Chapter Text
“H-Harry.”
Harry woke up with a start. He pricked up his ears. He could hear Ron’s loud snoring at his left. There were some heavy breathing somewhere in the room, and Harry wondered which one of his housemates was having a nightmare. The breathing was fast, as if the person was panting after a run, and sometimes cut with a gasp.
No one called Harry’s name again, so he came to the conclusion that it had been all in his head. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, trying to make it blank and empty, feeling the familiar wave of the incoming sleep.
“Oh, Harry.”
Harry jerked, startled.
It couldn’t have been a product of his imagination. Someone had well and truly called his name, this time.
He sat up straight, frowning. Ron was still sleeping, Harry could tell from the snoring, and he seemed as though the heavy breathing from earlier had gone even louder.
He had no time to wonder what could possibly be happening because someone said – yelped! – his name again.
Someone was in danger!
His reflexes took over from then. He quickly grabbed his wand under his pillow, accioed his glasses and got up on his feet. He yanked his curtains open and scanned the room, wand raised. He cast a quiet Lumos to get a better look at his surroundings.
The round room looked as normal as you could expect it to be at two in the morning. The rays of moonlight were lightening the dorm in a soft dim. Every four-poster was closed. Ron was obviously still fast asleep, as far as Harry could tell from to the snoring. Harry couldn’t hear anything coming from Neville’s and Dean’s beds, but it seemed as though Seamus was the one having a hard time. Harry could hear his mattress squeak as he probably turned in his sleep.
All in all, everything looked completely normal, and Harry was an idiot for having thought otherwise.
Harry lowered his wand and shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t slept very well the nights before, and his brain always played tricks on him when he was tired. He wasn’t going to wake each of his dormmates to be sure they were alright, now, was he? He turned toward his four-poster bed, determined to get to sleep as soon as possible.
“Come, Harry.”
Harry froze. It was Dean’s voice. But why was it coming from Seamus’ bed?
Fearing the worst, Harry ran towards Seamus’s bed, wand raised and ready, and opened the curtains.
What he saw in here, though, wasn’t what he had been prepared for.
Dean, naked under the waist, was kneeling between Seamus’ legs. As for Seamus, he was lying on his back, his knees up and as bare as Harry’s Potion’s essay due to Monday. He had his head tilt back and was panting and... Why the hell was he wearing Harry’s spare glasses, and what was this thing on his forehead?
After a few seconds, Harry came to the conclusion that no one was attacking anyone, although he couldn’t tell for sure that Seamus’ penis was safe, deeply stuck in Dean’s throat.
Dean was apparently sucking hard, according to the sounds his mouth was making, broken every now and then by a heated moan. Seamus, on the other hand, managed to make no sound at all, and Harry felt a new sort of respect for his friend.
At first, Harry had thought Dean had been stroking Seamus’ testes, but when he gave a better look at it, he saw that Dean’s hand was in fact buried between Seamus’ cheeks. His wrist was moving slowly, his fingers disappearing Godric knows where. Harry thought that maybe he was seeing things wrong, because that made no sense at all. Why would he be sticking his fingers there?
Dean moaned around Seamus’ erection, making the shorter man moan as well. He started to move his hips, rubbing his groin against the sheets in an awkward movement. Harry could see the muscles of his round butt tensing with each thrust. As for Seamus, he was breathing fast, the muscles of his stomach clenching at each breath, his hand fisting Dean’s frizzy hair.
Harry vaguely wondered why Dean was sucking his best friend in the middle of the night. He was also curious about whatever Dean was doing with his fingers. He also wanted to know if they did that often and there was this thing about Seamus wearing Harry’s spare glasses. But mostly he was puzzled over the fact that he was obviously turned on by the sight of his friends having sex – because that’s what it was, right? Sex.
He didn’t know how long he stayed here, staring at the incredible scene before him, gaping. He couldn’t resolve to moving. Seamus seemed impressively resistant, and Harry wanted to know if Dean was going to make Seamus come by sucking him or if he had something else in mind. What that something else could be, Harry had no clue.
All of a sudden, Dean let go of Seamus' rod, allowing Harry to a proper look. He had seen his share of penises in the common bathrooms, but it was the first time he saw an erect penis aside from his own. He felt vaguely guilty about looking at such an intimate thing, so he tore his eyes off Seamus’ bone to look at his other friend. Dean had opened his eyes and seemed focused on whatever he was doing with his fingers. He wondered how Dean could not see him, standing a few feet away behind the slightly opened curtains, but Dean seemed captivated by the movement of Seamus’ chest. And honestly, Harry couldn’t blame him.
