Try as he might, his brain would not stop churning out one horrible, lurid idea after another. Harry tried not to watch, but Draco dug a heel into his ribs every time Harry turned his head to the side. Crabbe and Goyle snickered the entire time.
"Why do you always avoid me, Potter? I was nice to you... once," Draco said while unbuttoning his shirt. "Didn't you like what we did together."
"It, ah, left a little -- and I do mean little -- something to be desired," Harry retorted and immediately wished he chose a different tactic.
Draco's pale cheeks went flush. His compatriots stopped laughing. Draco stripped off his shirt and revealed one of the most meager, thinnest upper torsos Harry ever saw. Malfoy's skin glowed like an illuminated ghost. Each rib stood out in a nearly skeletal manner. Harry tried to keep his composure, but he kept comparing the boy standing above him to his best mate, Ron. Draco weighed perhaps half what Ron weighed. The sound of buckle tongue clanking against the frame got his attention. Draco then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. They instantly fell to his calves revealing stick like legs. His lower torso tried to make his white briefs tight, but Malfoy lacked to the physical mass and the undergarment hung lose on his hips. Moreover, Harry could not detect any noticeable bulge in the front.
"Remember last time? We're gonna do more of the same," Draco threatened.
The threat eased Harry considerably. He started breathing easier. It simply meant Harry would experience the most unexceptional sex he could imagine. Given what else the trio could do to him in the privacy of a locked bathroom two floors below where the party took place, it seemed his luck held firm. Harry braced himself for what would likely be the dullest fifteen to twenty minutes of his life. He stared up at his antagonist.
"Oh, yeah, we're going to give it to you good this time. You'll learn to fear the Slytherins, Potter!"
"Yeah. Sure. Right," Harry drolly agreed. "I'm shaking in my boots."
"You're not wearing boots," Goyle muttered.
"Shut up, you dolt," Draco snapped at his henchman.
Harry barely suppressed a laugh, but Draco caught his face twitching.
"Think that's funny do you? How about this? Let me hear you laugh this off!"
Harry used the tricks he learned in Professor Snape's class to keep his face perfectly still as Draco sneered and stepped out of his pants. Dressed only in his sagging white briefs, dark socks, and dark shoes, Malfoy looked comical. It got worse when he walked forward until he stood directly over Harry's head with his feet between his arms and sides. He slowly lowered himself until his crotch hovered above his face. Then, and Harry predicted it five seconds before, Draco dragged his cloth-covered scrotum across Harry's forehead.
"I learned this in America. It's called teabagging," Draco growled.
"Right. I get it. Like dipping a teabag into a pot or a cup," Harry replied.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel my balls on your face, Potter?"
Crabbe and Goyle started to snicker. Harry wanted to shrug his shoulders. He knew better than to tell Draco the only thing he felt came in the form of fabric. Malfoy's balls did not hang low enough or possess enough size to pull off the supposedly humiliating maneuver. Harry stored the idea in the back of his mind as something to try with Răzvan later in the evening. From the contours of the Romanian's crotch, Harry suspected a sack worthy of the practice lay in wait. As he endured another round of the tactic, he also thought it might work better without the underwear.
"You don't seem at all bothered," Draco said when he stood up.
"Ever have Dean shoot a load... probably not," Harry began to reply and realized Dean Thomas would never sleep with Draco Malfoy, even on a bet or a dare.
His response seemed to anger his tormentor a bit more. Draco divested himself of his underwear. It stunned Harry anew to see the teenager in state of full arousal. While never one to judge anyone on their sexual equipment, he could not stop while getting a good upward view of Malfoy. Testes the size of almonds got hugged close to the base of the hard shaft. That went a long way in explaining why Harry felt only the underwear on his forehead. Above that Draco's erection rose to an underwhelming ten centimeters and appeared no bigger around than Harry's thumb. It seemed as if time stood still in Draco's crotch even through the youth grew at least fifteen centimeters in height since their first year. He wondered if Malfoy still awaited puberty, but then he saw the bush of off-white pubic hair at the base and descending down on either side of the scrotum toward the thighs. Neither a grower nor a shower, Harry thought.
"Well, at least you're up for the occasion," the naked young wizard held down on the floor quipped, and again berated himself for being unable to keep his mouth closed.
"Think you're clever, eh?" Draco rumbled.
He descended again, except this time he mashed the bottom of his pubic mound against Harry's mouth and nose. Regardless of whatever else Harry might think, he silently admitted Draco smelled fresh and clean. He thought he also detected a small whiff of cologne. It seemed at odds with the nasty personality contained in the person. Since he knew the completely ineffective torture would continue regardless of his reaction, Harry stuck out his tongue. Draco's mostly hairless scrotum and taint rubbed against it. After a few seconds, the body above him stopped.
