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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Two days before the Yuletide Ball a thick letter arrived from The Bunghole. Inside they found a message written by Charlie. Harry felt relieved at first as he read the contents. Ron sat naked on his bed and listened.
Harry,
Hope this finds you well, you bugger. Nice job on the Horny-tail, but I really wish you wouldn't have undone it's collar. We still miss Michaels. He was a good man and knew his way around a dragon. Aside from that, things are going fine. Got word form a colleague that the Hungarian Horny-tail sends you his regards. Seems you made an impression on him. You might want to consider cryptozoology for a future career.
"No, I don't want to wrangle dragons," Harry answered the suggestion, and Ron laughed.
Now you might think those plugs got made by goblins, but you'd be wrong. Goblins and dragons hate each other too much, and anything goblins made for dragons they'd booby-trap. So we found a dwarf silversmith over in the Steppes. Cranky old bastard, I'll tell you that, but he figured out what we needed neat as a trick. I can't tell you what he did or how it works cause I signed an agreement with the Ministry. But I can tell you to think about dragons and what is most obvious about them. I know it's not much of a clue, but it's the best I can give you.
Box Ron in the ears for me once. Mum and Dad say you're staying at Snogwarts for the holidays, so I wish you a peaceful Solstice and a warm Yuletide. Hope you get banged a good one on the Yule Feast.
Yours,
Charlie Weasley
"The bastard never sent me a letter like that," Ron grumbled when Harry finished reading it aloud.
"Ever write him?" Harry asked.
"Not the point, is it? He's my brother, so he owes me!"
"Why?"
Ron scratched his hefty nutsack as he thought, but he never produced an answer.
"So, ah, if you don't mind me asking," Harry half-stammered when it became clear Ron would not answer the question about his brother, "who, um... are you going to the, ah, dance with?"
Ron looked cross for a moment and replied after a long pause: "Look, mate, it's nothing personal. He likes you a lot and talks about you quite a bit, but we just got on like toast and jam, so he's taking me."
"Who?"
"What?"
"Ron, you didn't tell me who. You told me everything `cept his name. So, who?" Harry clarified the question.
"Oh, ah... see... all right: it's Diktor," Ron hesitantly confessed.
"Well, good on you then, Ron. He's nothing like I thought he'd be."
Harry rehearsed what he would say to Ron a thousand times when Ron finally decided to tell him. Regardless of any other consideration, Ronald Weasley remained his best friend. Hence, Harry reasoned he deserved support rather than jealousy. Ron blinked at Harry for several seconds before a lopsided grin spread across his mouth.
"I... Harry, I thought you might be upset. I know after that bull run we made on him something seemed to click between you two, but... well, Diktor kept chatting me up after that when I'd see him the halls. He showed me why I needed to end it with Colin," Ron said in a rush.
Harry shifted around in his seat. He hated keeping personal secrets from his closest friends. Ron ventured to tell him more of the truth, and it required an act in kind. He cleared his throat.
"Um, Ron, I, ah, sort of figured it out a couple of weeks ago," Harry told his best mate and stared at the bed spread. "Yeah, I was jealous at first. Look, who wouldn't be. It's Diktor Kum after all. But I saw how it made you happy, so I just sort of let be. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
"I didn't want to hurt you, Harry, what with all the blokes avoiding you the way they are. Then after Dennis... I just seemed like I'd be rubbing your face in it. Do you understand what I mean?" Ron begged the question.
Harry nodded and said: "Yeah, I do. I'd probably do the same thing with knowing how nuts you were for him before he even got here."
Ron scooted forward and placed a strong hand on Harry's knee. Green eyes met hazel. A heavy silence lingered. Harry could fell Ron trying to tell him something more. He bobbed his head.
"You know I love you more than my brothers," Ron quietly began.
Harry's mouth fell open in astonishment. Ron let nothing come between him and his family, even the git Percy. To hear him sincerely make the comment went a long way with the more famous of the two wizards.
"You and yours are the only family I got, Ron. The Dursley's don't mean anything much to me, you know," he responded in the same vein. "I can't let whoever you're dating ruin that for me. Maybe it was because it's Diktor -- I don't know -- but I think I'm over it now. I was just lonely and feeling sorry for myself."