Then, to Harry’s utter astonishment, Dean said, “Cum for me, Harry,” in a husky groan.
Harry jerked, sure he had been detected, but Dean wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring at Seamus, working his fingers in him.
Seamus, who was wearing round glasses.
Seamus, who had an odd line drawn on his forehead.
Seamus, who didn’t seem to take offense at being called Harry.
That’s when Harry lost what was left of his common sense.
As Dean resumed the sucking, still grinding himself against the mattress, Harry’s transferred his wand in his left hand, making sure he kept the curtains slightly open in the process. Then, he started to stroke his craving crotch through his pants.
At first, he tried to move slowly and avoid any suspect noise, but soon it wasn’t enough. So, he slid his hand into his pants and wrapped his fingers around his hard-on, sending jolts of pleasure at each stroke.
However, despite his carefulness, he must have let out a noise of some sort, because suddenly, Seamus opened his eyes and jerked toward Harry. His eyes were wide open behind the crooked glasses. Harry froze, his hand still in his pants. He knew he should have run away the moment Seamus had opened his eyes on him, but he couldn’t move. He just couldn’t.
“Dean!” Seamus called in a high pitched yelp before propping to his elbows.
Dean didn’t seem to get the urgency of the situation, because he moaned around Seamus’ dick and fastened the bobbing of his head.
And so, to Harry’s amazement, Seamus whacked Dean on the head. “Dean!”
Startled, Dean let go of Seamus’ dick, which bounced on his stomach. He gaped at Harry, a trickle of saliva still connecting him to Seamus’ cock.
The three of them stood there, taken aback, for what felt like an eternity.
Then, Dean’s eyes widened in horror. He and Seamus exchanged a look and Seamus hurried to tear the glasses off and throw them on the bedside table.
They joined two lightened wands Harry hadn’t noticed before.
Harry honestly didn’t know where to look at, between Seamus’ flush, which was noticeably spreading through his chest and started to reach his nipples; Dean’s gaze, fixed on Harry’s hand in his pants; Seamus’ cock, which kept throbbing against his stomach, visibly leaking pre-come; Dean’s fingers, still buried in Seamus’ ass; or Dean’s hips, which had just started to move again, fucking the mattress.
So Harry did the only thing his brain could come up with: he started to stroke his aching cock again.
Dean did a double take when he saw Harry’s hand moving. Then he smiled, shrugged and bent to resume sucking Seamus off, working his fingers in him again.
Within seconds, Seamus’ breath became irregular. Captivated, Harry watched as Seamus’ features began to crisp from pleasure. He jerked his head back and started to moan, making Dean moan as well.
Harry asked himself if it was a regular thing to do, jerking off while looking at a friend sucking another, but he decided he didn’t care. What harm was there, anyway?
It was way funnier than wanking alone.
“Fuck,” Seamus groaned when he came, deeply buried in Dean’s mouth.
Still stroking his rock hard dick, Harry did his best not to make any embarrassing sound while Dean’s long throat swallowed.
Once Seamus’ body had softened and his hand had let go of Dean’s hair, Dean freed his fingers and wiped them on the sheets. He kissed gently the head of Seamus’ cock and straightened to his knees. He was wearing an Ireland Quidditch t-shirt and…
Holy shit, but Dean was hung like a Hungarian Horntail.
Harry’s movements became erratic at the sight.
Seamus sat right up, a wicked grin on the lips, and looked at Harry up and down, sending waves of pleasure through Harry’s body. Then, he cupped Dean’s face and gave him a full-mouthed kiss.
Harry wondered if Seamus could taste himself on his best friend’s tongue.
That’s all it took to led him over the edge. A few pumps later, he was coming in delicious spurts all over his hand.
He bit his lip to avoid making sounds, but he had never been a quiet kind of guy, and anyway, Seamus and Dean were too busy to pay attention to him.
Once the last of his orgasm had left him, he did the only thing he could think of: he wiped his hand on the curtains and ran away.
Lying on his bed a few minutes later, still wondering what the fuck had just happened, Harry realized the snoring had stopped.
For how long, thought, he couldn’t tell.