"Are you licking me?" Malfoy inquired and sounded a bit shocked.
"Yeah, a little," he admitted.
"Why?"
"Bored, I guess," Harry confessed.
His answer again seemed to infuriate the teenager. Draco suddenly shifted around and began to rub the head of his cock on Harry's lips. Harry, truly bored and equally unafraid, tried to shrug. He failed, so he just opened his mouth. Draco's short, thin hard-on slid inside.
"Blimey, he's blowing you, Draco. You said he probably wouldn't," Crabbed muttered in his usual thick manner.
"Don't you know what the word probably means?" Malfoy snorted out the question.
He got no answer.
"Still the cocksucker, huh?" Draco said to Harry.
"So are you," Harry said, easily speaking around the dick in his mouth. "At least you really seemed to like it that one time."
The white-haired teenager spit and sputtered in ire. Harry clamped his lips around the cock in is mouth and went to work for a few seconds. Draco's body shuddered in response and he stopped swearing. A strange notion bubbled up in his head. Could it be, he wondered, that no one in the Slytherin house engaged in sex? Harry knew both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students seemed to be in sexual overdrive most of the time, and he heard the odd tale or two about some of the experimental sessions conducted in Ravenclaw. Moreover the visiting Boobbeatons and Spurmstung students appeared rather randy most of the time. He lost track of what he did while he thought, and Draco's sudden moaning brought him around.
"Merlin's beard, you're good at that," Malfoy heaved out the words as he ground his crotch into Harry's face.
"Thanks. I get a lot of practice," Harry rejoined with the erection still in his maw.
A series of profane words drifted through the air. It dawned on Harry no matter what he said he would step in it. Draco began to grind his hips more fiercely in a circle. Since it did not seem anything else would happen, Harry resumed his work on his nemesis. He simply wanted it to end so he could return to the dance, and, thus, vigorously applied himself. Draco's motions slowed. He let out with a small barks and chirps. A minute went by and then two.
"Ugh," Crabbe rumbled from off to the side.
"Crabbe, did you come?" Malfoy yelled.
"Sorry, Draco, couldn't help it. Watching you and Harry, and him laying there all nude with his everything showing, I sort... I mean, I just touched it a little bit," Crabbe stuttered through his explanation.
"Well... go wash your hands," Draco ordered like a mother.
Crabbe let got of his arm much to Harry's disbelief. Draco, however, did not move and his cock rested on Harry's tongue. Harry shrugged one shoulder since his other arm remained in the firm grasp of Goyle. Even as he continued to blow Draco, he turned his head a little. Goyle sat staring off into the distance. A quick glance at the stout teenager's crotch revealed Goyle did not react to what happened in front of him. He even looked bored. Harry could not imagine himself sitting before two boys engaged in sex, even in a limited fashion, and not reacting in some manner even if it meant just staring. At the moment he more or less sported an erection. An idea bubbled in his head as he righted it and returned to pleasuring Draco.
Barely a minute later Draco's entire body stiffened. A trickle of thin semen rolled across Harry's tongue. Seven seconds later Malfoy's body sagged and collapsed over Harry's head. Draco panted like he wrestled a troll. Harry used his one free arm to shove the thin boy's carriage to one side so he could breathe.
"How `bout it, Goyle? In for a quick fluff on Potter's galleon?" Draco asked his crony.
"Naw. I'm set," Goyle droned and let go of Harry's arm.
"Sometimes I wonder about you," his titular leader exclaimed.
"Looked fun and all, but... well, it's Potter and that don't interest me any," the thick young man answered in an unconvincing manner.
Another doubt got added to Harry's mental list. He heard Draco snort in derision. The white-haired boy then rolled to his left and completely off Harry. Harry sat up and glanced down at Draco. His penis also shriveled and shrank down to it's hooded peanut size. It almost disappeared in his nest of pubic hair.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Potter," Draco sneered at him. "Next time it might go much worse for you."
"What? Gonna hire the Spurmstung boys have a go at me?" Harry rejoined and realized yet again it would it do nothing more than anger Malfoy.
Draco sat up and glared at him. The two teenagers, one completely naked and the other with his pants around his ankles, fixed each other with a hard stare. Harry adopted an unapologetic stance.
"You just watch yourself, Potter. You might think you're all high and mighty as the Boy-Who-Came, but not everything is always going to go your way," Draco warned him in a dire tone Harry found amusing. "You've still got to survive the tournament!"
"I seemed to do okay on the last test," he said while watching his archenemy struggle to pull up his pants.
Draco hopped onto to his feet, finished his task, and said: "Laugh now while you can. It won't always be fun and games for you!"
"Believe me, Draco: this was not a game or fun for me," he said as he stared directly at Malfoy's crotch.