"Mate, if anyone has the right to feel sorry for himself, it's you, Harry. I got over being jealous of you a long time ago. All this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked stuff wrecked your life. Sometimes I look at you and think there's someone unexpected out there who's going to fall for you hard, and fall for the real you and not the Harry Potter from the papers," the ginger-haired teenager said with open empathy.
"I love you, too, Ron."
Ron patted his leg.
"And thanks for finally telling me," Harry said.
"No, should've told you weeks ago, Harry," Ron rejoined, and thus making further amends. "Who are you taking to the ball?"
"Everyone I asked said no. Even Răzvan. He's scared to death of Krackhead."
"And you're not? The man's a nutter and an old Dungeater. I wouldn't want to be trapped in a school with him, and we've got Dumbledore!"
The two young men looked at each other. In took only a second before they burst into laughter. Suddenly, it felt like old times to Harry. Admitting his jealousy to Ron and hearing Ron's estimation of him acted as a balm for his spirit. It seemed he got a Solstice present or an early Yuletide gift from his friend. He patted Ron's hand. Minute by minute Harry could feel an odd strain begin to loosen and disappear. When the other roommates began to trickle in, Neville first, they could tell a subtle change took place and one for the better.
Talk among them turned to the dance. Both Dean and Séamus secured dates, but Neville neither confirmed or denied landing one. They all asked Harry, and he reported the same grim news he gave Ron. They commiserated with him until Ron began inquiring as to why none of them thought to ask Harry.
"Mate, he's bleeding Harry Potter. We thought they'd be lining up to go to the dance with him," Séamus immediately retorted.
"Oh, like you didn't see what he posted on the pick-up pillar," Ron grumbled at the young Irishman.
Dean and Séamus shot each other a guilty look. They started to undress without addressing the issue any further. Off by his bed, Neville disrobed and slipped into his pajamas, royal blue satin, without joining into the discussion. Harry made a mental note of that while Ron glared at the other two.
"I knew it. You know guys aren't going near Harry for whatever loony reason..."
"No one wants to end up in the gossip columns, Ron. They all tell me the same thing, and I can't blame them. If I were in their shoes, I'd avoid me, too," Harry said before an argument broke out.
"That's what I keep hearing," Séamus muttered.
"But you're not like them, are you, Finnegan?" Ron barged on.
"He's a roommate, Ron. I know too much about Harry to ever think of a date. It'd be like asking a cousin... or you one of your brothers," Dean stepped in.
Séamus nodded his head while pulling off his socks and underwear. Dean already climbed out of all his clothes and into his bed. His brown skin contrasted sharply to that of Séamus, Ron, and Harry. They all got influenced by Ron's preferred state of nakedness, except Neville who seemed too modest for such a public show.
"But isn't the point of getting sorted into the same house is we're supposed to be looking out for one another?" Ron argued as he flipped over onto his stomach facing the foot of the bed. His sumptuous buttocks made everyone stare for a moment.
"We do. Sometimes we even shag when we're not dating. It keeps things friendly between us. We start dating each other and pretty soon we won't be able to live in the same room," Séamus carefully asserted as he scratched his scrotum.
Harry glanced at Ron and raised a single eyebrow. Ron pursed his lips. The reasoning seemed solid. Harry gave a slight shake of his head to tell Ron to drop the topic. Instead, he turned it around and asked what they planned for Yuletide day since they, along with the vast majority of Snogwarts, decided to stay at the school over the holidays. Once they began to discuss the multiple trips planned for Snogsmeade, the notion of the dance fell into the background.
Harry fell asleep thinking about Honeypukes Sweet Shoppe.
With no classes and only one day to go before the high Yuletide celebration and dance, students lounged about. Harry sat in bed reading a book on the Bi-Wizard Tournament, most of the information he found dubious since other sources directly contradicted it, but it painted an interesting mental picture. A few times he glanced over at the dragon butt-plug and tried to free-associate a possible solution to the riddle, but nothing came to mind. At one point Neville sidled to his bed.
"Um, Harry, can I ask you a favor?" His friend inquired.
"I guess, sure," he replied.
"I was wondering if you could give me a hand down in the greenhouses for about an hour. We need to get the planting tables ready for the next semester and nobody else seems to care," Neville outlined his request in a rush.
"What about breakfast?"
"I've snagged some rolls from last night, but I'll treat you to lunch at the Three Broomsticks afterward."
Harry weighed his options. He could go down to the main hall for breakfast and likely eat alone or go with Neville and work for a couple of hours and get a free lunch. It did not take much to make up his mind.
"Let me get a jumper and my boots on," he said while closing the large tome and dumping it on the bed.
"Core, Harry, you're a life saver," Neville gushed and kneaded his gloved hands together in apparent nervousness. "I got some coveralls and gloves you can borrow down in the greenhouse."
"Yeah, I was going to ask, so thanks."
It only took a few minutes for Harry to prepare himself. He and Neville made their way through the hallways where students lounged, uncertain of what to do with themselves. A few played games on the floor. Some actually did homework assigned during the break. A couple of people waved to him and Neville, and they returned the gestures. Before too long they walked alone through the back courtyards to the greenhouses. Neville produced a set of magical keys that allowed him to open the small, glass-walled buildings. It showed the level of trust Madam Sprout place in him.
"We need to move the tables, set up the planting boxes, and, if you don't mind, line them with potting soil and some manure mix," Neville said and laid out the basic plan.
"Doesn't sound too complicated. Messy maybe, but not hard," Harry replied and tried to sound more chipper than he felt. The conversation with his roommates from the previous evening returned to haunt him.
Neville then took him to one of the supply cabinets and secured the promised protective clothing. Once outfitted, the two teenagers went to work. About ten minutes into their task, Neville started talking about the various plants they would grow that term. As Harry listened, he slowly realized the tremendous amount of knowledge packed away in his friend's head. Neville recited facts about herbology like a professor, and he did not use notes or a book. Harry found it all bizarrely fascinating, and it made the time fly. Even though the manure stunk and stung his eyes -- Neville explained it needed to air for at least a week so as not to burn the new seeds -- Harry found it easy to ignore as he listened.
"Why doesn't Madam Sprout have you teach the first years," Harry said as the last of the planter troughs got filled with a mix of dirt and fertilizer.
"Nope, she needs to get to know the students and make sure they don't destroy anything. Not sure they'd listen to me. Oh, top off that planter box over there," Neville responded and instructed.
Harry did as asked and stated: "I'll bet you ten to one you know more about herbology than Hermione."
Neville snorted in disbelief.
"Neville, I'm not kidding, mate. You just talked for over two hours about... all of this without stopping once, and all of it came out of your head. Hermione couldn't do that."
His friend frowned. Harry walked straight up to him. He got a minor jolt when he realized he needed to tilt his head upward to look Neville in the eye. It did not daunt him.
"You need to take more pride in what you know and have confidence in yourself. You were bloody brilliant, Neville, and it honestly kept my attention," Harry firmly stated. "You're going to be my herbology partner if we get the same class!"
Neville looked stunned.
"Honestly! You've seen how much me and Ron goof around, and I hate walking out of class with sore arms from Hermione trying to beat us into being proper students. I figure if I partner with you I might actually get around to learning something!"
"Ah, okay," his friend meekly replied.
"Neville, trust me on this: you're smart and turning out to be pretty handsome. Next year is going to be a whole different world for you. Besides, I think I finally figured out how you got rid of your first year fat and got a pretty ripping body," Harry continued to lay on the compliments because he truly wanted his friend to believe in himself.
The teenager blushed a deep red, and Harry smirked at him.
Neville huffed once, opened his mouth, and said: "Um, Harry, I was afraid to ask you in front of the guys, but, ah, after hearing what you said last night, I was sort of wondering if maybe, if you want and you don't have to say yes if you don't want to, but maybe you might like to go to the dance with me tomorrow night."
It came out so fast Harry needed a few seconds to rifle through all that got said.
"Wait, Neville, you're asking me to the dance?"
The young man nodded as his face turned a little pale.
"You're not asking me because of that pity party Ron threw for me, are you?" Harry inquired with a touch of real suspicion.
"No, I... um, been trying to get the nerve to ask you all week. I thought someone already got around to asking you, but when I heard last night... it's, ah, sort of why I wanted you to help me here today, so we could be alone and I could build up the courage to finally ask."
"First, take a deep breath. Second, slow down. Third, relax," he instructed his friend who again spoke at a breakneck pace. "And, fourth, yeah, going to the dance with you would be grand, Neville."
Neville blinked and said nothing.
"I, ah, just said yes in case you need the short version."
"Really?" His friend blurted. "You mean it."