The white-haired Slytherin member huffed as the true meaning appeared to dawn on him.
"Let's go, Goyle. We've got to find, Crabbe!"
Harry held up his hand and said: "Bye, Draco. Next time try to last a little longer."
Draco actually growled and stomped out of the bathroom with the apparently bored Gregory Goyle following in his wake. The door closed with a squeak. Harry got up, found his wand, and pointed it at his pile of clothes.
"Repairo," he muttered.
Seconds later his clothes sat somewhat repaired and folded on the floor. He got dressed. Harry then washed his mouth out at the basin. Then he stared at himself in the mirror. It took a few moments for him to remember the spells he used to create his zombie look, but manage to recreate it. Undoing the reparation spell took a bit more time. When he finished, he actually appeared more of a corpse than his first attempt.
"Practice makes perfect," Harry mumbled one of Professor Flitwick's favorite phrases.
Indeed, Harry's costume seemed more complete. With that he, too, left that bathroom and hoped the rest of the evening would help him forget the annoying encounter with Draco and his thugs. He admitted he did not get hurt and it only cost him time.
When Harry reached the great heal, Răzvan and several of his friends pestered him about his lengthy absence. He decided truth would serve him better. Thus, he spent a few minute relating his run-in with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Once he finished, he only got asked a couple of questions. However, Hermione's silence and disappearance with her date made him wonder. Răzvan also asked to be excused for a few minutes, and soon Harry stood with only Séamus and his date. Dean got bored of the story and went back to dancing with his young fellow from Hufflepuff. Ron and Colin never left the corner where it seemed the took part in a heated, long exchange. Harry sighed and went to go find a table.
About a minute after he sat down alone, Răzvan returned.
"I am for forgive for going," Răzvan asked in his broken English.
"You sound angry. Did I do something wrong? I mean... I'm sorry I got caught by Draco..."
"This you do not need forgive," Răzvan said in a gentler fashion, and then he sat down as well.
His mid-transformation werewolf date quickly clasped his hand. They stared at one another, and then Răzvan began to smile. Harry felt a blush rise underneath his face paint, and he grinned.
"I am to see you in with dragon," Răzvan managed to say in a quiet voice yet loud enough for Harry to hear. "This I think is bravest thing seen, and you make the words with dragon and help it. I go to say to Diktor this Snogwarts male I am liking. This is why he ask if this dancing with you is acceptable."
"Very acceptable," Harry genuinely replied. "And you look really cute in your costume."
"In Romania this not a play we do, Harry of Snogwarts..."
"I told you, Răzvan, just call me Harry," he interjected and said through a smile. "Or should I call you Răzvan of Spurmstung?"
"No, no. This what you say respect for you," Răzvan demurred.
"Want to see how we show respect?"
Răzvan nodded his head. Harry leaned in and planted his lips on the full ones of his date, who he honestly came to like quite a bit during the short time they spent together. Răzvan responded by slipping a hand around the back of Harry's head and applying himself to the gesture. It did not take long before tongues became involved. The famous young wizard noticed his body reacting in ways it did not with Draco. Harry started to encircle Răzvan's neck with arms.
"Răzvan Dalca!" A stern male voice suddenly called out.
It shocked both teenagers. They quickly parted. Harry then got to listen to the Spurmstung headmaster, Igor Krackhead, engaged in a furious lecture with Răzvan. His student looked abashed and sullen by the time the lean, wiry man, reportedly once a Dungeater, finished and departed.
"I am told I am... my... acțiuni... do not belong to dance," Răzvan stumbled through his apology.
"Oh, inappropriate behavior," Harry said and made a guess at the translation. "Your actions were perfect."
While he kept his face slanted downward, Harry saw smirk appear on the lips of the dusky teenager.
"I know a place where our... what did you call them?"
"Acțiuni," Răzvan intoned.
"Yeah, where that would more than acceptable."
Răzvan's face split into a wider smile.
"Meet me out in the hall in two minutes. I'll wait for you over by the stairs."
"How will two minutes be known to me?" His date inquired.
"When this song ends," Harry replied and estimated the Crypt Kicker Five tune would in that amount of time.
Răzvan nodded his head without lifting it, but neither did his grin disappear. Harry got up and left the table. He affected an expression of being disappointed and slunk slowly out of the Great Hall. From the corner of his eye he saw the Spurmstung headmaster's face following him. He hoped two minutes would be enough to make the man think Răzvan called off their date. No one stopped him since the vast majority of students either gathered dancing around the stage where the band played or circled the table filled with snacks and treats. Thus, Harry departed alone through the one door held open for the event. He went to the stairs, waited, and made a long list of what he would like to learn about the handsome Spurmstung student.