"I mean it, and talk about being a life saver. I hated the idea of going to that dance alone, and I can't skip it `cause of that whole champion thing. I should be thanking you instead," Harry told him.
Without warning Harry found himself lifted off his feet as Neville swept him into a tight embrace. The whole time his friend mumbled thanks after thanks. The awkward sincerity of Neville's demonstration deeply touched Harry, and yet he continued to believe he should be thanking the shy teenager. After nearly a minute of squeezing the air out of him, Neville set him down.
"We are going to have the best time, I swear. I know we can sit with Padma and Parvati if we want, and probably with the guys. And there's going to be dancing, and I've been practicing down here when nobody's around. It's going to be great, Harry, just you wait and see!" Neville exploded into a flurry of statements.
"Neville, Neville! Slow down. I believe you! I really do!" Harry laughed.
It felt so good to him to be in the presence of honest excitement. Neville's eyes gleamed. It made Harry smile. In a rush of his own he found he wanted to go to the dance. It did not matter that Neville would be his date. Harry amended his thinking. It did matter because Neville truly wanted to go with him to the dance.
"Okay, we're done in here," Neville said at a fast clip, but not as fast as few moments before. "Hungry? I am. I'm starved. Ready to go eat."
"Yeah, I'm ready once I get out of these overalls. They kind of stink," he replied.
"It's the manure."
"I figured as much," Harry rejoined through a smirk.
"Sorry," Neville murmured, but his lips twitched with seeming amusement.
"Don't apologize over small stuff like that. Besides, I was just teasing."
His friend's head bobbed up and down. While Harry turned over the gloves and slipped out of the coveralls, he tried to recall how many people he saw Neville associate with on a regular basis. True, he interacted with the dorm-mates, but that got forced by proximity. Harry began to sadly realize he could not name any close friends of Neville's, and then he wondered if the amazing and shy teenager possessed any. He thoughts kept him quiet while Neville continued to excitedly ramble about the dance and what it would be like. Harry reached out and snagged Neville's arm to make him pause.
"You know what? It's going to be great just like you said," he told him through a smile.
Neville continued the pause as he studied Harry's face, and then confidently said: "Yeah, it will be. Let's go get lunch. On me like I promised."
The meal and afternoon spent with his friend walking around the village with dozens and dozens of other students made Harry feel festive. The two previous years he spent with the Weasleys, and it set a standard in his mind. They made him feel more than welcome: they made Harry feel like family. With Neville the situation started to prove itself subtly different. Some of the shy demeanor fell away. The young man liked to talk, and Harry found out he could likely give Hermione a run for her money in the knowledge department. He learned Neville knew much more of the goings-on at Snogwarts than any could imagine. People perceived him as harmless and unimportant, and thus spoke freely around him. Harry realized his friend could sink the reputations of half the student body and an equal proportion of the teaching staff.
That evening the house elves served a light dinner since they figured the students stuffed themselves while visiting Snogsmeade. Harry and Neville sat with Ron and Séamus. Dean, as usual, disappeared with a date. They ate and chatted. Harry counted the minutes until the important question got asked.
"So what are you going to do tomorrow night? You can't just skive out can you?" Ron inquired with apparent caution.
"I'm going, and I'm looking forward to it," Harry answered.
"Why? Everyone's going to be looking at you when you arrive alone," Séamus stated.
"I won't be alone."
"No way. Who?" Ron blurted.
"Neville. He asked me this morning and I said yes," Harry calmly and directly replied. "It's going to be fantastic."
Ron stared at him. Séamus stared at him. Then the two of them stared at Neville who's cheeks turned a bit pink. They then returned their gaze to Harry.
"He didn't ask out of pity, either. Said he tried all week to ask, but got nervous. So he got me to help him in the greenhouses, and he sprung the question there," he told them the true story.
"And you said yes?" Séamus queried in seeming confusion.
"Of course I said yes. He was nice enough to ask. Plus he's doing me a huge, huge favor."
"Shut up," Neville mumbled and snickered.
Harry resumed eating the shepherd's pie he found rather delicious while Ron and Séamus lapsed back into silence. Neville remained conspicuously silent as well, but Harry suspected for different reasons. Ron finally sat back a little and an odd smirk played on his lips.
"Well, I'll be. All right. Glad it worked out for both of you. I guess I'll see you two during the first Yule dance," Ron declared.
"First... wait. What?" Neville burbled and sprang to life.
"Remember at the Halloween Mixer how the champions and their dates started the dancing? Same with this, but probably a bit more formal," Harry explained.
"I, ah... forgot about that."
"Still want to go, Neville? Dancing in front of three schools all alone with Harry and the other champions?" Séamus teased.
Harry watched as Neville tensed for a moment. Then he sat up to his full height, easily half a head taller than Séamus, and looked the roommate square in the eye.
"Certainly I want to go. It'll only be for one dance, and I can do that. I'm pretty good at dancing, in case you didn't know," Neville boldly said without so much as a stutter. "Besides, I made a promise to Harry, and I won't leave him hanging out to dry!"
Harry wanted to cheer for Neville, but instead he let his smile do the talking. Séamus appeared taken aback at the directness of the response, but he recovered in short order. Ron simply bobbed his head once as if Neville got the last word on the subject. It seemed he did as Séamus decided to change the topic and talked about the happenings at Snogsmeade during the day.
It appeared Harry and Neville missed a melee that broke out between several Slytherins, a few Hufflepuffs, and two Spurmstungs. The Slytherins ended up in the infirmary while the Hufflepuffs and Spurmstungs received detentions and got barred from the Yuletide ball. The Slytherins also got banned since credible witnesses reported they started the fight. Harry hoped Draco got involved in the mess, but neither Ron nor Séamus knew the names of all the participants.
When they decided to stop eating, Harry, Neville, Séamus headed for the Gryffindor tower. Ron said he needed to go meet Diktor over at the library. The three going back to their room laughed and joked about the various meanings of the word need. Harry could not recall the last time he saw Neville so relaxed. Moreover, he seemed entirely in command of himself. After greeting a number of their house members in the common room, then went to their private room. A sizable pasteboard box lay on Harry's bed, and a wrapped package from The Bunghole rested on Ron's. Harry went to his bed.
"It's from Mrs. Weasley," he told his two roommates as he looked at the attached card. "She says she figured I didn't have any, so she got Ron to get my size and Dumbledore forwarded her the galleons from my Gringott's account. Galleons for what in my size?"
"I think I know, but go ahead and open it up," Séamus urged him.
Neville sat on his bed and watched the proceedings.
Harry took the large red ribbon off the box and slid the top off. Inside he found white tissue paper surrounding something soft. When he removed the paper, he stared down at a new set of dress robes. He laughed as he shook his head.
"I forgot all about getting these for myself," Harry exclaimed as he held aloft the new robes.
"Those are really nice. Mrs. Weasley's got taste," Neville said. "Wish she talked to my Gran about clothes. Half the time I got to take back what she gets me. I think she still thinks I'm five."
"Pretty damn big five-year old," Séamus quipped. "Say, Harry, mind if I take a look at your notes for Charms class? I think got some of it wrong."
"What'd you set on fire this time?" Neville chided him.
Séamus frowned and said: "Just one of my shoes, but it was supposed to be the fast foot charm."
Harry chuckled at his friend's penchant for turning almost any spell, and potion for that matter, in a pyrotechnic device. It defied the imagination. The previous year in the Transfiguration class, Séamus managed to not only set a porcelain teapot on fire, but it exploded before anyone could put out the flames. In a rare turn, Professor McGonagall did not get angry, but made Séamus write down everything he did while casting the spell. The misfire appeared to impress her.
"Yeah, go ahead grab my notes over on my nightstand," Harry said as he carefully returned his new robes to the box. "Bet those are Ron's dress robes in the box on his bed."
Neville nodded and sat down on his bed. He grabbed a book and began to read. Harry looked at the title, and it boggled his mind.
"Aquatic Flora of the Most Unique Varieties," he said aloud. "You are as bad as Hermione."
"Goo-eye recommended it to me," Neville rejoined without looking up. "He said if I'm so taken with plants, why don't I study them all. This has actually been a pretty fascinating read about some really weird stuff you can find in lakes and oceans. Some of it is pretty dangerous."
"Then Goo-eye did recommend it," Séamus remarked from where he stood rifling through Harry's notebooks. "Every notice he's a little on the dark side?"
"He's been an auror most of his life, and he did fight pretty hard against The Dork Lord. Not surprised, really, to see it had an effect on him like that," Harry responded. "Hagrid said Goo-eye saw the worst of the worst."