"Hoy, mate, where'd you get off to last night?" Ron sleepy asked him when Harry sneaked into the dorm room in the morning.
"Um... just showed Răzvan around the castle grounds," Harry replied in a quiet voice.
"Liar," Dean said.
Harry gazed around and saw all but one of his dorm-mates staring at him with knowing looks.
"We just kissed a lot. Răzvan was afraid Krackhead was going to find us and didn't want to take any of his costume off," he explained in earnest. "Fell asleep down by the Whacking Willow listening to it hit birds. We sort of got wrapped in each other's cloaks while we talked."
"Ha!" Ron challenged.
"Want to sniff my groin and see if I'm lying?"
Harry threw down the gauntlet with the age-old reply. Once proclaimed, he would gladly let Ron or any of the others give him the smell test. It seemed to mollify the three awake roommates.
"Shame that. That bloke is pretty fine, and he seemed to really like you, Harry," Ron commiserated with him.
"Yeah. Great lips," Harry sighed in semi-disappointment.
"Well, they'll be around for a while, so you'll get enough chances," Séamus encouragingly said.
"Krackhead was pretty rough on all his students. He sent Kum off halfway through the night after getting too chummy with Pucey. Adrian got sent off too by Hagrid for acting the twit with Krackhead," Dean relayed.
"I think Séamus and Dean were the only ones to have fun." Ron gloomily said. "Colin and me are done."
"Like no one couldn't see that coming from the other side of the lake," Séamus rejoined.
"Piss off, Finnegan," Weasley angrily replied. "Not like I didn't try..."
"Ron, you said he fucked like a cross between a squirrel and a bunny. Half the hall heard you," Dean interjected.
Ron folded his arms across his broad chest and sulked. Harry went to his bed and stood next to it while stripping off his clothes and wiping his face with his tee-shirt. He climbed onto the bed clad only in his underwear. The stove in the center of the room radiated a delicious warmth. Fortunately the teaching staff realized what would occur during the Halloween Mixer, and classes got canceled for the day. After trying to sleep out of doors cuddled next to Răzvan, Harry felt like he could sleep for another ten hours. The foolishness of his exploit never dawned on him.
"Harry, Goo-eye was looking for you after the dance," Dean said, a person seemingly filled to the brim the goings-on of others. "Said he wanted to talk to you `bout some important things."
"He'll probably try to kill you..." Séamus muttered and did not finish the statement.
"Heard say his dick is shaped like his staff, so wouldn't want that used anywhere near me," Ron grumbled.
The others in the room broke into laughter. It felt better to hear Ron make jokes instead of sulking in silence. He glanced around the room, and he spied Neville's face peeking out from under his covers. He looked wide awake to Harry, and his sly wink meant he heard everything. Harry smirked at his friend.
"Pansy Parkinson said he got his johnson blown off during a fight with some Dungeaters back when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked was trying to take over. She said he lost his eye at the same time," Dean stated in a thoughtful manner. "Guess that's why he's always in such a bad mood."
A general round of agreement ensued, although Harry knew the truth. It did, however, explain why the famed auror appeared to be perpetually grumpy if not downright hostile half the time. Harry saw Neville roll his eyes and make a dumb face. He took it to mean his roommate faking slumber did not agree. In response and in as casual a manner as possible, Harry let the hand laying in his hip slowly dangle in front of his groin. Then very gradually he started to trace along the glans of the pecker hidden behind the fabric of his skivvies. Only Neville and Ron could see, but Ron continued to debate the cause of Goo-eye Moody's disposition. Harry eventually brought himself to full arousal.
"Why d'you think Dumbledore let that nutter start teaching Dark Arts?" Ron asked of no one in particular.
"He probably experienced more than most, I suppose," Séamus speculated. "The codger's been on the front lines longer than most... `cept perhaps Dumbledore."
"I overheard Madam Sinistra saying Snape almost burned down his office when he found out Goo-eye got the position. Think he's the one who cursed the spot of Defense Against Dark Arts?" Dean inquired of his friends.
Harry took a moment while Ron and Séamus rounded on Dean that a teaching position could not be cursed. He glanced over at Neville's bed. A small amount of movement could just be detected in the blankets if one looked carefully enough for a long enough period of time. Neville raised his eyebrows several times while wearing a wicked grin. Harry felt his balls tingle in response. It seemed he and the quietest of the quintet might possibly attempt to pull off the impossible by pulling themselves off without tipping off their roommates. Harry's smile widened as he also waggled his eyebrows and accepted the challenged. The topic of conversation, in the meanwhile, turned to discussing what a prat Professor Snape could be nearly every time they interacted with him. Harry and Neville continued their private contest while Harry attempted to stay engaged in the chat. He wondered when the others would catch him at it.