"And don't forgot he got blown up once and lost all those bits and pieces," Neville chimed in without breaking away from his reading.
The three roommates muttered in agreement. While Séamus went to his bed with Harry's Charms notes. Harry carefully placed the box with the new robes under his bed. He turned and looked at the snow gently falling from the sky. It seemed appropriate for the Yuletide, but then he remembered it began snowing at the end of November and did so almost every third day. He liked snow. In Surrey it always seemed to get dirty just as soon as it hit the ground. At Snogwarts the white powder remained pure for long stretches of time. Harry sighed and went to the stove in the middle of the room to check the heating spell. He turned it up a degree.
"What you thinking, Harry?" Neville quietly inquired.
"Nothing really."
Neville did not look away.
"Back in Surrey Yuletide was never this... I guess perfect. The Dursleys celebrated Christmas and the muggle New Year, and Dudley was pretty good at ruining it for me every year," Harry related some of the experiences he endured. "One year for Christmas they gave me a pair of Dudley's old trainers, and that was it."
"That's terrible," Neville rumbled.
"It is pretty sad," Séamus agreed. "We celebrated Christmas, too, `cause me dad is muggle, but he made it pretty fun. Mom enjoyed it, but I think she might have missed Solstice and Yuletide. I didn't understand some of the presents she got for me `til after I found I out took after her. They were Yule gifts."
"My gran is pretty strict, but she knows how to keep Yule," Neville told them. "I don't get a lot of Yule or Solstice gifts, but what she does give me is usually pretty nice and useful. It's funny, you know: you look at her and you'd never guess she gets all soft and mushy about Yuletide decorations."
Harry kept his reactions off his face. In another notorious slip of the tongue by Professor Dumbledore, Harry learned Neville's parents got tortured into madness and now resided in a specialized wizarding hospital that cared for the mentally insane or unfit. He could not decide who got it worse between them. Neville got forced to face the actions of Holdequart every time he saw his parents. Harry barely knew where his parents got buried, and the Dursleys never took him to visit their graves. Thus, he could well imagine Neville's grandmother would make a serious effort on her grandson's behalf during the Yuletide season.
The talk of how each family celebrated, or did not celebrate in Harry's case, the holiday season brought a reflective silence over the three. Harry stood as his bedside and stripped off his clothes straight down to the skin. His long association with Ron made it an inbred habit. When he turned to get into bed, he caught Neville looking at him. Harry glanced around and saw a noticeable bulge in his friend's groin. He winked and lightly shook his naughty bits that started to grow in reaction to what he saw. By the time he got situated on his bed, Harry's pecker stood at full mast.
For an hour the three roommates sat quietly reading or studying. Harry hoped Séamus would not practice charms and set something afire. At the same time, he hoped Neville would change out of street clothes and perhaps take up the Weasley tradition of sleeping naked. At seven bells Dean burst through the door. He looked as though he ran a marathon, but the smile breaking his face told the real reason. Harry lost track of who Dean dated at the time. The dark-skinned teenager changed boyfriends on a regular basis. Harry's penis grew hard again as he spied on Dean who also stripped away all his clothes. The lean, dark body looked exotic, and Harry loved seeing Dean's organ stand up like a branch of ebony wood. The few times he got to toy with it left a unique craving in his mind.
"I'm beat," Dean said as he flopped on his bed.
"So that's what you're calling it now," Séamus teased.
Harry and Neville snickered.
"Terry doesn't play games," Dean rejoined with a gleam in his eye.
"What happened to Michael?" Séamus asked, and he always seemed to know exactly who Dean dated at any given time.
"He was busy, so Terry, ah, filled in for him."
The lewdness in Dean's delivery made this roommates burst out laughing. Harry spent a private afternoon with Terry Boot during their second year, and he understood what Dean meant. Terry approached sex like he would tricky problem or puzzle: he focused all of his mental energy on the issue. It became an exercise in how many different positions and techniques they could utilize as they sought physical fulfillment. Harry always hoped for a second experience with Terry, but they never got around to connecting again.
As they settled down, Ron slid through the door. Like Dean, he looked completely mussed and very pleased. He closed the door and leaned against it. Four sets of eyes watched as he moved toward his bed.
"How was, um... fappitch practice?" Harry asked through a smirk.
"Exhausting," Ron huffed through his smile.
Dean and Séamus snickered. Neville watched the ginger-haired young man over the edge of his book. Ron did not expound on his statement and went to work removing his clothing. By the time he finished and hoisted his sturdy nude body onto his bed, Harry could detect tell-tale aromas. He grinned all the more. A quick survey of Ron's penis showed it lacked a certain amount of life. It lay limp against the scrotum and seemed deflated.
"What is it with you fappitch players?" Ron inquired as he shifted around trying to find a comfortable position. "It's like you think you can turn sex into a match."
"We can," Harry said. "I know I play skeeter on the team, but off the field I can be a crammer, beater, or plugger if I want. Sometimes all three at once!"
Dean, Ron, and Séamus laughed at Harry's remark. In the meanwhile Ron pulled the box from home toward him. He then started to unwrap it. A pasteboard box similar to the one Harry discovered on his bed lay under the wrapping, but it did not appear as pristine as Harry's. Ron hauled the lid from the bottom section, and then stared at the contents with a dumbfounded look. He slowly pulled the contents out and held it aloft.
"What in the name of Thurston is this?" Ron asked in a dire manner.
"Hmm, probably your dress robes. Harry got some, too," Séamus filled in the likely answer.
"I can't wear these. It's got... frills on it. It'll look like I'm wearing a doily!" The youngest Weasley male quailed.
Dean and Séamus snickered at Ron's plight. Harry and Neville both held their composure.
"Ron, it'll be okay," Harry said after watching his friend stare in horror at the garment. "Just tell people you're going retro or being traditional."
"Traditional? Retro? Retro to what? The eighteen-eighties?" Ron yelled.
The two roommates who chuckled started laughing. Neville glanced at them and frowned. Harry tried to be upbeat about the situation, but he privately thought the robes looked terrible. Ron grabbed the wrapping paper, and then really began to swear.
"How could she do this to me? Is she trying to make me look like a fool? Mom, why?" Ron half-cried. "Harry, what am I going to do? I can't got the dance dressed in this. Diktor will drop me like a dead kelpie!"
The mention of Diktor changed the stakes, and Dean and Séamus stopped laughing. The robes, Harry estimated, could result in extreme social embarrassment with long-term effects. Moreover, he knew Ron's mother tried her best. With a large family and a single income, the Weasleys often made do with less than optimal solutions. It seemed grim for Ron, but then a lone idea popped into his head.
"Luna!" Harry exclaimed.
"Luna?" Three voices questioned.
"That's a good idea, Harry," Neville said in a complimentary fashion.
"How is that a good idea?" Dean sarcastically asked.
"She refashions all of her clothes, Dean," Harry interjected. "She should be able to fix Ron up a treat."
"And you'd better be nice to her," Neville enjoined them in what sounded like a vaguely threatening manner.
"You really think Loony can help?" Ron begged the question.
"Luna," Neville growled.
"Luna. Can she help?" Ron corrected himself.
"Doesn't hurt to ask, and you'd better ask nice," Harry responded.
His best friend glanced around, and his eyes landed on Neville.
"No," the quietest of the five replied to the unspoken question. "You need to ask her yourself, and you have to be nice about, and you have to do something nice for her in return."
Ron's face sank, and Harry could not determine which of the requirements Ron might bungle.
"Ron, we can do this. I'll help, but it really has to come from you. Just... be decent."
"What if she hates me?"
"Who's fault is that?" Neville asked in the pause.
Everyone looked at him, and he looked angry.
"You can't go around treating people like crap or calling them names or... or... just always ignoring them and suddenly think they're going to kip over and lend a hand when you need it. You get what you give, Weasley. Remember that."
Harry wondered how long Neville waited to say those words. He, himself, never mistreated Neville, but he did treat his roommate as a non-entity at times. Given how the year progressed thus far, Harry felt a little better about his interactions with the shy teenager. Now he heard a further call to action.
"He's right, Ron," Harry solemnly stated. "Sometimes we do get a little to caught up in our own lives and forget other people are having a rough go of it. If Luna helps you, then you owe her and not just a return favor. It's got to last for a long, long time."
Ron frowned, but he also nodded. The ginger head then turned toward Neville and also nodded. Much to his delight Dean and Séamus looked abashed as well. Perhaps the time came to truly notice those they never took the time to notice before.